Prologue

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Did she really think he was stupid? With his piercing black eyes he stared intently at the girl who was sitting among the other Slytherin students at their house table. With a fierce blush on her cheeks she examined the contents of the plate in front of her, as if there was nothing in the world more interesting than a pile of golden-yellow scrambled eggs.

Professor Snape furrowed his brows, clearly annoyed about her silly behavior. For weeks now she had been watching him, looking over at him whenever she thought he didn't notice. That girl must have thought he was an idiot who didn't realize what she was doing, and more importantly, why she was doing it.

His irritated gaze roamed over her small frame. She had long, shiny hair that was such a dark shade of red that it almost seemed black. It fell over her delicate shoulders, down to her ribcage. He could see how it expanded with the deep breath she took, before her hand clumsily reached for a fork. She dropped it once, twice, and even a third time, until she eventually had enough control over her trembling fingers that they were finally able to hold the cutlery steady and pick at the eggs.

Shaking his head ever so slightly, Severus lifted one eyebrow in annoyance. He had seen students spill their ink, drop their books or quills, shaking violently under his terrifying glare. That was all it took. One angry look, and the dunderheads lost it. But this ... This was completely different. Unnervingly different, to say the least.

He might have ignored it, had her skills at least been somewhat acceptable in the fine art of potion making. But she was a lost cause. He didn't think that she would ever be capable of brewing a potion that didn't pose a threat to herself and the wellbeing of the rest of the class. In fact, she was the worst student he had ever had the displeasure of teaching. Actually she had started out as a rather promising young witch when she first joined his class in her first year. For some inexplicable reason, however, that gradually changed, and this year she had been nothing but incompetent. Since day one after summer break her cauldron exploded on a regular basis; he couldn't count the times he had had to send her to Madam Pomfrey. She was so bare of any talent he found it almost personally insulting. To top it off, just the other day Professor Trelawny had bragged about this girl's unparalleled achievements in divination.

The professor snorted as he thought about his colleague's praise. Of course, an ungifted student like this would excel in such a nonsensical craft. Well, given her knack for premonitions, she would at least know by now that she was in for some extra workload this week; homework specifically tailored for an unskilled witch such as herself.

This thought seemed to brighten his mood. Not much, but it was enough to allow an impish smirk to tug at the corners of his mouth, before he finally withdrew his attention from the Slytherin table and occupied himself with the steaming cup of tea that had been patiently waiting for him. As he carefully took a sip, once more, he felt the burning sensation of eyes on him.

Yes, that girl must have really thought he was stupid.

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