Lauren awoke to someone insistently shaking her awake.

"Lauren. It's time to get up," a matter-of-fact voice commanded.

Lauren responded by groaning annoyedly and shoving her pillow over her head. Next thing she knew her snuggly thick and warm blanket was being yanked off her quite viciously, exposing Lauren to the chill that seemed to permanently permeate the dungeons.

Lauren sat straight up in indignation and glared daggers at the offender, who happened to be none other than Tracey. Tracey, for her part, seemed quite unperturbed by the murderous look Lauren was shooting in her direction.

"Time to get up. Our first lesson is Potions and you don't want to be late for that. Professor Snape, from what I've heard, is very strict."

There were other more apt words that could best describe Snape, and Lauren thought that Tracey hadn't quite captured the true essence of his personality. Personally, she would have chosen 'complete and utter arse', but that was her opinion.

Knowing that Tracey was right (and probably wouldn't let up until Lauren got out of bed), Lauren sighed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes before stretching widely, which was accompanied by a massive yawn. Then she glanced around the room and noticed the other girls were also getting ready, in various stages of dress. Tracey was already in her uniform, which was neatly pressed, and her hair was perfectly brushed to a shiny sheen. By all outer appearances, Tracey was well put together.

Knowing there was no getting out of it, Lauren stood and grimaced when she caught sight of her reflection in the long mirror. Her long wavy hair was a complete mess, making it look as though she attempted to stick a knife in a plug socket. Not a pretty sight.

Tracey busied herself by packing her backpack while Lauren dressed and brushed her teeth and hair, the last being the most difficult task to manage. The other girls kept glancing her way as she growled and muttered darkly as the brush kept snagging on knots. Lauren was not a morning person by nature, and it was best not to approach her before she had her first cup of tea; something the other girls seemed to sense for none dared speak to her.

Finally managing to make her hair look respectable enough to go out in public, Lauren hastened to ready her backpack for today's lessons, shoving the textbooks in forcibly.

"Ooh. We have double Potions with the Gryffindors this morning," Pansy piped up as she studied her timetable, her pug-like face alight with devilish glee as she glanced up at the other girls. "I can't wait to see how Professor Snape deals with them. Especially Potter."

Lauren snorted, causing Pansy, Daphne and Millicent's head to swivel in her direction. Tracey was also watching her from her post at the foot of her bed, her features set in a solemn mask as she observed the scene playing out before her.

"Is something funny, Ward?" Pansy sneered. Lauren did not miss the antagonistic tone in the other girl's voice, nor the use of her last name.

Lauren zipped up her backpack and stood, rounding on Pansy. She was still seething from having been woken up way too early and was in right foul mood. Pansy's snootiness towards her was rubbing Lauren's own abrasive personality the wrong way, and she found she wanted nothing more than to get into a fight with the other girl and release some pent-up anger.

Pansy, seeing the look on Lauren's face, unconsciously took a step back, and Lauren felt a smirk curling on her lips at her reaction.

Then her inner voice, which sounded remarkably like Severus Snape, came to the forefront, pushing back her temper.

You need to keep a low profile, Lauren. Starting a fight is not going to help your cause, especially with your fellow Slytherins. You need to play this with cunning. Play this like a Slytherin.

Lauren rolled her eyes, more to herself than Pansy. She really didn't feel like playing nice, especially not this early in the morning, but she was going to have to. She couldn't afford to make enemies with this lot.

"Oh, there's loads that I find funny, Pansy, but I will say this. Knowing Snape, he's going to give us quite the show as he knocks down Potter a peg or two - something I'm sure you and all of us will find deliciously amusing."

The two girls stared at each other. Then Pansy slowly smiled; the expression doing nothing to make her appearance more appealing. "Yes, and I can't wait to see it!" Then she gave a nod at Lauren before turning to her two other friends, gesturing for them to join her for breakfast.

Once they had left, Tracey spoke up. "You shouldn't provoke her, Lauren," she said, ever the voice of reason. She reminded Lauren of a darker and more serious version of Hermione Granger. Thankfully, Tracey was not as aggravating as the Gryffindor know-it-all.

"Is that what I was doing? For a minute I thought it was a pissing contest and I was showing her that I would not be bullied, not by her nor anyone else. I think she and I have come to an understanding," Lauren replied off-handedly as she hoisted her backpack over her shoulder, the books within weighing it down heavily.

Tracey regarded her thoughtfully but decided to drop it.

As they made their way to the Great Hall, Lauren kept yawing widely.

"I take it you're not a morning person," Tracey remarked as they passed a group of students who had begun whispering amongst themselves when they spotted Lauren. Lauren flipped them a rude hand gesture (something she was delighted to find she was able to do, though she suspected that if Dumbledore ever found out he would cast another spell on her to put an end to that) and they continued on their way.

"Nope. Not in the least. And it didn't help that we were up until midnight doing homework." Then a thought struck Lauren and she groaned loudly.

"What is it?" Tracey asked.

"We've got Potions. Professor Snape is bound to give us even more homework than Professor McGonagall." Which was saying a lot.

"At least we have the weekend to get through it all," Tracey pointed out, which earned a disbelieving look from Lauren.

"I don't know about you, but I can think of better ways to spend my weekend than doing homework."

"Like what?"

"Sleeping."

Tracey shook her head but was smiling regardless.

They made it to the Great Hall and headed straight to the Slytherin table, which was crowded with students. Lauren sat down heavily and proceeded to pour herself a cup of tea, almost gulping it down in one go.

"I'm surprised you don't drink coffee," Tracey remarked as she buttered her toast. "It would probably wake you up better than tea would."

Lauren poured another cup of tea and stifled a yawn behind her hand. "I suppose it would, but I only drink it when -." I'm hungover, she thought, but wisely did not say that out loud. "-necessary."

Feeling a bit more lively, Lauren dished up some toast and eggs onto her plate, dipping the toast in the runny golden yolks. As she chewed on her mouthful, her gaze drifted up towards the staff table. Thankfully, Quirrell was not watching her. In fact, he seemed to be making a conscious effort to avoid looking in her direction and was instead focused on eating his food.

Did Severus say something to him? Did he somehow warn Quirrell off? she pondered, finding Quirrell's sudden lack of supposed interest disconcerting.

She let her gaze drift over to the dark Potion Master, who was currently nursing a mug between his hands, staring intently at the liquid within. His black hair half obscured his features, though it did nothing to hide the ever-present dark scowl, and Lauren noted that he looked about as tired as she felt. She wondered if he was not a morning person like herself.

If that's the case, I had best avoid him in the mornings.

The bell sounded and all the students rose from their seats and headed to their respective classes, the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins making their way down to the dungeons. They waited outside the Potions classroom, the Gryffindors lining one side of the passage and the Slytherins lining the other side. The gulf between them felt like a huge gaping void, with not one person willing to breach the gap.

Lauren used the opportunity while they waited to study the Gryffindors. They were a lively and rambunctious group that seemed to always be laughing and joking amongst themselves, though right now they looked rather nervous and pensive – Snape's reputation no doubt having preceded him.

She spotted Harry and Ron standing together, conversing quietly, their heads bowed and almost touching. She let her gaze wander and was startled by the realization that while she had been observing them, a large portion of the Gryffindors had been curiously watching her. They had quickly averted their gazes when Lauren caught them looking.

Before Lauren could think any more of it, the door to the Potion classroom opened, swinging silently on its hinges, and Snape's deep, rich voice from within called out, "Enter."

The Slytherins did not hesitate and filed in, choosing the left side of the room. The Gryffindors followed shortly after and took up the other half of the room. Supreme silence reigned as they waited.

Professor Snape stood like a dark and foreboding shadow in front of his desk, the layers upon layers of black giving this impression. His very presence commanded attention and respect.

He waited until all were seated before he began. With an elegant flick of his wrist, a parchment appeared in his hand and he proceeded to call out the names on the register.

When he reached Harry's name, his thin lips curled in a condescending sneer. "Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity." The word had been emphasized with such disdain that no one could doubt Snape's open dislike and animosity for the Boy Who Lived. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle sniggered amongst themselves.

Lauren suddenly felt nervous, wondering if Severus was going to speak to her with just as much venom when he reached her name. Last night, after all, had been pretty tense and they hadn't exactly parted on friendly terms.

But when he called out her name and she answered with an affirmative, Snape merely peered at her for a moment, his dark eyes boring into her, though his expression remained unreadable.

Then he glanced back down at his list and continued with his roll call. Lauren let out the breath she had been holding, thanking all deities in existence that he had decided not to pick on her. When Snape was done, he flicked his wrist again and the sheet of parchment disappeared.

Straightening to his full height, Snape folded his arms in front of him, glaring down his nose at the students before him. His dark eyes glinted like hard obsidian and none dared stir under his scrutiny.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he stated, his rich voice slithering across their senses like silk on steel. Lauren sat up straighter in her chair. She had always loved hearing this particular speech, and now she hung on every word as he spoke. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses..." He paused, his penetrating gaze lingering on each of them as his softly spoken words entranced them even more. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -." This time he gave a dramatic pause and when he spoke again, his words were hard and brittle. "– if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach!"

His gaze flickered to hers and Lauren swallowed thickly, knowing he was still seething at her calling him a dunderhead last night. Looking back, it hadn't been the best judgement call.

I wonder how much of my blood he intends to spill today...

Snape turned abruptly on his heel, his message now received, and rounded on poor Harry. He proceeded to fire questions at the boy - questions that Harry had no hope of answering. Lauren lowered her head, not really wanting to witness Snape belittling the boy in front of everyone. It was one thing to hold a grudge; it was another to be maliciously cruel. She respected Snape, but his methods left much to be desired. Muffled sniggers let her know that her fellow Slytherins were thoroughly enjoying themselves, though.

He then divided the class into pairs and with a wave of his hand, writing appeared on the blackboard behind him. The spidery handwriting was unmistakably his and were instructions on brewing a simple potion to cure boils. Lauren stared at some of the ingredients written there, wondering how she was going to distinguish them? She was no goddess in the kitchen, and she knew for certain that her lack of 'culinary skills' was going to extend to the Potions classroom as well. She sincerely hoped that the ingredients they had to collect from the storage room were clearly labelled, otherwise she was going to be utterly lost.

Lauren and Tracey worked together, Tracey weighing the nettles and Lauren crushing the snake fangs in a mortar.

Potions, as it turned out, was very different from the other school subjects she had attended thus far. Charms and Transfiguration was more about focus and intent, and then channeling that intent using the right word and flicking the wand a certain way. Granted, she was still struggling to perform simple spells, but she was only on day two of school. There was still time for improvement.

But with Potions there was no logic or reason to it. It was a simple procedure of brewing ingredients together in a cauldron. Lauren could not understand how this could possibly result in a magical brew that could heal almost anything. Surely any Muggle could throw together the exact same herbs and animal innards and produce the same result. But that, she knew, was not the case, otherwise all Muggles would be inadvertently brewing potions. So how was it that only witches and wizards could produce magical potions and not Muggles? Lauren could not fathom it.

"What's next?" Lauren asked Tracey.

"We have to stew the horned slugs," Tracey answered back.

Lauren picked up the bottle containing the horned slugs and pulled a face of disgust at the realization that she was going to have to handle these things. With her bare hands.

"Do not tell me that you are squeamish, Miss Ward?" Snape asked, having suddenly materialized in front of her. He was regarding her with a cold, calculating look that had Lauren instantly tensing up. A sneer slowly formed on his lips as he silently challenged her to admit that she was, indeed, 'squeamish'.

Lauren glared back at him. "Of course not, Sir. I have dealt with more unpleasant...things before." In a sly, underhanded way, she was referring to his less than appealing attitude.

His eyes narrowed at her meaning and he abruptly turned on his heel, causing his robes to billow around him. His voice, when he addressed the class, was commanding and authoritative. "Get used to dealing with gruesome and unpleasant ingredients whilst making potions. These ingredients are invaluable and, when added altogether, make important and sometimes life-saving potions. There is no time for prudishness or squeamishness when you need to brew a potion to replenish blood, ease chronic pain or to stop your insides boiling away to nothing. When you are undergoing any of those inflictions, believe me, you will not hesitate to down a potion that contains snake fangs or, in this case, stewed slugs."

He turned to face her once more, his pale features set into a dark mask as he regarded her. Slowly he arched a brow.

Lauren gave a jerky nod of understanding, but kept her lips firmly pressed together. There was no way she was going to argue back when he was in this mood.

Snape regarded her for a moment, and she knew she was in trouble when a cold gleam entered his dark and fathomless eyes.

"Miss Davis, I want you to make your potion separately from Miss Ward."

Lauren gaped at him; sure she hadn't heard correctly. He wants me to brew a potion on my own?! What game is he playing at?

Tracey instantly did as she was bid, scrambling to gather more ingredients and set up her cauldron next to Lauren's. Lauren shot her an imploring look, but Tracey gave her a helpless shake of her head.

"Best do what he says, Lauren. Professor Snape can turn quite nasty when provoked, from what I've heard," she whispered from the corner of her mouth.

Lauren turned back helplessly to her cauldron and scattered ingredients, wondering how she was going to manage. But then the stubborn side of her came to the forefront, especially when she glanced back at Snape, who was watching her with a certain smugness that made her want to smack the look from his face.

I'll show him! I'm thirty years old. I can do this. Honestly, how hard can it be to brew a potion?

Thirty minutes later had Lauren in a frazzled mess and close to admitting defeat. The fumes from the potion was playing havoc with her hair, making it frizz and stick to her sweaty face. She peered into her cauldron to check on her stewed horned slugs and recoiled when she got a nasty whiff of it, trying valiantly not to gag at the putrid smell.

Crap crap crappity crap! That's nasty. Is it supposed to smell like that? And is it supposed to resemble sewage?

A billow of black entered her line of sight and she looked up slowly in defeat at the formidable Potion Master standing before her. He levelled her with a haughty look before flicking his gaze down to the contents in her cauldron. He slowly lifted his dark eyes to hers, arching that brow that let her know instantly that the next words out of his mouth were going to be derisive; cutting and sharp in their rebuke.

"Tell me, Miss Ward, what this is supposed to be?"

Well aware that all eyes were now on her, Lauren steeled herself. "It's supposed to be a potion to cure boils."

Severus plucked up a ladle and scooped a spoonful of the grey, slimy sludge, tilting the spoon slightly so that the liquid trickled back thickly into the cauldron.

"And does this look like a potion that will cure boils, Miss Ward."

Her temper flared. "No idea, Sir. I've never brewed a potion before. You're the expert – you tell me."

She instantly knew that she had gone too far. Again.

Do you have a death wish, Lauren?!

His nostrils flared and his eyes glinted dangerously as he glared down at her. He opened her mouth to give her what she knew was going to be the tongue-lashing of the century, but before he could utter a word, there was a loud hissing before billowing acid green smoke filled the room.

Snape whirled around in time to see Neville's cauldron melt into a black unidentifiable blob, the liquid within spilling across the floor. Poor Neville stood rooted to the spot, drenched in the failed potion. He yelped in pain as angry red boils started erupting all over his exposed flesh.

Lauren glanced over at Tracey. Coming to the same conclusion, both hastily clambered onto their stools to avoid the liquid which was flowing dangerously close to their vicinity. In fact, the whole class had decided to do the exact same thing.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled; his features contorted in fury. With a wave of his hand, the mess was cleared instantly, and Lauren breathed out a sigh of relief that she had avoided coming into contact with it. Snape continued, his voice as vicious as ever. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

All Neville could do was whimper, both from pain and the rebuke. Lauren watched in morbid fascination as the boils on his nose popped, oozing yellow puss all over his face.

"Take him to the hospital wing!" Snape snapped at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry, berating him for not stopping Neville from making such a stupid blunder. Lauren didn't know what to make of his reaction. She knew that Snape had vowed to protect the Boy Who Lived but had to maintain his cover and not show the slightest bit weakness when it came to Harry. But as she watched him snarl nastily at Potter, she found it hard to believe that he did not outright hate the boy.

Either he really does hate Harry, or he's a really good actor.

She was leaning more and more to the former than the latter.

"Get back to your potions!" Snape commanded as he strode to his desk. Lauren suspected that if there were a bottle of fire whiskey hidden in his desk, he would have downed it in that instant. He looked dangerously close to exploding.

And although she felt sorry for Neville, she was immensely grateful that his accident had diverted Snape's ire away from her.

"You were right, Lauren," Pansy whispered from behind her. "Professor Snape definitely gave us a show." There was unconcealed glee tinting her voice, followed my muffled giggles from the other girls.

"Miss Ward?"

Lauren's head snapped up as Snape addressed her. She noted with dread that his fury was still bubbling just below the surface, threatening to erupt at the slightest provocation.

"Yes, Sir?" she enquired, willing her voice not to waver under his blazing glare.

"Detention at eight o'clock tonight," he enunciated, drawing out the sentence slowly and agonizingly, his voice strained as though he were restraining himself from shouting.

She wanted to argue, but a swift nudge from Tracey stopped her in her tracks.

"Yes, Sir," she mumbled.

"And don't be late," he cautioned, his tone menacing.

Lauren felt as though she had been sentenced to the gallows. Detention with Snape would not be pleasant on the best of days, and with his current ire at her of late, she knew with certainty that he was going to make her suffer tonight. She glanced over at Tracey, who gave her a sympathetic look that did nothing to ease her trepidation.

Could this get any worse? she thought morosely just as her potion belched dangerously inside the cauldron, making Lauren jump back hastily with Neville's incident still fresh in her mind. She glanced up at Snape, who was watching her. With a lazy wave of his hand, the contents within her cauldron disappeared and he stared back at her with a sadistic sneer planted on his face.

Oh yes, it can definitely get worse. I have still yet to survive detention...I wonder if I have time to fake my death?

By the way Snape was looking at her, she knew faking her death was not going to be needed – Snape was going to end up killing her by the time detention was over.

The rest of her lessons went by fairly well, much to Lauren's relief. But eight o'clock arrived way too soon for her liking. She now stood outside the door leading to the Potions classroom and tentatively knocked on the door.

"Come in, Miss Ward," Snape's dark, silky voice called from within.

Lauren entered the gloomy classroom, her heart pounding painfully in her chest with each step, knowing that Snape was not going to let her off lightly for disrespecting him in front of not only the Gryffindors, but the entire class.

She paused when she noticed a cauldron waiting for her at her desk. She glanced up at Snape, who was seated behind his desk, his hands clasped in front of him as he coolly assessed her.

"Professor?" she enquired, unable to hide her confusion. She had expected some sort of gruesome punishment. Not this.

"You pointed out a valid point today, Miss Ward," he started, his tone and body language completely relaxed. It unnerved her, to say the least.

"I did?" She couldn't hide the skepticism from her voice.

He gave a single nod, his raven black hair barely stirring at the movement. "You have never brewed a potion before and given your background, as well as todays results, it is safe to say that you are going to need help."

She cautiously approached her desk, a frown furrowing her brows. "You want to help me? Why?"

"Do not mistake my motivations as saintly, Miss Ward. It's purely for selfish reasons. We cannot have our newest Slytherin celebrity being dismal at Potions. I would take it personally if you happened to fail my classes. And given that Potter's potion was marginally better than your own...let's just say that it has motivated me to assist you and ensure that you succeed."

Lauren stared at him, unable to hide her disbelief.

"Now I want you to attempt to brew your potion again."

Lauren still did not understand why he was trying to help her. He had given her his reasons, but she suspected there was more to it than that. Getting him to reveal those true reasons, though, would be nigh impossible.

She gathered the ingredients written on the blackboard and carefully weighed the nettles before crushing the required snake fangs. After a while Snape, like a silent shadow of the night, came to stand on the other side of her desk, watching her every move with calculating assessment.

"I'm sorry for disrespecting you like that," she mumbled as she worked.

There was a moment's silence and she wondered if he was going to even acknowledge her apology. Then he spoke up.

"Why do you think I intentionally antagonized you, Miss Ward?"

Lauren paused in her task, her brows furrowing as she realized what he was actually saying.

"You mean you wanted me to snap at you so that you could give me detention...so you could help me?" It sounded ridiculous to her ears, but as she glanced up at Severus, there was no mistaking the smug smirk playing on his thin lips.

"Indeed," he drawled.

She hesitantly turned back to her work, her mind buzzing with this revelation. There seemed to be many layers shrouding Professor Snape, and she realized that he was like a chess player. He carefully deliberated before acting and was always one step ahead of everyone else. But he was sneaky about it, so no one was the wiser as to what he was truly up to. He was the penultimate Slytherin.

Shaking her head, she muttered, "There are better ways to help me than using detention as a ruse to do so."

"You openly disrespected me. There was no other choice but to give you detention," he pointed out.

"I only snapped at you because you provoked me!"

"That I did," he said with a shadow of a smirk.

Why that cunning, conniving bastard...

"Slytherin," she finally muttered.

"Impudent girl," he remarked lazily, no heat or derision to his words and Lauren instantly relaxed as she worked.

After a moment, she spoke up. "Do you know whether Dumbledore has found out anything?"

"None that he has revealed to me."

She couldn't hide her disappointment.

"So eager to depart from our presence, Miss Ward?"

"Wouldn't you if you were in my place?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Lauren glanced up at him, trying to gauge his expression, which was frustratingly unreadable. Snape simple stared back at her. Then he spoke, his words carefully thought out.

"A second chance, Miss Ward, as I told you before. Think about it. Now get back to brewing."

Once all the ingredients were prepared and it was time to start brewing, Snape stepped around the desk and came to stand behind her, his voluminous robes brushing up against her smaller frame.

"If one were to give a Muggle the same ingredients and exact same instructions for brewing this potion, would the results be the same?"

"I actually thought about that earlier on," she replied. "I would have to say no, otherwise all Muggles would be inadvertently brewing potions."

"And tell me, Miss Ward, what makes the difference?"

Lauren pondered his question before replying slowly. "I would have to say magic."

"Correct."

"But I don't understand. How can it be magic when we're not actually using magic to brew potions?"

"Think about it, Miss Ward," he coaxed, his expression softening. In this moment Lauren glimpsed the teacher in him and the satisfaction he was garnering from imparting valuable knowledge to a student who was willing to learn and excel. "A wand is a conduit for a witch's or wizard's magic, especially for younger students who need a solid means through which to channel their magic. You may have noticed that older and more experienced witches and wizards can opt not to use their wands and instead use their hands to cast spells. The truth is the magic is within us."

Lauren drank in every word he uttered, utterly spellbound at his explanation.

"So, when brewing a potion, we what? Channel our magic into the potion to make it have...magical properties?"

"Correct."

"How?" Lauren asked stumped. As far as she knew, there was no Guidebook for Dummies on how to use and channel magic, especially when it came to brewing potions.

"That, Miss Ward, is what I intend to show you," he stated with authority, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

Lauren felt a rush of excitement at his proclamation and went about heating the water in her cauldron, following each step in the brewing process carefully.

"Now you need to stir the potion until it turns quicksilver grey, Miss Ward. Pick up your stirring rod and begin."

Lauren did as she was instructed, making sure to keep her stirs even. Suddenly a long-fingered hand curled around hers as she stirred, startling her.

"I'm going to channel my magic through your hand so that you can experience what it feels like," he explained blandly.

Lauren nodded and continued stirring, Snape's hand still upon hers. And then she felt it. It was like warm sunlight coursing through her hand, warming the skin. But it was more than that. It was tingly and electrifying, and yet not. Lauren could not explain it, but she knew one thing for sure: Snape's magic was not dark at all, like she had expected. It was almost welcoming, as though his magic was calling to hers, coaxing it to the surface with gentleness that she had not known Snape possessed.

She gasped aloud at the sensation and glanced over at him. Snape was staring at the potion intently, his focus so intense and singular.

"Concentrate on the potion, Miss Ward," he murmured.

Lauren hastily glanced back at the cauldron, gasping when the color started slowly changing color. Once it was quicksilver grey, Snape removed his hand. Lauren almost whimpered at the feel of his magic retreating.

"Remove it from the flame and add the porcupine quills, stirring three times counterclockwise," he instructed brusquely, reverting once more to his prickly persona.

Lauren did as she was asked and watched fascinatedly when the potion rippled and then changed to charcoal grey, a clear indication that it was complete.

But before she could celebrate, the contents were vanished.

"Now I want you to try on your own," he stated, gliding back to his desk. Once seated, he pulled over some papers for grading, his red ink and quill at the ready to slash through the essays.

Lauren felt confused at his sudden change in attitude but started the whole process again. When it came time to stir, she concentrated as fiercely as she could, willing her magic to the surface. So intense was her concentration that the explosion completely caught her off guard and she found herself flat on her back on the cold stone floor, covered in liquid.

She dazedly sat up and two dragon-hide boots appeared in her wide-eyed vision. Lauren slowly lifted her gaze to see Professor Snape looking down at her with contempt.

"What did I do wrong?" she asked, struggling to her feet. She was immensely grateful when Snape cast a silent cleansing spell over her and cleared the mess away at her station.

"You were supposed to channel your magic. Instead, you forced it out like bringing a hammer down on a nail," he chastised, rolling his eyes for good measure. "You need to call to your magic, coaxing it gently to the surface. Let it flow through you and become one with you before sending it into your potion. Potion brewing is an art form and needs to be treated as such. Now try again."

It was well past midnight by the time she made it back to the Slytherin dorm room, her body weighed down with fatigue. She felt utterly exhausted and drained, and she wondered if that had something to do with consciously calling her magic to the surface, or whether it was because Snape was just a demanding and exhaustive teacher?

She had succeeded in making three more spectacular explosions, Snape berating her each time. He had not held back in pointing out what she had done incorrectly, and Lauren had endeavored not to repeat those mistakes. It hadn't helped, though - she still had not succeeded in correctly brewing the potion by the end of her 'detention'.

She briefly wondered if she would ever get the hang of it and suspected that there were going to be many more detentions in her future, especially if Severus Snape was determined to see her succeed.

And she still had no further insight as to why he was really helping her. All she knew was that there were many layers to the Potion Master; layers she had no chance of unveiling. He kept his secrets and motivations well-guarded, and she really had no clue as to what his motives were when it came to her. She highly doubted she would ever find out.

Lauren fell onto her bed fully clothed and fell into a deep sleep, unable to ponder any more on the mystery that was Severus Snape.