Jessamine Potter hated favouritism, most of all when it was directed towards her.

She watched as Professor Sinistra strode past Heath, who had dutifully raised his hand upon finishing their predictive charts, to come to a halt next to her, further at the back.

It had started at home, but now, its influence permeated everywhere. It implied that he deserved less. Fewer toys, Less food, less time, less joy, and, most of all, less love.

Less attention and fussing-over, certainly, than the girl who everyone believed had repelled an attack by the Evil Overlord Voldemort. She hated being called the “Girl-Who-Lived.” Heath Potter had survived the same attack! But then, he’d been cast aside for no good reason at all – he lacked a jagged scar across his forehead. 

Jess hated the infamous lighting bolt more than her fringe falling into her eyes.

She put her hand down as Professor Sinistra glanced over her work and nodded, giving five points to Gryffindor. When the Professor went on to inspect Heath’s work, she frowned.

“Not nearly as well-done as Miss Potter’s. Five points from Slytherin for imprecision.”

A few vague snickers sounded from behind her, presumably from the Gryffindors, though when Jess cracked her knuckles, they stopped. 

She scoffed. As if Heath's chart could be any more than a hair’s breadth off. Mr. Precise and Accurate had the fine motor skills and the intelligence she lacked, and she’d never believe his work was anything less than perfect. 

Even Hermione could acknowledge that Heath was more meticulous than she herself was.

Sinistra tutted, and Jess barely refrained from rolling her eyes. She'd once made the mistake of pointing out her brother's precision over hers. The Astronomy teacher had only found more fault with his work.

And Jess knew, however false it was, Heath would take Sinistra’s criticism to heart.

He still struggled to hide his sensitive side. Hell, even now, he felt guilty over lashing out at her on Halloween last year. He'd been afraid of losing her, too, over his Sorting. Their father had already sent a Howler, drunkenly accusing Heath of being a "stain on his noble family" – right in the Great Hall, during the Feast celebrating the anniversary of their mother's murder.

The looks of mocking pity Heath had received from all houses had only inflamed Jess' ire, so much that she'd had to leave or she feared she would explode something. Heath, of course, had taken it the wrong way, and it had taken nearly the whole night to calm them both down.

She wouldn’t abandon her younger twin over something as ridiculous as a Sorting.

Since that day, she'd refused to speak to their father unless necessary, much as the man had nothing to say to Heath, apart from the essentials.

She was out as often as possible whenever they had to be home. After all, James Potter was easily placated by the prospect of his daughter causing mischief, and would never suspect his non-Marauding son to be accompanying her. She would go to the local library with Heath, and they'd owl Professor Snape, just because they could. 

He, at least, never treated Heath as less important than her. She glowered at Sinistra, who had rather pointedly turned her back to Heath as he raised his hand once more.

House affiliation shouldn't matter, either way. Being loyal or brave or ambitious or clever didn't make someone good or bad. Politics went over her head, and Heath had hinted that they'd better keep an eye on certain Slytherins especially out for the both of them. But the level of pettiness openly displayed by some Gryffindors was… she had no words. 

She shot her housemates an evil look as they chattered and snickered. Of course, Sinistra pretended not to notice.

It was so stupid. Everyone knew that Severus Snape, Slytherin extraordinaire (he'd out-Slytherined the Evil Slithering Overlord! You couldn't get more Slytherin than that!), had been the one to uncover that rat of a traitor. Heath also said that he'd heard Professor Snape had been part of the group who had ensured Voldemort wouldn’t come back, ever. 

And Peter Pettigrew, the friend-betraying, mother-killing vermin, had been a Gryffindor. 

But exceptions only prove the rule , she could hear the idiots say. It brought her blood to boil – there simply was no rule except for blatant bigotry. People would rather forget the facts and smother themselves in prejudice.

When the bell rang, she was out in a flash, waiting by the door, glad to be done – for now. 

She groaned when she realised the practicals were set for that night. She hated putting up with all the fawning. She wished, again, that she’d dropped the class. But Heath insisted the information was worthwhile, and she’d never let him face the masses on his own. 

She smiled when Hermione came out with Heath in tow, Neville following closely. 

Herbology was a bit better, since Professor Sprout was never overly critical against Heath. But the motherly teacher, Jess thought, still tended to overplay her supposed green thumb. She certainly was nowhere near Neville's level. 

She was thoroughly sick of it. She considered it mercy that the afternoon ended with Potions. 

– 

The second-year Slytherin/Gryffindor class, Severus thought, was nowhere near as horrendous to supervise as it might have been – had been, in past years. 

It was a recurring thought – he had it at least once a month.

Today, once again, Jessamine and Heath Potter had saved the class and his sanity.

"I expect you to hand in twelve inches by Thursday on why a Swelling Solution, in any stage of completion, should not be inhaled. Dismissed."

He suspected the Potter siblings knew the reasons. Had it not been for Mr Potter's narrow-eyed glance a few moments before the bat spleen was added, Malfoy's attempt at sabotaging Longbottom's potion would have led to disastrous results. It had been teetering on the brink of eruption even with Ms Potter's frequent non-verbal cues to the boy. 

Indeed, the twins lived to astound Severus. 

He had believed that the Potters, especially the Girl-Who-Lived, would be as full of themselves as their father, especially during this past decade Potter Sr had spent riding on his daughter's fame. 

Instead, Severus saw two children whom he found likeable almost against his will.

He had given in to the temptation of quizzing Ms Potter when she first entered his classroom. To his utter astonishment, she had answered his questions both adequately and respectfully, with a look of intense gratitude on her face before she flicked a quick look at her twin. 

And the boy! Of course, Severus had been dumbfounded by the Sorting. He’d waited, expecting every moment to see some of Potter Sr’s cruel streak. All his Slytherins knew to be alert for bullying; they knew he would punish the perpetrators harshly. 

Heath Potter did not possess such tendencies. He spent most of his time in the library, usually with his sister, maintaining a diplomatic distance to the rest of Slytherin. At first, the boy had shrugged off the harassment from certain individuals of Slytherin House with bored indifference. The second strike had been met with light retaliation, harmless prank jinxes here and there. 

By then, Severus had already been convinced to step in for young Potter if necessary, not just in the name of fairness to all members of his House. 

It did not help the aggressors' case that they were very obvious about their motivations. 

The moment the would-be knights of the next blood-purist megalomaniac planned to involve Jessamine, however, they found themselves on the wrong end of a creative, underhanded, and vicious young wand. 

Even Severus, when faced with all the Marauders at once, had never considered using a Mending Charm to seal one's opponent within their clothes, or using a Switching Spell to switch their feet. 

When asked, the boy had simply shrugged and answered, 

"James Potter might have taught his son, too – but, well. I sorted Slytherin. Not that there’s anything wrong with it – Jessie and I both knew I had no hope of upholding the family honour ." He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, we decided to prepare a bit. After all, bullies come from everywhere, and they always use the same tactics."

The boy’s sneer had given Severus pause – no eleven-year-old should be so world-weary, and yet, Severus knew exactly where he had seen this particular expression before, and it was not on James Potter's face. 

That led to very different suspicions on Severus' part, but he still had not been able to let go of all his negative feelings towards the young twins entirely. Ms Potter, after all, could still follow in her father's footsteps, gathering a mob of delinquents, capitalising on her fame – 

But neither did she. In fact, she seemed to loathe her fame as much as her father had ever loved any claim to celebrity.

The intuition that something was not right at the Potters' home was cruelly confirmed a month later, when Potter Sr’s Howler arrived. Severus had followed his Slytherin out of the Great Hall, feeling queasy on the boy's behalf. He found the siblings in the middle of an argument in an abandoned classroom, behind a silencing charm which he was only able to crack because he could read their lips.

"... So, I'm just another Slytherin the great Girl-Who-Lived deems beneath her?" 

The boy had looked angry at first glance; but Severus saw the vulnerability in his eyes. The girl was shouting, ringlets bobbing, hands flying through the air.

"You know I hate that title as much as you do, you twat! And Malfoy is an arse, but so are Weasley – Ronald – and, and Smith and Corner, and all those people staring at you as if you should be ashamed – I'd have given them something to be ashamed of, right there! And the only thing that's beneath me is that stupid House system, because there is no such thing as 'true colours'! …" 

No more registered in Severus' brain. Not only had the girl directly refuted her father's slurs, but that last line could have come from her mother's mouth – even her stance was the same. Severus would never forget that horrible, wonderful day he and Lily had reconciled. 

There was no way that Jessamine could have remembered that day from within her mother’s womb.

Heath seemed to have been steamrolled into silence as well while his sister gulped in several breaths. As the silence stretched, something inside Severus seemed to click into place. 

Lily still lived on in her children, and they had chosen to live her legacy.

He watched from the shadows as the twins exchanged more heated words, prepared to intervene should anything escalate. But the children knew each other's limits well, and, in little time, they were cursing their father and mourning their mother – together. 

Severus made sure that they arrived safely in bed later that night, hours into curfew. It was the first Hallowe'en in a decade that he hadn't spent drinking.

The door to his classroom squeaked, bringing him back to the present. The students had shuffled out by now, and he smiled to himself, knowing what to expect. 

"Professor?" 

The siblings were standing before him, looking at him with earnest green gazes, grins as lively as the young sprouts of their namesake plants. 

Severus raised an eyebrow. Heath grinned back.

"Could you please show us your tongue-locking curse tonight?"

"You promised!" Jessamine added, looking ready to float off her feet.

They certainly knew how to drive a bargain – perhaps he had not done too shabby a job with these particular children.

It was the price, Severus supposed, for averting catastrophes. 

But it was entirely worth it.