Author's Note - Sorry for the delay in this folks. It has been ready for submission but I've been so busy with my editing work that I've had little time to sort it all out. However, here it is - Chapter Three of New Beginnings. Enjoy.

~ Chapter Three ~

Detention

It did not take long for word to spread across the school; the new Potions teacher was not a force to be reckoned with. By the time they were two weeks into the term, students from all houses and all years had had the chance to experience the hard-handed guidance of Snape for themselves – and most of them had not taken to it well. Snape's "constructive criticism", as his house liked to call it, had already earned him nicknames of a rather rude and unpleasant nature. The young housemaster seemed relatively unaffected, but the Slytherins were despondent.

"What is their problem?" Lenora sighed one evening at dinner, as she watched some students from the badger house glower up at Snape over their shepherd's pie. Apparently, he had come down hard on a class of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw second years, who had failed to produce an adequate batch of Swelling Solution.

"Let's face it," Vincent shrugged, prodding his vegetables dejectedly. "They're just not Slytherin enough to handle this tough love thing."

"I agree," joined in Dorian Barton, who had settled down next to the sixth years, much to his brother Marius's annoyance. "Everyone I've spoken to from other houses reckon he's a monster. It's change – they can't handle it."

Rose, who was sitting next to Lenora, vocalised her assent quite vehemently. Lenora noticed she had barely touched her meal.

"Do you think it bothers him?" she wondered. "He's only been here just over a fortnight and already people are bitching about him. That can't be a nice feeling can it? It must be difficult enough starting a new job…"

"He seems fine," shrugged Rose, without taking her eyes off Dorian. Lenora shook her head exasperatedly and looked up to the high table.

Snape looked like a mere child in comparison to the sage and seasoned faces of the veteran staff of Hogwarts. Yet, if his new responsibilities or reputation fazed him at all, it didn't show. His face was remarkably placid as he sat before his empty plate, responding to whatever attempts at light conversation Dumbledore was trying to make.

"Just because he looks fine," Marius murmured, "doesn't mean he is."

After dinner, Lenora, Rose, Marius and Vincent agreed to head to the common room to do some work; Professor McGonagall had already given them a rather beastly Transfiguration assignment, and they had decided to take her advice and start it sooner rather than later. However, as they crossed the Entrance Hall in a bid for the dungeons, they were distracted by snide comments from some Gryffindor loiterers.

"Oh look, if it isn't the sneaky, slimy Slytherins," sneered Daniel Hartson, their Potions class contemporary. His companions, a girl named Lucy Towler and another boy, Quillan Stamp, laughed along. "I'm surprised you're all still in school. Not run off to join You Know Who yet, like the rest of your lot?"

"Get bent, Hartson," Marius retorted.

"Yeah, you're just pissed because you're not the favourite in Potions anymore," sneered Lenora. Her fellow Slytherins laughed. Daniel Hartson reddened to an alarming shade of beetroot.

"No, because that's you now, isn't it?" Lucy Towler cut in and she began to advance towards the group. "Has it escaped you attention that your precious new teacher never has a bad word to say about you? I guess it's to keep up your spirits. He probably knows that nothing is going to come of any of you."

Lenora had heard enough. She drew her wand from the pocket of her robes and pointed it right at Lucy. Several passers-by darted out of the way.

"You take that back," Lenora snarled, amber eyes flashing, just as Lucy drew her own wand.

"Never," the Gryffindor responded, calmly. "It's the truth."

In her anger, Lenora hurled a Stinging Hex straight at Lucy. She deflected it and sent it flying back. Lenora managed to jump out of the way, but not before Snape and McGonagall had come rushing out of the Great Hall in time to see everything.

"Stop this at once!" Professor McGonagall shouted, hurrying over to her students. Lucy lowered her wand and glared at the Slytherins.

"They started it," she lied, sullenly, tucking her wand inside her robes.

"I don't care who started it!" cried Professor McGonagall, her eyes wide with rage. "This is unacceptable behaviour. Miss Towler, come with me. I'll leave this one to you, Severus, as she is one of your own."

Snape looked at her blankly as she frog marched Lucy Towler up the marble staircase. Then comprehension dawned on his face.

"Indeed," he said, recovering himself with a swift, searching glare at Lenora "Miss Parkinson, I'm going to have to give you detention. You know full well magic in the corridors in prohibited."

"Yes, sir," Lenora conceded, with a weary sigh.

"My office," Snape instructed her. "Eight o'clock."

He gave her a peculiar look, almost sympathetic, and then swept off ahead of them to the dungeons.

"Tough break," Vincent consoled her, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "It could have been any of us. Silly bint."

"Just goes to show what they really think of us," Lenora murmured. "Snape was right."

They slumped off miserably to the Slytherin common room. The next few hours were supposed to be spent working on their Transfiguration task: Professor McGonagall wanted a five foot essay on the exceptions of Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. However, when eight o'clock rolled around, not one of the Slytherin sixth years had written more than twelve inches. They had been much more interested in speculating what their new housemaster would set for the first detention of his career.

"You might be lucky," Ellen Swanson, a fourth year, had advised. "He might not know what he's doing yet and just set you something simple."

"Or," Salem Henderson countered, "he might figure he needs to set a standard and make you do something awful."

Eventually, Lenora had banned anyone from mentioning it, threatening to Tongue Tie the next person who did. She had been given plenty of detentions before, but this was the first time she had ever been nervous about one: she blamed her housemates and their idle conjecture.

At precisely eight, according to her watch at least, Lenora knocked on the Head of House's office. Her gesture was met by a curt call of "Enter."

The office Snape had been given could not have been more different than that of his predecessor. It was smaller, for a start, and much less ostentatious; the walls were adorned with simple shelves rather than rich fabrics, most of which were not occupied yet. There was a substantial desk, upon which were a number of boxes, and chairs on either side. A large store cabinet dominated the far corner of the room, which, too, was surrounded by many crates and boxes. Apparently, Snape was still in the process of unpacking.

Lenora found him knelt on the stone floor next to cabinet, sifting through one of the many boxes. Her nervousness dissipated somewhat.

"You're on time at least," he commented, without looking up.

"Just as you asked," Lenora responded brightly. She stood over the teacher, politely observing his activity until she received her own task. It was a good minute before he next spoke.

"Sit," he instructed her, finally. "And take a box. You are to assist me."

Lenora was quick to obey; she knelt opposite him and grabbed the nearest crate. It was full of smaller boxes, bottles and jars.

"Potion ingredients?" she asked.

"Correct," replied Snape smoothly. "They need to be organised properly."

"And you're going to help me, sir?" Lenora asked, with a slight smile. This situation was fast becoming more and more amusing to her as the moments passed.

"I am quite particular," he explained. "I want to make sure you're doing it right."

There was a slight pause before he went on.

"What a pity you are my first detention. I did not expect it of you."

Lenora reached into her crate and removed three small jars of dried asphodel.

"You can't be mad at me, sir," she protested pleasantly. "It was kind of your fault."

"Oh?" Snape responded, with a sardonic raise of his eyebrows. He removed the jars from her hands and packed them away in the cupboard.

"Well you did tell us to stand up for ourselves," smiled Lenora. "And that Lucy Towler was being a complete bi-" Lenora began, but caught herself just in time. "Well, she wasn't being very nice," she finished quickly.

"Well, I cannot deny your intentions were noble," said Snape returning her smile. "Perhaps, though, picking a fight in public was not the best way to go about it."

Lenora continued to smile as she unpacked a bottle of toad slime and handed it to her professor. For all his wise words, she could not help but feel that their tutor/tutee relationship did not seem genuine. He was, after all, only several years her senior. She found it difficult not to behave with him as she would an older housemate. Something as simple as calling him "Sir" made her want to giggle.

"You seem to have mastered this well enough," Snape noted, and he got to his feet, brushing a sheen of dust off his robes and trousers. "Continue with that, Miss Parkinson, whilst I attend to these."

"As you wish, sir," Lenora responded, without thought, and at once she had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. She did as she was told, continuing to pull out bottles and jars from her crate and organise then into the cupboard alphabetically. There were some particularly unusual and exotic ingredients that Lenora had never encountered before; she wondered if it would be inappropriate to ask about them. Snape, however, answered her unasked questions before she had dared to voice them.

"Those with the red labels you will not use until next year," he informed her. "That is, of course, providing you pass this year."

Lenora looked up to catch the wicked little smile that was playing about his lips.

"You think I won't, sir?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows in turn.

"Not if you keep getting into trouble," said Snape, lightly.

This time Lenora did laugh; her housemaster simply smiled and returned to his work.

It did not take Lenora long to stock the store cupboard with all of Snape's personal ingredients. She was herself exceptionally organised and had had plenty of practise in organising her own books, records, wardrobe and so forth. When the last of the ingredients had been safely tucked away (a large jar of powdered bicorn horn), she rose to her feet, closing the cupboard doors.

"All done," she announced quietly. A quick glance at her watch told her only half an hour had passed- he would not let her go yet. Sure enough, he looked up from the large, glass jar he was labelling and raised an eyebrow.

"Already?" he queried.

Lenora nodded

"Well then," he admonished, "you had better come over here and make yourself useful."

Lenora obeyed and sidled up the Snape's desk. He pressed two of the glass jars into her hands with a simple "Hold these." Then, with a flick of his wand, he conjured up a pair of stepladders with which to reach the highest of the shelves. He climbed them and waited for Lenora to pass him one of the jars.

"Are these experiments, sir?" the girl asked, as she handed over a large, spherical one filled with some red potion and what appeared to be half a dragon heart.

"Something like that," Snape replied. He placed the jar carefully onto the shelf above his head and turned to take the next one.

He and Lenora made light work of their task, she passing him jar after jar whilst he lined them up on the shelf. Each one was filled with something both foul and fascinating: Lenora was so interested by a mummified hand suspended in purple gel that Snape had to snatch it off her before he could put it away.

"Sorry, sir," she had grinned, sheepishly, before turning to hand him the next one.

Soon enough, there was only one jar left on the desk. It was considerably larger than the others and full of frogs' legs floating in blue oil. Lenora had to use all her strength to lift it and pass it to her housemaster. Snape took it, with some difficulty, and managed to lift it high enough to push it onto the end of the shelf. But he had not done it properly. As he turned to step back down the ladder, the jar began to wobble on the edge of the shelf.

"Sir, look out!" Lenora cried. It was too late. Before Snape could even whirl around, the jar teetered and then toppled off the shelf, crashing down upon the young man's head. There was a sickening crack and glass, frogs' legs and blue liquid were showered across the room. Snape swayed on the spot then tumbled to the floor.

"Oh no!" squeaked Lenora, and she hurried forward the help her professor. She pulled him away from the ladder, out of the wreckage of glass, oil and dismembered frog limbs. He was out cold and, upon inspection of the impact spot, had a substantial gash on the crown of his head, which was beginning to trickle with blood. Lenora's healing charms left a lot to be desired. She considered running to the common room for help, but thought better of it; by the time she found someone, he could have lost a lot of blood. Instead, she pulled out her wand, and severed two pieces of fabric from the hem of her robes. One of these she scrunched up and pressed tightly against the wound on Snape's head. The other she turned her wand upon.

"Aguamenti! she cried, and a jet of icy cold water shot from the tip of her wand, soaking the material. She then dropped the wand and with her free hand, squeezed the excess water from the dripping fabric before placing on her housemaster's forehead.

"Please wake up, please wake up," she whispered frantically. If she could just get him to regain consciousness, then she would be able to help him to the hospital wing; he was too heavy for her to carry and levitating him would only risk further injury.

She dabbed at his forehead and temples lightly with the damp cloth, all the time applying pressure to the cut with her left hand. Please someone come by, she willed silently in her head. I can't help him on my own.

Several minutes passed and Lenora began to panic. Just as she was considering going for help after all, she heard a tiny moan escape Snape's lips. His eyelids flickered and snapped open.

"Professor!" Lenora exclaimed, the relief audible in her voice. "Are you alright?"

Snape's black eyes slid from the girl who was leaning over him down to the stepladder and the remains of the shattered jar, which lay fanned out around it.

"What happened?" he murmured, lifting a hand to his forehead and grimacing.

"The jar fell off the shelf and hit you," Lenora explained gently. "You've injured your head. I'd have healed it if I could but I can't. You need to go to the hospital wing."

"That's not necessary," muttered Snape. He sat up slowly and felt the back of his head; there was blood on his fingers when he pulled them away. "I can heal it," he said. "But I need you to guide me."

Lenora nodded. Snape pulled out his wand and pointed it in the vague direction of the back of his head. Lenora took his hand tentatively and guided the tip of his wand to the gash in his scalp. She parted the hair that surrounded it, with some difficulty owing to the blood, then gave her teacher the go ahead.

"Episkey," Snape mumbled. A warm, white light left his wand and passed over his wound. It did not completely heal, but it did manage to stop the bleeding.

"It's ok now," said Lenora softly. "But you should still go to the hospital wing - you might have a concussion!"

"I'm fine, Lenora," said Snape impatiently. He made an attempt to get to his feet only to wobble and go careering towards his desk.

"Careful!" Lenora cried, grabbing him just in time, though almost knocking herself over in the process. "See, what did I tell you? We're going to see Madam Pomfrey."

She helped Snape into a chair for a moment whilst she cleaned up the mess left behind by the broken jar.

"Evanesco!" she called, waving her wand; the liquid, broken glass and scattered frogs legs vanished. Then she turned her attention to the young man, reeling on the chair next to his desk.

"Right, let's go," she suggested. It was a tricky manoeuvre, helping Snape to his feet: Lenora had to support him whilst he walked to make sure he didn't fall over again, which was difficult being several inches smaller than him.

Had the circumstances been different, Lenora would have found the situation quite funny. It seemed their roles had reversed; she was now the carer and instructor, whilst he was relying on her. He had even reverted to using her first name, which teachers throughout the castle rarely did.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asked him. "Do you need to stop?"

"I'm just dizzy," he murmured. "I'll be fine."

Lenora nodded and they continued to trudge together up to the hospital wing. It felt strange to be in such close proximity to a professor, as young as he was; she could smell the fresh laundry scent of his clothing and feel the movement of his chest as he breathed. She found herself blushing quite against her will and wondered if he felt similarly awkward.

When they reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was changing the sheets on one of the beds. She was so surprised to see a student accompanying an injured teacher, and not the other way around, that she dropped the pillowcase she was holding.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, and she dashed forwards to help the professor. "What on earth happened here?"

"There was a mishap, Madam Pomfrey," Lenora explained. "Professor Snape was hit on the head. The wound is ok but I think he's concussed."

The matron helped Snape onto a bed then whipped out her wand.

"Lumos!" she cried, and she shone the tiny light that appeared on her wand tip into Snape's eyes, muttering to herself.

"You've had quite a knock, Professor," she declared, extinguishing her wand and stashing away in a pocket of her apron. "I'm going to have to keep you here overnight to make sure everything's ok."

"That is quite unnecessary," snarled Snape, who was clearly growing more agitated by the second. "I am fine."

"Nonsense!" barked Madam Pomfrey. "You can barely walk straight. You need bed rest and observation."

She began to fuss over her patient, forcing him back onto the bunk and setting about taking a pulse.

"You may go, Miss Parkinson," she called, without even looking up. "Professor Snape will be perfectly fine."

Lenora nodded and turned to the door. Before she left, she glanced back over her shoulder. Snape was looking straight past Madam Pomfrey, a disgruntled expression etched on his face. Lenora gave him an apologetic look before scuttling out of the hospital wing, her cheeks burning once again.

Final Note - I hope you all enjoyed it. Just before you get fed up and stop reading, this is not going to be a teacher/pupil romance piece. ;) Not even in the slightest. I won't give any more away than that.