Hello!

First off, thank you for taking the time to read this first chapter! For anyone who used to follow a story I previously wrote using the same title, it's on my account under 'Discontinued Story'. I messed up the loading of it onto FanFiction, so it's all in one big chapter (sorry about that!)

Also, I do not own Harry Potter; it belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling. However, the OCs in this story do belong to me.

I'm currently working on other chapters of this story and should have a new one posted soon (I hope!)

Oh, and Lots of thanks to MetamorphmagusLupin! :)

Enjoy!

– PROLOGUE–

THE EAGLE AND THE SERPENT

SEPTEMBER 1976

Severus Snape sat alone at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. He preferred it that way. With a book open in front of him, he ate his breakfast while he read about the effects of Devil's Breath, one of the most potent potions ever concocted. Once ingested, it placed the drinker into a trance-like state, and they could be forced to do anything, even hand over their wand, but they would wake up and remember nothing. The Ministry had it placed on the Banned Potions Registry, believing it to be as dangerous as the Imperius Curse. As it was an incredibly complicated potion to make, there were only two known cases of it being successfully brewed since its original invention in 1823.

Chewing thoughtfully on a piece of toast, he thought about how impressed his friends would be, particularly Mulciber, if he could manage to make Devil's Breath. But it wasn't something he would ever be able to brew in school, not without risking expulsion. And even if he thought he could do it without getting caught, he couldn't afford to buy the ingredients for it. He barely had enough money to purchase school supplies; in fact, some of his school textbooks had belonged to his mother.

His reading was interrupted by the arrival of owls carrying the morning's post. A majestic horned owl landed on the tabletop and held out its leg to him. He untied the scrolled up parchment, being careful not to get his fingers nipped by the owl's sharp beak. Once it was free, the bird hooted softly, spread its wings in a stately-like manner and flew off.

Severus looked at the scroll, but there was nothing embossed on the wax seal to indicate who had sent it. Breaking the seal, he unrolled the parchment and read the two lines that had been neatly written on it.

I have told him about you. He says you may join him whenever you are ready.

L.M.

An expectant thrill ran through him as he reread the words. Lucius had told Voldemort about him – and he wished to accept him into his ranks as a Death Eater. His heart started to beat faster; he was close to becoming part of something so much greater than himself. Of course, he could leave school now, but he would rather wait until he was seventeen, when the Trace on him would finally come to an end.

What about your NEWTs?

He paused at the thought and looked down at the new timetable that Professor Slughorn had handed him a short while ago. Would having NEWTs even matter when he became a Death Eater? Hadn't Lucius told him once before that Voldemort could give him whatever he wanted? Even as he debated with himself about what he should do, something inside of him pulled firmly against his reasoning. Had he not proved so many people wrong by getting all Os in his OWLs, the skinny, greasy misfit from an obscure background? And he now had the chance to prove them wrong again in his NEWTs. But if he dropped out of school come January to join Voldemort, everyone would think he had quit because he had found his studies too hard.

A bitter dislike for that thought rose inside him. He rolled up the note Lucius had sent to him and put it into his pocket; after all, it did say he could join Voldemort whenever he was ready. Besides, Lucius had completed his NEWTs before becoming a Death Eater; even Bellatrix Black had sat her NEWT exams - and he was sure she had joined Voldemort. His mind was made up; he would reply to the message later that day.

After finishing his breakfast, he left the Great Hall and made his way to his first lesson of the day.

When he entered the Potions classroom, he glanced around the room and saw Lily and three other Gryffindors, but Sirius Black or James Potter wasn't among them. He shifted his gaze back to Lily; she saw him but ignored him. He turned away from her; it was stupid of him to think she would have changed her mind about their friendship over the summer. He slipped into the nearest empty seat and took his book, a quill, and fresh parchment out of his bag – he didn't need her anyway.

Professor Slughorn emerged from the small office annexed to the classroom. "All right, settle down now. First, welcome back to you all. I'm pleased to see so many of you have chosen to continue with Potions. Oh, yes, I finally have the best and brightest of you in the one room. Now, today, I want you to work in pairs to brew the Draught of Living Death. It's a complex potion, but I don't doubt there are one or two in this class who will gain top marks."

Slughorn glanced from Lily's table to Severus's, making it evident to the rest of the class exactly who he meant.

"Off you go, then," he told them cheerfully.

Severus opened his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before finally acknowledging his partner for the lesson. Her name was Deirdre Harper – a Ravenclaw. He had never spoken to her before, but he knew who she was. She and Peter Pettigrew had caused a stir during the Sorting Ceremony in first year because of the length of time it had taken to sort them. Pettigrew was the true Hatstall of the pair and was placed in Gryffindor after a long deliberation by the Sorting Hat; Deirdre had been close to being a Hatstall, the Sorting Hat taking almost four minutes to decide what house to place her in. Severus had always been curious as to what other House the Hat had seriously considered placing them in, but he had never been in a position to ask.

"Will we use my ingredients or yours?" she asked softly.

"Yours," he replied, turning his attention back to his book. He had no idea how competent she was at Potions, and he did not want his ingredients wasted if she turned out to be abysmal.

A moment later, he heard the clinking of glass as she removed bottles and jars of ingredients from her bag. He kept his nose firmly in his book. Why did Slughorn have to make them work in pairs? The more competent students should have had the option to complete the task on their own.

She set a cauldron onto the table with a thud. "Are you ready to start?"

Severus set down his book, giving her a cursory glance as he picked up one bottle and then another, inspecting the quality of their contents. He opened a jar of sloth brains, which were floating in an amber liquid, and poked one to see how fresh it was.

"If the ingredients are not to your standard," she commented smoothly, "we can use yours."

He put the jar down and said nothing as he reached for his silver dagger. "You start cutting the valerian roots, and I'll prepare the sopohorous bean."

He watched her surreptitiously as she took a knife and began to slice a valerian root with adequate precision. It was a promising sign. Placing a sopohorous bean in the middle of a chopping board, he pressed the flat of his blade against it.

"What are you doing? It says in the textbook to cut it, not crush it."

He ignored her as he continued to press the dagger onto the bean. A significant amount of juice flowed from it and out of the corner of his eye, he saw that she had stopped slicing the roots.

"Crushing it releases more juice," he retorted patronisingly, "as you can see."

Her fingers tightened around the handle of her knife, but she went back to chopping the roots without a word. Unfazed that he had spoken to her like a student in need of remedial classes, he added the juice to the potion, and it turned precisely the shade of lilac described by the textbook.

Looking at Deirdre again, he watched her as she continued to slice the roots. She held herself with a confidence that he'd come to expect of those from well-born wizarding families; she spoke like one them, too. Her coffee-brown hair was tied back from her face in a loose ponytail, giving him a clear view of her smooth, oval, fair-skinned features. There was also something familiar about her; it was then he remembered there had been a Harper in seventh year when he first started Hogwarts. Was it possible she was related to him? His sister, perhaps? But he dismissed that idea as he recalled that Harper had a strong Irish accent, while hers was decidedly English.

"You watching me, Snape, is not going to make me cut these any faster.

Turning away from her, he snatched up a quill and crossed out the instructions that said the sopohorous bean needed to be cut up. In handwriting less small and cramped than that which he used in exams, he wrote an alternative direction: crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.

Deirdre set the knife down and wiped her hands on a cloth. "Finished."

He closed his textbook and gathered up the root slices, dropping them into the cauldron. After that, he lifted a pestle and mortar from a cupboard underneath the desk and then set about crushing an asphodel root into a fine powder. Meanwhile, Deirdre went to collect a wormwood plant from the front of the classroom – the school always provided plants and herbs that needed to be fresh. When she returned, she set the wormwood onto the desk and started to examine the leaves.

"You need to pour boiling water on the leaves; you will not create an infusion by simply staring at them."

Almost as if to prove a point, she plucked a dead leaf from the plant before grabbing a fistful of leaves, twisting them until they broke away from the stems. He got the impression she had imagined it was his neck she was wringing. She then lifted a kettle that had been set over a flame to boil, placed the wormwood leaves into a bowl and added the water.

An awkward silence settled between, but when he stole a glance in her direction, he saw that her jaw was no longer so tightly clenched. She unscrewed the lid of the jar that contained sloth brains and lifted one out, grimacing as she placed it onto the chopping board. He thought she was merely going to poke at it with the point of her knife, but she put one hand on the brain to hold it steady so she could slice it in half.

"What did you get for Potions in your OWLs?" he asked in a neutral tone.

She pushed a pile of the cubed brain to one end of the chopping board. "An E."

He took the fact she hadn't asked him what he'd gotten as a sign that she was not particularly interested in conversing with him. Not that he had asked her because he wanted to strike up a conversation, but he had merely wanted to gauge what sort of calibre he was dealing with that lesson. An E, he supposed, was tolerable.

"The brains are ready to go into the cauldron," Deirdre informed him as he added the powdered asphodel root to the cauldron. She then turned her attention back to the methodology written in the book. "We need to stir the potion seven times counter-clockwise."

He looked at his textbook and read through the instructions, tracing a finger around his mouth as he did so. As he had never brewed this potion before, he could not be sure if the instructions given would produce the desired result. But the more he considered the combination of ingredients, the more he realised the textbook was wrong.

"I suggest we add a clockwise stir after every seventh counter-clockwise stir."

"No, Snape," she protested, "you're not going to start experimenting now; I want to pass my NEWTs."

"I didn't know you needed NEWTs for finishing school," he threw back at her.

Her mouth tightened, and he suspected he had crossed a line with her, but she spoke, in a slow, deliberate tone, "We only have ten minutes of class left; there will not be enough time to make another potion if you mess this up."

He took a glass stirring rod from his bag. "I was right about the sopohorous bean, wasn't I?"

She regarded him carefully. "What makes you so certain that you're right and the book is wrong?"

"Surely you can figure out what happens when you add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood…and why we need to add in a clockwise stir…"

Irritation crept into her blue eyes, but he could see that she was thinking about what he had said.

"Fine…" she finally conceded, still sounding only half-convinced. "But if this doesn't work, you are going to explain to Professor Slughorn why we don't have anything worth bottling."

He gave her a glowering look that said he would do nothing of the sort, but she was too busy adding the sloth brains to the cauldron to take notice of it. After the last cube of sloth brain had slipped beneath the lilac surface, Severus picked up his glass stirring rod. He moved so that he was standing directly over the cauldron, and Deirdre moved to within inches of him. Usually, he loathed having his personal space invaded, but for the sake of the experiment, he bit his tongue.

He stirred counter-clockwise, held his breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned the palest pink.

A mixture of delight and surprise lit up her face. "It worked!"

"Of course it did," he responded smoothly.

By the end of the class, it was clear that Severus and Deirdre were the only two who had managed to produce a perfect Draught of Living Death. Severus silently revelled in Slughorn's high praise, as not even Lily had managed to brew a satisfactory potion.

"You make quite the formidable duo," Slughorn stated, drawing Severus' attention back to him.

"Thank you, sir," Severus replied, glancing at Deirdre. Even though he hadn't needed her help, he knew the result could have been very different if she had dug her heels in and refused to go along with the corrections he had suggested.

Slughorn eyed them keenly. "I will be watching the progress of both of you very carefully."

The professor then moved on to the next table to speak with a Gryffindor named Dirk Creswell.

As she put the jars of ingredients back into her bag, Severus decided that it had not been so bad partnering with her. There were far worse students he could have partnered with, like the two Hufflepuffs whose potion had turned out as a thick, black paste.

"I suppose a thank you is in order," Deirdre said as she buckled up her bag. "I would not have gotten full marks if you hadn't suggested those changes."

He was taken aback by her admission, but he did not let it show on his face. "It doesn't help that someone of mediocre talent compiled the textbook."

"I think you might be right…" she agreed, looking at his book which was still open on the desk, silently observing the corrections he had made. She then lifted her gaze to him as he removed his wand to clear away the remains of the potion from the cauldron. "Potions has never been my strongest subject; it was the only E I got in my OWLs."

"Why would you pick it for your NEWTs, then?" he asked.

"It's a required subject for the Healer training programme at St Mungo's."

He lifted the cauldron off the table and placed it into a cupboard beneath the desk. "I see. I assume you're also taking Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

She nodded. "As well as Transfigurations, Charms and Herbology."

"We're taking the same subjects, then."

"Have you decided what you want to do when you leave school?"

"No, not yet," he replied coolly.

"You might think about writing a decent Potions textbook."

He smirked as a small swell of pride rose inside of him at her acknowledgement of his talent.

"Well, since we have a free now, I think I'll start on Professor Slughorn's homework."

With that, she turned away from him and walked out of the classroom. He followed her with his gaze, strangely intrigued by her.

••••••

Defence Against the Dark Arts was the last period of the day. Severus sat at a desk at the back of the room and waited for Professor Spindleweed to stop talking and get on with the practical side of the lesson. He was their sixth Defence teacher, and, like all the others they had had over the past five years, his knowledge of the Dark Arts was lacking. He noted down several counter-arguments to statements the professor had made that he disagreed with, one being that only dark wizards used magic with the intention of harming others. Even a Severing Charm can kill if used irresponsibly, he wrote. Underneath it, he added: Potter and Black cause intentional harm almost daily.

Spindleweed continued to drone on and on, and Severus soon lost interest in what he was saying. He opened his copy of Confronting the Faceless, and on the inside cover, he wrote: This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince. He had already written it in his Potions textbook. He'd drawn inspiration from Voldemort himself; he, too, was a half-blood who had wanted to shun his father's Muggle name and devote himself to the Dark Arts.

Of course, he had been interested in the Dark Arts long before he came to Hogwarts. His mother had never paid enough attention to him to notice that he had discovered a box of books in the attic, filled with an array of volumes on dark magic. She had put them up there to hide them from his father, as it was the one place in the house he seldom went. He had read them all before he was eleven and when he started first year, he knew more about the Dark Arts than most seventh years. He was aware of what others said about him, but he didn't care. If they could not appreciate the hidden mysteries of the Dark Arts, then he was not going to waste time explaining himself to them.

Spindleweed clapped his hands loudly, bringing the whole class to attention. "I want you to break off into pairs now. One partner will attempt to jinx the other using a nonverbal spell, while the other partner will attempt to deflect it using the same method."

From his seat, he looked around the classroom for a suitable partner. Students were pairing up quickly, but he noticed that none of them had approached him. He was used to it. His unpopular status in the school had been sealed last year when Potter had hung him upside-down in the air; no one apart from Lily had tried to help him.

He turned his gaze back to his desk and stared at it. He didn't need to learn this anyway; he already knew how to cast nonverbal spells.

"Snape, do you want to partner with me?"

His head snapped up, and he saw Deirdre standing by his desk. He searched her face to find out if she had been put up to it; if it was a joke at his expense. But she appeared to be genuine in her offer.

He shrugged. "If you want..."

As he stood up, several students openly stared at them, and he saw Sirius Black whispered something to Potter, who laughed cruelly.

He ignored them.

Severus removed his wand from his robes. "Have you ever tried casting a nonverbal spell before?"

"No."

"You cast the jinx, and I will repel it."

He stepped away from her and held his wand at the ready, concentrating.

She heaved a frustrated sigh after several failed attempts. "This is impossible! I'm saying the spell in my head, but nothing is happening."

"That won't work."

"But the professor said –"

"Forget what Spindleweed said," he told her softly. "You're not going to be able to produce a nonverbal spell by simply sounding out the incantation in your head. You need to concentrate and use your mind power. Visualise the jinx, bring it into existence in your mind and then release it."

She seemed more convinced by him this time than she had in Potions, and he suspected it was because he had already proven one 'expert' wrong that day. Taking a deep breath, she held her wand out in front of her. For a good ten minutes, nothing happened, but then a spell burst from the tip of it. Severus immediately threw up a shield charm, and the jinx bounced harmlessly off it.

She smiled at him. "I did it!"

"See, I told you not to pay attention to Spindleweed."

He motioned for her to try it again and she succeeded in casting another jinx, and in a much shorter time. Their professor commented on how well they were both doing, even giving them house points, and Severus could not help the satisfied smirk on his face when Potter's face almost turned purple as he tried to force out a nonverbal spell.

"You seem to know a lot about advanced magic," she said to him later that afternoon as they shared a table in the library.

He turned a page in the book he was reading without looking up at her. "That's because I do."

"How long have you been able to perform nonverbal spells?"

"Are all Ravenclaws this intrusive, or just you?" he responded dryly.

A small smile played on her lips. "Yes, most of us are."

He sat up straight. "You have been asking me questions all afternoon. It's time you answer one for me."

"Which is?"

"What was the other House the Sorting Hat considered placing you in?"

She hesitated for a moment then said, "Actually, the Hat's first choice for me was Slytherin –"

"Why didn't you want to be in Slytherin?" he asked incredulously.

She twirled a quill idly between her fingers. "My older cousin, who used to bully me was in Slytherin. I was only eleven, and I didn't want to be in the same house as him. I told the Sorting Hat to put me in any House but Slytherin."

He realised then that she was related to the other Harper. "You're Aodhán Harper's cousin."

Her mouth flattened. "You know him, then?"

"Not really, he was in seventh year when we started Hogwarts."

Lucius Malfoy had introduced him to Harper not long after he'd learnt how advanced he was in the Dark Arts for someone so young. Severus still remembered the coldness in his blue eyes, but behind that, there was something else, something he could not explain. After that first meeting, though, Harper rarely spoke to him, and when he did, it was only because Severus was with Lucius.

"So, now you know my secret," she said, drawing him from his thoughts.

"You mean, you've never told anyone else?"

"No, not even my parents. They would have been horrified if I had told them I had refused to be in Slytherin. I'm the first Harper in three generations not to be sorted into it."

"Why did you tell me then?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure…"

"Would you choose Slytherin if you could go through the Sorting Ceremony all over again?"

"No, I wouldn't."

A not-so-old wound reopened, and he sneered at her. "Why, because you think we're all dark wizards?"

"Hardly," she replied, sounding as if he had made a ridiculous statement. "I wouldn't associate with most of my family if I thought that."

The wound sealed itself almost immediately, and he asked softly, "Why would you not choose it, then?"

She bit her bottom lip as she thought for a moment. "I would probably be a different person if I had, and I don't think I would have been as challenged to reach my full potential."

"Of course, because Slytherins are notorious for being lazy and unambitious."

"I don't mean it like that…It's just that…" She sighed as if the very thought of what she wanted to tell him frustrated her. "I grew up in a family where my grandparents still think it is pointless to educate a girl beyond her OWLs." Her voice then took on a high-pitched, thick Irish accent. "What will you need NEWTs for when you will be married in a few years? That's what my grandmother said to me when I told her I was going back to Hogwarts for sixth year. My parents are a bit more open-minded, not by much, though. They said I could do my NEWTs, but only because my father thinks I should have enough education to attract a husband but not enough to intimidate him. Of course, no one has ever bothered to ask me what it is I want to do with my life."

She drew in a deep breath as if to calm herself. "But by the end of my first year in Ravenclaw, I was friends with other witches whose parents encouraged them to reach their full potential, and I found myself questioning my parents' beliefs on the issue for the first time in my life."

He had not expected an answer like that.

"So, that is why you want to become a Healer."

"It is not the only reason, but yes, I want to do something more than just boss house-elves around all day."

He smirked at her last comment. "What have your parents said about it?"

She looked away from him but not before he saw a deep hurt in her eyes. "My father doesn't think I will be able to achieve the Es and Os I'll need to apply for the Healer's training programme at St Mungo's, so he's not particularly concerned that I've got ambitions."

Severus understood what it was like to have a father that didn't believe in him, who, for whatever reason, didn't want to acknowledge his son's abilities.

"Prove him wrong, then."

She looked at him. "What?"

"Show him what you're capable of."

She stared at him for a few moments, weighing up his words. "You're right; I should show him."

He smirked. "Good, and I can help you with Potions if you want."

She smiled in acknowledgement of his offer. "And perhaps Defence, too?"

"I suppose so."

"Thanks, Severus!"

His name rolled off her tongue so naturally that it sounded like they'd been friends for years, rather than only having spoken to each for the first time that morning. He looked at her for a long moment before picking up his quill and making notes on the uses of bladderwort in potion-making. He still couldn't quite understand why she had decided to partner with him in Defence class; there were plenty of other students she could have asked. And this afternoon, she had chosen to come to the library with him. Most of all, he wasn't sure why he had been so quick to offer to help her through her NEWTs.

••••••

That night, Severus sat in his bed with the curtains pulled around it and wrote a response to Lucius's note:

Tell him I'm honoured he's chosen me. I will join him once I've completed my studies.

S.S.

••••••

The months seemed to pass by in a blur, and before Severus knew it, he was in his seventh year at Hogwarts. The final NEWT exams hung on the horizon like ominous clouds, getting darker as they drew nearer. But on the other side of his studies was the promise of becoming one of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters. Lucius had continued to write to him from time to time, reminding him that the Dark Lord was keeping a place at his side especially for him. Avery and Mulciber had finished their seventh year and had probably already joined him, and it only fuelled Severus' desire to do so, too.

He entered the library on the last Saturday before the Christmas holidays and walked through it, looking down the rows as he went. Deirdre had said she would meet him there so they could discuss the potion they had each chosen to brew for their final exam. Unlike their OWLs, students at NEWT-level chose the potion they wanted to be examined on, with E and O grades only being given to those whose potions were not only appropriately brewed but were also sufficiently challenging.

Some students in their class would probably choose the 'safer' option and make something simple like a Hiccoughing Solution. But he wanted more than just an A in his NEWT Potions; therefore, he had decided he would make Felix Felicis. It would take six months to stew, but Slughorn would oversee the making of it, and the Wizarding Examinations Authority would grade the final product.

When he reached a more deserted part of the library, he saw Deirdre sitting at a desk, her cheeks flushed and her eyes red. Concerned, he hurried to her and quietly sat down in a chair opposite her.

"Deirdre," he said frowning. "What's wrong?"

She shoved a piece of parchment across the table. "Read that."

Picking up the letter, he started to read, his lips growing thinner with every sentence:

Deirdre,

It is time for you to give up this ridiculous notion you have of pursuing a career. Your mother and I have indulged you long enough, but you must face reality and accept that your role in life lies in a different direction. If, however, you decide to go against our wishes, then you can be assured you will not receive so much as a single knut from us.

Your Father.

"How can he be so obtuse," he spat, throwing the letter onto the desk when he finished reading. "Doesn't he know how hard you've worked?"

She sniffed and wiped tears from her cheek. "He doesn't care about that; all he cares about is how it's going to look to others, especially those of his ilk in the Ministry, and that they'll think he's unable to control his daughter."

Severus stared at her intently. "Why do you even need his permission?"

She gave a hollow laugh. "I don't need it, but I do need his money."

He leaned closer to her, lowering his voice. "There might be another way for you to get what you want, Deirdre. I have heard reports about You-Know-Who, and that he's willing to help those who join him."

Something shifted in her eyes, and he thought he saw a flicker of horror in them. "Join him? Why in Merlin's name would I want to do that?"

"I thought your family supported him," he responded coolly.

"Some of them do, but I don't."

"You...like Muggles now, do you?"

She threw him a disgusted look. "No, I don't, but that's beside the point."

"Do you not think we should be able to practice magic wherever we like, whenever we like and in front of whomever we like?"

"In an ideal world – yes," she stated then pointed to the letter on the table, "but You-Know-Who wants to force Muggles into submission to him, just like my father wants to force me into being obedient to him. What right do we have to make the lives of others miserable simply so we can have what we want?"

Her argument reverberated inside of him, pricking his conscience, but he forced it down deep, refusing to acknowledge it.

"What about Mudbloods, then, do you think they have a place in our world?" he asked.

She didn't flinch at the word, which she had probably heard countless times at home. "I'm not friends with any, so I can't say if they do or not."

"Well, they don't."

She didn't respond but simply stared at him, though he could see her mind was working. Finally, she said, "Are you thinking of joining You-Know-Who when you leave school?"

"What if I am?" he asked, wanting to test the boundaries of their friendship.

Her eyes widened and the flicker of horror he'd seen now filled them. "He's dangerous, Severus! I overheard Aodhán telling my father one time that You-Know-Who's involved in dark magic that even he wouldn't touch."

He kept his interest in what she had said behind an impenetrable mask. "Such as?"

"I don't know, but it's why he barely looks human anymore."

"How do you know what he looks like?"

"As I said, I overheard Aodhán telling my father things." An involuntary shudder seemed to rake down her spine. "I hope I never have to face him myself."

"Indeed."

She looked at him, her eyes still tinged with unease. "Be honest with me, do you want to join him?"

"No, I don't," he replied. She wouldn't understand why he wanted to become a Death Eater.

Tension seemed to leave her body as she sat back in her chair, but there was a heavy silence between them that he did not like. A quiet voice inside his mind told him that he should try to explain to her his reasons for wanting to join Voldemort, that she was far more understanding of him than Lily had ever been. But he didn't want to listen to what the voice had to say; he wasn't prepared to take that risk and lose another friend.

"So, have you finally decided what potion you want to brew?" he asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Yes – Amortentia."

He arched an eyebrow. "That's ambitious."

She gave a soft snort. "And Felix Felicis isn't?"

"According to Slughorn, no one else has ever tried to make it for their final NEWT exam."

She smiled. "Of course they haven't; it's something only you'd do. You'll probably get an O for it, too."

He smirked at her comment, but he also felt a familiar swell of pride that rose when she praised him.

••••••

"How was it?" Severus asked as Deirdre sat down beside him on a bench in the courtyard, having just finished her Potions practical exam.

"I think it went well."

"Did you remember to add the Ashwinder eggs exactly one minute after you'd stirred in the Powdered Moonstone?"

"Yes, I did."

"And did you rip the peppermint leaves rather than chop them? And were the rose thorns coarsely ground rather than crushed into a fine powder?"

She gave him a slightly exasperated look. "Yes, I remembered to do all that. The examiner didn't give much away, but I think she was impressed. I didn't like that we had to be examined individually, though, the silence in the room made me even more nervous."

"I preferred it that way."

"You would," she said, nudging her shoulder playfully into his. She then sniffed the air as if a strange smell had wafted in their direction. "Have you always worn that aftershave?"

He gave her an odd look. "Yes, ever since I started shaving last year. Why?"

"It's just, during the exam I thought I smelt…" She then shook her head. "It's nothing…I was just wondering, that's all."

He muttered something about eccentric Ravenclaws and went back to reading over his notes for their Transfiguration written exam.

••••••

Severus walked down the steps of the Hogwarts Express for the last time and onto platform nine and three-quarters. School had been his life for so long that it suddenly felt surreal that he would not be returning there in September. But the same excitement that had risen inside of him the day he'd received his first letter from Lucius spread through him once again. The blond wizard had sent him a final message two days ago, telling him to meet him in The White Wyvern in Knockturn Alley the following Monday; he would then take him to meet Lord Voldemort.

"You're still going to London, then?" Deirdre asked as she followed down the steps behind him.

"Yes, I am," he replied, helping her with her trunk. Not only were Avery and Mulciber in London, but he could not bear the thought of having to live in the same house as his father again.

"Have you finally decided on what you're going to do?"

"Not yet." Lying to her about his future aims had become almost second nature to him now. "You'll let me know come August what your decision will be?"

"If I get the grades I need, then there won't be a decision to make. I'm determined to do this, with or without my parents' help."

He smirked. "Good."

"I'll write to you when I'm moving and let you know where I'll be living." She looked past him. "My parents are here."

He turned his head and stared at them. As usual, her father scowled at him, seemingly convinced that Severus had nefarious intentions for his daughter. He was tall and thin and held himself in an imperious manner. His nose was straight like Deirdre's, but a dark sternness marked his features, making him look far from inviting. Her mother, too, held herself with an arrogance that did not engender affability, but she lacked her husband's foreboding countenance. Unfazed, he regarded them with a bored expression and then returned his attention to Deirdre again.

He frowned. "Will you be OK?"

"Yes, Severus, I'll be fine. My parents will hate what I'm planning to do, but they're not ogres." She gave him a brief hug before she grabbed hold of her trunk. "I'll see you soon."

As she walked across the platform towards her parents, he followed her with his gaze. It pleased him that she had decided to go against their wishes; that she would be living in the same city as him. She didn't have to know about what he planned to do, and even if she did find out, it would too late by then to reverse his decision.