Chapter One – Halloween Night

"Dammit!"

In his frustration, Severus Snape struck the inside of his thigh and looked once more at the jagged tear in his pants. Blood was oozing from the gash beneath the shreds of black cloth. He'd spent the better half of the last hour turning over his own potions in search of a remedy capable of putting an end to the throbbing pain.

"Bloody mut," he cursed under his breath as tore away yet another soaking bandage, "ought to choke on its own noxious saliva."

If it hadn't been for that dunderhead Quirrell, Snape thought to himself. If not for that mindless sap… His mind went on, imagining all of the sadistic punishments he could have done with.

Snape never would have gone near that cursed, three-headed dog had it not been for Professor Quirrell and his narcissistic fantasies. Snape had only that fool to blame for his misfortune. A rare toxin in the dog's saliva kept Snape in agony and the wound from healing. Had the gash been any deeper, he might have bled to death already.

Instead of sitting alone in his quarters trying to stop the bleeding, he could be sitting around a warm fire enjoying a special vintage with the rest of the Hogwarts professors. He hated the pathetic small talk that accompanied social gatherings, but at least his noted presence impressed the school's Headmaster.

At least his conversations were intriguing and intellectual. Snape could tolerate Dumbledore for hours and often enjoyed his speeches and ramblings. Right now, instead of mopping his own sweat and blood, Snape would have preferred being with the others, holding a drink in his hand and listening to Dumbledore ramble on about the time he'd discovered something astonishing.

But no, he had to sit here in pain, bleeding and wondering what in the world that useless twit thought he was doing. What made Quirrell think he could just slip under everyone's nose and make it all the way to the Stone? It was naïve of him to think it would be that simple. Had Snape been able to focus on more than just his pain, he may have been able to figure it out.

Whatever Quirrell's foolish plan was, Snape was certain that even he knew the troll and the incident in the girls' bathroom had stirred up enough suspicion for one evening. Quirrell would have to be completely mad to try anything so foolish again tonight – especially now that he knew Snape and the rest of the professors had become particularly vigilant since the Halloween feast. They would all be on their toes with their wands at the ready. However, as wary as they all were, none of the professors would be keeping as close an eye on Quirrell as Snape would be from now on. After heading him off at the trap door, Snape promised himself he'd never trust Quirrell again.

Knock, knock, knock!

Snape pulled his cloak over his leg and stood.

"Come in," he said.

The door creaked as it slowly swung open. Snape looked down as the long, dark shadow of an elderly wizard appeared on the stone floor before him. When he looked up, Snape nodded to welcome the Headmaster into his quarters.

"All right there, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, standing several feet before Snape with his hands folded together in front of him. "Minerva tells me you were able to find the mountain troll."

Snape nodded. "Argus and Hagrid had the troll removed from the grounds immediately; I don't anticipate any further troubles this evening."

"Nor I," the Headmaster agreed. "Are you going to rejoin us this evening?"

"No," he answered as he tried his best to stand tall. "The excitement has left me quite… exhausted. I will be spending the rest of the evening in my quarters, alone."

"As you wish," Dumbledore said and curved his lips up into a hint of a smile. "Perhaps you should first allow me to have Madam Pomfrey check in on you."

"That will not be necessary," Snape assured. Although, even if the beads of perspiration on his brow didn't give him away, Snape was sure the Headmaster could see right through his façade.

Dumbledore respectfully nodded and began to pace backwards towards the door. "Very well, my friend," he said before turning around. "But I will have you know, it can be a bit of a hat trick relieving one of Fluffy's… inflictions." The Headmaster looked over his shoulder and winked, knowingly. "Good night, Severus."

After sitting back down on his leather wingchair, Snape threw his cloak back and looked once more at what that crazed dog had done to him.

"Fluffy," Snape muttered callously and shook his head in disapproval.

Snape knew the Headmaster was right and that it was foolish to try and deceive him. As much as he preferred to concoct his own remedies, this one was not on hand. A proper brew would take a fortnight. His only option now was to see the nurse.

"Blast!"

Admitting his defeat, Snape grabbed the door handle and swung it open. This was the first time he'd gone to the Hospital Wing on his own accord. The damage a journey to the Hospital Wing did to his pride perhaps challenged the damage done to his leg.

With the pain flaring after every step, the walk up to the Hospital Wing seemed excruciatingly long. Twice he came across school prefects along the way. Whether it was because he was feeling particularly miserable, or because he was simply miserable, Snape scolded each of them for not keeping to their dormitories. After the excitement of the evening, Snape had assumed all students were confined to their Houses, including prefects.

The corridors were much quieter after his intimidating voice cleared the path. To his luck, the final corridor leading to the Hospital Wing was free of anyone on guard. Snape grunted and forced himself to take long strides the rest of the way. He could see a sliver of light shining through a tiny crack between the doors.

Snape pushed the door open and quietly stepped inside. The room was well lit and felt much warmer than the rest of the castle. Two students lay sleeping and to the right a single bed had its curtains pulled all the way around it. On the far side of the Hospital Wing Snape saw a nurse carrying a pile of folded blankets over to the cupboard.

She was younger than the other nurses he'd come to recognize. Perhaps too young to even be a Head Nurse. She wasn't wearing the traditional nurse's gown, but a gown that was probably her own. It was ivory, fitting and decorated with white embroidery across the bodice.

Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. Nor were any of the other nurses for that matter. Assuming that this young woman was the Head Nurse for the night, Snape walked towards her with deliberate stealth.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even manage a whisper, she turned to greet her visitor. She smiled and then returned her attention to the cupboard. "Good evening, Professor," she said. Her voice was so melodic and so enchanting, Snape wondered if he had ever heard such a sweet sound before.

"I beg your pardon, Miss," Snape whispered after clearing his throat. "Are you watching over the Hospital Wing?"

The young nurse put the last of the blankets up into the cupboard before approaching him. The heels of her shoes echoed softly as she walked up to the professor, stopping just an arm's reach in front of him. The locket she wore around her neck caught Snape's attention as its bejewelled crest sparkled in the flickering light.

Her lips spread into a smile and she gave him a subtle, confirming nod.

Far more stunning than her locket was the colour of her eyes. They were absolutely beautiful and gave her already enchanting appearance an elegant touch. For a moment, Snape became so entranced by the magnificence of her vibrant, emerald green eyes he'd forgotten why he came to the Hospital Wing. Years had passed since he'd last found himself at the mercy of a stranger's beauty.

The smooth look of her pale, ivory skin and the subtle hint of feminine curves hidden beneath her gown were enticing, but it was her eyes that held him captive. This nurse was much more than just a beautiful stranger.

"Your eyes," he began. "Seem so familiar. Have we met before?" Knowing he couldn't possibly forget such an intriguing woman, Snape knew for certain that they had not.

"No," she said as she gently shook her head. "We haven't. My name is Jessica. How can I help you?" she asked in a soft, angelic voice.

Snape brushed the hair dangling in his face and cast a harsh glare full of scrutiny as if doubting her ability to heal him. "It's nothing, really. I only require a potion for a Cerberus infection. Cerberus Potion," he clarified. "Madam Pomfrey should have a vial in her private stores."

Jessica returned an equally scrutinizing eye and raised a curious brow. "I see," she said. "You can sit down on the bed and show me this… infection." She pointed to the hospital bed nearest and watched as Snape hesitated to go near it. "Go on," she encouraged in a particularly demanding voice.

"That won't be necessary," he said and pulled his cloak away from his wounded leg for a brief moment. "I can treat it myself if you'd just give me the potion."

Jessica looked at the gash beyond his shredded trousers and covered her mouth. "Good god, Professor!" she cried softly. "Don't tell me that's what you call nothing! Go on and lie down." Jessica gave Snape's arm a gentle push towards the bed and hurried over to Madam Pomfrey's supply closet. Snape remained standing, keeping all of his weight on his good leg.

Jessica wheeled a small trolley over to the hospital bed. She saw that the professor was reluctant to take a seat and cleared her throat, hoping the gesture was enough to establish her authority.

"Please lay down Professor, this won't take long," she instructed and took a cloth from the trolley.

Snape crossed his arms over his chest and remained standing. "I am not here to be pampered. If you would just give me something now, I will be on my way."

"You're still bleeding!" she observed. "I'm going to have to take a closer look before I can treat it. Now please, sit down and let me make sure you haven't lost too much blood."

"I can manage it myself," Snape told her firmly. "I'm the Potion's Master; I concocted the potion myself last summer! I just need it and I'll be on my way. Is that too much to ask?"

The enchanting twinkle in her eye was gone and Snape became suddenly aware that he was not going to get his way on this nurse's watch. Perhaps he'd been just a bit too stubborn.

"I haven't got access to the Madam's private stores, all right. I take responsibility for everyone who walks through that door in my own fashion," she said while pointing at the entrance to the Hospital Wing. "I can tell you right now Professor, that isn't just a scratch on your leg. The infection will only get worse if I don't treat it. Now, lie down on the bed." Her tone had changed. She no longer bared the sweet, enchanting voice that had bewitched him a moment ago.

Snape shifted sideways and reluctantly sat down on the edge of the bed, leaving his leg in front of the nurse. Jessica pulled a small cushioned stool up to the bed and sat down next to the trolley. "Put your leg up here," she instructed and pressed her hand into the mattress where she wanted him to put his foot.

Snape lifted his leg as she had requested and pressed the heel of his palm into the bed to support himself. He watched the nurse closely as she began to move the shreds of his pants out of the way. She took each side of the tear in her hands and ripped it open even wider.

"Hey!" Snape hollered. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"Shh!" she hushed. "Relax Professor, you're not going to need these anymore," the nurse observed and continued to rip his trousers.

"You could have bloody well asked me first," Snape growled.

"My apologies, Professor," she said half-heartedly. "Would you rather take your pants off for me?"

Her suggestion forced a short, erotic image to flash through his mind, but that fantasy dissipated very quickly. Her expression was contorted in disapproval as if she knew exactly what sort of visions he'd imagined. As the Potions Master was overcome with shame, Jessica's expression softened.

"That's what I thought," she said with the sure tone of satisfaction. "So what sort of silly Halloween tommyrot got you into this mess?" Jessica asked as she began to soak another plain while cloth in a clear solution.

"It was an accident," Snape replied dryly. "It wasn't 'tommyrot' as you so eloquently put it."

"There's no need to get defensive Professor, it was just a question," she assured him. "If it's none of my business you just have to say so. It's my job to know what kind of wound I'm dealing with."

"It is a deep wound and it hurts!" Snape described as bluntly as he could.

"Why thank you for pointing out the bloody obvious," she muttered sarcastically just before hastily slapping a cloth soaked in alcohol over the cut.

Snape jumped to his feet and howled. The alcohol stung and the burning sensations flared all the way up his leg. "Ahh! What in the -!"

"Hush, Professor," she lectured. She rose as well and touched a hand to Snape's chest as if to calm him. "The alcohol stings because it's doing its job. Now will you please hold still and let me finish mine?"

"Well take it easy!"

"Will you relax? I'm not trying to hurt you," she said in a stern tone. "I am very good at what I do. Now will you let me help you Professor Snape, or would you just like to keep on bleeding?"

He halted when he heard her speak his name and turned his head to look her in the eye. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't help but feel slightly delighted to hear the sound of his name float from her tongue.

Together, they returned to their seats. "How do you know who I am?" he finally asked in a calm voice.

Jessica took a vial from the trolley and placed two drops on Snape's gash. She managed a huff of laughter under her breath. "You told me you're the Potion's Master," she reminded. "I've met a number of your students. They've all told me plenty about the infamous Potions Master all cloaked in black. Your name comes up quite often when I ask the children how they've manage to burn their skin with nameless concoctions or sprout abnormal features."

"How charming," Snape muttered with an unmistakable tone of sarcasm. "I will be sure to emphasize next term that my classes are not for the careless and stupid."

"They're not careless and they certainly aren't stupid," she justified. "They're only children and they don't have the experience you have. Part of your job is taking responsibility for their safety and training them to take proper care. Is it not?"

"Who the hell are you to tell me what my responsibilities are?" Snape asked uncouthly as he watched her bandage his leg.

Jessica didn't answer him. Instead she tied the knot around the end of his bandage especially tight and watched Snape turn his head away and mutter a bit of blaspheme from the corner of his mouth at the sudden, unnecessary pain.

"Damn it all, girl!" Snape muttered and ground his teeth at the pain. "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes! You're going to need stitches," she told him. "This bandage will hold long enough for me to prepare."

"Stitches?" Snape repeated as if he had never heard of the concept before. "You have got to be joking! What sort of nurse are you?" he asked.

She turned away from him for a moment and sighed. "I'm not like you," she said quietly. "My ways are a lot different from yours."

"You're not a Muggle," Snape assumed. "You can't be."

"I'm a qualified nurse, and that's all that matters," she confirmed. "I don't use any magical treatments if that's what you were expecting. And as your wound is not life threatening, if you want it done that way you're going to have to wait until morning when the Madam is available."

Snape shook his head as he tried to make sense of this beautiful stranger. "You are a Muggle," he said, changing his mind. "Unbelievable! What in carnations are you doing here?"

Again, she turned her head away from him and sighed quietly. "I'm not," she assured. "It's complicated, and I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Fair enough," Snape agreed. "I will have the Madam see me first thing in the morning."

"Very well," the nurse said with a nod. "I'll help you to the door."

Snape pressed his hands into the mattress and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Jessica slipped her hand around his waist and helped him to his feet. Normally Snape would have refused help, but it was either the succulent smell of her hair or the warmth of her hands on his body that possessed him to keep his mouth shut. In turn, Snape put an arm around Jessica's shoulder until he found his balance.

"You're going to have to take it easy for the rest of the evening," she told him. "I suggest you get as much sleep as you can tonight, or by morning your leg will feel like a stick of wood."

"We shall see about that," Snape muttered. "I have plenty of responsibilities to carry out tomorrow," he said in an ironic tone.

"The choice is yours," she decided. "Just be forewarned that running a marathon won't do the healing any good. You'll be much better off if you just take the day off and relax."

"As I have already told you, there are things I must do tomorrow," Snape said coldly.

"I'm sure you can pass your responsibilities on to someone else for a day. It won't make you any less of a man to admit you need to some time to make good," she struck back.

Snape halted and looked at her. His head tilted slightly and his brow twisted in bewilderment. While glowering at her through the narrow slits of his black eyes, Snape began shaking his head. "You've got quite the cheek on you," he told her. "Are you like this with all of your patients?"

The young nurse began shaking her head. "No," she said calmly, "only the ones who deserve it." She looked up at Snape and saw an array of emotions flash through his eyes.

Choosing to ignore her comment, Snape took a couple more steps towards the door and then stopped again. He looked curiously at her and let out a breath of air before he spoke. "Who are you, Jessica?" he asked with genuine interest.

She kept her hand tucked firmly under his arm and looked up at him, knowing just how curious he was to know the truth. "Just Jessica, the precarious nurse," she answered courteously. "That's all you need to know… for now."