Unfurling of a Rose

Chapter 6

And so the weeks passed, with Corielle avoiding the Slytherin common room whenever she could, seeking refuge in Professor Lupin's private office, where she was eagerly welcomed every time she came. Lupin enjoyed the conversations with his young student, especially regarding her odd obsession with vampires, both fabricated and real, but he was aware that it would be better for her to spend time with her own peers. He could not continue to shelter her from her obvious revulsion of her own House. After skirting around the issue for some time, Lupin tried to subtly persuade her to go back, or seek protection from her own friends.

"You know, Corielle, when I first invited you to my office, I thought you were a Ravenclaw."

"Understandable," Corielle said pleasantly, twirling in the maneuverable chair adjacent to her Professor's. "I've been called an unlikely Slytherin by more than one person now." Corielle was absolutely relaxed speaking of her strange House placing with her DADA professor. She had eventually come to enjoy the heart-to hearts as much as Lupin did, reluctant though she was for male company.

"But as a Slytherin, you do have an obligation to your House to be a part of its activities," Lupin said, attempting to break his opinion to her gently.

Corielle's previously warm countenance hardened at the mention of her placement.

"Maybe so, Professor, but I've had enough of them."

"You cannot avoid them forever."

"I can try."

She had not responded again to any mention of Slytherin, and Lupin recognized a thread of stubbornness he had not expected in her. He decided that if the Severus Snape was not going to initiate the subject of the continuous fraternizing with other Houses his own student insisted on, Lupin would enlighten the thick-headed Potions Master.

But the thick-headed Potions Master enlightened him first.

~888~

Snape had been watching Corielle carefully since the morning she had assaulted him though more often that not at a distance: in their private, guarded tutorials which she was quickly finishing, in the crowded classroom, in the Great Hall. He had originally expected that he could observe her in the chilling atmosphere of the common room, but he had all too quickly noticed her aversion to spending time with those of her own House.

So Snape was obliged to watch Corielle in the spare moments he had. He noted that she continued to talk with the Catastrophous Couple occasionally at the Slytherin table, though she was increasing her visits at the Gryffindor table, ostensibly to be with Ginny and Griffin. Sometimes, Marcie and Vic would join her. The rest of the table usually gave the Slytherins a wide berth, but this was for practical reasons as well as ideological ones. After all, Marcie and Vic were extraordinarily like the Weasley twins and left a remarkable quantity of pranks in their wake on those unfortunate enough to be spotted by the two. Ginny got along with them well for precisely that reason.

Spending more and more of his spare time covertly keeping tabs on his least likely student, Snape found himself recognizing more and more of her character. He grew to become familiar with her more open characteristics - and none was more obvious than her timidity and caution. He caught her feeding a mouse one evening in the Great Hall as he walked past the Slytherin table. Corielle was totally immersed in watching the tiny creature as it darted around gathering tidbits of food. She tried to touch it, and it had snapped at her before realizing this human meant no harm. Quivering, the animal had allowed Corielle to stroke it and give it a bit of her cinnamon bread. He had often thought of her as Mouse in his mind whenever she was near, and this confrontation between her namesake and herself amused him when he found the similarities between the mouse's and her own mannerisms.

Once, in a Potions class, Snape slipped and, instead of calling Corielle by her appropriate name, called her Mouse. Corielle had been horrified, but Marcie and Vic had thought it a great joke and quickly adopted the nickname. Soon, regardless how she felt about the name, Corielle had become Mouse to all those who resided in Hogwarts. Even the rest of the teachers, including a reluctant Professor Lupin, called her by the name Mouse.

No one knew what Corielle thought of her new appellation. She never gave an opinion, and no one remembered ever asking her for one. But she certainly did not appear to be bothered by it. At this point, she did not care one way or the other what people called her. She still avoided the Slytherin common room and socialized little, but when circumstance dictated she had to interact with others, such as partnering in a classroom, she did so with a restrained calm which seemed to be like an invisible suit of armor. She treated students and teachers alike with a detached respect, and rarely had any unpleasant encounters with anyone. Her coolness annoyed Snape to his stretching point.

Corielle had also seemed to amend with Draco, but the two were almost too polite with each other. Certainly, Draco was no longer of any use to an irate Professor Snape. As the boy had calmly explained to Snape, a concussion was enough to countermand even his Head's orders. And as much as Snape did not want to agree, he saw Draco's point. So he agreed to relieve Draco of his assignment for a while, demanding only that the boy pass along any information he considered to be important.

Corielle continued to do well in all her classes except Defense Against the Dark Arts, in which she continually skipped classes to avoid the practical days. She provided Professor Lupin with essays on the different curses that earned her enough to make a little more than passing marks. Her tutorials with her teachers slowly diminished as she completed every years' work. Only Snape insisted on continuing her tutorials, making her learn more advanced Potions than her present year demanded.

Snape knew she wanted to question his decision to teach her further, especially when she was more than aware that he loathed her, but Corielle never questioned his motives, being the polite girl she was.

Snape wanted to ignore that he made his young Slytherin stay because she still intrigued him in his search to find some sort of attribute besides her cleverness that was unique to Slytherin and because he desired to see how much information she could retain. She was horribly talented in the area of Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration, and the teacher part of Snape wanted to explore her talent.

He had spoken to Dumbledore about his issue of Corielle, but Dumbledore had only encouraged him to try and reach her in what he called Snape's notoriously subtle way.

Snape noticed that the ancient headmaster was looking remarkably more energetic than he had been at the beginning of the year. So much better that Snape had not felt he needed to restrain himself in protesting Dumbledore's conclusions regarding how to deal with Corielle Griffin. Snape had ranted and raved against the Headmaster's advice, but Dumbledore had refused to change his mind, turning a frustrated Snape out of his office.

In the end, as he had suspected he would have to, he forced himself to turn to his old schoolboy enemy.

He and Lupin had an odd relationship now. Ever since Voldemort had been killed, Lupin had extended a hand of truce, and Snape had quietly accepted it for the benefit of the friendship. They continued to snap at each other in the teachers' lounge and in their own time as well, but they both accepted each other. Snape continued to make the Wolfsbane Potion for the DADA Professor, and Lupin would sometimes sit across from Snape in the Potions dungeon as he was working, grading his own papers. Dumbledore watched their friendship with removed bemusement as neither would admit to the affilition they shared. But the animosity between them had certainly simmered to a dull flame.

Now, Snape was left with the knowledge that Lupin was the only possibility to reach Corielle. To see why she so ferociously kept those head scarves covering her head, and why she stood an arm's length from anyone, and why the only skin he ever saw was on her scarred hands and her face, which was usually hidden anyway by the shadows. He had not missed her frequent visits to the werewolf.

Reclining in his private office chair, Snape threw the Conjuring Powder into the thinly flickering hearth, oblivious and apathetic to the fact that the fire could not succeed in warming the arctic temperatures of his office which contained all the most expensive and rare potions ingredients.

"Lupin, a word."

Seconds later, Lupin staggered out of the fireplace, dusting the ashes from his robes.

"Severus, there must be a more convenient and less filthy way of conjuring me. You know my private office is open to you. What do you need?"

"Information about a student of mine."

Lupin nodded and said mildly, "I was considering myself whether to come to you for the same reason. I am aware that she is somewhat of a sensitive issue with you."

Snape nodded curtly.

"She hates you, I think."

"I'm sure she does," murmured Snape silkily. "The opinion is mutual.

Lupin arched an eyebrow, clearly not understanding Snape's poor opinion of his own brilliant student. "She's a wonderful girl. A little quiet, a little restrained, and there's something in her past that still lingers on her scent. But she doesn't mention her troubles, and I don't ask."

Snape snorted. "Blasted etiquette. It gets you nowhere."

"Well, loathing is doing no more for you. It only repels her."

"I want to know a few things about her," Snape said, interrupting Lupin before he could begin the famous ethics speech he tended to regale on Snape's head at every opportunity.

"You'll have to obtain them another way," Lupin said, walking back to the hearth. "I'm busy."

"I'm busy when I have to brew that potion for you."

Lupin turned. "Petulance is not flattering to you, Severus. If you really want to know about Mouse, ask her yourself. She's in your House, not mine, and besides, I still hold seniority over you. So I advise you to use your own methods yourself instead of using others for your ends."

Without any further word, Lupin flung internal Hogwarts Floo powder into the fireplace and said, "Lupin's private office."

When the DADA professor was out of sight, Snape pounded his desk with a fervent curse. To protect his pride, he could not tell Lupin of Corielle's extremes when confronted with questions, and finally actions, to acquire information from her.

Again, he slammed his fist on the desk, imagining the Mouse's face beneath his hand.

~888~

Corielle rushed through the halls to her Care of Magical Creatures class. She rather liked the class. Animals were so much more predictable and understandable than people. And Hagrid liked her, and he often entrusted her with some of the more difficult tasks.

Today, she had been distracted by two younger Gryffs in a heated debate about the first Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and they had started showing their animosity toward the quiet, mousy Slytherin. She had managed to escape the verbal struggle with few minutes to spare.

The bell rang through the school, and Corielle mentally kicked herself, and a thought that she should have cursed them out of her way crossed her mind before she trampled over it, mortified.

"Well, well, well, what have we got here, my sweet? A student out of class," Filch said to his cat, Mrs. Norris, staring at Corielle with a rather cruel smile, his snaggle-teeth looking like fangs to Corielle's frantic eyes.

"Mr. Filch, I'm trying to get to my Magical Creatures class, and I've never been tardy before. Could you...?"

Filch cackled. "Just let you go? Why would I want to do that? Excuse or not, you're breaking school rules. That merits a detention with your Head, girl."

Corielle pleaded with the caretaker, "Oh no, please, it won't happen again..."

"Never mind your begging. Come with me." He took her upper arm in his arthritic pincers and began dragging her to his office. Mrs. Norris trailed behind them, her lantern-like eyes looking for more signs of rule-breaking.

A great CRASH! echoed through the hall. Filch let go of Corielle, who had been trying to put some distance between herself and the bitter caretaker, and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "PEEVES, I'LL HAVE YOU THIS TIME!"

Peeves popped out of the wall next to them and grabbed a handful of what little hair Filch had left with his right hand. With his other, he held Mrs. Norris's tail, the poor cat yowling in painful protest. Chuckling at his new joke, he shook his prisoners and looked at Corielle. The evil smile on his face slipped a little, but with a cock of his head, he indicated that Corielle should leave.

Corielle mouthed a confused but sincere "thanks" before following the poltergeist's directions.

She hurried onto the grounds toward Hagrid's hut.

"You're late, Mouse," Draco said, helping her stand against the gasps that wracked her body.

"I was detained by two Gryffindors and Filch. Peeves helped me."

"Peeves?" asked Marcie incredulously. "When was the last time he helped anyone?"

Corielle shrugged, not wanting to question a good thing. She thought maybe the Bloody Baron had something to do about it. She turned to Hagrid, who was introducing his class to a centaur and forest elf, who were going to show them some of their usual pets.

"Did you see the Daily Prophet today?" asked Draco in a whisper. Corielle shook her head. He gave her an article.

Azkaban Breakout

Since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's downfall, witches and wizards have been feeling secure and safe with the imprisonment of the Death Eaters and most of their compatriots. But with the expulsion of the dementors from the Azkaban hold, defenses on the wizard prison have weakened considerably. This faltering of security have made it possible for some of You-Know-Who's followers to break into the stronghold and free a number of proclaimed Death Eaters and their lesser-known lower ranks, the Black Dogs and Cats' Paws. Freed prisoners include Lucius Malfoy, the Lestranges, Walden Macair, Peter Pettigrew, Crevin Goyle, John Crabbe, Jesse Baddock, Rebecca Gross, Caroline Farland, and Willem Griffin, the most recent addition of Azkaban, only convicted two and a half months ago for rape. The Ministry of Magic urges any who know any information or whereabouts of the escaped convicts are urged to tell the Department of Magical Emergencies.

Corielle's eyes widened as she read the article. Her heart stopped and her face blanched at the blatant evidence in front of her. She looked around her. No one had mentioned anything yet.

And no one will, she determined. "Incendio," she whispered, setting the parchment on fire.

"Hey!" Draco yelped, jumping aside.

"My apologies, Draco, my mistake," Corielle said coolly. Draco looked at her from the corner of his eyes, ignorant at the inward struggle, and its reasons, Corielle was fighting: her fear and her rage.

When Draco turned back to the lesson, Corielle found she could not concentrate. Her mind with just filled with memories, and the knowledge that anyone (Snape) could put two and two together, her uncle's conviction and the time when she had found her magic, and know everything. This worry began to build up until it had to go somewhere, her mouth in a frustrated scream, or bursting out of her in the form of accidental magic like her beginning magical circumstances. She kept her lips pursed with the effort to hold in the sudden rush of power.

The power pushed out of her like heated fingers of magic.

Every single piece of Daily Prophet parchment within the Hogwarts grounds was set on fire, obliterating the incriminating article.

~888~

Halloween morning found Corielle outside Snape's classroom office door. She rapped smartly like she always did. The door opened on its own, just like it always did.

Professor Snape was passing in front of his desk. He had had a bad night. He had heard through the Hogwarts grapevine of the breakout, but his copy of the Daily Prophet had burst into flames just as he had begun to read the article. He had ordered another copy, but the minute his fingers had touched it, it too had burned. He suspected strong magic which lingered in the air after the incineration, but he had no inkling whose. But the raw power was strangely reminiscent of another's, someone impossible.

Corielle's entrance did nothing to improve his mood. Her submissive nature continued to rub him the wrong way and he was frustrated that he had so little control over his emotions where she was concerned. Naturally, this meant taking his self-disgust out on the person who, it seemed, was causing all of his problems just now, and so Snape pounced on her almost immediately, swooping down into her face.

"You're late, Miss Griffin."

"I'm sorry, sir, I was just..."

"Excuses are unacceptable, Miss Griffin. There, I have your essay questions prepared for you."

Snape gestured to his desk where five long sheets of parchment lay in wait.

"You will start promptly, and you will not go to the next Potions class. You will stay in here even after you finish, but you will still be accountable for the work done within the class, and Draco cannot help you. Maybe that will prevent any future tardiness."

"Yes, sir," Corielle whispered. She knew she had not been late; in fact, she had been five minutes early, just like always, but Snape was not one to be crossed, especially in such a foul mood. She had no idea she was only contributing to it.

Snape was furious. If she had been indignant at the injustice and demanded fairness, he might have had more patience, but the Mouse's meekness drove him very close to madness.

He pointed a finger to the chair in front of his desk.

"Sit," he commanded.

She did.

He sat adjacent to her and proceeded to correct his first years' terrible essays. In the light of more work and the joy of every point taken from Gryffindor, Snape relaxed a bit. Corielle settled into her most comfortable intellectual frame of mind, which naturally included blocking out the fact that Snape was even in the same room with her. The less attention she paid him, the easier it was to get her work done.

For some time, there was silence in the room. Neither spoke, or acknowledged the presence of the other. However, in Snape's particularly vindictive mood, he could hardly be expected to keep the peace.

Nevertheless, Snape did not say anything more until he looked at what Corielle was writing while picking up a new essay to grade.

"Why do you insist on such thin writing? No one could possibly read a word."

"I apologize, Professor, but I... can't write any other way."

"No, Corielle, that's wrong. You're supposed to sip the soup without making a sound!"

Grandma's gold-tipped cane whipped onto Corielle's hands, causing her to lose her grip on her spoon. The utensil crashed into the soup, splashing her, arousing Grandma's wrath once again. Corielle winced against the following blows.

Snape's voice went dangerously soft.

"Are you contradicting me, Miss Griffin?"

Corielle stammered, "N-no, s-s-sir."

Snape stood and walked around the desk until he was directly in front of her. Leaning over slowly, he growled, "I won't tolerate contradiction."

"No, s-sir."

In his frustration with her servile manner, Snape finally succumbed to what he had wanted to do for weeks and lifted his hand. His fist slammed onto the desk, causing inkwells, parchment, and other assorted things to jump.

"Why won't you act like a Slytherin, Mouse?" he snarled.

But when he had raised his hand, Corielle had fallen from her chair and covered her face with her arms in a universal gesture of self-protection.

In shock, Snape calmed. When he next spoke, it was in a much softer, if not necessarily gentler tone.

"I'm not going to hit you, Mouse."

At the use of her new nickname, Corielle's careful, stiff poise shattered. She just buried her face in her arms and burst into burning tears. Snape could see the emerald green slacks underneath the hem of her robes, the first sign of anything underneath the roomy robes she wore.

Kneeling down, he asked in a slightly rough voice, "What on earth is the matter, girl?"

When she said nothing, Snape hissed once again, "What are you doing here? You've been terrified of your own shadow ever since you came. For the life of me, I don't know why you were chosen for Slytherin. You're raw, you're polite, you have no noticeable ambition, courage, or cunning..."

"I don't know why I was Sorted into your House of all places either, Professor," Corielle sobbed, flinching away from him. "I don't even know what possessed me to come to Hogwarts. I should have known I could never run. I should have stayed home."

Corielle suddenly stood so abruptly, Snape fell back, but he followed her suit.

"Look at me, Professor," she screamed, stretching out her hands, palms up, so he could see the jagged cuts gracing her wrists. Self-inflicted, Snape realized in horror. "I'm not exactly Slytherin material here! I was fooling myself to think It wouldn't follow me here, even with magic. And now, he's back." Corielle grabbed her book bag and, beginning to snuffle and gurgle from crying so hard, she fled, leaving Snape staring after her with his mouth hanging open.

Then his potion-making overlarge nose, blessed with an extraordinary sense of smell all Potions Masters required, detected the same incongruent scent that Lupin had discerned from Corielle's scent. Except Severus Snape recognized it.

It was the smell of a werewolf.

And the werewolf was not Lupin, nor was it Corielle.

Through further sniffs, Snape put together a narrative that explained everything. He hurried from his office, out of Hogwarts and into Hogsmeade.

He had a newspaper article to read.

~888888~

-I would suppose this is too small to really need a disclaimer, but I guess "I am not Slytherin material here!" came from Anya's exclamation in Anastasia when she said, "I am not grand duchess material here, Dmitri!"

Beyond that, I'm enjoying myself immensely.