Are you there? You said you'd help me with my first assignment. Ageing Potion. I don't know how you can help me with that. Everything I've read seems to suggest it's pretty straight forward.

He'd avoided answering her for days. It was the night before her paper on Ageing Potion was due. He knew this, of course, because he was the one who'd handed out the assignment. She, obviously, did not know that.

Read your paper to me.

I'd assumed you were insincere.

Just a little busy.

He listened as she read. It wasn't awful, but it wasn't outstanding either. For whatever reason, she trusted books entirely too much.

Okay. Now. Tell me about Ageing Potion. Not what the books in Hogwarts' library tell you about it, which is what your paper is currently doing. You tell me. In your words. When would be an appropriate time to use it, for example?

Well, I don't know. I mean muggleborns might use it if they wanted to vote or to get into a club. I suppose law enforcement could use it to be less recognizable as well as to more appropriately fit in.

What do you mean?

Well, if they were doing surveillance for example, people would be less suspect of an older man or woman sitting on a park bench than of someone young. If they had reason to be suspicious, of course.

And now she was thinking. Outside of a textbook.

Now come up with, what was the assignment?

Eight inches.

All right. Come up with eight inches on how Ageing Potion could help law enforcement. Or if you prefer how it could hinder law enforcement. Not ten not twelve. Not six. Eight.

But…

Eight, Witch. Do not quote a book, quote your mind, your imagination. When you're finished let me know and I will hear it again.

I don't…

I do.

Merlin, if he could use this … soul mark connection they seemed to have to get her out of the habit of regurgitating books and opening her mind to the possibilities of not just potions but everything. She would be quite the formidable witch upon leaving here in three years. And ease not just his workload but every professor at Hogwarts by her realizing she should not be submitting inches and inches over the assigned amount while he was at it.

Think if every student turned in four extra inches with every assignment. To every professor. They have lives that they would like to get to sooner rather than later.

Silence. Had he said too much? Did she realize that he … knew her?

They like my papers.

I'm sure that they do. They will like them even better if you can turn in an assignment within their guidelines with your own thoughts that show you know how to use that brain of yours to process facts and information. Again, one thousand students each turning in extra inches.

Fine.

I shall look forward to hearing the result.

He sighed, hoping this wasn't a mistake, but even if she didn't know what the mark was he did. Wasn't it his job to at least ensure she could function in this world? Wasn't that what a mate would do? Prepare her for her future, hopefully free of the Dark Lord.

An owl arrived for him, and he shook his head as he retrieved the letter from it before offering it a treat.

"Oh Ambrosius," he said, recognizing his brother's handwriting. "What do you have up your sleeve now?"

Dear Severus,

My team and I are in the beginning stages of our planning. It is going well. There is still room for you.

Love,

Simon

Short and to the point. Certainly not sweet as it was a fool's errand as far as Severus was concerned. It was times like this that Ambrosius' jealousy at the closeness Severus and Geta formed and enjoyed throughout their life came through. Either that or he was just wired differently because to Severus' thinking.

Well, you make choices in life. Geta's was to be a criminal and to attempt the heist to end all heists. He knew going into it, just as he knew with every one prior to the one in Los Angeles that had taken his life, that each one could be his last.

Severus had chosen to change sides, to turn spy. He knew that his life came with a short shelf life as a result of that. He would be lucky to be able to pull off still being on Voldemort's side after all of these years if and when the wizard succeeded at returning. He'd been very careful, Albus was aware, to make it seem as if he regretted his spying over the years. He hated it, because he'd changed over the years and the idea that people saw him like that bothered him.

However, he had committed to doing a job. Defeating Voldemort. He knew that he likely wouldn't get out of it with his life intact this go around. He had no idea how the Dark Lord was managing these … attempts, but he had no doubt when he succeeded that he would not relinquish his life a second time so stupidly as he had the first time. And with that, Severus would likely need to forfeit his, in Albus' words, for the greater good.

Ambrosius' team wasn't as cohesive as Geta's had been either. Other than the woman, but Severus wan't so sure his younger brother wasn't thinking with his cock instead of his brain when it came to including her on the job. That spelled trouble, distraction. His brother wouldn't listen to him, clearly as he was still going through with this despite him telling him their brother would not want it!

He burned the letter with a shake of his head.

Hopefully, the evening would end on a better note, assuming she actually took his suggestions to heart and rewrote her paper. He wasn't entirely sure that she would.

"Class dismissed," he said the day he'd returned the graded essays on Ageing Potion to the fourth years. "Miss Granger, please remain behind."

Her friends weren't the only ones shocked by the request. Some of the Slytherins, less practiced in keeping their emotions under control, had their mouths hanging open.

"I said class dismissed, unless you'd all prefer to serve detention if you like it in my classroom so much."

"Detention? Did he say you're getting detention?" This was said by Weasley.

"I'm sure he didn't mean that," Potter said. "Come on. It's Hermione."

"Yeah, but."

"Was I unclear in my instructions?"

Weasley visibly swallowed and finally he, Potter, and Longbottom took their leave as did everyone else. He watched as she made her way toward his desk. The burning of his soul mark told him that she was feeling something not overly pleasant.

He slid the parchment that contained her essay toward the portion of the desk she was sitting nearest.

"Do you recognize this?"

"Yes, Sir, it's my Ageing Potion paper." She touched it, no doubt noticing the Exceeds Expectations that was written at the top. In addition to the Exceeds Expectations, she would be drawn attention to the fact that there were no marks in red ink whatsoever on the eight, exactly eight, inches other than the grade.

"Well, it's someone's Ageing Potion paper at any rate."

"Sir?"

"Who did you pay to do this for you?"

"I didn't."

"Miss Granger, do not lie to me."

"I'm not lying to you."

"I have been trying for three years to get you to turn in a paper such as this one. I find it immensely difficult to believe you suddenly decided this year not to tax my brain by turning in feet of an essay versus the inches I asked for. And I did not see anything that came directly from a book."

"It's my paper."

"Fine. We'll play it your way. Detention. This evening. My classroom. Eight o'clock and you can expect to be scrubbing cauldrons so dress accordingly."

"But Sir."

"Maybe a few hours of scrubbing cauldrons will loosen your lips in who aided you with this assignment."

"No one!"

"We'll see. Do not be late."

"But Sir."

"You've already said that. Do you wish to make it three hours of detention, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head.

"Then get out," he said tersely.

He saw tears in her eyes, and he momentarily felt … bad. It was a foreign thing for him to feel, but he recognized it. He, of course, knew that the paper was of her own doing, however, Severus Snape would not believe that she'd just suddenly stopped doing what she wanted to do regardless of his attempts to get her to use her mind and think outside of a textbook.

He hated the … feeling emitting from his soul mark after she'd left the classroom.

Despondent.

Embarrassment.

She wouldn't do something stupid, would she? Merlin, he hoped not. Her surly professor would not just accept such a drastic change without comment. He'd said far worse to her over the past three plus school years. Granted, he'd never accused her of cheating before.

He realized what he would have thought and felt if someone had accused him of cheating.

That would have been worse, in his mind, than getting a Troll.

She arrived promptly as he knew she would.

She glanced around the room, seeing no cauldrons, or anything for that matter out of place.

"Follow me, Miss Granger," he said, wandlessly closing the door to his classroom while she did as he asked and followed him to his office.

"Why do you think Ageing Potion could be addicting?" he asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"I know that you heard me."

"Well, I don't think I said addicting, but something that could lead to abuse. The idea of being … unrecognizable would probably be tempting to some. To the point where I could see if someone wasn't of the right psychological makeup they could want to appear older to escape having to interact with their peers."

"Would you do it?"

"No," she said.

"Why not?"

"Because I like who I am. I mean, if I had a job where it was required such as law enforcement for an assignment I'd do it. I also think that it could be used in the commission of a crime and make it more difficult to identify perpetrators, and that makes it dangerous."

That piqued his interest and he wondered if she would get there in her thought process. He was … pleased that she had.

"Such as?"

"Well, if someone had taken an Ageing Potion and robbed a bank, stolen a car, or raped or killed someone the victim or witnesses would be unable to give an accurate description."

That right there was something he'd argued with himself about in aiding Geta, and Ambrosius, in their chosen careers. While Geta did not know that it was called Ageing Potion, he was confident that something existed that could alter his appearance to make it easier for him to get away without an accurate description.

Too many things could go wrong with potions, especially if they were mixed with anything. Particularly muggle things. He had no idea from day to day what his twin engaged in. So, he'd never offered the Ageing Potion, or Polyjuice Potion, to aide in his brother's jobs. He wouldn't want to be responsible for harm befalling him.

However, her statement reminded him of the time Geta had said something very similar. Wanting his twin to come up with something that would do that, aid him in getting away without risk of being identified.

Imagine being able to have a conversation with someone about these things who actually … understood them. There was a heady thought. The fact that she could hold such a conversation with him was not lost on him. And what was more, according to her, she wanted to converse with him.

He slid her paper across his desk toward her. He hadn't noticed right away she'd left it behind earlier.

"You left this earlier."

"Yes, well, you accused me of cheating."

"Forgive me if after three years of you acting as if you couldn't assemble a thought that hadn't been found in a textbook for being surprised to see you turn in a paper like this. And not three feet versus the eight inches I assigned."

"Yes, well, I ran out of time," she muttered, nibbling on that lower lip of hers. This was a tell he'd noticed in her that betrayed nerves over the years.

That mark on his chest was no longer irritated or despondent. In fact with that last sentence he sensed … amusement?

Did he amuse her? Or did the situation amuse her?

"So I'm not scrubbing cauldrons?"

"No, but if I told you that you were coming here to defend the unusualness of your paper you would have had hours to prepare."

Her eyes met his as she clutched the paper. "You're actually giving me an Exceeds Expectations?"

"You earned it, Miss Granger, so yes, that is the grade that you were given. If this is an indication of your papers this school year I admit I look forward to reading them and mayhaps discussing one or two of them in this type of environment if you don't mind a detention or two appearing to be assigned to you."

"Thank you, Sir. I've often wondered why all potions that alter one's physical appearance or mind aren't more restricted."

"Well, I think you find that wizards don't think of things like people robbing banks or stealing cars."

"There are wizards who are rapists and murderers, though."

"Indeed there are. I'm not sure someone who is truly foul, though, would bother with an Ageing Potion. However, it is a valid point you have brought up as to why these types of things should not be available at the corner apothecary without a permit. Of course, those requiring a permit would get their potions from the DMLE directly."

"Wizards don't typically have to worry about being raped either," she muttered.

He was tempted to make her repeat herself, but he'd heard her and he could tell by his mark she didn't like thinking about such things. Who would? So, he did not ask her to say it again and chose to say nothing. He was, in fact, not a witch so he could not truly offer her much more than an ear on the topic anyway.

Though, it left him wondering … had something happened to her? Fifteen seemed rather young to be so jaded about the differences in the genders. Then what he knew about fifteen year old witches and what they thought could fill a thimble with room left over.

She also obviously did not care to hear or think about the things he'd witnessed during the Dark Lord's first reign. Humiliation was the name of the game for so many so that they would appear stronger than someone else. The first time he'd witnessed sodomy he'd wondered how the desire to humiliate and punish someone in such a manner wasn't suspicious as to the one doing the punishing.

Someone had tried with him … once. The wizard in question was a eunuch to this day and Severus refused to reverse it. Not because he thought the wizard would attempt to touch him in such a fashion again. No, but reversing it would make him look weak. Forgiving. And that could not be. Not that he had reason to believe it could be reversed, but there was a possibility he supposed since it was done magically that he could be returned to his former state magically.

Sixteen years Severus had not bothered to look into it. In fact, he still got a bit of a chuckle out of it. Old Nikolay's wife had left him within a month after that night. That had given Severus quite a bit of satisfaction.

The Dark Lord did not look favourably upon followers who could not keep a victim from fighting back. Losing his wife, his home. Well, that was a reflection of something deeper than being weak physically.

So, Severus had managed to accomplish multiple things by being capable - and brave / stupid - enough to do so that day. He had been punished for his insubordination. A few more scars was worth it. He had no desire to be seen or humiliated in such a fashion. Even then before he'd turned traitor he had limits. He had gained the Dark Lord's respect, though, and that had been one more step toward earning the spot as his second.

At least she had said typically so she wasn't ruling out it happening to a man entirely.

"All right, Miss Granger. You have," he glanced at his watch. "Almost ninety minutes. You may work in here for that time if you'd like."

"You're not dismissing me?"

"I could, of course, but that would seem suspect to your friends so your presence here will be required until ten o'clock."

"Yes, Sir," she said, standing then and taking her school bag and finding a book in it she evidently wished to pass the time reading.

He sensed confusion now through his mark and couldn't help but chuckle at that.

He watched her more than once glance from the book she was trying to read to him and back again.

He was … surprised when he was in bed that night and he wasn't bombarded with questions in his mind. He felt nothing through his mark either.

It would seem suspect if he asked her about her essay the day she'd received it back and they'd had their conversation so he let it go.

Only he didn't hear from her again. Her schoolwork … improved, so evidently getting an Exceeds Expectations from him, and another followed by another, was sufficient proof that her anonymous tipster was onto something.

He could live with that.

He had helped her (and he did consider it helping her even if it did aid him and the other professors, too) and he felt rather … good about that.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com