Disclaimer: Not mine… except for Cara. There's just one thing I'd like to comment on: Cara likes to talk to herself, aloud as well as in her head. I told her that it's a bit annoying… she threw a book at me. So, in case anyone gets any grand ideas about telling Cara what to do… wear a helmet. I hope Severus reads this beforehand…

The Wine of Life

Chapter 1: The Start of a Beautiful Friendship… Maybe.

Cara Benoit was bored; utterly, painfully, resoundingly bored. Dear God, the woman could talk. Had she known Headmistress McGonnagall could be so long-winded, she might have Polyjuiced some poor student and forced them to sit through the epic speech for her. 'Very tempting, that,' she thought to herself. Reaching up, she pushed her long blonde hair back from her eyes… eyes that were the same piercing blue as the robes she wore; Caribbean blue, some may have called it, with a ring of darker blue surrounding them. Speaking of blue, her legs felt like icicles! 'Damn this Scottish weather!' she thought sourly.

Besides feeling as if her lower extremities were suffering from frostbite, Cara's back also hurt from trying to sit up straight. She was valiantly resisting the urge to simply bang her head against the table until she was unconscious, thus making herself unaware of the droning voice at the podium. She tried to look demure and interested while the old witch spoke… at length… of the coming school year, blah, blah… don't wander after curfew, blah, blah, blah… the new Muggle studies teacher, blah… oh, that was her. Nod and wave, dear… nod and wave… and smile. So she did… with only a little effort.

Finally, before her subconscious was able to man-handle her into a drooling stupor, the speech ended and the food appeared. Her stomach grumbled at the wonderful smells that suddenly filled the hall. Quickly, she filled her plate with roast chicken, mashed potatoes, some squishy, green vegetable… 'Hmm, don't know about that one…' and a small dinner roll. As she was reaching for her cup, she heard the man to her right speak. "Would you pass the salt, please?"

"Mmhmm," she replied through a mouth full of hot tea. Swallowing, and managing not to choke as the liquid seared down her esophagus, she grabbed the pewter shaker and handed it to her new colleague. "Thank you," he replied in that monotonous, silky tone, taking the salt from her hand with his long, pale fingers.

She smiled politely and nodded. 'He's a strange one,' she thought, watching him delicately sprinkle salt over his own roast chicken.

She knew the basic facts about Severus Snape: he was a dreaded… she snorted, earning her a quick, sideways glare from the man in question… yet acclaimed man: Potions Master and current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, feared by students, loathed by most of his colleagues; powerful Legilimens and Occlumens; former Death Eater turned spy for the previous Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, whose life the Potions master had ended at the old man's insistence; … and War Hero.

He was tall, she would have guessed six foot three, and thin, but not too thin. His skin was pale... 'Not an outdoors kind of person, obviously,' and he had long, ebony hair that hung just past his shoulders, hair that was matched by his entirely black wardrobe. His features were striking, if not ordinarily handsome. He had a Roman nose, which somehow suited him, thin lips which turned up just so at the corners, and the most amazing… black… eyes she had ever seen. When he turned his head a certain way, she could just make out what appeared to be a scar on his neck, barely visible above the high collar of his coat… something he had gained while fighting in the aforementioned War, she assumed.

However, what intrigued her most was not that he had been, at one time, a loyal follower of the Dark Lord… 'Former Dark Lord,' she corrected herself, or the fact that he had basically murdered a man he had know for almost his entire life, even though he was found innocent of any crime after the War ended. What intrigued her most, was that while she had been here for more than two weeks (the teachers always arrived well ahead of the students), he was the only one of her new colleagues who hadn't formally welcomed her, or introduced himself. She only knew his name from the few staff meetings that had taken place, ones in which he sat off by himself, in the corner next to the staffroom fireplace, never spoke unless spoken to directly, and occasionally took a 'covert' swig from a small, silver flask he kept hidden in his robes. A flask he now expertly palmed while reaching over his cup of tea.

"Getting a head start, are we?" she commented, softly enough that only he could hear, as she casually cut into her food. She saw his hand pause abruptly, just as his fingers grasped the rim. As she speared the slice of chicken with her fork, he slowly turned his head in her direction, a blank expression… 'There's a surprise'… on his face. She looked right back at him, popped the piece of chicken into her mouth, and began chewing slowly, before using her fork to gesture at the hand he still held over the tea cup. "Bad day?" she asked.

Not surprisingly, his response consisted of more blank staring, the raising of a single eyebrow… 'How does he do that?!'… and the exaggerated tipping of the flask into his tea. 'Who knew hand gestures could be sarcastic?'

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, going back to her meal.

"If only," she heard him mutter under his breath. He quickly stowed the flask back in his robes with barely a twist of his arm. She paused and leaned her forearms against the table, fork in her right hand, knife in her left. She looked at him again, and both eyebrows rose in an expression of pure surprise. "My God! Was that a pure, unsolicited, non-self serving comment?"

He stiffened, and his lipped tightened into a thin line. She had tried to speak to him in the days since her arrival, attempting, on more than one occasion, to introduce herself to him at the tri-weekly staff meetings. He was always out the door before she could even begin walking in his direction, much less speak with him. He was never at dinner in the Great Hall. She assumed that showing up tonight was mandatory, being the first day of school an all. Well, he couldn't escape this time. Taking the initiative, she leaned towards him slightly and smiled warmly. "I won't bite you, Professor Snape."

A shadow passed quickly across his face, and he lowered his head. His eyes clenched shut as his teeth ground together audibly. His fists tightened around his silverware, so much that she could have sworn she saw the metal bend. After a moment, he took a deep breath and placed his fork and knife carefully, deliberately, on the table. The furious glare he turned on her then would have made a normal woman's blood run cold. Instead, it fired Cara's curiosity about the silent, solitary man. 'Curiouser and curiouser,' she thought.

His chair screeched against the cold stone of the floor as he pushed violently away from the table. She watched him leave, his black robes billowing behind him. If he hadn't been in such a hurry, and if she hadn't been watching him so intently, she probably would have never noticed that he limped slightly. Another war wound?

As he disappeared from the Great Hall, she realized everyone at the Head Table was staring at her with a questioning glare. Not one to incite gossip, Cara simply shrugged and turned back to her meal.

She was oblivious to the rest of the Welcoming Feast as she slowly finished her dinner. 'You don't scare me, Severus Snape,' she mused snidely. She was going to figure him out; he seemed like he needed a friend… or at least a drinking buddy. Alcohol she could provide… friendship, now that was another matter entirely. That was up to him. With one last dab at her mouth, she placed her linen napkin atop her plate and stood. She nodded her good evenings to her colleagues, and quickly exited the Great Hall. She had a liquor cabinet to visit… and a friend to make.

~TBC

A/N: I probably shouldn't try and write two stories at once, but this one has been bobbing around in my brain for a while now. I based Cara loosely on myself; I'm blonde with blue eyes and have been told I am… very… sarcastic. That's about as far as it goes. Anyway, I hope you like my little Sev/OC story. Sorry that it's not very long, but it was just an intro chapter. I promise the others will be longer! If you read, please leave me a little review and let me know what you think!

The name Cara means "friend," and Benoit translates from French as "blessed." So, literally, she is a "Blessed Friend." Will she live up to her name? We shall see…

The title is based on a quote by eighteenth-century Scottish poet James Boswell, who said: "Friendship, 'the wine of life,' should, like a well-stocked cellar, be continually renewed." It seemed to fit since both Severus and Cara like to drink (in my world at least), and they are both in need of a friend. Silly, I know… but it makes sense to me! Cheers!

BTS