Despite Hermione´s numerous attempts to temper Harry´s dislike of the spy, the Boy-Who-Lived was still convinced that Snape was double-crossing Dumbledore. Even Ron had lately stopped deriding the greasy Potions master openly, muttering something like, "I wouldn´t care about my hair either if You-Know-Who had me under Cruciatus twice a week".

Therefore, Harry, due to his homework and running the D.A. was getting exhausted with stalking Snape under his invisibility cloak all on his own. Stifling a yawn, he pondered whether to call it a day when he heard running steps. Blaise Zabini came hurrying by, knocking at the door of Snape´s private quarters rather impatiently. The Head of Slytherin opened the door in his robes and slippers.

"Sir, it´s Miss Witherington! She´s locked herself in the girl's toilet with a spell that none of us recognize and is wailing that she´s going to die!"

"Right, Mr. Zabini, I´m coming."

Harry hurriedly followed them into the Slytherin common room and then up to the girl´s dorm where quite a crowd had gathered in front of the toilets. Thankfully, even the Slytherins gave their Head of House a wide berth, thus enabling Harry to sneak into the toilets with him.

Snape was already waving his wand to find out which obscure curse the first year had used to lock herself in. Technically, she shouldn't know anything of that sort, but one couldn´t be too sure with children from those pureblood families, Harry guessed.

The Potions master had got the door open and was already administering a diagnostic spell over a figure huddled in front of a blood-smeared toilet bowl. His mien showed relief and a certain reluctance, but you couldn´t be sure with Snape.

"Mr. Zabini, do you happen to know whether the Head Girl is on patrol duty?"

"She is, sir."

"All right then, I´ll deal with this myself. You were right to summon me but there´s nothing to worry about. Go back to the common room, all of you."

After the Slytherins had left, their Head of House crouched down beside the girl and spoke in a gentle voice that Harry had never heard him use before.

"Miss Witherington, you are not ill and you´re certainly not going to die. If you will stand up, I can help you clean up a bit."

The pupil did as she was told and Harry could see her tear streaked face and bloody hands. Snape disposed of the mess with a few wand waves and then conjured something out of toilet paper, which Harry couldn´t see. He also didn't hear Snape's next few words before the Potions master stepped outside the cubicle, closing the door behind him. Conjuring two chairs and a small table with tea and biscuits, he motioned the girl to sit after she had reemerged looking a little bit more composed.

Still using that gentle voice, Snape poured two cups and began.

"Miss Witherington, I may not be the ideal person to speak to you about this, but as neither Madame Pomfrey nor the Head Girl is available, I will have to do."

Very gently and slowly, he continued to explain certain facts of life to the now markedly less panicked girl, keeping matters simple and not forgetting practical issues like the use of hot water bottles, helpful potions and the available leave of absence slips for broom riding lessons during that time of month. As Miss Witherington relaxed, Snape skillfully drew the conversation to her family and studies, displaying such a thorough knowledge of everything concerning her that Harry was left astonished and more than a little bit envious. Although he wouldn´t know how Professor McGonagall dealt with feminine matters he was quite sure that she didn´t know her students that well.

A few minutes later, Snape sent the girl off, robe pockets stuffed with biscuits. Harry´s legs had gone numb from crouching behind one of the chairs; therefore, he was not quick enough in retreating before Snape cast the spell to vanish the chairs and tea setting. He then noticed the presence of someone else.

"Show yourself!"

Harry stood to his full height, prepared to face the inevitable, slipping off his invisibility cloak.

"Well, well, Mr. Potter. Snooping around the Slytherin girl's toilets. What do you have to say for yourself?"

The boy felt himself unable to voice his thoughts, especially given his change of opinion during the last half hour. Therefore, he invited the professor to read his mind.

"See for yourself, sir."

After a few moments, Snape´s mien grew as wistful as possible on his ever scowling face.

"Yes, Potter, things might have been different had you let the Sorting Hat do its job. Off ye go, brat."

The End