Set Ablaze (Repost-idiot--me--deleted it)

A/N: This is a republish--mostly because I was trying to edit and deleted the first chapter, so I figured fuck it, and started over. I'm innept at certain things. I hope this time around is better. Thanks!

Summary:An unconventional student comes to Hogwarts wanting nothing more than to study and graduate, and her Potions Master would like few things more than to see her go. Her slim face, red hair, and green eyes pose nothing but distraction to him, and it’s endangering his position in the war, but the longer she’s there to pop in and out of his life, the more he needs to know her, keep her safe. What’s haunting this girl, though, he can’t protect from, and she’s done hiding.


Ka-boom!

Snape groaned and put a hand over his face. First-years were insufferable. He stood from his desk and marched over to the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff pair now covered waist up in a tan goo that, thankfully, didn't seem to be eating their skin. Snape didn't even have to try to look menacing. The boys' wide eyes stared down at their professor's feet, waiting for him to scream at them.

“As many times as I have stopped you from ruining your potions and injuring the people around you, you have finally managed to erupt whatever mess you've created,” Snape said in a soft voice that made the boys inch towards each other. “Clean yourselves up and leave my sight. I expect you back Friday night for detention and Saturday afternoon to re-brew this potion. Twenty point from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.”

He turned on his heels in the complete silence and returned to his desk. Not long after the boys left, the bell rang, and students scrambled like rats to escape. He didn't look up. Now it was time for Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years. Potter and his obnoxious friends would be there, and so would Draco Malfoy and other Death Eater children. He reluctantly stood up and walked to his chalkboard. He flicked his wand, and the chalk began to write Cutecura. Those who had read the chapter would know that it healed skin abrasions. The chalk finished writing directions and set itself back in the ledge at the bottom of the chalkboard. No sooner had he resumed his seat than Slytherins began to arrive and pull out their ingredients and cauldrons.

Snape was still correcting first year essays on beezores as the last of the class arrived. He glanced to make sure all was in order but immediately did a double take. With a second look, the unfamiliar girl in the back didn't look so unfamiliar. Bright red hair he always noticed, but that accompanied by equally bright green eyes, long eyelashes, a slim face....

He set his eyes down on the papers and blinked several times before standing and instructing the class as little as possible, “Your directions are on the board as well as in the text. Healing potions are never easy, so for those of you who are inept at the simplest brews will want to be extra cautious, though I doubt that will help, because healing potions gone wrong have nasty side effects, the likes of which you should have read. You may begin.”

A rustling of book pages, whispers of igniting spells, and scrapings of cauldrons filled the room. Snape prowled up and down the rows, weaving back and forth, trying to keep eyes on what potions were going awry, but never getting closer than two tables from the red head in the back. For the life of him he couldn't remember her name.
Granger was in her element, and Weasley had all but given up after the first half hour, which Snape preferred. It was much less dangerous that way. Potter, of course, was still trying but getting all his instructions from Granger, who rattled them off like the alphabet. Normally he would have commented, but he was preoccupied.

Natalie. That was her name, he was sure of it, a special case Dumbledore was on about a couple days before. Snape wished he had paid more attention now. Natalie cut and crushed her ingredients fluidly and created her potion with a skill he rarely saw in his N.E.W.T. students. She was as far back in the room as she could get, behind Longbottom, Finnigan, and Thomas. No one sat on either side of her. To his immense relief (and small disappointment), her face was stoic and exactly the same every time he deemed a glance appropriate. Her expressions were nothing like what a small part of him seemed to be expecting. She had always been smiling....

Snape blinked longer than usual and turned to monitor updates in the Slytherin potions. Draco seemed to have taken over for Crabbe and Goyle, who just sat their aimlessly staring off into space. Snape looked back at the end of the room without realizing it. This time, however, she coughed into the back of her hand. It was light and over quickly, but it was the first change he had seen come over her face.

As he tore his eyes away from her again, he saw Lavender Brown realize a split second too late she added gum leaves at the wrong time. She looked up, intending to yell for the Potion's Master, but he was already just a couple meters away, close enough to wave his wand and cap the potion invisibly as it turned puke green and encase the fumes.

“I'm so sorry,” she moaned with her hands over her mouth.

“That's all, Miss Brown, you may leave,” Snape said without glancing at her.

He turned away to check that Crabbe and Goyle hadn't touched their potions. Natalie coughed again, this time a little harder. He wondered if she was sick but then decided that was alright as long as she went to see Poppy. He had supplied her potions himself, so Natalie would be healthy in minutes. One daft Slytherin added the completely wrong ingredient, and his Cutecura ate through the cauldron like determined acid. He also left the classroom. Minutes later the back corner broke out in a coughing fit.

“Professor!” Natalie yelled in a higher voice than he would have expected as she raised her wand, but coughing took her, and it clattered to the table. She doubled over, unable to draw breath. The three Gryffindor boys at the table in front of her ran before the coughing overcame them completely, and Pavati Patil followed, unsure of what was going on. Snape practically sprinted to the end of the dungeon room. Half way there he noticed a light green haze enveloping the three tables. He slashed his wand through the air, and the smoke dissipated. He reached Natalie's table and found her on her knees, hands gripping the edge of the table, desperate to breathe, drops of blood dripping from the corner of her mouth.

Snape quickly put his wand in his left hand and placed his right hand over her eyes. He mumbled a fluid, continuous spell. Her arms and head fell limp, but her body jerked and convulsed as if she were still coughing. He swiftly laid her on the stone floor and grabbed at her tie. He loosened it and threw it above her head where it threatened to get tangled in a mass of red hair. Without thought to what he was doing or who was watching, her ripped open the first three buttons of her white collared shirt, giving no notice to the scar that stretched across her clavicle and onto her shoulder. With another string of mumbled syllables, he tapped her bare sternum three times. Natalie sputtered a bit, and Snape moved up, holding the tip of his wand to her mouth. Slowly he drew out a green mist.
Another slash with his wand, and it disappeared. He tapped her sternum again and repeated the procedure. Her convulsions eased to rasping. Scooping her up into his arms, he took off as quickly as he could for the hospital wing.

Snape passed several students on his way up the many stairs. They stopped and stared at the sight of their cruel Potions' Master carry a limp girl in his arms, swiftly tromping the steps.

Damn! Snape thought. Who decided the hospital wing should be so far from the rest of the castle? They should be cursed for their serious lack in judgment.

Finally he shouldered his way through the infirmary doors.

“Poppy!” he called as he made his way to the nearest bed, “Poppy!”

“Yes, Severus, I'm-- Good heavens, what happened?” the nurse said as she ran to the bed, alarm written all over her face.

“Incorrect Cutecura gas,” Snape answered, adjusting Natalie's position just for something to do with his hands as he spoke quickly, “I removed the gas from her lungs after I blacked her out, but they were already bleeding. I think she had a prolonged, small exposure before she inhaled a much more concentrated cloud.”

As he spoke Madam Pomfrey summoned a bottle from her office stores. It was thin and dark purple. When he finished, she said, “Wake her up for a few seconds and tilt her head back.”

Snape immediately placed a hand over her eyes, but he hesitated a couple seconds on the words before they fell from his mouth. Natalie gasped, and her chest rose off the bed in an extremely painful attempt to breathe. The second she opened her mouth, Madam Pomfrey tipped the vial into her parted lips. Natalie inhaled liquid and tried to cough it back up, but Madam Pomfrey shoved two fingers into her mouth, effectively clogging her windpipe. Without waiting for the order and unable to see the horrendous scene any longer, Snape blacked her out again.

Her movements lessened to a jerking of her diaphragm. Snape stood and watched as Poppy continued to choke the unconscious girl.

“How long?” he asked.

The nurse didn't answer. She watched Natalie a few more seconds and then removed her hand. Clear liquid sprang from Natalie's mouth. Poppy held her wand as best she could over the girl's moving lips and drew out the remaining liquid.

Finally, Natalie stilled.

~

The pain was so intense, nothing else could possibly have mattered.

At first Natalie didn't register where she was or what was around her. Every breath felt like a wall of knives stabbing into her chest, driving deeper and deeper. She forced her breaths to be shallow and slow, but her body couldn't sustain that strategy for very long. Sooner than she would have liked, a deeper breath had to be taken. She gripped at the sheet under her and turned her head but then thought better of it. Her windpipe didn't like being twisted. Letting all the air out of her lungs, she stilled her chest as long as she could. The sheet was soft, softer than any she had slept on before, and the blanket was pristine. There were no holes, wares, or frays in it that she could see. Moving only her eyes, she looked up at the dark blue drapes lining three sides of the bed. She gave a startle at the sudden noise of the infirmary doors shoved open. Instantly her lungs burned, and she gasped more. Without conscious thought, she rolled to her side and whimpered, the first vocal noise to escape her lips. She wrapped her arms around her chest as if she could stop it from moving if only she squeezed tightly enough.

So distracted, she didn't see a pale hand pull back the curtain side at the end of her bed or hear its quick footsteps as the person turned away.

She didn't know how long she was there for, gasping, holding her breath, occasionally whimpering at the most intense pain, and it took her a couple seconds to realize the curtain in front of her face was pulled back. A woman with blond hair sticking haphazardly out of her bonnet held a glass dish of pink liquid. She put her wand tip just above the surface, and a powerful steam began to rise, as if heat from the wand were instantly vaporizing the liquid and propelling it towards her.

“Breathe it in,” the woman said sternly, “It is an anesthetic. Breathe in the vapor.”

Natalie didn't really have much of a choice. The steam, of sorts, was enveloping her head and replacing the oxygen. After a few excruciating breaths, her chest eased. With every gulp of vapor her arms loosened, and her breaths got longer until the pain was nothing more than a dull ache in the background. She took a couple relieved breaths and looked up.

Natalie asked, “What happened?”

She meant to speak, but her words came out in a whispered rasp.

“You are in the hospital wing,” the woman answered promptly, “You inhaled toxic fumes, but you are fine. You just have to wait and heal. I'll be back in half an hour to give you more anesthetic.”

She turned on her heel and marched away, dish and wand in hand. As Natalie watched her go, she noticed someone else in the room. He stood several feet away. She wondered mildly if he had been there the whole time.

When she began to wonder why he was just silently standing there, he started forward, saying, “The boy whose corrupt potion you inhaled was severely punished.”

He looked as though he were proud of that and it should give her some comfort. It hit her then, who he was. This man in all black was her potion's professor--and then she remember the green haze, the coughing, and her unfinished potion. No, she thought, it is--was--my first day, and I already have a zero in a class. This was not how things were supposed to go. She wanted, needed perfect scores. She had to show that she should be at this school. If Hogwarts kicked her out, there was no other school to attend.
Watching him carefully as he looked at her with mild interest, she croaked, “Will I be allowed to re-do my potion?”

She hated the way her voice sounded, helpless and pathetic, but she had to know.

He tilted his head slightly and frowned, saying, “You should be far more concerned with your near-death experience than a potion.... Nevertheless, I will give you full marks.”

She opened her mouth in surprise and tried to push herself up into a sitting position with one hand, but he placed his long fingers on her shoulder, and she stilled. He gave the slightest push, and she lay back down.

“You have been in here for a couple of days,” he told her, “Your teachers have all agreed to not start expecting your work until you are released. It is as if you have not started.”

She closed her eyes, careful not to take too deep a breath.

“Thank you, Professor,” she whispered.

When she opened her eyes a sliver, he was still looking at her. Slowly he raised his arm to the curtain and grasped it, saying clinically, “If you sleep, you will heal faster.”

He drew the curtain closed. Natalie's eyes slid shut again. All of a sudden her head was heavy. She let her mind wander. How long would she sleep this time? She couldn't miss so much class that she would not be able to catch up. Where would she go if she couldn’t attend school? It’s not like home was an option. That was okay though; home held too much pain, pain as sharp as this was. Hogwarts was supposed to be better. Oh well, pain was part of life. At least sleeping was peaceful, but whenever she did wake up, it would hurt again and maybe this time it wouldn’t go away. She’d deserve it but--

“Wait!”

She sat up straight. Immediately her head spun, light and detached.

Snape turned as he passed the bed. Her croaked voice sounded panicked. He reached for the curtain hanging over the foot of the bed and glanced in at her. Seeing her curled up, cradling her head, he stepped inside the curtain and walked up along her bed. He stood awkwardly and listened to her quick breathing. Unsure if some new ailment was plaguing her, he reached out and touched her shoulder again.

She flinched so harshly she had to catch herself to keep from falling over. He withdrew his hand at once.

“Miss Goust,” he said.

“Sorry,” she whispered, sitting up again, “My head....”

“Lie down,” Snape said strongly.

Instead she asked, “Will it hurt when I wake up...? It's okay if it does; I just want to know.”

“No, Madam Pomfrey will treat you,” answered Snape, “Lie down.”

This time she listened. Snape made a gesture to help her but he refrained. When her head rested back on the pillow, her eyes closed and within seconds she was asleep. Snape hooked two fingers under the hem of the blanket gathered at her knees and pulled it up over her. He turned, ducked under the curtain, and marched out of the infirmary.

The Potions Master's steps didn't take him down the well-used path to the dungeons. He walked towards another familiar hallway instead. When he approached the gargoyle statue, he gave it the password, and it jumped aside. He ascended the staircase and knocked on Dumbledore's oak door.

“Enter,” Dumbledore's voice called.

Snape pushed the door in and walked into the glinting, circular office. Dumbledore sat not at his desk but in a cushy, red chair behind the desk a couple steps lower. He looked up as Snape stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind him.

“Severus, please come sit,” Dumbledore said, pointing to a small, wicker loveseat.

Snape did as he was asked and seated himself across from the old man. Dumbledore looked like he had been intensely concentrating when Snape interrupted.

“What can I do for you?” said Dumbledore, giving the man in front of him his full attention.

“Miss Goust was awake in the hospital wing. She is now sleeping again,” Snape told him.

“Madam Pomfrey informed me when she was done giving Natalie the anesthetic. She also said that you were there again to check on her. She said she has never seen you concerned over a student.”

Dumbledore looked over his spectacles with a twinkle in his eye.

Snape said, “It is my fault she was injured in my class.”

He waited for Dumbledore to say something for several minutes. The silence stretched on. Severus was accustomed to long pauses when in conversation with the headmaster.

Finally Dumbledore said softly, “I noticed she looks like her too.”

Snape looked down and clenched his hands together. He wet his lips and diverted his eyes.

“She almost died in my classroom,” he whispered, “She almost died in my arms.”

Dumbledore said nothing. Snape cleared his throat and sat up straight.

“What are you thinking about this time?” asked Snape.

“Pondering Tom’s strategies. I have thought of little else.”

Dumbledore looked tired and drawn out. He stood and walked over to his desk, gesturing for Snape to follow. Dumbledore sat in his high-backed chair, and Snape sat across from him. Silence enveloped them once more.

“Please watch yourself, Severus,” the headmaster said, “Do not give her any sort of preference. It would hurt the image you have crafted for the students, and any recognition from you could be dangerous for her.”

“I am aware of the consequences,” Severus said coldly, “I have no intention of giving anyone preference and had none before your recrimination.”

“Yes, you have no intention, Severus, but watch yourself. You have already demonstrated a weakness for her. Make sure no one else notices. Is there anything more?”

Dumbledore's tone was final and commanded no argument. Snape shook his head and stood, leaving without a word, the only sound the click of the oak door behind him.