The Legacy of the Dark Lord

Inside the dungeons at Hogwarts, in the potions lab, I did attend a class conducted by none other than the Potions Master, Professor Severus Snape. His eyes, though appearing as dark orbs—gleamed black, passionately defiant, and, of course, seductive . His cloak— was woven in a black, fine-spun silk to match his eyes. The room was dimly lit by candles and his cauldron bubbled and steamed, renting wisps of crystal-like silk, white opal as they drifted into thr. r. His tight black vest barely moved beneath him as he breathed and his pants were half-hidden by darkness. His resolute lips were drawn pale and he did not smile.

He said, “Today, class, we will be learning the fine art of Dark Potion-making. (He emphasized deeper-sounding) I expect… no failures!” His eyes flashed as if expecting someone to defy him. “Now, get to work, as I will be coming around to check them shortly.” He flicked his wand as he turned sharply on his heel and the potion appeared on the chalkboard.

I worked alone and with great concentration on the cauldron in front of me. So much so, in fact, that I did not realized he had put his head inches from my shoulder to check it. When I had turned my head to see that he was the one that was next to me, his eyes pierced mine and for a moment, I lost my breath. His eyes, which would not look directly into mine, were mere slits looking at my potion and, oddly enough, almost soft.

“Well done, Miss Knight,” he said in an undertone briskly, as he strode away to his desk. His desk had jars of all shapes and sizes on it with strange-looking fleshy things floating in them, but he was jet the darkest black in the room, standing out among everything.

Looking down at his desk and then back at the class, he said, “Some of you clearly lack the ability to brew any potions, while others,” he said and flashed his eyes sharply at me “are clearly gifted.” And he returned his head slowly back to the rest of the class, lingering his eyes on mine for just a few more seconds after his head had pivoted. “Class dismissed!” he hissed finally.
I gathered up my things slowly, lost in thought about what that had meant. When I looked up, I spilled some powdered root of Asphodel onto the desk. I continued to look at him, thinking, “We’re alone… We’re alone…” the entire time.

He was staring blankly at the back part of his desk, possibly the the window above him. Then he turned so rapidly, staring at me that I almost knocked over another jar. Unreadable, he stared at me for a moment—right into my eyes. I felt like I was a blank sheet of paper for a moment. I thought of almost nothing. Could he be peering into my thoughts?

Still, not taking his eyes from mine and my eyes remained completely locked into his, he said, “Come now, Miss Knight, I’ll help you clean that up.”
His black cloak billowed behind him as he strode over to the desks with a rag in hand. In complete shock at his sudden change in attitude, from snarling at the class, I still stared at the spot he had just been.

Only after I heard his voice I my ear, did I turn my head slightly. It was enough to see that he was now over my shoulder, his face next to my ear, his left arm with the rag in his hand holding himself up but not cleaning the mess. His hand lay stubbornly still on the desk and he looked, intrudingly so, into my eyes. “You’ve got the Dark Gift, Miss Knight,” he said in a low whisper so much so that I could barely hear it being said inches from my ear.

I could not hold his intense, searchinare.are. So, I looked forward again. Then he said, “My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun,” in a whisper meant only for my ears. He had read my thoughts and had interpreted them correctly. I could not hold in a short gasp and then I quickly, alarmingly, looked at him. Then he said, “I have seen roses dked ked red and white. But no such roses see I in her cheeks.” At this, he looked meaningfully at my hair that fell in front of my face, pushing it back from my cheeks.

I could not think of anything, but “I am his mistress”. He had read my favorite sonnet, plucked from my very soul, found it to be useful, and was reading it to me in pieces. I merely fell to pieces!

I watched as his cold, soft hand grazed my cheek and felt shivers everywhere. I closed my eyes for a moment.

“You are like no other, Michele. I could feel the dark passion pulsing through your veins,” he said with deep awe. “Never have I run across such a Dark Lady…”

As my eyes held closed still, I could feel his hot breath moist on my cheek. I turned my head slowly to look into his eyes—intense and burning with a passion, I had never seen before—and vulnerable. I could feel his emotions run through me like a desperate hunger just before his eyes closed and his lips grazed mine.

“A truly lovely lady to behold… Yet, I find, I cannot part with you so easily.”
As if shaken from a dream, he had stood, turned, and began to pace. I could see the anxiety welling up inside him—I could feel the battle waging on in his head—student or soul mate? He had to be most vulnerable at this time.
He glanced up toward the door, as if sharply coming out of thought. Then he opened the door, hastily, and looked down the hall both ways. He came back into the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.

“I must see you again… at all costs…” he said with quick urgency.
Just then, the door burst open. Harry Potter walked in. Severus gave the look of complete shock and horror—then corrected himself to his normal stern disposition.

“What is it then, Potter? Why have you barged in without notice?”
Harry looked between Severus and me with an utterly quizzical look on his face, as if trying to make a connection.

“Well, Potter? My patience grows thin…”

“I just wondered if I had left my Quiddich book here… but what are you… What is she…” he began but was unable to form a complete question.

“Enough of your murmurings Potter! Alas, Miss Knight,” he said, darting his eyes to me “and I were discussing furthering her career in Potion-making. It seems she is doing an exceptional job… As well, I see that she has had no effect on your marks, Mr. Potter. So, I do suggest you collect your thiand and LEAVE HERE IMMEDIATELY!”

Snape was just covering for the real truth… Harry sensed it the moment he walked into the room and looked at me as if trying to see if Snape was telling the truth or not. As he did, I saw Severus’ eyes go round and return. His own face, almost worrying, stood poised in his hand. It had been an awful risk.

When he looked back at Severus, Severus had regained his composure.

Then Harry said, “What? No detention? Last time…”

“Last time I had the time to take from my busy schedule to punish you properly. And although my schedule is very busy now, I can surely see that you spend plenty of time with me in detention—if that is what you wish, Mr. Potter?”

Giving me one last look, Harry turned and left. We were alone again.
“What a foul little pratt,” I said to Severus.

“Ah, Miss Knight, someone who finally shares my point of view,” he said with a wickedly delightful smile, almost sneering but also amused.
He strode over to my desk. “Alas, I would be delighted to meet you somewhere…” he said with fondness, his forehead and side of his nose against mine.

Then he took out a small cutting knife. He made a small slice on his palm and mine. Then he clasped the two wounds together and said, “Forever, my Dark Lady,” in just above a whisper. I followed his lead. “Forever, my Dark Master,” I said.

End Scene