Author's Note: Welcome everyone. This story begins a year before Harry arrives and roughly follows the books, however, it is certainly AU. The M rating is due to some mature love scenes in later chapters. Of course, I have used the characters from JKR's books. They are her creation, and I am just borrowing her wonderful world. Please note that there is also a poem in Chapter 7 that was written by Alan Rickman, so thanks to him for letting me use it. (You Alan fans will recognize it for sure). Please write comments. Updated 020412

A Light in the Dark

Chapter 1 – Arrival

The afternoon sunlight streamed unhindered through the windows of Hogwarts on this warm August day filtering lazily into the empty classrooms and corridors beyond. The sunbeams, however, did not penetrate to the level of the dungeons, and as evening approached Professor Snape's office had become a few degrees cooler than the rest of the castle. The descending temperature managed to put an edge on the already damp air, but the sullen faced wizard hardly noticed the change. His mind was occupied with other matters.

Two days prior, Professor Severus Snape had returned from an uneventful summer holiday. He'd spent most of his free time reading, only occasionally venturing out in search of a rare plant or herb to add to his personnel potions stores. Although his forays were not always successful, he'd found the thrill of discovery and the opportunity to travel a welcome break in his otherwise monotonous life.

But now he was back and faced with the usual regime of pre-term paperwork and syllabus adjustments. As a professor for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he was required to return a full two weeks before the students. Although the preparation time seemed appropriate to most of the staff, the Potions master considered it a waste. It had taken him only three hours to refresh his lesson plans and now, with an entire week and a half to go before the start of term, there was nothing of substance to keep him busy. The only things he had to occupy his days were a few useless staff meetings and some rather pointless discussions with the headmaster of the school, Albus Dumbledore.

Snape adjusted the sleeves of his robes and glanced back at the mantelpiece. It was getting late. The old, wooden clock with its rusted brass handles stood stoically in place above the mantle, displaying the time at half past five. Darkly, his eyes narrowed. He was not looking forward to the tedious evening ahead.

Up to his old tricks, the headmaster had planned another frivolous staff dinner. Designed as a social event, the evening's menu would surely consist of a long list of Dumbledore's favorite sugary treats. Snape knew it would be unbearable, yet he'd be expected to attend. He had no choice. Just thinking about it made his hawkish features twist into an ugly scowl. And the food was not the only reason Snape dreaded the evening ahead.

A new professor would be introduced, and Dumbledore's latest acquisition was American and female, an altogether unpleasant combination. Snape cringed at the thought. The old hag would undoubtedly be a pretentious bore. Her big mouth, he imagined, would flap open like a trap door, ready to regale a mountain's worth of useless tales. She was sure to add yet another prickly thorn in his side. But, he decided, he would handle the woman as he did all new attacks on his privacy. With a bit of careful planning, he could avoid contact altogether. If forced to speak with the annoying witch, he would simply flex his capable acid tongue.

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Snape was right about one thing. A new instructor had, indeed, arrived at the school. The witch had appeared directly in Dumbledore's office just a few hours earlier with the help of a small, porcelain teapot Portkey. Luckily, the headmaster was waiting and quickly came to her assistance. It was obvious she needed it. Professor Andrea Smith had landed on her stomach like a recently flipped pancake. The oversize tote bag she'd brought with her was now empty, the miniaturized contents having exploded across the floor like a well-placed water balloon.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, my dear," Dumbledore announced. As he spoke the words, he lifted his wand and waived it in a practiced circle. Within seconds, all of Andrea's belongings had been neatly replaced in her bag. "I see you are right on time." The headmaster's pale blue eyes glittered with mirth as he offered her his hand.

"Thank you," she replied and cautiously took his hand. She wasn't on time, not by a long shot, and she wondered if the headmaster was simply teasing or were his words intended to chastise her. But as she arose awkwardly from the floor, she looked into the professor's welcoming blue eyes and immediately felt at home. Here was a man she sensed she could trust, at least she wanted too. She also noticed the strength of the old wizard's grip. He was quite strong despite his age. From what she'd read, he was well into his second century, but as she observed him now, she never would have guessed him to be a day over ninety.

"Actually, I should have been here two days ago," Andrea admitted. "After the funeral, there was still so much to do, I'm afraid I lost track of time."

"Yes, I am sorry for your loss. Your father was a great man. Quite remarkable."

Mechanically, Andrea nodded. "Yes, he had a lot of loyal clients."

"Was it sudden?"

"Not really …" she paused and took a deep breath. The hurt was still quite fresh in her mind. "He was ill for several years. They say it might have been the constant handling of the magical cores that caused it."

The images of the grief stricken mourners replayed sadly before her eyes. The flow of people seemed never ending. They'd gathered like insects around her father's gravesite, everyone pushing and shoving to get a better view. Uncaring, the rain had poured steadily down falling in sheets as the crowds passed by. The entire community was in attendance ready to offer their condolences.

Her father had been a kind and generous man. Although popular and respected in the local wizarding community, his wand making skills had made him famous. His talents were extraordinary, and over the course of many years it allowed him to expand his business across Wisconsin and North America. The shop her father owned in the village of Spring Green had been the center of his venture, and it had also been Andrea's home. But now that he was gone, she was alone. Her mother and younger brother had died tragically when she was only six, and there was nothing left to keep her in the small town of her birth. It had been a good life. Her father had made a more than comfortable living, and Andrea hadn't minded being a shopkeeper's daughter. But now, it was time to move on.

Andrea, too, was a talented wand-maker. She had an unusual skill for matching a potential buyer's capabilities with exactly the right wand. If the proper wand were unavailable, she would make one based on the wizard's unique, magical signature. Her special creativity made her wands extremely desirable, and they commanded a high price.

When her father became ill, Andrea began to save her money, knowing she would certainly need it. Although her father's income was quite substantial, he was also a philanthropist and had given away most of what he'd earned. After paying the final bills and selling the shop, there was very little money left.

Perhaps, she thought, a change would help her forget the pain and grief of the previous year. Europe and the magical schools abroad were beckoning to fulfill her need for learning and teaching. If she could spend a year expanding her skills and developing her talents, she reasoned, she could bring this experience back to America. Maybe someday she would open a successful shop of her own.

Andrea's eyes had drifted, but the headmaster waited for her to recover. Dumbledore was a sympathetic man, and although he was also curious, he didn't want to pry. Instead, he politely changed the subject.

"Your family has been in the wand business for well over 200 years, am I correct?"

"Well, longer actually. My ancestors started wand making right here in England around the tenth century. But we've operated the shop in Spring Green for about 150 years."

"Are you by any chance a relative of Garrick Olivander?" the headmaster queried. "He runs a brisk wand business in London."

Andrea smiled. "Yes, I know Mr. Olivander quite well. His great grandmother was a Smith."

"Ah," Dumbledore replied. "I thought there might be some connection."

Andrea raised an eyebrow slightly. She was sure she saw something in the headmaster's expression. He must already know this, and she suspected that was one reason he had hired her.

"From what you have shared in your letters, you have been teaching for a few years already."

"Yes, I taught 'The Care and History of Wands' for about three years at the Chicago Academy of Magical Arts. But I stopped when my father became ill. I've been away from teaching for about a year and a half, now." Andrea straightened her robes nervously with her fingers before she continued. "I understand Hogwarts has never had a wand workshop before."

"Yes, that is true. However, I thought it might be a good time to expand our curriculum," Dumbledore explained before he looked away. His hand began to delicately stroke the feathers of his pet bird. "I think you will make a fine addition to our staff."

Andrea had the distinct feeling he was avoiding her gaze, but maybe she was imagining it. "Thank you, Professor," she answered brightly. "I won't make you sorry."

"Of course not, my dear. And please, call me Albus." He'd turned back to her and held out his hand again, his eyes sparkling with a merry twinkle. "Let me show you to your rooms."

The headmaster led her out of his office and proceeded to provide a tour of the expansive school. They moved from floor to floor finally arriving in her classroom where she was shown her new workshop, office, and accommodation. The workshop was set in a large, round room. It had an unusual domed ceiling that looked as if it might have been part of a chapel at one time. The area had large windows that faced south allowing a generous amount of light to stream onto her worktable and into the classroom. Her rooms consisted of a small bedroom with a double bed, a tiny sitting area with a fireplace and a small bathroom. Although small, the size was perfect for her and Alex, her Siamese cat.

As dinner approached, Dumbledore left the new professor to freshen up. Andrea began to get ready. After brushing her hair, she looked at herself critically in the bathroom mirror. The looking glass above the sink, she noticed, was very old. A few minor blemishes marred the ancient glass, but it was still quite serviceable. As she examined her reflection, she realized she was pleased with what she saw. Her waist-length, strawberry-blond hair glistened like spun gold in the candlelight and framed her small, oval face whenever she smiled. The wavy curls were hard to tame, the thick tresses bending stubbornly away from her adjustments. They rebelled like stiff wires. The threads forced their way out as she attempted to fit the decorative, laurel wreath onto her head. Well, it would just have to do, she thought. The staff dinner was only minutes away, and she would have to hurry.

Wanting to make a good impression at her very first staff dinner, Andrea raced out into the hall, knowing that she was already a few minutes late. As luck would have it, the corridor to the Great Hall was easy to navigate from her apartment, and she was glad that she hadn't gotten lost in the maze of stairways. As she approached, the entrance to the meeting room radiated with the soft flicker of candlelight. Although it provided a welcoming glow, Andrea paused in the doorway and took a deep breath. She was quite nervous. Normally, she wouldn't have let it affect her, but she was quite eager to be accepted. She hoped fervently that the evening would go by without any major embarrassment.

Finally, she gathered her courage and entered the room. Not knowing where to sit, however, she walked gingerly forward, and as she moved, her long robes swished noisily against the stone floor. The odd sound made everyone turn to look. Almost on queue, one of her small green sandals caught the edge of her robes. The shoe became airborne and shot like a rocket across the chamber, but she had no time to care. She'd lost her balance as well as her shoe and, with no way to stop it, she tumbled onto the floor in an unflattering heap.

"Andrea, my dear," Dumbledore said with a mirthful smile. "I must apologize. I keep forgetting to have that stone replaced. It is an old jinx. It likes to trip unwary visitors. You will find there are many little quirks just like this one all over the castle." For the second time that day, he held out his hand to pull her up. "Are you quite all right?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, sir," she answered quickly. Her heart pounded as Andrea braced herself to rise. Her laurel wreath was askew, and her sandal had flown clear across the floor, but otherwise everything was as it should be. Gratefully, she took Dumbledore's hand and began to smile. Her confidence was returning. After brushing off her robes, she glanced around the room trying to see where her sandal might have landed. It didn't take long to find it. Her shoe was partially hidden under the robes of one of the other professors.

Quickly, Andrea bent down to pick it up, being careful not to disturb the gentleman. The professor was an odd sort. He sat stiffly at the table, his arms folded loosely against his chest. She guessed he was a tall man by his long legs, and although his shoulders were broad, he was painfully thin. He wore his raven black hair long and parted in the middle, but it was rather oily in appearance, and the lank strands barely brushed the shoulders of his equally black robes. He also had a rather large, hooked nose that reminded Andrea of a bird of prey, and the quick way his eyes darted across the room cemented the avian image of him in her mind. He looked positively evil.

As she attempted to grab her shoe, she noticed it was stuck under the man's boot. Slowly, her eyes lifted to meet his unwelcoming stare. His dark, heavily lidded eyes were as black as his hair, and his lips had curled into an unfriendly scowl. Without a word, he lifted his foot and moved away from her in disgust.

"I'm sorry," she said astounded at his rudeness. Quickly she replaced her sandal under the cover of her long robes.

"Next time, I suggest you think more carefully before choosing your footwear," the dark haired professor sneered. The man's voice was a surprise. It had the timbre of liquid silk, yet the words slid off his tongue like ice.

Andrea raised an eyebrow and her mouth fell open at his insensitive reply. Unfazed, she smiled at him wickedly. A return quip was just on the tip of her tongue, but before she could respond, Dumbledore had come to take her arm.

"Come right this way," Albus instructed. "I have a seat right next to me at the head of the table." As the headmaster pulled her away, the elder wizard looked over his shoulder at the black haired professor and frowned.

Severus couldn't have cared less. He threw a stony glance at Dumbledore, and then shifted back in his chair. Lazily, Snape recrossed his arms. The long, painful dinner was just beginning, and as the food appeared magically on the table, he purposely averted his eyes, trying his best to ignore the new professor.

It really wasn't that hard. Snape's practiced isolation tactics would serve him as they usually did, the skill allowing him to tune out the unpleasant sounds, or at least that is what he expected. But something about the woman pulled at his inquisitive mind. Even though her laugh was at times musical and light, it held an infuriating giggle within it that certainly must reflect an unbearable immaturity. At times his eyes strayed, his curiosity fueled by sheer boredom.

There were tiny freckles on her cheeks, he noticed. The light brown dots marring the pale pink skin, and looked like fine quill marks had been scratched haphazardly across her face. The small hands were beautifully delicate as she lifted a goblet to her rosebud lips, but as she opened her mouth and began to smile, he noticed her front teeth. They were pushed in at an angle, and the canine teeth jutted out like a pair of fangs.

These were not beautiful teeth. Long ago, he had seen the most beautiful smile, the most beguiling set of incisors, and the image of that impish grin floated once more before his eyes. Floating into a dream, he allowed himself a brief glimpse of the past. He kept his musings short, like a careful sip from a glass of Elfin wine, not allowing the drunkenness to overcome the senses, lest the memory evaporate, never to return.

Someone hiccupped. Flicking his eyes toward the American, he could see her bounce as she attempted to swallow the invading outbursts of air. With each expulsion, her body bobbed before him, but the fullness of her figure became covered by the wildness of her hair. The mass of unruly red gold curls caught the candlelight and moved hypnotically as she turned her head. Impartially, as if judging a pony at a fair, he granted that the woman's hair was indeed her best feature, but this specimen would never win any prizes.

As boredom threatened to overwhelm him once again, his practiced self-control took over allowing his mind to concentrate on his roast beef. He began to cut the meat into perfectly even squares. But as dessert arrived, he heard Dumbledore's voice intruding on his thoughts once again.

"Attention everyone. I believe it is time for introductions. Andrea, would you like to begin?" the headmaster asked.

"Of course, I'd be glad to," she answered eagerly. "Well, I'm 28, and as you can tell by my accent, I'm American." A small bit of polite laughter sifted across the room as the other professors turned to listen. "I'll be teaching 'The Care and History of Wands' this term, along with a hands-on workshop. I'm also a wand-maker by trade, so if any of you need a new one, I'll be glad to help." Here she paused, and hesitated before continuing. "I've come to Hogwarts to learn. I believe we should all try to improve ourselves, learn new things, and expand our knowledge, and I think Hogwarts is an excellent place for me to do just that. Your school has a wonderful reputation, and I understand your library is one of the best in the world. So, I'm looking forward to sharing, and I hope we'll all grow to be good friends."

Severus frowned and inwardly scoffed. Sure, she was here to learn, probably because they didn't teach her anything in that worthless American school. He listened unimpressed as the other professors introduced themselves, and soon Dumbledore's eyes fell on the Potions master.

Snape cut a brief glance at Andrea and noticed she was staring right at him. A smile played across her lips. Clearing his throat, Snape ignored her and looked directly at Dumbledore. "I am Professor Severus Snape," he said in a flat but rather matter-of-fact tone. "I teach the art of Potions, and I am also the Head of Slytherin House." He politely nodded his head to indicate he had finished, but the scowl never left his face.

"Yes, well, thank you, Severus." Dumbledore lifted his eyebrows, and almost imperceptibly, he smiled. "Next we have Professor Sprout …" The introductions continued and soon it was time for dessert.

Severus stared at the treacle tart that had popped onto his plate and decided he was no longer hungry. His appetite had completely vanished. Would this dinner never end? His eyes were once again drawn to the new professor. She was talking to Professor Flitwick and laughing at one of his silly jokes. The tiny man was full of the most obnoxious bits of useless entertainment, and as expected, the American seemed to be enthralled. The woman tossed back her head in abandon, showing not a single measure of dignity. Whatever happened to subtlety and grace in a woman?

Closing his eyes in relief, Severus realized the evening was finally over. It was time to leave. Doing his best to evade the others, he snuck out quickly, and soon his long, steady strides had swept him out of sight. Only Dumbledore took notice, pensively following Snape's movements with a practiced eye.

After Snape had gone, the headmaster turned his attention back to his guests where a small group of professors lingered near the doorway. Andrea was with them, and Dumbledore decided it was a good time to speak with her privately. Gently, he pulled her aside.

"I am so happy you were able to join our staff, my dear," he said truthfully. "I must say that I look forward to some stimulating conversations this term. I find wand history to be an incredibly interesting subject. Would you care to spend some time with an old wizard?"

"Oh, yes, sir, I'd be happy to." She smiled at him and laughed. "Then maybe you could tell me where some of those other jinxed stones are located. I don't want to make a complete fool of myself again if I can help it."

"Not to worry, but I should warn you." Albus winked at her and replied, "You will find the stairs to be even more challenging."

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Soon, the Welcoming Feast was upon them, and once again, Andrea was late. The troublesome stairways had placed her on entirely the wrong side of the hall forcing her to enter with the students, and it was rather slow going. The maze of small bodies made her feel like a salmon swimming in a stream of children. Just minutes before Dumbledore's opening remarks, she found the last available seat at the end of the staff table and quickly sat down.

Andrea tried to compose herself, but she hardly had a chance before she was surprised again. She stifled a gasp as she looked up. The Great Hall was filled with rows of candles suspended in a brilliant array above the tables. Far above the flickering light, an enchanted ceiling swirled above her head mimicking the sky outside. Tonight it was sparkling with stars. The enchantments were perfectly normal to the rest of the staff, but to Andrea, it was dazzlingly new. Amazed, she gazed at the incredible display like an open-mouthed first year.

Feeling self conscious, Andrea glanced at the man to her right, only to see him provide her with a disdainful sneer. She remembered vividly her encounter with the school's Potion master at the staff dinner, but when she tried to think of his name, her mind was blank. There were just too many new names, and she couldn't keep them straight in her head. The professor eyed her coldly, but gave her silent nod. Well, at least he has manners, Andrea thought.

Severus had been quite successful in keeping away from the new professor these past two weeks. To his great satisfaction, complete avoidance was working to eliminate any unnecessary interaction with the ignorant woman, and he hoped that she would just leave him alone during the feast.

Andrea's attention was not at all drawn to the man next to her. Instead, she was fascinated by a strange sorting procedure for new students. They were being sorted into four Houses, and each child was placed in their particular House based on the opinion of a Sorting Hat.

"Well, that's different," she muttered. "Why would anyone divide up a school like that?

Even though Severus had just congratulated himself in maintaining the 'complete avoidance' policy, he just couldn't resist responding to her silly comment. "Why, may I ask, does this seem so strange to you?" he queried with a rather sarcastic tone.

"Well, in Chicago, there's one group that all the kids can identify with," Andrea explained. "Why would you split up students by personality traits? How can they grow?"

Snape did not respond. Instead his disdainful sneer relayed the message.

Challenged by his reaction, Andrea stubbornly added, "We'd never do that in America." Then, she fell silent. It seemed her table companion didn't appreciate discussion.

After a few minutes Snape gave her a thin smile and a rather condescending look. "And just how old are your American schools?"

"I'm sorry?" Andrea couldn't fathom what that had to do with anything.

"I said … how old are your American schools?"

"I didn't catch your name."

"Professor Snape – Severus Snape." Internally, he scoffed. She hadn't even remembered his name. Was her brain as small as a niffler?

"Well, Professor Snape," Andrea acknowledged. Again, the man nodded, but offered no further comment. "The wizarding schools in America have only one unified school designation. The Chicago academy has a Quidditch team called 'The Oracles.' When we compete with other schools in North America, such as the school in Salem, Massachusetts or the school in St. Augustine, Florida, we use the team name."

"You still have not answered my question, so I shall ask you again." Professor Snape's voice was soft and precise. He really wanted to tell her what he thought, that she was an ignorant fool, but for some unknown reason, he held his sharp tongue. Instead he forced a polite smile. But the smile was more like a sneer, and it didn't seem to reach his eyes. "How old are your American schools? Hogwarts has been teaching students for well over a thousand years."

"I see," she replied trying to think carefully before she responded. "Well, our oldest school is a little under four hundred years old, but I like to think that the age of a school does not necessarily determine its worth. We have an open mind in America, and we change and move with the times."

"Hogwarts' success is built on tradition." Professor Snape sniffed, his large nostrils flaring slightly as he spoke. "The school has a long history of superior education and commitment. We create great wizards. As a teacher in our school, you have a responsibility to understand and follow these traditions."

"My, a bit sensitive, aren't we?" Andrea was not a person to be put in her place – especially by this imperious know-it-all.

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes, and his lips tightened to a thin line. He'd had enough. It was time to end this conversation. He turned away and tried to concentrate on the Sorting.

Andrea, however, didn't want to let it go. "Professor, I do not agree nor disagree with your school's methods. I was just commenting that the house division seemed strange to me. I will, however, keep an open mind." Then she added under her breath, "Not like some people."

She took a sip of wine and glanced at him again, sensing an odd attraction. It was a little unsettling, and she tried to make sense of it. Most people would not have called him handsome, but Andrea thought he looked somewhat dignified in his black robes. His hawkish features might even be considered noble. Well, she thought, that was a probably a stretch. But his pitch-black eyes were intelligent and definitely intriguing. They held a certain caution as he returned her gaze. So what was it that attracted her?

Unable to stop herself, she smiled up at him in a friendly but challenging way, and she caught the slightest flicker of amusement on his lips before it passed.

Severus tried hard not to look at her, but she was making it very difficult. The strawberry blond waves of thick hair had fallen loosely onto the table, a stray lock tumbling down onto his hand and infringing on his space. With a look of disdain, he flicked it back at her as he would a stray insect.

Without moving her head, Andrea slid her blue eyes toward him, finding his actions fascinating. He, too, looked in her direction, and as their eyes met, his expression became unreadable. Was it her imagination, or did his eyes seem to glitter?

Severus missed nothing. His keen mind made note of every detail of her appearance. Once again, she was wearing the unflattering laurel wreath in her hair. He noticed a few cranberries were woven amongst the leaves. Curious, he thought. What purpose would she have for cranberries? Automatically, he began to search his memory for any potion that contained the red fruit. There were several that came to mind, but nothing that seemed dangerous. Next, he began to mentally analyze her perfume mixture. Appreciating the creator's genius, he realized that it combined fresh Jasmine with a subtle layer of Dragon Mint, producing a soothing, hypnotic mixture that might be useful in some of his potions. Perhaps he would have to ask her of its origins.

Although he still found the woman mostly unworthy of his time, there appeared to be a few things about her that piqued his natural curiosity, strictly in a scientific sense, of course. Never the less, Severus found himself glancing at her again. Perhaps, he thought, this term might be a bit more interesting than the last one.

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As the first week of the term got underway, Professors Snape and Smith continued to sit next to each other at meal times, although they certainly hadn't planned it that way. Andrea was usually late, and the seat next to the Potions professor always seemed to be available.

At first, Severus was irritated to have his dining pleasure intruded upon each evening by the interloping American. But one night when she failed to show up, Snape found that he actually missed her. It was not the witch herself, he reasoned, but rather her strange opinions and ridiculous arguments that he'd found amusing. She had a unique way with words and used her quick wit like a precise surgical tool. Severus found her refreshingly entertaining.

Drat. What was it about the woman? He'd been determined to keep clear of her, but somehow his plan was failing. At night, he would lay awake, and visions of her would float up into his thoughts. Things she'd said to him would replay in his mind, and her strange observations filled him with more than a little interest. She seemed to be driving him insane. And why did she always have to laugh?

Andrea, on the other hand, found Severus extremely amusing. His cutting remarks were a definite challenge, and in retaliation, she teased him incessantly. They would have verbal sparing matches, and in the process she coaxed him into telling her about the school's many traditions. In exchange, Andrea would share stories of America, as well as the differences between the two cultures. Ultimately, she'd begun to respect the Potions master, his intelligence and dry wit a welcome part of her day.

As September continued, Severus found himself looking forward to each meal and planning out his verbal attacks. One day, he found that Andrea had actually made it to the table before him. After sweeping through the staff door, he moved stealthily behind her chair to his seat.

"I see you decided to be on time for once. Perhaps your food might actually be warm today." Snape's lips twitched eagerly, and his eyes flicked to the side to look at her. His snarky comment had scored the first punch, but Andrea wasn't about to give in. Slowly she turned to give him a smug look.

"Heat wouldn't help. This stuff is tasteless. Why would I even want to eat this sludge?" She lifted her fork, and the heavy gravy dripped down like wet cement onto the plate. Although the food that the school's elves prepared was usually quite good, they catered to an English palate. Andrea preferred her meals laced with hot sauce.

"Eat it! It's good for you," Snape said.

"Hardly," Andrea responded. She had to be careful. Severus was a master at debate.

"I suppose you're used to eating raw meat. You're from the backwoods, are you not? Did you live in caves over there?" He smirked, and donned his usual self-satisfied expression. As he waited for her reply, he placed a large slice of roast beef onto his plate.

"Professor Snape, I did not live in a cave. I lived above a store. You, on the other hand, must have lived in a home where they boiled everything!" She looked down at her pale, tasteless carrots and began to mush them up with her fork.

"Our English foods are traditionally healthy with plenty of protein and nutritious vegetables," he replied. "You should not dismiss the cuisine of other cultures just because it doesn't burn holes in your tongue." Then he picked up the salt, and ever so lightly, he tapped a few grains onto his plate.

"Severus!" Andrea exclaimed, "You added some salt! I didn't know Englishmen used seasoning!"

"Did I give you permission to use my first name?" He turned and stared at her with glittering eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile.

"I don't need your permission," she answered. "I just take what I want. And I want to call you Severus. Or maybe I should call you 'Spicy.' What do you think of that?"

His eyes seemed to glitter even more as he prepared his retort. "My, my, you are as uncouth and barbaric as I would have expected, and you have no respect. You, 'Miss America,' are an unmannered little brat."

Pomona Sprout was sitting next to Severus and couldn't help commenting, "Oh, that was a good one."

Snape looked down at the older woman with a raised eyebrow before turning back to Andrea.

"Okay," Andrea said as she chewed on a bit of tough roast beef. "Let me think about that …" While Severus waited, a triumphant smile spread across his face thinking he had won.

"So, I am an uncouth, unmannered brat. Do I have that right, Severus?" she asked.

"Yes …" he drew the word out slowly like molasses pouring out of a tin cup.

She smiled up at him angelically and then reached for the pepper. Stretching, she slid her hand over Severus's plate. He watched calmly as she tipped it over his meat and proceeded to vigorously shake the little glass jar over his food. Snape flicked his eyes first at the roast beef and then back at her. He did this two or three times without moving his head an inch.

"You, Miss America, have just proved my point."

"Darn straight!" she said and added a wink.

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Toward the end of September, a fight occurred in the hallway between a group of Gryffindors and Slytherins. Andrea did her best to split up the two ringleaders, but she didn't seem to be making much headway. Even though they had stopped firing hexes, the two wouldn't back off. With wands still drawn, the boys faced each other with hate written on their faces. Suddenly, they saw Snape approaching.

Immediately, they tried to run. The Potions master was faster, his wand making quick work of the situation, and in a flash they'd been immobilized. Most of the onlookers backed away, the look of fear etched clearly on their faces, but one boy was stubborn. He stood his ground and attempted another shot at the opposing side. In his eager foolishness the second year stumbled. His blasting hex went wide and knocked the wand completely out of Snape's hand. It fell to the floor with a loud ping, the sound echoing endlessly down the now silent corridor. Severus glared at the boy, and the venomous look struck terror not only in the student, but everyone that stood watching. The lad grew deathly pale and stood as stiff as a marble statue, his fear freezing him as completely as a full body bind curse.

"Attention! All of you, five points each will be deducted from your Houses. That will be 50 points from Gryffindor, and 40 from Slytherin. And you, Mr. Peters," he drawled softly, "You must learn to control your anger in the presence of … authority. You will report to my office this evening at precisely seven o'clock for detention," Snape said in a stern but decisive voice. "If you are even a second late, I will deduct an additional 50 points from Gryffindor. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, p-professor," the child stammered.

"Now go. Be off with you. I expect no more trouble."

The students did not have to be told twice. They instantly scurried away fleeing down opposite ends of the corridor to their houses. When they had gone, Andrea stepped forward and handed Severus his wand. She'd retrieved it from where it fell under a nearby suit of armor.

"I suppose I should thank you," Andrea said, although not convincingly. "You certainly can take charge of a situation. You had this all wrapped up in less than two minutes, but, my gods, those students are so afraid of you." Andrea shook her head and replaced her own wand in the pocket of her robes.

"And you, my dear, need a much firmer hand," Severus replied. He assumed his usual stance – feet apart and arms crossed lazily across his chest. "You let the students control you. They should not sense weakness."

"Oh, a firmer hand you say? Is that why your wand has that nasty crack in its covering? Perhaps your hand isn't quite as firm as you think it is." She smiled, but she still wasn't sure she agreed with his tactics. "If you'd like, I can repair that for you. Why don't you stop by my workshop tomorrow?"

"Thank you, Professor." A slight sneer flickered across his face as he looked down his nose at her, but it wasn't quite as strong as usual. Snape sensed her disapproval, and for some reason, it rankled him. "I might … if I can find the time."

Snape bowed his head slightly, turned sharply on his heel and strode off down the corridor, his robes billowing behind him in a dramatic flourish. Andrea stood there for a long time watching him retreat and thinking about what she'd just seen. Soon she was alone in the hallway.

A/N: Comments are greatly appreciated. Thank you to my editor FaintingFancies. Thanks also to my reviewers:Lochlyn, Lola, GisselleRain, suallenparker, Sabor Tooth Tiger, animalwriter and Wendy Waddles

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