The Mentor

Chapter Three:

Friendship

Had someone told Professor Flitwick that Severus Snape would ever come to him seeking aid for House Slytherin he would have laughed until tears ran from his eyes. As it was, he was completely shocked when he glanced up from the scrolls he was marking and saw Snape standing in the doorway of his office, his expression somehow more dour than usual.

"I would speak to you if you have a moment, Professor," Snape said.

Flitwick stared at him, trying to find his voice. Snape had never visited him before. "Certainly! Please, come in."

Snape closed the door behind him. Every horizontal surface in Flitwick's office was covered with books and scrolls. 'Creative clutter,' he liked to call it. Snape gave the half-buried visitor's chair before him a very significant look. Smiling widely to hide his embarrassment, Flitwick cleared off the chair with a wave of his wand.

"Now then," Flitwick said once they were settled, "what can I do for you?"

Severus Snape sat so stiffly, his face set into hard lines that Flitwick had to suppress an urge to take out wand again. Despite his diminutive size, the Charms teacher was a champion at Wizard Dueling. He hoped he wouldn't have to prove it today.

Severus cleared his throat loudly. "I wish to know the status of my sixth years in your class."

Flitwick chuckled with relief and ran a hand over his shock of cottony hair making it stand up in wild tuffs. "Ah, Severus. You worried me for a moment. You look so grim."

"I look grim because I anticipate grim news."

"Well, I'm pleased to say that your House is doing well. Of course, some do better than others. On the whole I see no reason for concern."

Snape had to bite back an acerbic retort. Flitwick had the stupid habit of putting the most optimistic spin possible on any situation and completely ignoring obvious problems. Severus was glad that he had more sense than that. If Severus went around all the time with his eyes and ears shut and humming a happy tune he wouldn't know enough to do what he was about to do.

Of course, he reminded himself, if I was more like Flitwick I wouldn't have the Dark Mark tattooed on my arm. Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if to dramatically punctuate his thoughts. Irritation flashed through him.

"'On the whole?' Not good enough. They're due to graduate in little more than a year and I won't have them embarrassing House Slytherin."

"I assure you that there's nothing to worry about," Flitwick said softly but with a hint of steel in his voice.

"Tutoring sessions can hardly hurt. It will help keep them out of trouble at any rate. Of course, they'll need a good tutor, someone from Slytherin, naturally. Surely there is someone from my House who can handle the job"

"Miss Trenton," Flitwick said at once, his good humor restored at the mention of his prize pupil. "If you are so insistent on extra tutelage I can recommend Miss Trenton without hesitation. Really, I need to keep an eye on the girl or she'll have my job some day. That hair charm of hers in quite good."

"Yes. Well. I need the names of her new charges."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore ate his lentil soup and sneaked amused glances at Minerva McGonagall. Minerva sat beside him at the front of the Great Hall and scowled at the students eating dinner before them. Dumbledore thought that she was never so entertaining as when her sense of propriety was rankled by something perfectly harmless.

"Really Dumbledore, don't you think this has gone on far enough?"

"I'm sorry, I'm a touch deaf in my right ear. You'll have to speak up."

Minerva's mouth flattened into a tiny line, making her seem older than she really was. She knew him well enough to recognize his evasions. "The students are starting to look like a box of colors."

It had started two weeks ago, when Miss Trenton had walked down the hall, bold as you please, with green streaks in her hair. At that time the other students had sensibly laughed at her. Now however, one silly girl's misplaced rebellion was a full-fledged fad. Professor McGonagall had tried her best to ignore the rainbow of hair that grew larger and brighter with each passing day, but this morning Lavender Brown had run to her in tears, her orange-burgundy-pinkish hair hidden beneath a turban. Calming hysterical girls with painfully bright hair was simply too much for Minerva to handle. The fashion had to stop. Now.

"Minerva, it will pass in time. Besides," he added almost casually, "I have very fond memories of a young Gryffendor with shocking pink hair."

Minerva felt her cheeks burn. She tried very hard to forget that she had ever been so foolish as to follow the crowd, not to mention how badly she had ruined the charm "That was many years ago. It was different."

Dumbledore stared hard at the ceiling. Dark clouds blotted out the stars.

"It was," she insisted.

Dumbledore turned to her with the strained, sad, aged expression that was becoming increasingly common on his previously cheerful face. "Yes Minerva. It was quite different. Now the Dark Lord wanders and strikes at will and everyone needs a bit of release. Give it until the Easter Holiday. If it doesn't die on it's own we will stop it then."

"Thank you Professor," she said, trying to will herself to stop blushing.

* * *

Snape silently glared at the motley assortment of sixth year Slytherins he had summoned before him. His office was large enough to accommodate them all, but he had taken the two extra chairs out of the room prior to the meeting so only he had a seat. It was important that all of the students feel equally uncomfortable. The six stood clustered before him, careful not to touch his bookshelves least they knock something over. As he had suspected, Flitwick had not been entirely honest when he said that "overall" the sixth year Slytherins were doing well in his class. Snape could have easily singled out twelve students for special tutoring, but of course that wouldn't do at all, especially since his primary goal wasn't to help them improve their Charms work.

Dumbledore had told him that he couldn't dictate who would be friends with whom, but of course Albus didn't know what he was talking about. Snape had not survived for so many years as a double agent without learning to read, gauge, and manipulate people. It was simply a matter of knowing one's target. It was rather like concocting a new potion--add this to that and, if you knew your ingredients well enough, the results should fall within expected parameters. Snape had spent the better part of two weeks narrowing down Flitwick's list and reading student records until he came up with the perfect little coterie. He couldn't save every student, he knew that, but perhaps between he and his unwitting ally Miss Trenton he could rescue a few of the better children from themselves.

Sophia Trenton stood nearest his desk, her face carefully arranged into a placid expression but her tension was betrayed in the way she clenched her long-fingered hands together. Ursula Howard, a tall, stout, freckle-faced girl stood behind her. Adrian Pucey manned one of the corners. He was a hulking, brooding boy who, whether he was playing Quiddich, tying his laces or mixing a Potion, always knitted his bushy black brows as if the task at hand required the deepest thought. Ian Squelch stared at one of the unidentifiable things floating in a jar. It was one of his favorite diversionary tactics, for Ian had early on learned that people didn't think that he was listening to them if he wasn't looking at them. Cousins Regina and Leo Dee stood off to one side, their identical patrician noses in the air. The Dees were the decedents of the famous Dr. John Dee, Muggle Queen Elizabeth I's astrologer, and Regina and Leo never let anyone forget it.

"This is intolerable."

Severus let the statement hang in the air and delighted in watching the students try very hard not to squirm. Adrian's frown deepened, the Dee's noses jutted higher in the air, Ian stared more steadily at the jar before him, and Ursula shifted slightly to center herself behind Sophia, her human shield. Sophia restrained herself to a flickered eyebrow.

"As Head of House I recently reviewed your grades and I am shocked by my discoveries. Exactly what do you think is expected of you at Hogwarts? I refuse to believe that your families forgot to inform you of certain pertinent facts regarding the nature of this school. Let me remind you of your purpose here. This is a center for learning, not a social club. You are not here to play Quiddich, find mates, or engage in other less acceptable amusements to occupy your seven years on these grounds. You are here to receive the basic education necessary to your survival as functional adult witches and wizards. All else that you do here is secondary."

Snape paused and stood up. Hands clasped behind his back, he began to slowly pace the room, weaving between the students, purposely just brushing by them, withering them with his merciless black-eyed glare.

"Yet, were you members of any other House, I might be inclined to turn a blind eye to your ineptitude. Certain...accommodations must be made for the other Houses. However, as it stands, in addition to all else, each of you is a member of old Slytherin families, which should be a great source of pride to you, but such honor does not come without cost. Birth and breeding are a very fine beginning but it is up to you to make the most of those gifts, most especially by taking advantage of the education you have the opportunity to receive here at Hogwarts. You must learn to be disciplined, use good sense and think, or mark my words, not one of you will live to see your twentieth birthdays.

He turned viciously to Regina and Leo Dee.

"Miss Dee, Mr. Dee, do you honestly believe that your illustrious ancestor would be pleased to know that his decedents are incapable of performing a simple Knotting Charm. A Knotting Charm! I've seen rather dull fourth years figure that one out by themselves without Professor Flitwick's tutelage."

Pretty pink-cheeked Regina turned very red, and Leo lowered his eyes and nose in embarrassment. A suppressed snicker came from Ian's side of the room and Snape turned on him.

"And you, Mr. Squelch, have no reason at all to laugh. Perhaps if you kept your eyes on what you are doing you would be able to perform the Whole Thing Charm without sending your fellow pupils falling through the floor."

Adrian Pucey seemed to sense that he was next, for his eyes were already focused on a crack on the floor as Snape turned to him.

"Of course, who can forget Mr. Puce's brilliant insights regarding spell theories in medieval times? I read the mess your called a scroll. Completely worthless! Had I been Flitwick I would have failed you and deducted points from your house."

Snape regarded Ursula and Sophia, uncertain which one he should skewer next. Ursula avoided his gaze and instead inspected the back of Sophia's shoulder. Sophia herself stared up at Snape with undisguised defiance. An unexpected, inexplicable bolt of fury and arousal jolted his system and, temporarily unnerved, he turned to Ursula and hissed into her ear in a stage whisper so that everyone in the room could hear.

"Clearly Containment Charms are not Miss Howard's specialty. I would say more but I do not believe that she is emotionally solvent enough to handle my words." He smiled nastily as Ursula clenched her jaw tightly, remembering both her humiliation in Charms class when she dumped five liters of water on her partner and her hysterics in the Great Hall.

Satisfied, Snape wheeled and slowly circled until he loomed directly before Sophia Trenton.

"It is equally obvious that someone is quite envious of all the attention Mr. Harry Potter has received, for she seems determined to out-do both he and Miss Granger in unwieldy pride. I am not unaware of certain comments that Miss Trenton has made regarding her status in Professor Flitwick's class." Snape leaned in so close that his lips all but brushed her ear as he hissed, "Tell me, do you really think that you are up to the Professor's job, Miss Trenton?"

To his utter shock her neck prickled in gooseflesh under his breath. She turned her head towards him sharply. He jerked back, and by doing so narrowly avoided bumping noses with her. Still playing his role, Snape met her enraged eyes with a carefully inscrutable expression.

"Flashiness does not suit you or any Slytherin, Miss Trenton. This includes everything from unsubstantiated bragging to hair color."

He settled himself behind his desk. "So. Let us see if any of you can even remotely begin to live up to Salazar's legacy. Can Miss Trenton teach any of you enough to not make fools of yourselves in Charms? Can any of you resist the urge to make fools of yourselves? I must admit that I think not, on both counts, but I would be remiss in my duties if I did not force you to try. Miss Trenton will tutor you twice a week for the rest of the term. When, where and how is your concern. You are dismissed. Except for Miss Trenton. I would speak to you privately."

He intended to stare Miss Trenton into submission while her fellow students slinked out of the room, shaken and glad that the lecture had gone no further. But as the others filed out Severus found himself staring at her long, spidery white hands, hands clasped so tightly with bound fury that her whole body, stiff with the need for control, literally shook. He remembered the feel of those soft, hot little hands. One had rested feather-light on his shoulder, the other rested on his palm as he had danced with her. His whole body had felt flushed with her heat for hours. He wanted them again, those hands, all over his naked body.

"Sir, I have never once said or implied that I thought that I was more capable than any of my instructors, including Professor Flitwick."

She shouldn't speak first, she knew that, but after all of the abuse that he had hurled at her head she couldn't remain silent any longer. Sophia felt utterly and brutally betrayed; she had thought that they were friends of a sort. Worse yet, his oily, maleficent presence sent shivers down her spine and hardened her nipples in a way that Malfoy never did. She was vaguely aware that she would have to analyze this strange mixture of feelings at some point. At that moment, however, it was useless for her to argue that she shouldn't be hurt by the low opinion of the nastiest instructor at Hogwarts. She turned as much of her raw hurt and perverted arousal into anger, a safer and more manageable emotion. Her whole body felt like one knotted up muscle. Her knees ached and even her toes were rigid with the effort to remain in control of her fury.

"Do you accuse me of lying?" He was both delighted and annoyed to watch her nonchalant mask crackle, alternately displaying flames of anger and pain. Part of him was pleased to make the arrogant little bitch's self-control break; another part of him was mad that she was showing weakness. Yet another part of him was so aroused by the idea that she esteemed him highly enough to be hurt by him that he wanted to simply take her there on his desk.

"Do you accuse me of lying, Professor?"

"I accuse you of unwarranted pride, Miss Trenton."

"Professor Snape, I am proud, but my pride is warranted."

Sophia did not back down a bit as he came around his desk with measured steps and began to circle her, leaning in close, his breath brushing her hair. He wanted to touch her. He didn't dare to touch her. Her small breasts, unfettered by a bra, trembled with rage beneath her robe.

"Really Miss Trenton?"

Sophia did not turn her head but followed him with her eyes as best she could. Her head felt muzzy, like she had slept too little the night before, and she was desperate to have a good, silent cry behind her bed curtains, but she did not dare back down now. Trapped, encircled and out-gunned, she had to see this horrible interview through to its conclusion with as much dignity as possible. She was a Trenton of House Slytherin; nothing less would do.

"Precisely what have you done to earn your arrogance, Miss Trenton? You were born into a good family and you have ingratiated yourself with Professor Flitwick. I do not deny you your good fortune. I do not deny that you are an apt pupil. But you are simply that. A pupil. You have seen nothing. You have done nothing. You have a solid scholastic background but no practical experience with which to test it. With your pride and naiveté you are nothing more than a puppy looking for a master to teach it where to wet."

"I can only assume that you believe yourself to be my master," she snarled, completely unaware of the connotation behind her words.

Snape was painfully aware of the innuendo. Enraged, aroused, he grinned maliciously at her. "My dear child, can there be any doubt?"

"I will return to my kennel now, Sir," she said with forced dignity and turned to leave.

"Miss Trenton!" Snape reached out and caught her shoulder. His hand burned with her heat. Their eyes met, and while Severus was certain that his own expression did not betray him at all, Sophia had been pushed too far and her eyes were easy to read. Rage, hurt and--he was certain that he saw it---arousal---flashed like lightning in her muddy hazel eyes.

"You think yourself better than your peers; now I demand that you prove it."

Dignity of family and House forgotten, Sophia tore away from his grasp and ran out of the room.

Severus Snape smirked at her retreating back. To his knowledge, the girl had never once even thought that she thought she was better than her instructors, much less said so. Still, Severus had told too many untruths over the past years to feel even a prickle of discomfort. If that doesn't goad her, nothing will, he thought with grim satisfaction.

* * *

It was only an ingrained sense of self-preservation that made Sophia wipe the tears from her face before entering the Slytherin common room. She passed through as quickly as possible on her way to her room, for she could think of little else other than flinging herself into bed and escaping this terrible day through sleep.

She burst into the dormitory to find Pansy, Blaise and Millicent engaged in serious girl talk on Pansy's bed. Too late Sophia realized that her red eyes and blotchy complexion bespoke of a crying jag and that she was absolutely vulnerable.

"My my my," Pansy smiled lazily as she uncurled herself from her bed. "Is this Slytherin Crybaby Month and no one told me?"

Blaise giggled. "Boo-hoo-hoo."

"Shut up, both of you. Just shut the bloody hell up," Sophia heard the weak tremble in her raw voice but was too distraught to care.

"Awwww...is ickle Sophie upset? Did someone hurt her delicate widdle feelings?"

Blaise and Millicent stood up as well, grinning broadly. This showdown had been building for weeks now. Millicent rolled up the sleeves of her plaid nightdress. Sophia remembered the fight between Millicent Bulstrode and Hermione Granger back in their second year. Hermione had definitely received the worst of it. Millicent was a huge, hulking girl, taller than most of the boys in their year and very strong; Sophia wouldn't stand a chance.

"I can't wait to tell Draco about this one," Pansy grinned.

"If he'll take the time to speak to you," Sophia snarled in a rough voice unlike her normally cultured tone.

Pansy's face fell into ugly lines. "Get her."

Millicent and Blaise stepped forward. Too late Sophia remembered her wand. She stumbled back towards the door, grabbing up her sleeve for her wand, but she knew that she'd never make it; Pansy and her gang of girls had been itching for a reason to pound her and Sophia had no allies.

A familiar voice screamed, high and shrill, behind Sophia, "R-ric-tusempra!"

Millicent stumbled and shook her head like a dog, somewhat stunned but undaunted. Sophia whipped out her wand and automatically assumed the proper dueling position that she had practiced with Flitwick so many times. With a swish and flick she cried, "Rictusempra!"

Millicent Bulstrode fell to the floor braying like a donkey with loud laughter.

Sophia turned swiftly on Pansy and Blaise, who were leveling their own wands at her. "Expelliarmus!"

The wands shot out of their hands and bulleted into the wall. Sophia heard one of them snap as they hit.

"You bloody bitch!" Pansy lunged at her, but Sophia dodged nimbly out of the way.

"Stupify!"

Sophia's stance was perfect, her execution flawless, and Pansy froze, her eyes bulging with rage, and fell stiffly on her back.

Sophia had been too distracted to notice Blaise Zabini, who had crept around the side of the room. Blaise leapt at Sophia, overbalanced, and the two girls fell to the floor. Blaise rolled over and pinned Sophia down, her face just centimeters from the smaller girl's and contorted like a mad dog's. She wrapped her hand around Sophia's thin wrist and banged her wrist hard against the floor in a rough attempt to make Sophia drop her wand. Sophia couldn't aim her wand but she held on tight and with her free hand grabbed a hunk of Blaise's hair, right above the widow's peak, and pulled sharply. Sophia felt a satisfying rip and Blaise screamed as several strands of hair ripped out of her head. Blaise squeezed Sophia's wrist so tightly she felt the bones grind against each other. Sophia cried out and made a desperate effort to aim her wand at Blaise's head when the familiar voice from the doorway cried out, "Stupify!"

Blaise, eyes bulging with rage and mouth slightly agape, went as rigid as a plank of wood and fell onto Sophia.

Sophia was completely unprepared for the fall and felt all of the air rush out of her lungs. Gasping for air and pinned at an awkward angle, she was unable to crawl out from under Blaise. A hand pushed Blaise off and rolled her onto her back.

Sophia looked up to see Ursula Howard standing above her, her wand in hand and her eyes dancing with excitement.

Ursula grinned. "That was bloody fantastic."

Sophia shrugged slightly, completely drained. She slowly stood up and transferred her wand to her other hand so she could shake some feeling back into her wrist. Ursula wordlessly took her arm and guided her out of the room. Millicent's guffaws echoed and followed them out of the girl's dormitories, through the main room, and out into the corridors.

* * *

Severus waited until his breathing had returned to normal before he took up the towel and wiped the semen from his belly. He hadn't even bothered to disrobe. He had hurried to his quarters, snagged a towel from his washroom and flung himself onto his bed and lifted up his robe. Painfully aroused, he had jerked himself roughly, almost angrily, as he envisioned himself on top of Sophia, thrusting in and out of her body, as she wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly and cried with pleasure. Oddly, as delightful and vivid as the vision was, it was the idea of her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his ribs, caressing him, squeezing him, holding him tight and urging him on that had driven him to his orgasm.

Severus scrubbed his sticky hand with the towel. He was no stranger to lust, or even to lusting for his students. He periodically picked a girl and mentally abused her tender little body. He never felt guilty about this; considering the risk to which he exposed himself it seemed only fair that the students provided him with a little pleasure, and the girls never discovered his secret.

But to choose Sophia Trenton of all people...that he could not understand, nor could he understand the extent of his lust for her. Surely he could choose a better girl than she. She was so plain, her behavior so completely void of kittenish flirtations...why not the Patil twins, or big-busted Blaise Zabini? They might still be virgins, but they knew lust and they knew men. Severus could sense it; they radiated it from the sway of their hips, the jut of their breasts, the curves of their sly smiles. Sophia was innocent, untouched.

He cursed the loneliness in him that had recognized the loneliness in her. Eating dinner with her, sharing cake with her in his quarters, dancing with her...it had all been so horribly improper that, in retrospect, was not at all surprised that he was paying for it now. He had inadvertently allowed himself to recognize her as an individual person, not simply another student. That in itself was dangerous, as both a professor and a double agent. She had seemed so strong, so stubbornly proud, as she had admitted that she had manipulated her way into a detention to avoid being labeled a wallflower. As an adult Severus Snape could snort derisively at the trials of youth, but he remembered too well how he had hid in the library during dances. At the time he had assured himself that he was too good to participate in such frivolous activities because he didn't want to admit, even to himself, that no girl in the school would go with him.

Ultimately it had been that stupid little dance that had been his undoing. It had been an impulse, initiated more out of a patronizing urge to do more for her than had ever been done for him. Yet, after her initial suspicions, she had looked up at him with such absolute trust and placed her hands on him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The years had fallen away from him. For the brief length of the song he was no longer a bitter double agent who was older than his years, nearly twice the age of his partner who also happened to be his student. He had been granted the unspoken wish of his youth; to celebrate the lover's holiday, his birthday, with a smart, likeable, decent-looking Slytherin girl.

He did not want to know that she was clever, and witty, and as bitterly lonely as he was.

He did not want to respect her.

He did not want to like her.

Severus felt as if his whole body was coated with a thin layer of slime. Was this what he had come to, panting after young girls like some dirty old man? He was old enough to be her father and she was one of his own students. His youth was gone, wasted, and there was no sense in pining for it. Still, for Severus Snape, Sophia was a fresh and intoxicating breeze of lust and liking with a spice of youth besides.

Sighing heavily, Severus stood up and slowly walked to the bathroom. He was going to need a very long, hot bath tonight.

* * *

Moaning Myrtle was content to wail monotonously in her own toilet in the second floor lavatory, so Sophia was free to sob on Ursula's broad shoulder in relative peace and privacy. Ursula silently patted her back and passed her tissues. Sophia's crying jag lasted a long time, but she was finally able to draw a deep breath, blow her red nose, and smile crookedly at her roommate.

"Your timing is impeccable," Sophia said, her voice raw but reasonably controlled for the first time in an hour.

"Well, I couldn't walk about owing you one forever," Ursula said.

They were both too embarrassed to maintain eye contact and they each found something to stare at. Sophia analyzed one of the broken sinks. Tired beyond reason, Sophia still felt a twinge of annoyance. Of course Ursula was referring to her inelegant scene weeks ago in the Great Hall. By the standards of any other House Sophia had done little for Ursula other than usher her out the door at Snape's command. Yet both girls were aware of the unusual mercy that Sophia, a Slytherin, had displayed, and that Ursula had just returned the favor threefold.

Sophia was grateful that Ursula had demanded no explanations, and had simply allowed her to cry until she had no more tears. Sophia could not even explain to herself why the combination of rage and pain had rung her heart. She certainly could never tell anyone how painfully Snape's menacing presence had aroused her. She could barely face it herself. She could still feel his large hand on her shoulder. His grasp had been rough, he hadn't even touched her flesh, but, to her surprise, she had gone wet with desire for him. He was old and ugly and nasty-tempered yet...

There had been something in his eyes, a dark spark that had made her knees wobbly. It was almost the way Draco Malfoy looked at her, but darker, with a dangerous, knowing edge that made her heart throb.

She pushed the thought from her. She simply couldn't deal with it.

"Do you think Millicent's recovered enough to take them to Pomfry?" Sophia asked abruptly.

"I hope so. I sure don't want to do it."

The girls smiled at each other with tentative liking. It occurred to Sophia that she had just made her first friend.

NEXT: Potter and Company inadvertently help a Slytherin pull back from the edge of disaster.