Author's Notes: My Snape isn't cuddly. It's hard to find something in him to inspire love (passion is easier, if you can get past the hair thing). I hope I made it believable. Be warned, this story gets pretty dark in the middle.
Chapter One: Introducing Rowan Bourne
Rowan picked up her quill and started making notes on the roll of parchment. Her Herbology paper was due in two weeks and she still had a lot of research to do. She was currently reading Magical Properties of Swamp Plants, trying to find what it was about the wetlands environment that made for so many strange magical plants. Rowan was in her seventh year at Hogwarts, and for her N.E.W.T. level classes was expected now to do real research, not merely rote memorization and repetition. Rowan wanted to work for the Department of Mysteries after graduation, to tease out more about the theoretical side of magic. As a Muggle-born, she found the whole magical world fascinating, but also contradictory. She wanted to understand why magical things worked the way they did, in a way that another person, born to Wizarding life, might take for granted.
Hermione Granger's entrance interrupted her note-taking, and she spent a productive few minutes comparing notes with her. Hermione was a year younger than Rowan, but Rowan had tremendous respect for her scholarly abilities and ability to recall obscure facts from her extensive reading. Suddenly she realized it was almost time for her N.E.W.T. Potions class; it was never a good idea to be late to Professor Snape's class and Rowan especially hated to annoy him.
"Oh slugslime, I've got to run, see you later, Hermione."
"Later, Ro."
Rowan scrambled down the stairs into the dungeon and slid into Potions class, just barely on time. Snape looked up and raised a sardonic eyebrow at her hurried entrance, but since she was not actually late he let it pass. Rowan breathed a sigh of relief as she settled into her chair, tucked away her wand and set out her cauldron. Right on the dot, Snape stood and began to speak.
"You will, no doubt recall, that at the beginning of the year I told you that a research project would be due at the end of the year and that this project would comprise half of your final grade. I hope that you have all used these first few weeks to your advantage and have considered what topics you would care to research. You will tell me today what you have planned to study, and I will approve or deny the topic. If your topic is denied, and you have no other acceptable topic, you will be assigned one." The class erupted into startled indignation, which Snape swiftly squashed. "If you had any real interest in a particular topic, you would have begun thinking about it when I first mentioned the project. Those of you who have not given it any thought should clearly not care if a topic is assigned to you. Mr Noctis, what is your proposal for a topic?"
Gregory Noctis, a Slytherin, spoke up. "I want to work on an anti-death potion professor."
Professor Snape gazed at him narrowly. "As fascinating and worthy a project as that would be, Mr Noctis, I must remind you that only Defense against the Dark Arts is taught at Hogwarts; practicing it is forbidden. I must therefore disallow your topic. Have you another idea?" Gregory wasn't ready to give up though. As a Slytherin, he enjoyed -- if that term could be permitted in Snape's dungeon -- a slightly greater measure of freedom in questioning him.
"Why is it a Dark Art? It's not hurting anyone."
Snape looked annoyed at the interruption, but since he almost never docked points from Slytherin, he chose to answer the question. "Because, Mr Noctis, while drinking such a potion does no harm, at least that we know of, brewing it certainly does. The long-life potion, which Nicholas Flamel made from the Philosopher's Stone, is the only known recipe for abating death which does not require unicorn blood as an ingredient. With the destruction of the last piece of Philosopher's Stone five years ago it is no longer possible to brew such a potion without killing a unicorn."
Observing, with a sneer, the total lack of comprehension on the part of most of the class, Snape expanded his explanation. "Dark spells and potions gain their power from the spell-caster's own spirit; if that spirit is not sufficiently blackened, the spell has no power. Anyone can cast 'Crucio', but only a Dark wizard can torture the mind from his victim in this way. It is his hatred and malice which drives the spell. Simple anger and indignation is not sufficient. However, the attempt to cast such a spell Darkens the caster, the next time he tries it will come easier, be stronger."
By this point the students had all become extremely interested in Snape's lecture. Everyone knew about Professor Snape's Dark Mark, although very few had glimpsed it, as he was scrupulous about wearing long, close sleeves in any weather. Rowan hoped he would go on; she desperately wanted to know more about his past. She admired him so, and it was hard to reconcile the honorable, if harsh, man before her with the Death Eater of the time before he came to Hogwarts. What could have driven him to it? What made him renounce it?
"In a similar way," Snape
continued, "Dark potions are brewed with ingredients most people find
repellent. By this I do not mean simply foetid, slimy, or otherwise
nauseating, but items which cannot be obtained without committing a
crime against someone or something innocent and pure. A number of very
powerful, very Dark potions require the blood of a virgin. A few drops
are all that is required, but a simple scratch will not do. The victim
must be killed, or, as specified in certain recipes, undergo what is
colloquially referred to as 'a fate worse than death.'" At this Snape's
icy black eyes swept the room to ensure no one sniggered. No one did.
"For
anti-death potions," he continued, "the key ingredient is unicorn
blood, for which the beast must be slaughtered. Neither the headmaster
nor myself keep any stock of unicorn blood, and I cannot permit you to
brew any potion which requires it. It is my duty as a Master at this
school to prevent students from straying into the Dark Arts before you
have gained the wisdom to discern where that path might lead you."
By this time the entire class was watching Snape, utterly rapt. Suddenly noticing their unprecedented level of attentiveness, he realized he had said more than he intended. Swiftly, he changed the subject.
"Miss Bourne, what is your proposed topic?"
Startled from her musings, Rowan sat up straighter. "I'm interested in studying how to make invisibility fabric."
"Invisibility fabric," Snape repeated, unencouragingly.
"Yes, sir, you know, for making invisibility cloaks. The secret has been lost. Everyone thinks it involves thestral hair but no one really knows."
"I know perfectly well what invisibility fabric is used for, Miss Bourne, but I fail to comprehend what you think it has to do with your Potions studies."
"You see, sir, I believe the trick to making the fabric is some variation of the Innocuous Potion which renders the drinker unnoticed. I think the potion, used as a dye on the yarn, will give it the invisibility property."
Snape, for once, did not exude derision... much. "Congratulations Miss Bourne, I believe you may have conceived an original thought. Let us hope you are successful in bringing it to practice, or else your F will be all too visible as half of your final grade."
Rowan was so delighted at having clearly impressed Professor Snape that she actually grinned at this challenge. Snape's eyes widened ever so slightly in startlement at her reaction before he moved on to harass the next student. The rest of the class began to suspect she was off her rocker.
The truth was worse; Rowan hopelessly loved Severus Snape. She had only realized it this year, it had come on so gradually. Now she struggled to figure out what to do, whether to tell him and if so when? How? If she really pulled off this research project, maybe she would have the courage to say something to him.
Meanwhile, Snape was going through the project topics for the rest of the class. At the end he handed out subjects dictatorially to those who had not presented an idea or those whose offered topics were rejected. There were only a handful of students, from all the Houses. There were not enough N.E.W.T. level students to make up more than one class so they were all mixed together. The class all tumbled out into the hallway. The moment they'd rounded the corner and were out of Snape's immediate earshot, the fascinated discussions began:
"Wow, that's the most he's ever said about the Dark Arts."
"Did you hear he was once a Death Eater?"
"Do you think he ever killed someone to make a potion?"
"He sure sounded like he knew exactly what he was talking about."
"They said Albus Dumbledore did something for him, saved his life or something, and he left You-Know-Who out of gratitude."
"I don't think Snape knows how to feel grateful."
"I don't think he ever really left You-Know-Who. I think Dumbledore's a fool to trust him."
"I don't know, Dumbledore's outfoxed everyone who ever tried to cross him before. Remember Umbridge?"
"Who could forget, but that was the Potter kid, not Dumbledore, who made YouKnowWho show himself and pulled Dumbledore's chestnuts out of the fire."
"I still think Dumbledore's smarter than you are."
On it went as they all went chattering down the hall. Rowan thought about what she'd heard. The consensus was definitely not in Snape's favor, but that was no surprise. Severus Snape was a hard man to like, she sighed to herself, but liking and loving were different things.