Title: Blue Skies

Disclaimer: I have purchaised every single Harry Potter book (not to mention all the movies and other assorted merchindise), but sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. Nope, that belongs, and deserves to belong, to the amazing, fantastic, wonderful goddess, J.K. Rowling. I also don't own Blue Skies by Willie Nelson.

Pairings: Severus Snape x OC

Notes: Set in the summer holidays just before Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts. Snape may seem a little OOC in this, but that is because he's in the company of someone he likes, as opposed to someone he despises like we usually see in HP. I'll probably be writing more ficlets featuring these two, because I really like the character I made up. I chose the name Rebecca Turnhill because Rebecca means 'the captivator', which I thought that was rather fitting for this role. It had absoloutely nothing to do with my name being Rebecca and me being obsessed with Snape. -cough- As for Turnhill, I just liked it. Once again, I must say, I'm not entirely happy with it... this was my first time writing Snape as an adult (I did write quite a lot of a Snape x OC romance while he was still at school, but I deleted it since I don't have enough time to finish it, and it was tormenting me) but as Snape is my favourite fictional character of all time, I had to do it. Oh yeah... it's Teacher x Student... sort of.

-------------------------

Blue Skies

by

Se-chan

-------------------------

He made his way down the long, winding path towards the little cottage at the end. It was a warm summer's day, and the birds were singing cheerfully in the trees adjoining the narrow, pebble road. The sky was a bright, forget-me-not blue.

He reached a small, rickity gate, and opened it with a creak. Closing the gate behind him, he strode towards the front door, his black travelling coat billowing out behind him, and ascended up the front steps like a dark shadow.

Nailed to the front door was a tarnished copper plaque bearing the number 24. He knocked on the peeling white surface, and waited, inspecting his surroundings.

Several fleshy pot-plants hung from the roof of the front veranda, all looking fairly healthy, though he doubted they needed much water. The windows were curtained with what appeared to be white calico, and the sweet scent of jasmin flowers perfumed the air.

He heard footsteps from inside, and looked towards the front door as it swung open.

Standing in the doorway was a slender young woman, perhaps half a head shorter than himself (though he was not a particularly tall man), with long, sandy-blonde hair and clear, grey eyes, slightly wide with suprise.

'Professor Snape! I didn't expect to see you until the beginning of term... what brings you here, sir?'

She finished the sentance rather nervously, her expression quite confused. She was obviously wondering what she could have done that would warrant a visit from her head of house before the start of term.

He gave her a small smile in way of reassurance, and surveyed her through inky black eyes.

'Good afternoon, Miss Turnhill. I was passing the area and thought I'd pay a visit to one of my better students... are your parents home, by any chance?'

The girl's face broke into a relieved smile, showing white, even teeth. She was, in fact, quite a stunning young woman. His eyes strayed to where her long hair brushed the side of her lovely, heart-shaped face.

'I'm afraid not, sir. Would you like to come in?' she asked.

'If I may. I've had a rather long journey.' he replied, noticing that her cheeks had aquired a very faint, almost unnoticable blush.

She smiled, and made her way back into the house. He followed, his thin frame slipping through the doorframe after her.

Rebecca Turnhill, perhaps the most intruiging person he had ever met. She had just finished her sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry, taking six N.E.W.Ts, and was the best in her year. Studious in her studies, she always seemed to have her nose in a book. Perhaps this was the reason why she was always alone, for in her six years at Hogwarts, she seemed to have failed to make a single friend. She reminded him oddly of himself at that age.

'I wasn't expecting visitors.' she said amiably, wandering down the hallway ahead of him. 'Sorry about the mess.'

Indeed, there were spellbooks strewn all over the floor. Many of them were schoolbooks, but some of them seemed to have been purchased for leisure reading.

She led him into a small dining room, which was connected to a tidy kitchen. The was a fireplace, not alight at the moment, and a mantlepiece above it, which was lined with photographs.

'Would you like something to drink, sir?' she asked politely. He looked back at her from where he had been staring at the perfectly stationary photographs.

'That would be nice.'

Smiling, she strode off into the kitchen and started to fill a kettle. He turned back to the photographs, inspecting them closly.

'When do you expect your parents to return?' he asked, looking at a photo of a small girl whom he recognised as her, back in her first year at Hogwarts.

'Oh... they're away on a buisness trip. I'm not sure when they'll be back, sir.'

He stared hard at a photo of what must have been Rebecca's parents.

'Have you seen your parents at all since you got back from Hogwarts?' he asked, already knowing the answer.

'No, sir. My parents are... busy people.'

A faint frown appeared between his dark brows. She must have noticed, for she gave a soft sigh. He turned to face her, watching her expression. She looked slightly dissapointed, but she shot him a small smile.

'My parents are good people, Professor. They just didn't want a child.'

That, he thought, was no excuse, but he kept his opinions to himself and turned back to the mantlepiece.

'Muggle photographs.' he stated, looking at her questioningly. He thought he saw her expression harden slightly before she nodded.

'Yes. I'm a muggleborn, you see.'

His eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

'How very interesting. I've never heard of a muggleborn being placed in Slytherin before.'

She looked down, making a bit too much fuss out of finding two clean mugs, and said nothing.

He, meanwhile, was more intruiged than ever. A muggleborn, in Slytherin? Who would have thought? No wonder she didn't have any friends. She could not befriend anyone from the other houses, as everyone despised Slytherins with a vengence, nor could she socialise within her own house, because ninty nine percent of the Slytherins would be violently predjudiced against her because of her blood.

Despite this, he didn't feel sorry for her. Not because he was particularly predjudiced against muggleborns himself; he had long outgrown such childish stubborness. No, he didn't feel sorry for her because, after all, his stay at Hogwarts had hardly been pleasent. At least everyone knew what she would do to them if they gave her a hard time.

He smirked, remembering. It had been the only time she had ever recieved detention. Some Gryffindor had tried to curse her in the corridor for some ridiculous reason. Said Gryffindor had been in the hospital wing for two months before he was fit to come back to class.

She brought him a cup of steaming tea, and pulled up another chair to sit opposite him. He sat down, resting his arms on the tabletop.

'Sorry, I don't like coffee, so I don't have any.' she apologised. He gave her another one of his small, swift smiles.

'Perfectly alright.'

They talked while they drank their tea, and he bid her goodbye soon afterwards, knowing that he had to get back to Number 12 Grimmauld Place and report on the latest Death Eater meeting.

However, he did return, whenever he was passing, sometimes making detours or just apparating there for the sake of seeing her. She seemed glad of his company; he got the feeling she was very lonely, alone at home all summer.

She told him many things about herself. That her parents sold cars, and that they travelled away on extended holidays for work. That her dearest ambition was to become a zoologist, studying magical creatures. She even confessed that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered placing her in Hufflepuff before finally deciding on Slytherin.

But he learnt far more that what she told him in words. He learnt, for instance, that her favourite food was watermelon, and that the classes she enjoyed most were Care of Magical Creatures and Potions. He found out that she disliked dogs when the neighbour's boarhound ran into the yard, that her singing voice was rather lack-lustre, and that she favoured a jasmin-scented perfume.

Every time he visited he found out something more about her, and every little thing he found out he treasured. Not only was she pretty, but she was clever, amusing, enthusiastic, and he found her wonderfully interesting. He began to long to see her smile, even when he was miles away, and to smell that pretty, femine scent she always wore.

It annoyed him, confused him, enfuriated him, and exhilirated him all at the same time. But, as her teacher, he knew that what he wanted was not possible.

A mere week before the start of term, Severus Snape walked back down along the narrow, winding road, after a few hours following her around the wood to look for this special toadstool she had found and could he please have a look at it because she wasn't entirely sure what it was. Another year was starting. Her very last one.

The scent of jasmin reached him, carried on the breeze. He smiled to himself, and glanced up at the clear, blue sky.

Perhaps, at the end of the school year, he could ask her to go to Hogsmede with him.