Six days later, Snape tossed the Prophet onto the table with a growl. Idiots. The whole lot of them. How could the Aurors not know who had killed three wizards? There had to be witnesses in Hogsmeade. It was a nosy village for goodness sake. The ladies were always watching him whenever he was there, gossiping behind his back like the old hags they were. He shook his head.

He went to take another bite of his breakfast when he felt his wards shake slightly to alert him of someone standing outside his rooms. He sighed, glancing at the clock. Harry would be in Charms currently, so it wouldn't be his son.

"Enter." He stood up a moment later, facing the door to greet his guest. His gut clenched instantly at the sight of Aurora. He was still reeling from his revelation of his growing feelings for her.

"Morning." She smiled warmly as she walked towards him. "Thought I'd come early today since we both have things to do." She sat at the table a moment later. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No. Quicker I get rid of you, the better," he replied flatly. She rolled her eyes, laughing.

"I see making a lady feel welcomed wasn't something you received an OWL in."

"Hardly. I actually put my mind to use unlike the rest of the idiots here." He sat across from her, thankful of the table between them. He watched her glance at the Prophet. "It's utter rubbish today. They state they have no leads."

"So I heard." She shook her head before she ran her fingers through her dark curls. Something he had noted was when she was unsettled by something. "According to Rosmerta, they were after Layla."

"Another pureblood," he stated.

"Yeah. Unfortunately." She pushed the paper away.

"I assume you're taking precautions?"

Snape would never admit it if asked, but he had made it a habit the past few days to check on her by means of the Bloody Baron. The Baron thankfully never asked questions. Coming to terms with his feelings was definitely going to be harder than he had thought it would be, especially with the danger they were facing. Why couldn't they have just a nice quiet year for once?

"Why, Severus, I didn't know you cared," she joked before giving a short laugh. "Yeah. Of course. I'm sticking mostly to my tower."

He nodded slowly. He knew this of course thanks to the Baron. He also knew that she frequently paced up in her tower now—something he had witnessed firsthand as he watched her from the shadows, unable to find the courage in himself to reveal that he was there. Hogsmeade was close. Too close.

"You are aware that you're safe here, yes?"

"I know, Severus." She laughed softly, the smile not quite reaching her lips. "There's no safer place than Hogwarts." She then shook her head. "Well, unless you're anywhere near the Defense professors that is."

"Indeed." Snape frowned as he stabbed a bit of bacon. "Unfortunately, though, Lockhart wasn't the source of the voice Harry heard. The idiot had been thinking of a voluptuous witch at the time." He grimaced as the image flickered in his mind before he pushed the thought far away.

"You didn't," she breathed, staring at him with her mouth slightly opened. "Oh, dear Circe, tell me you didn't. Severus, there's a thing called privacy!"

"I will not apologize, Sinistra. Any parent would do the same to ensure that his child is safe. Lockhart was none the wiser."

"Well, of course not. The man's an idiot."

Snape took another bite and smirked inwardly. He was very thankful that she was not like the rest of the witches in Hogwarts, falling for the charm of Gilderoy Lockhart. It did make him feel less tense regarding his feelings. He wouldn't have to fight off another man this time to win her affections.

"I bet he's not even that good in bed anyway."

Snape paused before he swallowed. She had to be joking. "You've considered this, Sinistra?"

"What? No. I just—well, you know how it is." She then sighed. "Actually you wouldn't. Never mind. It's just that everyone's wondering. The others like Septima and such." She shrugged. "I mean, I couldn't care less what he's like in bed because he's not the man I want. It's just it makes a person curious if he's just all crap, you know?"

Snape was already stuck on the 'man I want,' however. He was that man, wasn't he? Or maybe there was another? He hadn't seen her over the summer break. She could've met someone. It was possible. Unlikely because the man would be eliminated now once Snape found out who he was, but it was still possible.

"Are you all right, Severus?"

"Hmm?" His head then snapped up. "Oh, yes, I'm fine."

"Want to share those thoughts? You seemed miles away just now."

"Merely recalling if I have enough ingredients for my second year class," he lied smoothly.

"Oh, of course. How could I forget?" She laughed. "You can't take the Potions Master out of the man of course." She rolled her eyes before she reached forward to snag a piece of his bacon.

He frowned instantly and swatted her hand.

"What? It smells amazing, Severus. You can't blame a witch for trying."

"It's rude to steal food from other's plates, Sinistra. Perhaps your parents never—"

"Oh, please. Mother would have had a conniption fit if I tried it in her presence."

"And what? You believed I'd say nothing? Allow you to steal my bacon?"

"Honestly? No." She tried to reach for another piece, laughing when he swatted at her hand again. "But a gentleman would offer a lady a piece."

"Since when have I ever been a gentleman?" he grumbled. If she kept this up, he'd just give her the damn plate. Insufferable witches who don't understand boundaries.

"Well, I'm hoping you'll surprise me one of these days, Severus." Giving him a perfect pout, she slowly walked her fingers to his plate.

"No."

"Please, Severus? I'll be a good witch and not bet against Slytherin in Quidditch."

"You'd bet against your own house?"

"Yeah, course I would." She shrugged. "Harry's the better Seeker."

"I thought you hated Quidditch."

"I do. It's barbaric and unnecessary, but some of us have to keep up appearances, Severus."

He snorted. "And what's yours exactly? Hmm? Clumsy twit?"

"Better than dungeon-dwelling git," she said with a shrug before she leaned back.

"Why thank you, Miss Sinistra. I do appreciate that compliment immensely," he drawled. "If you weren't the traitorous Slytherin you are, then I might have awarded you points for that."

"Oh?" Her brown eyes sparkled in the torchlight. "How much?"

"Five."

"Five? That was well worth at least fifteen. You, sir, are a stingy bastard."

He snorted, shaking his head. "And you, Miss Sinistra, are easy."

"Easy? Well, you'll never know just how easy I am then, will you, Mister Snape?" She grinned before leaping forward, finally snagging a piece of bacon and giving him a wink as she took a bite.

Oh dear Felix Felicis, he was screwed. Positively screwed. He grabbed his cup of tea, taking a sip. There was a humming in his body now. A humming that he desperately wished would disappear.

"Are you sure you're well? You seem a little peakish today."

"I'm fine." He added in his head, just trying to figure out what to do now after realizing I'm falling for you.

"If you say so." She smiled before licking her finger.

Snape swallowed and quickly glanced away. Oh dear Merlin. He shifted slightly in his chair. He would not allow his emotions to control him. He was in control. Not them. He just had to play it cool. She'd not notice a difference. She couldn't notice a difference. At least not until he was ready.

He took another drink of his tea, deciding he'd add Firewhiskey to it the first chance he had. Merlin above, he was not some hormone-riddled adolescent. He then glanced back at the witch sitting across from him. She was once again reading the Prophet. He could be professional. Hell, he was a spy dammit. Control was vital. He could get through this meeting with her. He could . . . he hoped.

"I think you've managed to waste enough of my time this morning. So, let's get this over with," he snapped, somehow finding the strength to speak. Anger was always good to use.

~FKTF~

Harry watched the young witch from across from him. He tapped his fingers against the table before he glanced up at the clock. She hadn't moved. At all. It was infuriating. He shifted on the large bench. What was she waiting for?

"Mione?" She glanced up at Harry immediately. "Aren't you going to open it?" She stared at him. "Your present?"

What was up with her? She had been acting odd all day. It was her birthday. He knew it was. He had even made a note to make sure he remembered. Harry then frowned.

"Is everything all right, 'Mione?" Harry asked quietly.

"Did you send me a necklace?" she replied, frowning. "Earlier, I mean."

"No. This is the only gift I have for you. Why?"

"Oh." She sighed. She then glanced at Ron. "You didn't send me one, did you?"

Ron stared at her for a few moments before he swallowed. "Well, uh, well, you see, um, no." He then glanced down at the table instantly, his ears turning red.

"Is there something wrong with the necklace?" Harry was honestly confused. Didn't witches like jewelry? His Aunt Petunia was always showing hers off and telling people about it.

"Well, no, I—you're right. It could be cursed."

"Mione, you're not making sense. I don't understand."

"When I woke up this morning, there was a box on my nightstand. I opened it and found a necklace inside. You're certain neither of you gave it to me?" Both boys nodded. She sighed.

"Well, if you think it's cursed, we can always go see my dad and have him check it out," Harry offered with a shrugged. He watched the witch's eyes light up instantly.

"I'd like that. Just to be sure." She smiled faintly before she gathered up her books. She was halfway out of the Great Hall before she turned back. "Well, are you two coming or not?"

Harry and Ron quickly scrambled to their feet and followed her. The walk down to the dungeons was quiet, the boys having to run nearly to keep up with the determined witch. When they reached the portrait, Harry sighed.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Mr. Potter in the flesh," purred Salazar from his portrait that guarded Harry's dad's rooms.

"Could you tell Dad we're here, so he'll let us in?" The Slytherin Founder cocked an eyebrow in response. "Please, Salazar," Harry added, swallowing nervously. He knew his father would be awake. The man rarely slept in.

"As you wish, young Mr. Potter." Salazar then disappeared from his portrait before it slowly creaked open a moment later, allowing the three Gryffindors in.

Harry stepped in first, walking further into the room soon after with a warm smile. His eyes darted to the shadows and watched his father appear from the short hallway. The young boy turned his head to the side, then. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear his father just woke up.

"Is something wrong?" His dad's rich velvety voice surrounded them.

"Mione got a necklace, Dad." Harry then untimely paused.

"I see." His dad frowned before he glanced at the two Gryffindors behind Harry. "I take it there's more to this than just that?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied, taking a step forward. "I've read about curses you see, but I've never learned how to detect them. So, Harry suggested that we come and see you, so that you would inspect it to make sure that it's not dark."

Harry's dad's eyebrow rose slowly. "I see." He cleared his throat quietly before he exhaled and held a hand out. "Let me look at it."

Hermione reached into her robes before pulling out a large velvet black box. She carefully handed it over and took a step back from him. "There was no note," she explained. "And, well, considering what happened the other day on the Quidditch Pitch . . ." Her voice faltered.

Harry gulped when his dad's dark eyes darted to him instantly. He had forgotten to tell his father about that unfortunately. He glanced down and winced.

"And just what occurred on the Quidditch Pitch exactly?" His dad's voice was deathly soft.

"Couple of your slimy gits insulted Hermione," Ron loudly said. "Called her a Mudblood."

Harry watched his dad's jaw clench instantly. He had seen that look in his father's face before—whenever they talked about the Dursleys. It was one of the few emotions Harry could recognize on his father's face. He grabbed Ron and yanked him back suddenly.

"He didn't mean it against you, Dad. Promise. It's just that stupid Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry thing. That's all," Harry quickly cried out, truly scared for his best mate's life right then. His father stopped in mid-step with a clenched fist instantly.

"That word is not just some 'stupid Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry thing," his father spat out before he whirled on Ron. "Who? Give me their names. Now, Weasley!"

"Flint and Montague," Ron yelped out.

"Why didn't you inform me of this earlier, Harry?" his dad growled at him.

"I don't know. I . . . I didn't think it was that big a deal."

"You didn't think—Weasley, did you tell him what it meant?"

"No, sir," Ron replied quietly.

"Miss Granger, did you?"

"No, sir," she answered softly, keeping her eyes down on the floor.

"What? What is it, Dad?" Harry frowned, glancing at his silent friends. Now, he wondered what the word meant. Clearly it was an insult, but . . . why was it so bad? "Dad, what's a Mudblood?" Harry gulped and took a step back when his father's face morphed back into anger.

"Do not say that word. Ever!" his dad snarled, glaring at the young boy.

"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry!" Harry felt genuinely scared. His dad would never hurt him. He knew that. But the man was angrier than Uncle Vernon ever was right now.

"Leave. All of you. Now."

"But the necklace—" Harry said.

"Later. Get out. Now."

The three Gryffindors fled instantly, Harry running to his bed. What had he said wrong?

~FKTF~

An hour before curfew, Harry found himself in the Astronomy tower. He had managed to hide from everyone all day, especially Hermione and Ron. But he couldn't help himself any longer. He needed to know what he did wrong. So, since he wasn't going to risk his dad going off on him again, he found himself there, standing in front of a sturdy oak door to an office.

Surely she'd not turn him away. Right? He swallowed slowly, feeling his insides clench. What if she got mad at him too? Then he would have no one. He shook his head a moment later. He was being stupid. She wouldn't. He raised his hand to knock before his hand just opened the door instead.

"Mum?" he spoke with a slight tremor in his voice as he stepped inside the office. He heard a gasp instantly, which caused him to stop. "Oh. I-uh—I didn't—I'm sorry—I—oh." He turned to leave.

"It's all right, Mr. Potter," the older witch called out with a soft smile. "We were just finishing up here. Weren't we, Miss Weasley?"

"Yes, Professor Sinistra," replied the soft spoken, shy Weasley girl as she slowly got to her feet from the chair she had been sitting in. "I'll see you tomorrow." She then silently walked past Harry, her eyes never meeting his as she left. The door closed behind her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you had someone in here," Harry apologized.

"Just knock next time, all right?" She smiled at him before she stood herself, her long blue robes flowing gracefully behind her. "Want some tea or juice?"

"No thank you," Harry answered softly, hanging his head. He was screwing up left and right today. He sighed loudly.

"Uh-oh. That's not good." She laughed softly. "What happened?"

"Dad's mad at me."

"Oh?" She paused, narrowing her warm brown eyes on him. "How so?"

"Because I repeated a word that I guess is really bad to say."

"Which one? Divination?" she joked, smiling softly.

"No." He glanced down at the ground again, shifting his weight nervously.

Her smile vanished, seriousness taking over. "Go ahead. Say the word, Harry."

"I don't want you mad at me either."

"It takes a lot to get me angry. Now, come on. Out with it. What's the word?"

"Mudblood," he whispered, wincing. He slowly glanced up and noticed her look of recognition.

"Oh. That word." She sighed, shaking her head. "He's not mad at you, Harry. I promise."

"He seemed really angry."

"Yes, I bet he was. That particular word invokes very painful memories for him."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure I'm allowed to tell you that answer, Harry. Roundabout way of answering you, though, is that it had to do with your mother."

"What does it mean? Ron seemed to know it. And Mione, but she won't tell me either."

"Well, first, let me let you in on something." She smiles faintly before she sat down and leaned towards him. "We Purebloods are arrogant arseholes. We like to spout off crap like blood purity to make ourselves feel better. In other words-overcompensate." She laughed softly. "Most Purebloods have realized by now that the bloodlines cannot remain pure anymore. There needs to be blending with half-bloods and Muggleborns and yes, even Muggles as horrifying of a thought as that is to some. There are some out there, though, who have wands stuck up their arses so far that their brains don't work quite right anymore."

Harry laughed, nodding.

"Well, those idiots are the ones who give the rest of us Purebloods a bad name. You see, these particular idiots would be the first to tell you that the Weasleys, a Pureblood family mind you, aren't actually a true Pureblood family. Their reasoning? Because of Arthur's obsession with Muggles and their favorable views concerning Non-Magical folk. If these particular idiots had their way, there would only be three families left. My own family not included of course. Can you guess the families?"

Harry shrugged.

"Malfoy, Black, and Lestrange," she answered softly. "Three prominent and heavily Slytherin Pureblood families. I'll let you in on a secret, though." She smiled. "There are no true Pureblood families anymore. Malfoys lie to cover their past with Muggles. Blacks simply remove anyone seen talking to a Muggle, regardless of the reason. And Lestranges—well, they're mostly crazy and who really knows about them?" She laughed quietly. "We're all interrelated in some way of course, so none of us can truly state that we are fully pure in our lines. We all have someone in our family trees who was favorable to Muggles or involved with them. Just most families remove all traces of it, ashamed of their ancestry. So arsehole Purebloods say that stupid word in a moronic attempt to claim that Muggleborns have dirty blood, lesser than them, the oh-so-mighty Purebloods. It's all a crock really."

"Oh. So you're not really a Pureblood?"

"Not a true one in the sense of having family who didn't support Muggle Rights." She smiled again. "You see, Phineas Black is my great-grandfather. His parents, Phineas Nigellus and Ursula Flint, removed him from the Black family tree once my great-grandfather began to openly state that he was for Muggle Rights, in essence my great-grandfather claimed that they were no different from us. His parents basically removed all traces that he was ever a Black and disowned him as a result."

"That's stupid."

"I agree, but it's how some families try to maintain their false status of being a true Pureblood."

"If you're not a true Pureblood, then why do you say you're one?"

"Like I said before, Harry, we're arrogant arseholes. Myself included." She laughed, smiling as Harry laughed with her. "No, seriously, though, I claim to be a Pureblood because I have no direct Muggleborn, Half-blood or Muggle ancestors who are related to me either by blood or marriage. Removing someone because of their views does not constitute removing their blood status in my mind. It's something my great-great grandfather learned."

"Is he still alive? Your great-great grandfather?"

"No. He died long ago. However, he has a portrait—well, two actually here. You see, every former Headmaster has a portrait made during his or her tenure that is hung in the Headmaster's office. His second portrait is up here in my tower in my rooms. I like to keep family close by."

"He was a Headmaster?"

"Oh, yes." She laughed. "The least popular Headmaster in Hogwarts' history."

"Was he that bad?"

"He's a bit like your dad. A bit of an acquired taste."

"Why do you have a portrait of him if he's such a git? You said he removed your great-grandfather from the family tree. I mean, why would you keep him around?"

"Because he learned his lesson before his death, Harry. He came to be very proud of his son. My great-great grandmother didn't know of course, but he was quite proud of my great grandfather for standing up for his beliefs no matter what the rest of the family thought."

"So are you a Black, then?"

"No. The Sinistra surname skipped a generation with my great grandmother. It's quite the sordid tale." She then glanced up at the clock before she shook her head. "One that time won't allow me to tell, I'm afraid." She smiled at him. "Come on. Let's get you back to the dorms." They walked to the door to leave, only to stop when there was a knock. "Strange," she remarked quietly.

Harry glanced up at her instantly. She hadn't been expecting anyone else tonight? He stuck his hand into his robes, clenching his wand just in case as she opened the door.

"Professor Rayne," she stated with a faint smile. "I must admit this is unexpected."

The Muggle Studies professor merely raised an eyebrow before her deep green eyes darted to Harry. She stared at him coldly for a moment.

"Of course," Professor Rayne finally replied quietly. Her mouth barely moved as she spoke, Harry noticed. "Many apologies, Aurora. I was not aware that you were so . . . close to young Mr. Potter." She smiled just a bit. "I shall wait for your return then. It is such a beautiful night after all."

"That it is, Professor," she responded with a soft laugh. "Come on, Mr. Potter. Let's go."

Harry followed silently, swallowing slowly. There was something about the new professor. He couldn't put his finger on it. But she was positively creepy. He suppressed a shudder as he thought back on how little Professor Rayne's mouth moved. It was . . . unnatural. Just what was she hiding?