The Name in Red **COMPLETE**

Hello! Here is chapter 9. I hope you enjoy it!


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The Name in Red.

Chapter 9: Taking Flight.
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Early the next morning, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were walking together. It was before breakfast. McGonagall had asked Snape that he drop by to speak with her about the girl's progress. Snape, having slept quite fitfully after his encounter with the girl last night, had decided to pay her an early morning visit. Together they walked out into the school's grounds, the sun not yet completely up. It was very chilly, and there was an extremely light showing of frost coating the grass. Winter was definitely coming quickly this year. Both Snape and McGonagall were suitably bundled up in warm robes.

"So?" asked McGonagall, looking to Snape as they walked along together. "How has the girl been doing?"

"Quite well, actually," Snape admitted. "I expected her to destroy my office with a single wave of her wand. Surprisingly, that has not happened... yet."

McGonagall nodded.

"I have begun by teaching her how to focus and control her magic through her wand. She has picked up on it quite quickly. She could use a more steady hand when it comes to potion making, though," he said wryly.

"What do you mean, Severus?" asked McGonagall.

"In our very first lesson, Monday night," he explained, "She had a bit of a mishap with the potion I instructed her to brew. Long story short, I was forced to tell her the truth about her eyes and what I had done to them after discovering it."

McGonagall sighed.

"How did she take it?" she asked. "I was hoping to be able to keep it from her a bit longer, at least until we might find out exactly what happened, or if it is permanent."

"She was quite shocked at first, naturally," he said. "I tried to explain briefly why having red eyes might cause problems for her. She seemed to understand, and did not ask any more on the matter. Last night it seemed to have been of no concern to her at all." She seemed quite concerned with me instead, he thought to himself.

"I see," McGonagall sighed again. At least the girl hadn't taken the strange news too badly.

"Otherwise, she seems to have the aptitude to learn. She has gained a very basic control over her wand. I plan to move into more advanced territory this evening," he said. He then smirked a little to himself at his double entendre.

"Good," said McGonagall. "I am pleased the arrangement is working out. I believe the more she learns, the less of a danger she may potentially be."

"It continues to trouble me," said Snape.

"I am troubled by it as well," replied McGonagall, knowing of what he was speaking. "I have thought long and hard on it, and I cannot seem to find any reasonable explanation for why the girl was not approached."

"There has to be one," Snape said confidently.

"There may be one," said McGonagall, "But for the moment, it is as much a mystery to us as the reason behind the strange color of her eyes. Regardless, the girl must continue to learn."

"She shall," Snape assured her.

"In the meantime," McGonagall continued, her tone brightening, "She seems to have become fast friends with one of our students."

"Dare I ask?" he snarked. Judging from Sarah's quasi-adoption by Gryffindor and the fact that she was now living in the Room of Requirement, he could hazard a guess.

"Mr. Potter has taken quite a shine to her," said McGonagall, "And was even able to solve our little dilemma of where she was to stay."

Snape remained silent.

"She reminds him of himself, I think," McGonagall said thoughtfully with a smile. "When he came to this school, he was no better off than she is about knowing things of the magical world. She is parentless, friendless, and clueless, just as he was. I think on some small level, even if he does not realize it himself, this is part of the reason why he is so eager to help her."

"He is still clueless," Snape rolled his eyes. Anger then bubbled up inside him. He could not help wondering if the boy had told her anything about him. If he knew what was good for him, he wouldn't have.

"I know how you still feel about him, Severus," said McGonagall. "But even you cannot deny that having friends here will be a great asset to her."

"She has a teacher," Snape said harshly, "That's all she needs. She does not need to go gallivanting about with Potter. What if someone were to find out about her circumstances, or her eyes?"

"Yes, she does need a teacher, Severus, and she has that in you it seems," McGonagall replied, raising an eyebrow at him. He had sounded somewhat protective. "But she also needs friends, Severus. People to teach her the things that you may not teach her. Simple things. Everyday things. If anything, they will only serve to make your job easier. And I see no reason why anyone should find out more than they need to know about her, or about her eyes. She already knows how strange everything about her sounds to anyone here, and I highly doubt she wishes to draw attention to herself."

"I suppose," he admitted quietly.

The pair continued walking together and conversing for a short while longer. During the moments of silence that would fall, Snape was trying to suppress the confusing feelings of anger that would surface as he imagined Sarah walking alongside a miniature James Potter.


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Sarah awoke around ten the next morning. She had managed to sleep straight through breakfast. For some reason, she had slept quite fitfully during the night, after her encounter with Snape. It was ridiculous to think that Snape might have kissed her, or even wanted to. All the same, Sarah had seen his eyes dart down toward her lips once, just as hers had been doing to his. Everything about the situation was extremely confusing. She had spent quite a while lying in bed thinking about it before she had finally been able to fall asleep.

As she got dressed for the day, she noticed a small scrap of parchment on her night stand. Picking it up, she examined it. They were the directions to Hagrid's that Harry had left her. She read them over a couple times. They did not seem too complicated. She was getting more and more familiar with the castle every day. At the bottom of the directions, Harry had scribbled an additional note:

P.S.:
Don't be frightened. Hagrid wouldn't show you anything particularly dangerous on your first lesson... I hope.
Come and see us afterward.

~Harry


This had only served to make her even more frightened. Thinking to herself that she really should have asked Harry what exactly a Buckbeak was, she folded up the parchment and pocketed it.

Bored, she spent the next hour or so perusing the textbooks in her room. Having mastered the levitation charm that Snape had taught her, she was excited about what she might learn to do with her wand next. At the same time, she was anxious about being alone with Snape all evening. Trying to take her mind off of it, she kept trying to focus extra hard on the books in front of her. Unfortunately, she would end up staring blankly at the pages while her mind wandered back to the mystery that was Snape.

About an hour later, after putting on an extra layer and bundling up with her Gryffindor scarf, she set out for Hagrid's.


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After having finished Potions, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were settling in back in the common room. The fire was roaring, and they took their usual places on the comfortable furniture in front of it. Harry kept glancing at his watch, wondering what time Sarah might be getting back from Hagrid's. Hermione noticed this.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked him.

"Oh," said Harry, looking up at her, "I told Sarah to come see us after she's done with Hagrid."

"Hagrid?" Hermione repeated, looking at him harshly.

"Yeah, I took her to meet him last night. She needed a bit of cheering up after the story I told her," he explained. "She's going to take a few lessons with him. Why?"

"Because I bet she's going to know who to blame if she comes up here missing a few fingers and an eye, that's why," she huffed.

"She'll be fine, Hermione, Hagrid wouldn't-,"

"Hagrid doesn't know that she's only been a witch for a few days, Harry," she pressed. "You had better hope that he doesn't show her anything she's not ready for."

"I'd like to see her face if Hagrid has her feeding Blast-Ended Skrewts," Ron grinned.

Harry bit the inside of his mouth. He was a little nervous now. Maybe he shouldn't have so hastily insisted that Sarah take a couple lessons with Hagrid; he did have a tendency to get a little overzealous, even with experienced students. Taking a deep breath, he tried to assure himself that Sarah would be absolutely fine when she walked through the portrait hole.

While thinking to himself, Harry hadn't noticed that Hermione had not immediately taken out something to start working on, as she always did. Instead, she sat staring thoughtfully into the fire. A few minutes passed before anyone spoke again. Hermione took a quick look around the room, to be sure that it was completely empty except for them.

"I've been thinking," she started.

"That's extremely unusual," said Ron, in his best serious-sounding tone. Distracted from his own thoughts, Harry looked over at Hermione again. She gave a little smile and nudged Ron playfully.

"I've been thinking," she started again, "About Sarah."

"What about her?" Harry asked.

"The more and more I think about it, the more suspicious it all seems," Hermione explained. Both Harry and Ron nodded in agreement. "From what you told us, Harry, I'm certain that all those people at her school were Obliviated after what she did with the tree."

"That's what it sounded like to me," said Harry.

"But why, then," she continued, "Did no one ever approach her? I'm almost certain that someone has to have known she was a witch. The whole incident was quite neatly swept under the rug in less than a day. All those people had their memories modified. That's not an easy job to do so quickly." Hermione's brows were furrowed in thought. She was still staring into the fire.

"What do you think, then?" Harry asked, leaning forward. Hermione could always pull answers out of anywhere, and he was quite eager to have the situation explained.

"I'm not sure what to think," she stated. "None if it makes any sense. But I think I might have an idea that might let us find out a bit more."

"What's that?" Harry asked raptly. Ron was listening quite intently as well. Hermione took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.

"Well," she started, "You already know about the Obliviator Headquarters at the Ministry, in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."

"What's this got to do with the Ministry?" Ron asked, sounding a little disgusted. He was quite keen on never having anything to do with the Ministry of Magic ever again.

"It's got everything to do with the Ministry, if I'm right, Ronald," she snapped. Ron shrunk back a little bit before she continued. "Whenever memory modifications are performed like that on Muggles, they have to keep a record of it. Especially a memory modification on a large scale."

"But she was in America, Hermione," said Harry. "You really think the Ministry could have been there?"

"The Ministry is everywhere, Harry," said Hermione. "America, and most other countries, don't have anything nearly as organized or as powerful as the Ministry of Magic here in Britain. Some of them have their own Ministries, of sorts, but nothing like ours. As such, the Ministry has contacts all around the world, with the Department of International Magical Cooperation. They keep tabs on all the goings-on in the magical world outside of Britain. If a large-scale memory modification were performed on Muggles somewhere else, they would know."

"They would?" Harry asked, slightly irked at the idea of the Ministry having the entire magical world under some sort of surveillance.

"Yes, they would," she insisted. "They would know, and even if they weren't the ones who did it, they would have to make a record of it. Those records are probably in London, at the Obliviator Headquarters."

"So what are you saying?" asked Ron, wanting to get to the bottom of her explanation.

"I'm saying," Hermione continued, "That the Ministry might have a record of that incident. If we can get a look at that record, it might prove whether or not anyone knew she was a witch in the first place. If it does prove that someone knew, then I'm afraid it only further begs the question of why she wasn't approached."

Harry had to admit that this was a brilliant idea. He hadn't thought of that at all. Unfortunately, like Ron, he was also quite keen on steering clear of messing with the Ministry again. Ministry policy had done a complete turnaround after Voldemort's defeat, when Kingsley was made Minister. Kingsley was trying his best to right all the wrongs that had been made in the past several years.

Still, Harry didn't fancy the idea of walking into the Ministry itself and trying to clandestinely get his hands on another piece of information that may or may not be classified. Maybe his standing in the Wizarding world, which was finally universally respected and no longer doubted, would be enough for him to access the information if he asked to. He doubted it, and wasn't all too thrilled to try and find out.

"You could be right, Hermione," Harry said at last. "But I'm also guessing they don't just let people walk in and snoop around in those records as if it were some sort of library, and I think we've had enough Ministry misadventures for a lifetime."

"That's most likely the case, yes," Hermione admitted. She then signed. "I do bet they have a record of it, and it would sure answer a lot of questions."

"Yeah but it might ask even more questions at the same time, like you said," Ron reminded her. Hermione nodded.

The three sat in a contemplative silence for a few minutes.

"Do you reckon we should tell her?" Ron spoke up, looking from Hermione to Harry, and back again.

"I don't think so," said Harry, "Not yet anyway. I told her a bit about the Ministry when I explained everything to her, but I don't think she would fully understand everything about it just yet."

"I agree," said Hermione. "She probably doesn't even know what 'Obliviate' even means yet. If we tell her what we suspect, she might just become frightened by the idea that someone may have been watching her and covered up the whole fiasco, but didn't approach her either. That wouldn't do her any good right now."

"No more good than feeding Blast-Ended Skrewts might do her, though," said Ron.

Harry smirked at him.

"I'm sure Hagrid isn't showing her Skrewts, Ron," he said. "I don't even think he has any left, remember?"

"Yeah, I'm glad the little buggers killed each other off," said Ron. "Saved me the trouble."

Just then, the portrait hole swung open. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all turned their heads toward it.

In stepped an extremely disheveled looking Sarah. Her hair was much more wild than usual, and her Gryffindor scarf was blown back. She had smudges of dirt on her cheeks, as well as her robes. There were even some small twigs, leaves, and blades of grass poking out from her clothing and hair. She was very pale. Aside from her appearance being in disarray and having an expression on her face that may have resembled the one she had worn when she'd first seen a ghost, she didn't look any worse for wear. From what Harry could see, all of her limbs and digits were intact. He let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Without saying anything, Sarah drifted over to the fire and plopped down quite heavily onto the empty couch across from Ron and Hermione. Hermione looked concerned. Ron looked amused. When she sat down, she stared blankly ahead and remained silent.

"What's happened to you?" Ron asked, trying quite hard not to laugh.

"Buckbeak," she croaked.

"Oh, surely he didn't," said Hermione, whose eyes widened as she brought her hands to cover her mouth.

Harry, still looking Sarah over, spoke up.

"What about Buckbeak, Sarah?" he asked, even though he already had a strong suspicion of what might have happened.

"Well," Sarah began, still staring blankly ahead and her voice quiet. Her eyes were very wide. "Hagrid brought Buckbeak around. Told me a little bit about hippogriffs. Then he taught me how to approach him. So I bowed to Buckbeak, just like Hagrid told me to. And he let me walk up to him and pet him... and then... and then...," she became quiet.

"And then?" Ron pressed.

"And then Hagrid sort of just lifted me up and sat me right down on Buckbeak's back, slapped him on the rump... and off we went." Sarah sounded as if she were still in disbelief.

Hermione suddenly looked a little queasy.

Ron chortled. Harry could not help himself either, and laughed a little. He recalled the similar experience he had upon his first meeting with Buckbeak. He approached and patted the animal, but wasn't expecting to be taken for a wild ride through the air on its back. Harry had already been quite used to flying on brooms by that time, however, and he quickly came to enjoy riding on Buckbeak. Sarah, he knew, had probably never flown on anything besides a Muggle airplane. He definitely understood why she looked so very shocked.

"Did you stay on?" Ron asked through his laughter.

"Yeah," said Sarah, shifting her eyes to look at him, "Until the end, at least. Luckily I've ridden horses before, and it turned out not being so different... until we landed."

"You fell off?" Hermione gasped.

Sarah nodded slowly.

"I lost my balance when we landed," she continued, "And I fell off. Luckily we were already on the ground. It wasn't any worse than falling from a horse... but that's not exactly fun either. I sort of just laid there on the ground on my back staring up at the sky. I was so shocked. Hagrid thought I was seriously hurt for a minute."

"You're not, are you?" Hermione sounded quite concerned. Sarah shook her head.

"I'm fine. Just some scrapes and bruises. I don't think I'll be asking Hagrid to try that again any time soon, though," Sarah sighed. Seeing Ron and Harry's amused expressions, she smiled a little.

"We'll have to get her on a broom sometime, mate," Ron laughed, looking at Harry. "Blimey, that will seem like a picnic to her after what her first flying experience was."

"That's probably right, Ron," Harry smiled.

"I think I'll be staying grounded for a while, thanks," Sarah said, smiling.

"Don't worry, I'll keep you company," Hermione assured her.

Safely back on the ground, Sarah enjoyed the rest of the afternoon in the company of her friends. All the while, she was trying to keep her mind off the anxiety she felt about her quickly approaching lesson with Snape later in the evening. At suppertime, she was thinking she would rather gladly have another ride on Buckbeak instead.


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At seven, Sarah was standing in the dungeons, in front of the door to Snape's office. She had spent some time after supper freshening up, so as not to appear as if she had just fallen off of a hippogriff. Hoping she had done enough, she took a deep breath to steady herself. She was very nervous about what Snape might have in store for her this evening, and not just in terms of her actual lesson. She knocked twice.

"Enter," Snape called from within.

Sarah stepped inside and softly shut the door behind her. The office looked exactly the same, perhaps except for it being a little brighter than before. Snape was seated at his parchment-covered desk, as always. He looked up at Sarah as she entered. As soon as she felt his eyes on her, her breath seemed to catch, and her pulse quickened. All she could think about was the way those eyes had looked last night, so very close to her, and staring into her own. Swallowing hard, Sarah mustered her courage and slowly approached his desk.

"Good evening, Miss Garrend," Snape said casually, his eyes still on her. She already seemed very determined to avoid eye contact. Snape smirked.

"Good evening, Professor," Sarah replied, her voice soft.

Snape rose from his desk. When Sarah looked up and saw that he was still looking at her, she quickly looked away again. He then strode around to the front of his desk, where he had placed a few ordinary-looking flasks.

"As I promised we would begin some more complicated wandwork this evening, I thought we would try your hand at the three simple spells that you witnessed me perform on your first night here," said Snape, motioning to the flasks. Sarah drew her wand out from inside her robes. "I believe these spells prudent for you to learn as quickly as possible, as you already seem quite adept in your skill to break things and create messes."

Sarah colored a little, remembering how she had shattered the flask he had held to her lips as she laid in bed. Snape picked up one of the flasks and handed it to her. He did this quickly enough that she did not have time to adjust and avoid him; he made quite certain to brush her hand as much as possible, taking note as she shivered slightly.

"If you would, please demonstrate the aforementioned prodigious skills so we may begin," said Snape.

"You... want me to break it? On purpose?" asked Sarah. It seemed strange for him to be asking her to go ahead and break things.

"How else do you suggest I teach you to mend things, Miss Garrend?" he said, giving her an impatient glare. "Now stop asking foolishly obvious questions and break the damned flask before I break it for you."

Sarah turned toward the door and lobbed the flask. It fell to the floor in the middle of the room, shattering completely. Its contents, a mystery to her, spilled out onto the floor.

"Well done," Snape said sarcastically.

"What was inside it?" Sarah asked.

"Just plain water," he replied. "I would not put any dangerous substances into a flask which I planned on having you toss around my office. Now observe." He walked closer to where the flask had fallen, being sure to step aside so Sarah could have a complete view of what he would show her. He removed his wand from his robes. Sarah watched him intently, still a bit of color in her face. She wondered if she would ever be able to look normal again in this man's presence.

"The first spell," Snape continued, "Is a simple cleaning charm. It is a very frequently practiced spell, useful to clean up most minor messes. Should you ever spill ink, water, or create any other kind of mess, this spell will be of great use to you. I will use it to clear up the water that was inside the flask."

He pointed his wand to the wet, shattered mess on the floor.

"Scourgify."

The water cleaned itself up, leaving only the shattered flask resting on the now-dried section of floor.

"The second spell," he continued, "Is a simple repairing charm. This is also a very frequently practiced spell. It can be used to easily repair any number of simple, non-magical objects. If you were to break a glass, or accidently tear up a book, you would use this spell to fix them. Powerful magical objects are unaffected by this spell."

Wand still pointing at the shattered flask, he gave it another flick.

"Reparo."

The flask jumped back into its original, unbroken form.

"The final spell I will be attempting to teach you this evening," he continued, "Is a summoning charm. It can be used to summon objects to you. It is the favorite of a lazy student who does not wish to get up and use their legs to retrieve something from the other side of the room. It can, however, be very useful in tight spots, where you may not have time to reach something quickly enough."

"Accio."

The repaired flask zoomed up toward Snape, who caught it easily in his empty hand.

"This spell," he said, striding back toward her with the empty flask in his hand. "Requires a focused connection between yourself, your wand, and the object you wish to summon to you. This is a very similar concept to the levitation charm which you have been practicing." He held the flask out to her so she could inspect it, making sure to once again brush her hand with his as much as possible.

"In addition to this," he continued, "You must be ready to deal with the object once it reaches you. In this case, it required me being ready to catch the flask. Had I been unprepared or unable to catch it, it would have shattered again if it dropped to the floor." He took the flask from her, brushing her hand again, and placed it on his desk.

"You will be attempting to learn the spells in this order," he said. "Once you have mastered one, you may move onto the next, up until the point when you can take one of these flasks, break it, clean up the water, repair it, and summon it to yourself seamlessly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Sarah.

"Good," said Snape. "We will not be breaking any more flasks until you can master the cleansing charm. Please move to stand nearer the door, facing my desk. I will create a small puddle of water on the floor, and you will attempt to clean it up. Before you can move on, you are required to be able to clean the puddle with only one spell, not several in succession."

As Snape instructed her, Sarah took several paces away from his desk toward the door, and then turned to face his desk again. She watched as he raised his wand again, pointing it at the floor between them.

"Aguamenti."

A small jet of water shot forth from the wand's tip. Snape quickly stopped the spell, only creating a small burst of water, which formed into a small puddle upon the floor.

"The spoken incantation is pronounced Scourgify," he repeated slowly for her. "Begin."

This spell, just like the levitation charm had, proved to be quite a bit more difficult than Sarah had thought it to be. He just makes everything look easy, she thought to herself. Half an hour later, she was still only able to entirely clean up the puddle with several charms cast in succession. She sincerely hoped that Snape did not expect her to pick up on everything in the blink of an eye. The fact that he did not seem to become overly impatient with her was slightly reassuring. He continued urging her to focus and concentrate harder, and really feel the connection with her wand, as well as the action she wanted to take with it.

Twenty minutes after this, and dozens of Snape's Aguamenti charms later, she had finally managed to entirely clear up the puddle in one go. Extremely pleased with herself, she smiled and looked up at Snape. He raised an eyebrow at her, and then glanced down at the floor. He could see that the puddle was completely gone, and he had only heard her cast the spell once since its creation. Looking back up and giving her a satisfactory nod, he picked up the now empty flask that he had originally demonstrated on. He lobbed it halfway toward her, and it shattered on the floor.

"The spoken incantation for the repairing charm is Reparo," he said, once again slowly repeating the spell aloud for her. "Begin."

This spell proved that much more difficult than the previous one. An hour's worth of practice later, she had still not managed to flawlessly repair the flask. At this point, she had grown quite frustrated. She was concentrating and focusing as hard as she thought she could. She had managed to get it to reassemble several of its pieces, but not completely repair it instantly the way Snape had shown her. Once again, he had made it look so very easy. She began stomping around and swearing a bit. Snape looked up from his paperwork and smirked at her.

"Those particular incantations, Miss Garrend, will unfortunately not aid you in your current task," he snarked. She looked up and gave him a little glare, but he only smirked back.

About ten minutes later, she had reached her boiling point. Losing her temper and not really thinking about what she was doing, she skipped ahead a step. Slashing her wand forcefully at the shattered flask, she yelled.

"ACCIO!"

Snape looked up as the girl yelled. His eyes widened. To his horror, he saw several large shards of broken flask soaring through the air, straight at her. He watched as she managed to shield herself with her forearms, but he heard her shriek in pain. As the spell was extremely rough and unfocused, many of the shards had missed her, but several more had shred into her robes, cutting her forearms deeply. He shot up from his chair, knocking it over in the process, and dashed over to where she stood.

With a groan, Sarah lowered her arms. They stung badly in several places, and she could feel blood starting to drip down the sleeves of her robes. She looked up just in time to see Snape towering before her, glaring down at her.

"Foolish girl!" he spat at her, quickly reaching out and grabbing one of her forearms in order to drag her toward his desk. There he might inspect the damage she had so carelessly inflicted upon herself. He only dragged her a single pace before he heard her hiss loudly in pain, and she dug her heels into the floor to stop him. He instantly let go of her arm the moment she had hissed like that.

Looking back at her, he saw that she was wearing an extremely agonized expression while looking back a him. He looked down at the hand he had grabbed her with; it was smeared with bright red blood. He sighed deeply and took a step back toward her. To his surprise, she quickly backed away from him, cradling her wounded arms. She now appeared to be scared. He cocked his head at her reaction.

Snape's expression softened a little as he regarded the frightened girl. She is afraid that I am going to hurt her, he thought to himself. Somehow, this thought sent a pang of sadness through his chest. Some small part of his mind urged him to quickly atone for causing her to feel this way.

"I am sorry," he said to her, his tone even, "It was not my intention to hurt you."

The girl seemed to relax a little, and lowered her arms again. Somehow, this pleased him a little. Trying to ignore this feeling, he spoke again.

"I was merely trying to bring you to my desk, in order to inspect your arms," he explained. "I apologize for my haste in doing so. If you would please approach my desk, I will have a look at your arms if you will permit me."

"Shouldn't I go see Madam Pomfrey? She-,"

Snape cut her off, but was still trying extremely hard to remain calm and patient.

"That will not be necessary," he said. "As I am always working with dangerous substances, I always keep a first-aid preparedness kit on hand. It is a long walk from here to the hospital wing. I would rather see to your wounds myself. Please," he said, motioning to his desk. He then took the extra chair in the room and set it before his desk, and moved around to take a seat in his own chair, which he first had to bring upright.

Sarah slowly approached his desk. She was extremely embarrassed. She had already managed to destroy a potion and get some of it in her eyes in the process, as well as gashing up her arms with a poorly performed summoning charm on a broken flask. All this in only three lessons. If she kept this up, she thought, Snape would probably refuse to keep teaching her.

As she moved in front of the chair, she gingerly rolled back her sleeves before sitting down. She placed her arms down on Snape's desk, stretched out toward him. He leaned forward and began inspecting them closely, running his fingers over her skin in places. Even through the pain, she trembled a little and her face colored slightly as she felt his touch. She had five gashes on her forearms; three on her right, and two on her left. He inspected her for a couple more minutes than was necessary. For some reason, he wanted to be sure that she would not shy away from his touch again.

"Nothing serious," said Snape. Sitting up, he leaned down to the side and pulled a dark colored bottle out of one of his desk drawers. "Dittany," he said, taking the dropper out of the bottle and leaning forward over Sarah's arms again, "This will cause the cuts to heal most of the way. They will continue healing naturally on their own, and there will be no scarring. The entire process will be relatively quick, but if you wish to have them disappear faster, Madam Pomfrey might be able to speed it up for you."

"That's fine," she said quietly, warily eyeing the liquid-filled dropper in his right hand.

"This may sting a little," he said. When she nodded silently, he looked up at her. He could see her anxious expression as she regarded the dropper in his hand. Furrowing his brows a little and not knowing what urged him to do so, he gently took a hold of her right hand with his left. She had balled both hands into fists, and he was able to rest his larger hand over it. Merely to keep her still, he thought to himself.

When he did this, Sarah looked up at him, blushing quite furiously. He was now focused on her forearm, raising the dropper above her cuts. His hand felt very warm on hers. Watching his focused expression, she was too far distracted to feel the sting of the dittany as he dripped it into her wounds. He repeated this action with her left arm, resting his left hand over her fist, and applying the dittany while she was distracted.

When he moved away to seal the bottle again, she looked down at her arms. Her cuts no longer appeared fresh. They now looked as if they were several days old, and almost completely healed. Since they just had been fresh, there was still some fresh not-yet dried blood on her arms.

Snape leaned down, replacing the bottle of dittany back in the drawer it had come from. He then rose from the desk and strode around it, exiting the room through the door which led into his private quarters. Sarah watched his robes trail out of the room as he left, tilting her head a little.

"Stay there," he called back at her, almost as if he had sensed her confusion.

Not even a minute later, Snape returned and sat down at the desk once more, placing a small bowl on it. The bowl was filled with steaming yellow-tinted liquid, and there was a small wash towel hanging out of it. Before Sarah could ask what he was doing, Snape had again taken hold of her right fist with his left hand. With his right, he took the wash towel from the bowl and squeezed the excess liquid out of it. Leaning back toward her arms, he began gently dabbing the blood off. Sarah watched him, wide-eyed. Her face felt hot.

"Does this hurt?" he asked softly, not looking up from his work.

Sarah, unable to speak, shook her head back and forth silently. He took her lack of a reply to mean 'no'.

Finished with her right arm, he dipped the towel back into the bowl and repeated the process with her left. The yellow liquid in the bowl had grown slightly pink with her blood.

When he had finished, Snape again left the room, taking with him the towel and the bowl. This left Sarah still sitting at his desk, staring down at her arms, quite shocked. There was a strange feeling somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Snape had not only just taken care of her cuts, but had gone out of his way to clean the blood off of her arms. What had possessed him to take such care with her? From what she knew of him, the only thing he cared for was himself. This was extremely strange.

She had expected him to be furious with her, and by all rights, he had been. But that was only until he had grabbed her arm roughly, and then realized that he had hurt her. Sarah's mind was racing. Was that what had caused the sudden change in his demeanor? Accidentally hurting her? Sarah's face still felt very hot. He did not seem like a gentle man at all. Through all the pain, and then shock and confusion, she had still all but melted at his inexplicably gentle touch.

A minute later, Snape reentered the room. He took his seat at the desk, and appeared as if he were continuing with his paperwork. After a moment or two, he looked up at the girl who was still sitting there dumbstruck. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well?" he said, his voice back to its usual sharp tone.

Sarah flinched a little and looked up at him.

"What?" she gasped out.

"I believe you were working on learning a spell before all this happened, Miss Garrend?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh!" she said. For some reason, she could not seem to remember what had happened only minutes ago. Snape's treatment of her at his desk had made everything else that happened previously into a blank.

She shot out of her chair and moved back across the room. She was fairly surprised. He's going to let me stay after I managed to hurt myself like that? she thought to herself. When she reached the other side of the room, she stooped down to the floor and began picking up all the shards she could find. Holding them carefully, she moved back to Snape's desk and placed them in a pile there.

"I don't know if that's all of them," she said.

Snape nodded, not looking up from his work.

"Take another flask and begin again," he said.

Sarah continued her work. As angry as she had been before managing to hurt herself, she was now quite subdued. She was thoroughly surprised by Snape's gentle treatment of her. Continuing to work calmly, she was able to fully repair the flask within another half an hour of practice. When Snape had seen her accomplish this, he looked up at her.

"Good," he said. "Now summon it, and please try not to injure yourself again while doing so."

Sarah was able to get the hang of the summoning charm fairly quickly. As Snape had already explained, it was a similar concept to the levitation charm that she had already developed skills with. He looked up at her again.

"Now try the whole thing," he said, "And make sure to summon the flask after you have repaired it, please."

Sarah's blush, which had mostly faded while she concentrated on working, renewed itself.

It took her a while longer to be able to perform the entire sequence of spells on the flask filled with water. It proved more difficult to clear the water away with the broken pieces of the flask resting in it. Once she had managed to do this, she quickly managed to repair the flask, and then summon it to her. She grinned widely at her success of having learned three new spells in a single evening, even if she had managed to cut herself up along the way. Moving back to Snape's desk, she placed the empty, repaired flask upon it, smiling proudly. He looked up at her finished work.

"Good work, Miss Garrend," he said. "As it has grown quite late, I believe that will conclude our lesson for this evening. Please try to be more careful next time. I do not wish to have to start holding our lessons in the hospital wing."

Sarah was about to exit the office, but stopped at the door when she heard Snape's chair scraping the floor as he rose from the desk. She turned back to him, seeing him moving out from behind the desk and walking slowly to where she stood.

"I will escort you," he insisted. There could be no arguing with that. He knew that in her determinedness not to look at him the past two nights as he escorted her back, she had not managed to memorize the route. He doubted tonight would be any different.

As they walked together, Sarah did not seem quite as skittish to him. There were even a few times it looked as if she wanted to look at him and say something to him, but she remained silent. Snape found this intriguing. He had assumed that she would be acting the same way as the previous two nights, especially after what she had done in this evening's lesson. Instead, she walked quite calmly, perhaps even a tiny bit closer to him, and looking ahead of her instead of away. She seemed to no longer be as frightened of him. The truth was, she was trying to find the right words to thank him for what he had done for her, but she could not find any.

When they reached the seventh floor corridor, Sarah stepped forward and paced back and forth before the blank stretch of wall until her familiar door appeared. Instead of lunging for the doorknob as she had done last night, she simply looked up at Snape. He slowly stepped forward and turned the knob, opening the door for her. She stepped toward him, looking up at him shyly. She was still trying to find the right words, but could not seem to locate any. She drew in a breath and was just about to speak and give it a try, but he spoke for her.

"Before you retire for the evening," he said smoothly, "I would like to examine your arms once more, and then your eyes. Just to be safe."

"Alright," she replied softly, moving to stand in the light that was flooding out of her room.

Snape first took a hold of her left forearm, raising it up to inspect it in the light. The cuts still looked mostly healed, and all the blood was gone. Satisfied, he lowered it and then took a hold of her right. Instead of lowering it when he was finished, as he had done with her left, he gave her hand a tug and used it to pull her close to him. Sarah gasped slightly; she was almost against his chest. Looking up slowly, she could see his deep black eyes staring down into her own, his expression unreadable.

"Now your eyes," he said softly, bringing his left hand to tilt her chin up as he had done before. She had already been looking up at him. There had been no need to do this. There was no denying it for himself this time; he had simply wanted an excuse to touch her again, and to see how she would react. He could not possibly fathom what compelled him to want to touch and be close to the young witch standing before him.

Her reaction was much the same as last night. She trembled slightly, and blushed prettily. Her face felt hot. She strongly suspected that she had seen much more of this other, different, kinder Snape tonight alone than most people who knew him had seen in their entire lives. She could not understand why, just as much as he could not understand what strange force was compelling him to do it.

He continued gazing into her eyes. He could see that they were making the same movements they had last night; down to his lips and back up again. He was trying to read her, and an internal dialogue started up in his mind.

Yes. She wants this. Dare he?

No. It would be highly inappropriate.

Why? She is old enough.

She is your student.

She is not a student of this school.

She is still your student.

She is friends with Potter.

So?

Going to let Potter steal this one away then too, are we?

He is not his father.

He's close enough.

He is seeing the Weasley girl, anyway.

It does not matter. He's Potter.

This is still highly inappropriate.

She is attracted to me.

She can't be. You are not attractive. You are far too old for her.

She is, look at her. See how she blushes, and trembles at my touch.

She is merely frightened.

No. She wants this.

You are far too old for her.

She doesn't seem to care. I surely don't.

You would be a fool to do this.

I would be a fool not to do this.

She is not Lily.

I don't care.

You would be taking advantage of her trust.

She would still trust me.

Why are you even attracted to her?

I don't know. I just am.

You are a fool.

Shut it!

Wincing, Snape managed to silence his mind. He tried to push everything out. It did not matter that she was technically his student in some form. It did not matter that he was a good twenty years her senior. Nothing mattered but the young, attractive, willing witch standing in front of him, looking up at him and blushing so deeply.

"Your eyes are fine," he said softly, but did not release her or step away. Again, he leaned closer to her experimentally. She did not move away. They were only about an inch apart now. He could see the pulse pounding in her neck.

Leaning forward and closing the remaining distance between them, he closed his eyes. Once again, she did not back away. He softly brushed his lips against hers. She trembled as a shock of adrenaline shot through her system, her eyes closed as well. Pushing slightly against her, they began a soft, tentative, shallow kiss. Sarah held her breath as she kissed him, drowning in his intoxicating scent.

Believing the girl had been through enough for one night, Snape slowly withdrew from her. Had he not moved away, he was afraid of just how deep he might make that kiss, or how far he would make it go. His mind was right about one thing; he did not want to betray her trust, or push her too far. He was surprised that she hadn't shoved him away, slapped him, and called him a dirty lecher. One soft kiss had been enough to test the waters for now. Tomorrow evening, after all, would perhaps provide a whole new sea of waters on which to sail. That is, of course, if she could bear to face him after having allowed him to kiss her, and having kissed him back.

Sarah's eyes opened after a couple of seconds. Her vision seemed hazy. She almost felt like she was drunk. Snape, still holding Sarah's hand in his, bent down slightly and brought her hand up to his mouth. He placed a soft kiss upon it, and straightened up again.

"Good night, Miss Garrend," he purred at her. Gently releasing her hand, he turned and slowly walked off down the corridor. The corner of his lips had twisted into a self-satisfied little smirk.

Sarah was left standing quite paralyzed in her doorway. Her heart was racing.

Snape just kissed me. Snape just kissed me.

She thought this over and over again in her mind. If she'd had a hard time believing that Snape had cared for her injuries in such a tender way, she must have been very certain that she was currently dreaming. He had just kissed her, as he seemed to have wanted to do the night before.

Snape just kissed me.

And I liked it.


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A/N: There you have chapter 9! It took me a while to think this chapter out, as well, but I think it went really well. I do hope you enjoyed it. More to come soon! Please leave a review if you would be so kind. Thank you so much for reading :)