The Name in Red **COMPLETE**

Hello everyone! Sorry again for the slightly longer-than-usual delay in updating. I once again had a busy weekend which involved studying for a test. To top it all off, I feel like I am coming down with something. Here is chapter 16! I hope you enjoy it.


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The Name in Red.

Chapter 16: Healing Old Scars.
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Upon waking up, Sarah was momentarily startled. Her surroundings were unfamiliar. Instead of finding herself in her own private room which she had become accustomed to, she was in someone else's. The fire was burning a bit more brightly now and she could see a bit better than she could before. She was lying in a large four-poster bed, and it looked like she had been neatly and carefully tucked under the covers. The bed's linens were an emerald green with a silver lining. It was extremely comfortable.

After taking a deep breath, which again filled her senses with that same familiar, intoxicating scent, she sat up a little. The room around her was comfortably furnished yet simple. It was filled with dark woods, and the stone floor was plushly carpeted in most places with emerald green rugs. Not far from the bed was a huge wardrobe. This room, as well as the study she had already seen, had a few large bookcases in it. She could also see the door through which she knew was the bathroom. When she turned toward where the fireplace was, she saw that Snape was sitting on the edge of the bed, apparently shirtless, and looking away from her. She swallowed hard when she remembered why she was here.

How would Harry have put it? she thought to herself. Right, I've just 'shagged' my teacher. Her face colored greatly when she remembered that beneath these sheets, she was completely nude.

Snape, who was staring into the fire, did not see that the girl had awoken. After their coupling, when she had fallen asleep, he had taken great care to tuck her into his bed, in the place where he usually slept. It was a strange feeling to know that he had bedded the young witch, and he contemplated the situation as he stared into the flames. As much as he would have liked to allow her to sleep in his quarters, he knew it was best that she left for the night. It wouldn't exactly look good to have her emerging from his quarters in the morning looking utterly shagged.

If she were to stay, he doubted he would be able to control himself. He would want her again and again, and the girl needed her rest. She wasn't ready for that kind of strenuous sexual activity after only just having been deflowered by him. He was already semi-erect again while he sat there contemplating her. Fortunately, he had at least put some trousers back on in an effort to suppress his temptation to take the girl another time. He knew that the girl would have to leave at some point soon, but he resolved to wait patiently for a while and see if she awoke on her own.

When Snape did not stir, Sarah cleared her throat softly. When he turned to look at her, she made sure that she had pulled the bedsheets up to her neck. She immediately blushed even deeper.

"Ah," Snape said softly, regarding the girl in his bed. "You are awake."

"How long was I asleep?" she asked.

"Not long," he replied, "Only a little while."

Sarah nodded silently and stared back at him. Without a shirt on, by the light of the fire, she could clearly see the large scar on the right side of his neck. Several moments of silence passed. Sarah's expression softened as she examined his scar, and he in turn tilted his head slightly at her, wondering what she could be thinking. At first he feared greatly that perhaps she felt guilty or regretted having sex with him. His fears of this were put to rest when she spoke.

"Your scar," she said, her voice a timid whisper, "It was Voldemort's, wasn't it. The snake?"

Snape flinched and his eyes widened considerably. He hadn't been aware that the girl knew the name that so many people still feared to speak. How had she known that it was Nagini who had bitten him? When she had asked him about the scar before on her very first trip to Diagon Alley, he had simply said he was bitten by a snake, but did not expound upon it. How did she know now that it had been the Dark Lord's snake?

Something hostile suddenly flared up within him when he realized the probable source of her knowledge. How much had Potter told her? At that moment, he had a great desire to use Legilimency on the girl to find out just how much Potter had said. Taking such an action, however, would most certainly break her trust of him, and he knew this. Still not replying, he tried to take a deep, calming breath.

Sarah's expression became one of a mixed concern and fear when she saw Snape's reaction to her using Voldemort's name. It almost looked as if he had been struck physically. Discouraged when he did not reply, she sunk a little lower into the sheets.

"Yes," he replied at length, his voice stony. "It was the Dark Lord's snake."

He turned to gaze back into the fire.

"How did you survive?" asked Sarah meekly. Even this was still a mystery to Harry. When he had told the story to her, he didn't have any idea of how Snape was able to survive the huge snake's bite, especially when Harry had thought him dead. She wanted to know how he survived.

Snape did not turn back to the girl. He continued staring into the fire, considering her question. He had only ever told Minerva what had saved him from Nagini's bite. When she heard, her eyes had been filled with joyous tears. It probably wouldn't have much meaning or significance to the girl in the same way, but he couldn't see the harm in telling her how he had survived.

"A phoenix," he stated. "A phoenix came to me."

Sarah remained silent, eyes wide. Snape remained silent as well. As he recalled what happened to him, it almost frightened him to imagine how omniscient the old man was, or still may yet be. How else could Fawkes have found him in his moment of need? Had Dumbledore already anticipated, prior to his own death, that he, Snape, would be in mortal peril from the Dark Lord at some point before his downfall? Snape felt himself shiver slightly at the thought of that piercing blue-eyed gaze and serene grin ever presently bearing down on him, although he could not see it.

"Albus Dumbledore's phoenix," he continued. "Found me. Somehow. When I awoke, his tears were upon my neck, and I was healed. Only a moment after, he left through a broken window, and I have never seen him again."

There were several more moments of silence. Snape continued staring into the fireplace. Every so often, he thought he could see the image of the phoenix dancing in the flames.

He turned back to look at the girl; she was staring at him in awe. He still wanted to ask her how much Potter had told her, but he didn't want to at the same time. If Potter had told her enough, she would know of his weakness, the true motive behind all of his actions which had been a secret to everyone except Albus. That was until he had surrendered over his memories to Potter when he thought himself as good as dead. The boy needed to know that he was a Horcrux. Afterward, when he had found himself alive, he almost wished that he had died instead of having to live with the knowledge that Potter knew everything.

Now, as he stared at the attractive young which who had willingly come into his bed, life seemed like a sweetly wrapped gift at which he had been given a second chance to open.

As far as he knew, Potter hadn't told anyone more than what was necessary. Even if he had told the girl, Snape realized, it didn't matter. It didn't matter if the girl knew of his weakness; she had created her own, a new weakness in him, one that he could not resist. She must at least know this much. Seeing the wonder in her eyes as she observed him, he knew that Potter must have told her something about it. Swinging himself back onto the bed, he decided to find out.

Sarah sat up a little more, still careful to keep the sheets covering herself. Snape climbed up toward her on the bed, leaning back against the pillows. He was sitting on her right side, and he extended his left forearm out to her, resting it across her lap. She regarded him curiously for a moment, but then she began caressing the underside of his left forearm gently. There was a faded scar there that she hadn't been able to see under the more intense darkness in which they had made love. She knew what it must have been. She traced it gently with her fingers.

Snape watched her. He immediately knew she must know that this was formerly his Dark Mark. Potter must have at least told her that he had been a Death Eater in the past. To his surprise, she didn't regard it with disgust. To the contrary, she almost looked reverent as she caressed it gently.

"Isn't there anything you could do for it?" she asked softly, still caressing the spot where his Dark Mark had been. "A potion or something? To make the scar go away?"

"For this, no," he replied, his voice serious. "Some scars can never heal. Take your friend Potter, for instance."

He hadn't meant anything by it, but Sarah froze up nervously. She knew about the silent enmity that existed between them. She feared that if he knew about the friendship she had with Harry, some of that enmity might transfer over to her. Now he must know that Harry had told her things about him. She swallowed hard. To her relief, he did not launch into an anti-Potter tirade or start berating her with questions about how much she knew. Instead, he simply continued allowing her to caress his scarred arm, and said no more.

She turned to look at him. He looked back at her with his deep black eyes. His expression was serious, but she could not sense an outward change in his demeanor. He was still allowing her to touch him, and he hadn't said any more on the topic of her apparent friendship with Harry Potter.

"What about your neck?" she asked softly.

"Perhaps it could heal with assistance," he admitted, "But I will not try."

Sarah regarded him curiously. After a few moments of silence, he leaned into her and kissed her lips tenderly. Sitting back up, he swung his legs back over the edge of the bed and stood.

"Why not?" Sarah asked softly.

Looking into the fire again, Snape took a deep breath. His eyes involuntarily flickered to the top of his wardrobe, where there was a torn bit of parchment and a torn photograph.

"Because it is a reminder," he stated simply, refusing to elaborate for the moment. "Speaking of which, I feel it is necessary to remind you that having you emerge from my private quarters in the morning will look strange."

He turned back to the bed, leaning on one of its posts.

"Having you stay would arouse suspicion, among other things," he purred.

She could plainly see that the trousers he was wearing were getting slightly tented. Sarah swallowed hard, feeling herself growing hot again. If she stayed, she would probably end up shagging him all night. As she shifted in bed and felt a sore ache, however, she realized that this would probably be a bad idea. She winced and let out a tiny gasp of pain. Snape's expression immediately became one of concern.

"Are you well?" he asked quickly, knowing that he was most likely the source of any discomfort she might be experiencing.

"Yeah," she sighed, "Just a little sore."

Snape nodded. He had been prepared for this. He motioned to the foot of the bed, where he had neatly laid out all of her discarded clothing.

"While you dress," he said, moving to the other side of the room, "I shall get something for you."

He disappeared into his bathroom, shutting the door to afford the girl some privacy. Only after he had shut the door, Sarah emerged from the bed, completely naked. She dressed quickly. Even though Snape had already seen her like this, she was still nervous about him walking in on her.

After she was dressed, she sat down on the side of the bed. A few moments later, there was a knock on the other side of the bathroom door.

"Are you finished?" Snape's muffled voice called from within.

"Yes," Sarah called back to him.

Opening the door and entering the room, he held out a small blue bottle to the girl sitting on the edge of his bed. She took it from him, examining it.

"This will relieve any pain you may be experiencing," he told her. "It tastes a good deal better than the contraceptive potion, I assure you."

After she had drank the potion, she set the empty bottle down on his night stand, next to the empty bottle which had held the contraceptive. He extended his hand to her, helping her up. He looked her over. She appeared just fine outwardly, and didn't even bare many of the telltale signs which might give away the fact that he had shagged her. He had been exceedingly gentle with her, and hadn't left any marks on her body.

Satisfied with her appearance, he donned the white collared shirt which he had been wearing before, and he led her back out into his office. He was having an internal argument with himself about whether or not he should walk the girl back to her room. It had become routine for him, and he wanted to. A small part of him, which he had only barely began acknowledging, wanted to spend as much time near her as possible. This small part of him wanted the girl to know that he was a gentleman, and not the monster that many people made him out to be. The more practical part of him knew what people might begin to whisper if they were constantly seen walking about the castle together late at night.

When he reached the office door, the former part of him won out. He would take the girl back to her room. He had just bedded her, after all. The very least he could do would be to make sure she made it back to her own quarters safely. Opening the door for her, he stepped aside. When she realized what he must be doing, Sarah gave him a small smile and stepped out into the corridor. Snape followed behind her, shutting the door, and together they began the trek up to the seventh floor corridor where her room was located.

Along the way, Sarah kept shooting him sheepish little smiles. Whenever Snape would notice, he would tilt his head and raise an eyebrow at her. She could not put words to how she felt about this strange man. Here he was, looking as dark and dour as ever as he escorted her back to her room, but Sarah knew that something sweeter and kinder lurked just below the surface. She knew full well what he was supposed to be like from the stories which her friends had told her. He was supposed to be cold, uncaring, cruel, and calculating. She didn't deny that he probably was one or more of these things most of the time. Despite this, she had somehow found a completely different person in him. Sometimes she would see some of these other negative elements come out in him, but for the most part he was a completely different person around her. It amused her.

"What are you smiling about, witch?" he finally drawled at her, sounding slightly annoyed. To say the least, he wasn't used to being smiled at, and it confused him. He had no idea what she could possibly be smiling about.

"You," she said with a small giggle.

Snape gave her a little glare.

"I hardly think I am anything to smile about," he said, turning back to look down the corridor down which they were walking. "Countless curfew-breaking students are probably fleeing in terror at my approach."

Sarah knew this was probably true. He really didn't give his students, or anyone else for that matter, much to smile about. Quite the contrary. Most people saw only the man he had become, and feared him. They could not see the insecure young man full of unrequited feelings like Sarah could, even though she did not fully know what she was seeing most of the time. His insecurities made him incredibly sensitive and preceptive toward her. It was almost as if he knew what she was thinking or feeling most of the time.

He knew how delicate and fragile relationships of this nature could be, and now that he seemed to have found one, he was terrified to death of breaking it like he had with Lily. Whatever the reason for the strange relationship that had quickly developed between him and this young witch, he did not want it to stop.

When they reached the seventh floor corridor, Sarah paced back and forth in front of the blank stretch of wall a couple of times. Once her door appeared, Snape stepped forward and opened it for her, as was customary between them. Before entering her room, Sarah strode right up to him. She was looking up at him with the same little smile she had been shooting at him during their walk through the halls. He narrowed his eyes at her in utter confusion. She only smiled bigger.

"It has been a few days now since my last application of the glamour to your eyes," he said, looking down at her. Her eyes were still brown, but he wanted to be safe rather than sorry. "If you will permit me, I will reapply it."

Sarah gave a silent nod of consent. Her head was already tilted up toward him, and as he drew his wand out of his trouser pocket, he could not resist the temptation to lean forward and capture her lips again. When he withdrew from her, he raised his wand to her eyes. With a slight flick, Sarah winced and rubbed her eyes as they became irritated. As soon as the discomfort faded, she looked back up at him.

He looked back into her eyes with his own. At the moment, his eyes were not doing a very good job of masking the renewed desire lurking just inside him. When Sarah saw this, she blushed deeply.

"Perfect," he said, adding a gentle caress to the side of her face. He replaced his wand inside his pocket. "I shall reapply it in another few days. It should most definitely hold until then."

Sarah gave another silent nod.

"I will see you tomorrow evening for our next... lesson, Sarah," he said softly.

When he said her name, she closed her eyes. It sounded wonderful for him to call her Sarah instead of Miss Garrend, and she enjoyed it almost as much as he enjoyed her calling him by his given name. When he saw how his voice affected her, he gave her another gentle caress. His hand then fell away from her face and her eyes opened.

"Good night, Severus," she said. Taking courage in what they had already done with each other, she stood up on tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

He kissed her back softly, and it took every ounce of his restraint to keep himself from pinning her back against the open door and ravishing her.

"Good night," he whispered back. When she entered her room, he closed the door behind her softly.

As he strolled back to his dungeons, he was contemplating what other new types of 'magic' he might teach the girl in time.


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The following morning, Sarah was sitting awake in bed. She was sitting up on her pillows with a book spread in her lap, reading. It was the same book she had been studying up on in preparation for seeing Hagrid again. This time, instead of being preoccupied on the section about dragons, she was reading about phoenixes. Harry had already told her about how Fawkes had saved him down in the Chamber of Secrets, but she was intensely curious about the magical creatures after she had heard Snape's tale of survival. The phoenix had saved him just as he had saved Harry.

She was beginning to read more in depth about the ability of the phoenix to carry immensely heavy loads when there was a soft knock on her door. Already having dressed herself for the day, she sprung out of bed, setting the book aside on her night stand where it rested next to her small bottle of Amortentia and the empty bottle which had contained the hangover cure. As she had already bathed thoroughly, she was not concerned about appearing shagged to whoever might be on the other side of the door, even though she knew who it most likely was.

Pulling the door open, she saw that she was right. There stood Harry, giving her a bright smile. He was pleased to see that she was dressed and looking neat; it appeared that her dreary mood of yesterday had improved somewhat. This was good news for him and the idea he was about to suggest.

"Hey Sarah," he said cheerfully.

Sarah smiled back at him and stepped aside to allow him entry into her room, but he shook his head quickly.

"Just stopping by," he said quickly. "I wanted to see if you'd like to come down to the pitch with us later for Quidditch practice. Ron reckons it's high time you learned how to fly a broom."

Sarah's eyes widened; the idea of flying a broomstick was, surprisingly, more frightening to her than the prospect of taking another ride on Buckbeak.

"Are you sure?" she asked uncertainly. "I've never--,"

"Of course I'm sure," he said confidently, smiling at her. "Hermione doesn't agree so much, of course, but Ron and I think you should. Ginny, too. She's offered to let you borrow her broom if I let her borrow mine for the afternoon."

Sarah still looked very uncertain. Harry laughed in a good-natured way.

"Come on," he goaded her, "You've already flown Buckbeak, haven't you? That's more experience than I had the first time I flew a broom."

"I wouldn't say 'flown' so much as 'clung-onto-him-for-dear-life'," she corrected him dryly. He laughed again.

"It'll be fine," he tried to assure her, "We'll just get you started off real slow and see what you think of it from there. I promise I won't hoist you onto a bucking broomstick that will take you for a wild ride."

"Well, alright," Sarah ceded. "I guess I'll give it a try. What time?"

"One," Harry replied, "Just after lunch. Dress warm, it's pretty brisk out there."

"Alright, I'll be there," said Sarah. Harry smiled triumphantly.

"Great! See you then!" he told her before hurrying off to class.

When Sarah shut the door, she turned back into her room and sighed anxiously. She didn't much like the idea of climbing onto something as insubstantial as a broomstick in order to fly. From what she had seen, the Quidditch players didn't even wear much protective gear. Maybe Muggles had the right idea with their bicycle helmets and kneepads. She would soon find out.


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After lunch in the Great Hall, Sarah was headed down to the Quidditch pitch with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Ginny was already holding Harry's brand new Firebolt and inspecting it excitedly. Harry, in turn, was holding her Nimbus which was actually new and of a recent model. After all they had endured during the war, Molly and Arthur had seen it fit to buy the Weasley children new brooms. The Nimbus, Harry knew, would be a more tame way for Sarah to start out on a broom than climbing on top of Harry's Firebolt. After his first one had been destroyed upon leaving Privet Drive, he couldn't resist the urge to buy himself a new one after the war. After all, he deserved it.

Sarah had taken Harry's advice and dressed warmly in heavy robes, as well as her Gryffindor scarf. She was wearing her Muggle hiking boots since she knew she would be walking outside. She knew that soon, however, her feet would probably not be on the ground, and it would not matter at all what she was wearing if she was sprawled out on the grass in the Quidditch pitch after falling off of a broom. Hermione was bundled up as well, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all wearing their crimson and gold practice robes.

It was a typical autumn day. It was dreary and gray but not raining, and it was very chilly.

Ron, walking next to Ginny, was eyeing Harry's Firebolt jealously.

"Why can't Sarah borrow my broom?" Ron asked, sounding like a child deprived of a new toy.

"Your broom would be too big for her," Harry said. "She'll fit on Ginny's better."

Ron gave a sour smirk.

"Don't be like that, I'll let you have a go with it," Harry assured him.

Ron, apparently satisfied that he would get his turn on the Firebolt, remained silent. All three Quidditch players were eager to get onto the pitch, and they were walking very quickly. Sarah hurried to keep up with them, but Hermione fell behind slightly. She was regarding all of them nervously, especially Sarah.

"Are you sure about this, Harry? She could get hurt," said Hermione.

Harry turned back to look at her, but it was Ron who answered.

"Of course she could get hurt, Hermione," he said, "It's a broomstick. We could all get hurt. But she couldn't get a better flying teacher than Harry, could she?"

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment.

"No, I suppose not," she admitted quietly.

"See?" said Ron, falling back a little to put his arm around Hermione as he walked. "Everything will be fine."

As the small group of friends walked along, they fell silent when they all noticed another group of people walking not too far away, down the lawn toward the pitch. These people were also carrying broomsticks, but they were clad in green and silver instead of crimson and gold. Hermione looked a little apprehensive, and Sarah looked confused, but Harry, Ron, and Ginny's expressions all turned to stony glares.

"What are they doing here? We booked the pitch for practice today, not them," said Ginny, her tone heavy with dislike.

"I'm not sure," said Harry, sounding cautious, "But I'm sure we'll find out."

When they reached the pitch, they were greeted by the other members of the team. Harry, who was again captain, had a very similar team to the one he had in his sixth year. He was still Seeker, of course, and Ron and Ginny were still playing Keeper and Chaser respectively. He still had his former Beaters of Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote. The other two Chaser positions were being filled by Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who had both elected to repeat their seventh year at Hogwarts. The two were inseparable. For Dean, who had been out of school and on the run for most of the previous year, the choice had been a natural one. For Seamus, however, it involved a large shouting match with his mom in order for him to be allowed to repeat his seventh year.

Upon arriving at the pitch, Sarah was also greeted by all of them. She did not know the other members of the team very well, but they had become acclimated to her presence in the Gryffindor common room. Harry had, of course, explained to them that she was studying abroad from America, and they had accepted her warmly.

After everyone had greeted one another, they all turned and sneered in the direction of the approaching green-and-silver-clad group. Sure enough, only a minute later, the Slytherin Quidditch team strolled up to them as if they owned the pitch. As Captain, Harry stepped up in front of them, standing defensively before his team. The Slytherin team was almost completely different now, but it still maintained the same character. The new Captain was just as big and ugly as Marcus Flint had been, and he was glaring down at Harry with disgust.

"What are you lot doing here?" said the Slytherin Captain, regarding the Gryffindor team before him. "We booked the pitch for today, you lot can just shove off."

Harry glared back at the Slytherin Captain. By force of habit, he also glared at the only familiar face in the Slytherin crowd.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco had been one of the only Slytherins to elect repeating his previous year of education. It seemed that he had changed completely after the events of the war. He had become greatly subdued. He was no longer the antagonist he had been in Harry's younger years. It was only by Harry's testimony that Draco and his family were able to remain out of Azkaban. Draco also realized just how many times Harry had saved his life. Because of this, he had become greatly humbled, and now regarded Harry with a kind of ashamed and silent respect. With Crabbe dead and Goyle out of school, Draco struck a strangely lonely figure, spending most of his time by himself due to a lack of real friendship. He was almost perpetually quiet now. When Harry glared at him, Draco's eyes widened, and for a moment, he almost appeared hurt.

Harry immediately regretted his glare. Although he and Draco would probably never be true friends, he at least felt that he understood him in some way. He knew that Draco hadn't really been completely evil; he had just been a misled boy who got in way over his head and had been forced to do some truly terrible things that he never wished to. Now that he was quiet and complacent, Harry didn't have a problem with him. He didn't bother much of anyone anymore.

There was an awkward silence. Harry cleared his throat and attempted to give Draco a sincerely apologetic look.

"Well, Potter?" the Slytherin Captain grunted. His entire team, except Draco, looked like they were all bracing themselves for a fight. Draco simply stared off quietly in another direction, intent to ignore the conflict. He'd had quite enough conflict for one lifetime.

"I booked the pitch for practice today," Harry said resolutely, not in the least bit intimidated by the Slytherin team. "You must be mistaken."

Ron, Dean, Seamus, Coote, Peakes, and even Ginny all crowded around behind Harry in a similarly intimidating manner. Hermione and Sarah backed away a couple paces. It was odd how school politics had barely changed despite the fact that Harry had quite literally saved the world for all of them.

Draco's eye, which had been staring away from the brewing fight, was caught by Sarah as she and Hermione backed away from the squaring-off Quidditch teams. He had heard tell around the school of an American student come to study abroad, and that she had been adopted into Gryffindor, but he had never seen her. From the fact that he did not recognize her face and that she was tagging along with the Gryffindor Quidditch team with Granger, he correctly assumed that it was the American student he had heard about. When the girl looked up, she looked a little startled to see him staring at her. He couldn't possibly explain why, but despite himself, he gave her a faint smile.

When Sarah looked up, she saw that only one member of the Slytherin team was not gearing up for a fight. Instead, to her surprise, he was looking straight at her curiously. He was tall with a pale, pointed face and sleek white-blonde hair. His eyes were gray. Judging from the behavior of the rest of his team, Sarah was expecting to get a harsh glare from him. She was caught off guard when she got a tiny smile instead. She smiled back at him. Both Quidditch teams, as well as Hermione, were absorbed in the conflict at hand, and no one saw. Both Sarah and Draco looked back to the Slytherin Captain when he spoke up again, breaking the silence.

"I think you're wrong, Potter," said the Slytherin Captain. He cracked his knuckles ominously. "I think you lot had best get out of here before our Beaters start practicing with your heads."

In response to his threat, the Gryffindor team crowded around Harry even tighter. Coote and Peakes had their bats held closely at their sides, clearly intending to illustrate that they were not above trying out the same thing with the enemy team. There was a slight muttering in the Slytherin team, and they all crowded around tighter as well. That was all except for Draco, who was now standing a foot or two away from his crowding team and looking thoroughly embarrassed.

The tension was palpable and it continued mounting. Just before it looked like it was about to come to blows, a sharp whistle sounded in the distance. Both teams immediately looked to the source of the noise. Strolling down the lawn toward the pitch were two figures. The one who had blown the whistle was obviously Madam Hooch, and the other was identifiable by his billowing black robes as Professor Snape.

He had known that the Quidditch pitch was double-booked for practice today. In fact, he had been the one to make it that way. He still enjoyed causing fleeting annoyances in Harry's life. To him, it was his little way of making The Boy Who Lived repay all the years of misery and sacrifice that he endured because of him. He knew it would create a conflict between the teams. Whatever it escalated to beyond that was completely out of his control, the more physical the better.

Normally he would have completely stayed away from the conflict, content to imagine it taking place without him, especially because he did not wish Potter to know that he was the party responsible for it. Today, however, was different. He was heading down to the pitch in order to break it up. He was actually foiling his own plans.

To anyone who might have asked, he was only concerned for the well-being of his team. The actual truth behind it was that he had seen Sarah trailing along behind Potter and the others on their way down to the pitch after lunch. If the little conflict he had created boiled over too far, he knew that she might become involved due to her close ties with Gryffindor House. Instead of risking harm coming to her, he decided he would intervene. He had summoned Madam Hooch and was now making his way down to the pitch with her.

When Hooch and Snape reached the two teams, Snape stood by his team and crossed his arms, staring down the Gryffindor team with disdain. Though Sarah did not notice, Hermione was now closely observing her as she glanced nervously at Snape and blushed slightly. Sarah made sure to distance herself from the Gryffindor team, and Snape's disdainful glare, by another few feet. She swallowed nervously. Sarah glanced curiously at the woman with short gray hair and strange yellow, hawk-like eyes. Hooch spoke up.

"What seems to be the trouble here?" she asked loudly, looking over both of the teams.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the Slytherin captain spoke first.

"Potter here seems to think he booked the pitch for practice today," he spat.

Hooch reached inside her robes and pulled out a strip of parchment. She examined it for a moment and then spoke up again.

"This is true, but Professor Snape has also booked the pitch for this afternoon. It seems the pitch has accidentally been double booked, so both teams will have to share unless one of you is willing to leave," she explained harshly.

The teams glared at one another again; neither team backed down. It looked like they would have to share the pitch for the afternoon.

"All settled, then?" Hooch asked loudly, her yellow eyes shifting between the two Captains. When they both nodded grudgingly, she began striding back up to the castle without another word.

The tension momentarily broken by the intervening referee, both teams gravitated to their own separate ends of the pitch. They had each procured a box containing all of the essential Quidditch balls for practice, so they would not have to share anything other than possible airspace. Each team would do its best to stay on its own side, mostly to avoid the elbows or Bludgers of the other team.

Even though Hooch had left, Snape remained behind, and took a seat in the stands on what became the Slytherin side of the pitch. He was pretending to watch his team begin practicing, but he was actually watching Sarah. She was now standing closely with Potter as the rest of the Gryffindor team took to the air, conversing over a broomstick.

Seeing her with Potter caused something primal and fierce to flare up within him. He looked so much like James that it was almost like seeing James with Lily again. When he looked at Sarah and Harry together, that is what his mind's eye saw. They were conversing closely, Potter having placed a broomstick on the ground at Sarah's side. Sarah looked nervous, and Potter began gesturing at her, apparently demonstrating the proper way to pick up a broomstick from the ground.

So that's what he is doing, Snape thought to himself. Potter appeared to be giving Sarah the same type of broomstick lesson that first years received annually from Madam Hooch. He smirked to himself. I wonder whose idea that was.

He sighed to himself. He could barely stand the sight of her with Potter. He felt some primal urge to confidently walk over there and lay claim to her and insist that he teach her to fly instead. He knew he could not do this without arousing the suspicion of the entire school. He gritted his teeth and remained rooted on the spot, glaring at Potter.

Snape watched for a while from a distance as Sarah's lesson progressed. The two teams overhead were practicing heatedly, and occasionally a rogue Bludger from one side would come dangerously close to a player on the opposing team, but he did not notice. He watched as Sarah was quickly able to summon the broom into her hand, and began tentatively hovering above the ground with Harry's close instruction. She seemed to get the hang of it fairly quickly, and she was soon slowly making her way around the Gryffindor end of the pitch at a very low altitude. Snape narrowed his eyes at Potter, who looked utterly pleased with himself and his student's progress.

A while later, it looked like Sarah became a bit more confident, and even started daring to climb to some of the altitudes at which the Gryffindor players were flying. Harry remained standing on the ground, directing the team's drills from below, and also keeping an eye on Sarah's progress. She appeared to be growing comfortable with flying the broom. With some time and practice, Harry thought, she might even learn to play Quidditch.

Sarah did find the experience exhilarating. Ginny's Nimbus was steady, and she found that flying it wasn't nearly as terrifying as she thought it would be. It was even less terrifying than Buckbeak, she realized. She felt in control, and even began daring to dart around at faster speeds. The feeling of the cold autumn air flowing through her long hair was wonderful. She could feel her scarf whipping around her neck. She was so excited that she managed to forget she was not just only under Harry's watchful eye, but Snape's as well. If she had remembered this, she probably would have been much more nervous as she learned to fly. Always having been fairly athletic, Sarah felt herself taking quickly to flying. She was greatly enjoying herself, flying around the Gryffindor end of the pitch while the team practiced.

Unfortunately, as Snape watched Sarah, he did not notice two very important things. For one, he did not notice that he himself was also being closely observed by Hermione Granger. His apparent tension at watching Sarah interacting with Harry was proof enough to her of what Harry had let slip to her last night. Snape was undeniably attracted to the girl for some reason, and he apparently could barely stomach seeing her with Harry.

For two, he did not notice his team's Beaters beginning to find an amusing game in aiming Bludgers at the new Gryffindor girl. Harry did not notice this either until it was too late. Thankfully, Sarah had descended to a lower altitude, but being new on a broom, she was not able to evade the Bludger which was hit at her from the Slytherin side of the pitch. She didn't even see it.

Although they did not know it, both Harry and Snape gasped in unison as they saw the Bludger heading for her. To Snape's surprise, he saw another Slytherin player, extremely fast on his broom, trying to speed over to the Bludger and deflect it with his own body.

Unfortunately, he missed, and the Bludger sped on toward Sarah, striking her square in the back. She was knocked off of her broom hard with a terrible thud, falling a respectable distance to the ground, where she did not move.

When this happened, there came a triumphant laugh from the Slytherin side of the pitch, and the entire Gryffindor team screeched to a halt in their activities and sped down toward the ground and their fallen friend. Harry immediately sprinted over to where Sarah fell, but he was nearly thrown backwards when someone else got there first. Before he knew what was going on, there was a billowing black-robed figure kneeling at Sarah's side, hunched over her.

This stopped the Gryffindor team dead in their tracks before they reached the ground, and it also silenced the laughter coming from the Slytherin side of the pitch. Since when had Snape rushed to the aid of an injured Gryffindor? By their reckoning, he should still be sitting on their side of the stands sharing in their laughter, or at least smirking smugly to himself. Instead, he was kneeling by the girl's side on the ground, looking severe. The Gryffindor team was equally baffled. Both teams watched in a stunned silence as Snape gently turned Sarah over onto her back. He appeared to be examining her neck and head with his hands, searching for broken bones.

No one dared approach but Harry.

When Harry reached Sarah's side, Snape looked up at him, glaring.

When he looked up to glare at Potter, he realized his mistake. It had been a natural impulse to rush to Sarah's aid, but now he saw how both teams were hovering in midair at low altitudes, gaping at his strange altruistic behavior toward the Gryffindor girl. Still glaring at Harry, he cleared his throat and continued examining Sarah. She groaned faintly and stirred. Harry knelt down beside her as well, trying to avoid Snape's eye. His glare had been so severe that it clearly communicated a message of, this-is-entirely-your-fault-and-I'm-going-to-hex-you, Potter.

Even as he blamed Harry, Snape knew that it was mostly his own fault. He felt a terrible pang of guilt inside his chest. He had been the one to purposely double-book the pitch in order to cause annoyance to Potter and his team. Now it had resulted in Sarah having quite a rough dismount from her first broom-flying experience. If there was anything he did not want, it was to cause the girl any kind of pain.

As he carefully and tenderly examined her neck, he found no broken bones. He patiently asked her to move each of her limbs and all of her digits to insure that there were not any breaks in her back. Sarah did not answer except with soft groans of pain while she moved, but she could move everything. She did not appear to have broken anything. Satisfied with his inspection, Snape straightened up. Harry was leaning over Sarah just as he had been, worried about her well-being. Harry felt guilty, too; he had been the one to suggest she learn to fly today.

When Snape straightened up, Harry looked over at him questioningly. The two teams continued watching the display in silent awe.

"She is fine," Snape said matter-of-factly in response Harry's silent question. "There appears to be no broken bones, but I will take her to the hospital wing just in case."

Both men stood and held a hand out to Sarah.

"Can you stand?" Harry asked her.

Sarah nodded silently and took Harry's hand in her right hand, and Snape's in her left. Together, they lifted her to her feet. When she was standing, she groaned softly again and winced in pain. She didn't have any broken bones, but she was extremely bruised and shaken up. The wind had quite literally been knocked out of her, which always tells of a painful fall.

When she was on her feet, the entire Gryffindor team began clapping and cheering for her as if she was one of their own players who had come back into the game after an injury. Still in pain, she gave a shaky smile up at them.

"Well done!" shouted Ron, clapping for her as he glanced nervously in Hermione's direction. She had gone pale. Ron knew, as did Harry, that he would probably get quite a talking-to when practice was over.

"Show those Slytherins what we Gryffindors are made of!" Seamus shouted. Dean cheered loudly at his best friend's words.

Coote and Peakes were already clubbing their bats menacingly against their palms as they eyed the Slytherin Beaters across the pitch.

Harry apologized profusely to Sarah and assured her that they would all see her later. Snape, careful not to place another hand anywhere on Sarah's body while in line of sight of the Quidditch pitch, began leading her back up to the castle.

When they were gone, Ron soared down to Harry's side. The Slytherin team had already resumed their practicing, and the Gryffindor team slowly got back into the swing of things while aiming Bludgers toward the Slytherins.

"Blimey," Ron said, sounding astonished, "Did you see how fast he got over here? What do you reckon that was about?"

"No idea," Harry lied.

Hermione still looked pale.


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Once they were safely inside the castle, and out of sight of anyone who might be watching, Snape turned Sarah into a dark corner. He placed a hand on either one of her shoulders as if to be sure her structural integrity was whole and intact.

"Are you well?" he asked her softly. "I am sorry," he supplied, feeling guilty, "I did not see the Bludger soon enough... had I seen it sooner I might have been able to deflect it with a spell."

He feared that if the girl became angry with his team, her anger might transfer over to him as well. Maybe she thought that he should have prevented it from happening. By now she was already well aware of the animosity that existed between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"I'm alright," Sarah said meekly. "It's not your fault."

Snape remained silent for a few moments, looking into her eyes. He could see physical pain there. He would not admit to her how much of his fault it really was.

"I shall take you up to the hospital wing," he told her, "Madam Pomfrey will want to examine you to be sure everything is alright. That was quite a fall."

He slowly and patiently led her up to the hospital wing. Although she had no broken bones, her body was in pain, and she did not seem to want to move very quickly. He supported her the entire way up, always extending his hands to her when she appeared shaky on the stairs or unsteady on her feet.

When they entered the wing, Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. The wing was also completely empty. Snape led Sarah over to the bed that she had occupied when she first arrived at Hogwarts. She quickly laid down on the comfortable bed, sighing. Snape hurried over to the door which led into Pomfrey's office and private quarters. When he knocked, she promptly opened the door, looking harried. When she set eyes him Snape, she immediately looked over his shoulder to the girl lying on the bed.

"What's been done to the poor girl this time?" she said, bustling out of the room toward the bed Sarah was lying on. Snape slowly followed after her.

"I'm afraid she was hit in the back by a Bludger and had a bit of a fall off of a broom," he explained.

Madam Pomfrey gasped as she began checking Sarah over.

"Why, I never!" she huffed, "Flying already... of all the things..."

Snape watched as Pomfrey checked Sarah over quickly while muttering to herself. He was certain that she was not seriously injured from his previous inspection of her, but he was still concerned.

"She looks fine," Pomfrey said, already bustling over to her medicine potion cabinet. "Only some bad bruises and a shaking-up. Nothing a pain relief potion and a few hours of rest won't fix."

Snape was relieved when he heard that Sarah would be well enough to attend her evening lesson. Before exiting the hospital wing, when Madam Pomfrey wasn't looking, he leaned down to kiss her softly. He had to be sure that she wasn't angry at him for his team's behavior toward her and her friends. She certainly didn't seem to be. Still, he felt like he needed to make it up to her somehow. He was thinking feverishly to himself on his way back to the dungeons, trying to think of some way he could do this.

He came up with what he thought was an excellent idea.


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A/N: There you have chapter 16! I hope you enjoyed it. I had planned on having it be longer and including what happens later on in the afternoon and at Sarah's lesson, but I simply don't have enough time to hammer it out today. That being said, the next chapter will be romantic and lemony again! I hope you can put up with waiting for it!

Some of you may be a little confused to see Draco not acting like a prick, but after the events of Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows I imagine that his personality probably has changed drastically. This is my interpretation of what Draco would be like now after experiencing all those terrible things and being forced to do Voldemort's bidding, having his life saved by Harry, and also not having any friends at Hogwarts anymore since one of his friends is dead and the rest of them chose not to repeat their year. I imagine that Draco, in his new more humble persona, would have chosen to continue his education because he felt obligated to, and felt responsible for how terrible things became at Hogwarts the year after Dumbledore's death.

I now give fair warning that updates over the next several weeks, perhaps for the entire month of October, might end up being more spread out than weekly. I have Midterm assignments/exams/term papers/presentations/reading assignments all due between now and November 1st. I will continue working on the story during the weekends when I have time, but I might not have the time to complete an entire lengthy chapter in one weekend. (Surprisingly, it takes quite a lot of time and effort to write a fic like this!). Don't worry though, updates will still continue to happen on a regular basis. I like writing my story too much to simply stop, and I'm sure many of you would be quite upset if I did :)

Anyway, since updates might take a little longer over the next month, feel free to leave me your e-mail address, or even e-mail me (Raug397@yahoo.com) if you would like me to add you to an update list where I will e-mail you when I have updated with a new chapter.

Leave a review if you would be so kind. More to come soon. Thank you for reading!! :)