Healing the Darkness

Chapter 4: An Awful Threat of Potion

Serena didn't stop running even as she reached her father's office. The dim room was smoky and hot, making her eyes sting in protest as she scanned it for her father. Finally, she spotted his black form bending over a large cauldron in the corner. Not wanting to disturb him, she sank down into his chair.

"Where were you?" her father asked, not looking up. Serena didn't answer, but played with a quill from the desk. "Serena?"

"It's nothing, Papa," she replied softly. Biting her lip, she turned and studied a jar of floating objects on a shelf. There was no way she'd tell him what happened. Hopefully, he wouldn't question her further. She cast a worried glance at him, but he merely stirred his potions. While his back was still turned, she slipped into the back chambers of his office.

These rooms were much warmer and friendlier than the rest of the dungeons. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace and the stone floors were covered in plush carpets. In the corner stood a large mahogany bed where her father slept. Serena threw herself on it and watched the dancing shadows thrown by the fire onto the ceiling.

When she closed her eyes, she could still imagine Harry--Professor Potter, her mind chided--there with her: still smell his scent, a mixture of grass and a faint hint of cologne. Still feel him; his hands on her shoulders and lips pressing on hers. And while part of her knew it was wrong, she wanted nothing more than to have him there again.

Her mind wandered to the very first time she had seen him. She remembered shivering in anticipation as she marched in line to the front of the Great Hall. Everything was exciting: the castle, her new wand, flying lessons, Quidditch matches, Potions, becoming an official Slytherin. But perhaps the most exciting thing at Hogwarts was Harry Potter. The wonderful Boy Who Lived had been a fifth year that year. She'd always imagined walking up to him confidently, sticking out her hand and thanking him nobly for everything he had done. Serena had been confident that Mr. Potter was not the conceited, rotten prat her father said he was.

In fact, he was everything she expected and more. He had the messy black hair and the brilliantly green eyes and even the lightning bolt scar. He was also very nice and polite. While they never became friends while he was at Hogwarts, she always regarded him as her hero.

So when she walked into her first Defence against the Dark Arts lesson this year, she was surprised to find none other than Harry Potter as her professor. Immediately, she was struck by how attractive he had become: he was no longer so short and skinny; his features will still fine, but more pronounced and masculine. But he had dark shadows under his eyes, and a few hex and curse marks still remained in many places. Nonetheless, Serena was infatuated at once.

While it seemed nearly impossible, Serena liked to think that Harry liked her as well. He seemed to glance at her more often than anyone else in class. And when their eyes met, his cheeks always reddened a bit. But he was four years older than she; it could never happen.

So it was even more of a shock when he kissed her in his office earlier. Of course, she had enjoyed it, but when he began to pull away, she suddenly felt very guilty and scared, which was why she ran away so quickly. Now, as she laid there, staring at the ceiling, she wished hadn't. Her wildest dreams had actually come true; it was an exhilarating feeling.

A small smile crept onto her face as her father bustled in, a scowl on his face. He leaned over her sternly and studied her face. "What did you do?" he asked levelly. Bugger him, he always knew everything!

Serena met his gaze defiantly. "Nothing," she replied.

Of course, he was not convinced in the slightest. He had the canniest (and the most annoying) ability to detect when anyone was lying, especially his own daughter. "Are you going to force me to use alternate means of getting information?" he threatened, leaning closer.

Serena stuck out her tongue. She loved teasing him because he hated it so much. He was naturally a reserved and strict person, and she seemed to be nothing like him. She liked to think that she was like her mother, even though she couldn't remember her.

When Serena was very young, Saeran Snape was killed by a group of Death Eaters. Try as she might, however, she couldn't convince her father to tell her more of the story. What she did know was that he still loved Saeran very much. They had known each other even before they went to Hogwarts. All Serena had of her was one picture, kept tucked safely away in her trunk, under her very dusty Potions text.

Love of Potions was the one result from being raised by her father. Almost each day, Serena watched, fascinated, as Severus brewed concoction after smelly concoction. Now, she knew more about Potions than anyone else at Hogwarts; she could have taken the OWL her second year. She loved everything about it: the aroma of herbs, the exact and careful measurements, the sudden magical qualities of the finished potions.

Speaking of potions, a small phial of clear fluid was now dangling above her nose menacingly, her father grinning maliciously behind it. Squeaking softly, she rolled off the bed and sprinted out the door, slamming it closed after her. She knew he was only teasing her, but it was still fun to make him chase her. Laughing, she skipped out of his office and down to the Slytherin common room.