Harry Potter 1. Prologue

**Diligovita: Prologue**

Somehow it seemed appropriate that it be a biting, chilly day. Somehow it felt more like Russia to Sashenka, like a very mild winter or early fall. Of course these English winters never quite measured up to mother Russia for her, not that she really minded deep down. Summer though, summer was the worst. Sighing she rubbed the back of her neck with one black clad hand and turned from the window she had been staring unseeingly out of. She arranged her hat over her head, it also black, and draped the veil down over her face. The day the aurorers came to the estate and asked her to sit down, she had been anxious. The moment they told her that they found his body and it was confirmed, beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was him, then Sashenka was sure that was the worst day of her life. Now, as she thought of facing some three hundred plus people on the lawn of their estate and rather magnificent home, she revised the worst day of her life to the worst week of her life. The only thing that stopped her from joining him were her children. Julian was the mirror image of him- or at least what she imagined he looked like at four. He had his father's pitch black eyes, and they were wide and innocent like hers. His skin was that same paleness of his father's, so was his raven black hair, but like both of them he was on the lanky side. They had joked that if the kids didn't get his natural grace, they wouldn't make it past eight with her lack of grace and absolute talent for clumsiness. Sashenka squeezed her eyes shut, her lips pursing as she felt the now all too familiar knot start in her throat. Now he wouldn't know, because he was dead. Blinking and sniffing, Sashenka headed out of their room and into the hall where Remus waited with the kids. She smiled to him, but he knew it was vacant. If it hadn't been for Remus' unwavering support she wouldn't have lasted the week. What was it with reporters and tragedy? They swarmed down on those who suffered just like fruit flies to fallen, rotten apples. Remus stood guard for her and prevented them from making the experience any worse than it already was.

Sashenka reached out and took the youngest, Max, from his arms and reached a hand down to Julian. Olivia, who was just starting to walk, had hold of Remus' other hand. Julian was the only one with a concrete idea of what was going on. Daddy wasn't there anymore, and he wasn't coming back. It was a concept he grasped well, and after he started crying, Sashenka cried along with him. It wouldn't be so hard on the other two, they wouldn't remember, but she was assure them how much their father loved them. Taking in a deep, assuring breath, Sashenka nodded, more to herself, and with two of her babies and Remus picking up her baby girl, she walked out the doors the house elves held open for them.

Everyone had already been waiting a while for the family to come down. They were seated and, when they started down, some turned to look. Sashenka turned her head slightly to look at those who turned to watch her walk down. It was rather rude, she thought, but she made sure to nitpick through them and stare those down who doubted who her husband's loyalties were with. She knew and dammit, they knew too but they didn't want to admit that he was a better man than they ever gave him credit for. Sitting in the front row of chairs she dared a glance up at all of the people who had gathered. Some of them were esteemed Potion Masters from all around Europe who came to pay their respects to one of the best, others were former students who, to her genuine surprise, appreciated the 'greasy git's attitude after they got out of school and also wanted to pay their respects. Remus sat Olivia down in one of the brown foldout chairs and was about to quietly leave her alone on the row, but she reached out a hand and touched his arm. He turned and looked down at her, nodding ever so slightly at the silent request to stay and, picking up Olivia again, sat down with her in his lap. Sashenka looked up as Albus Dumbledore, his face showing all one-hundred and forty-seven years, stood up and approached the front.

"Today we honour Severus Snape, a man who made so many sacrifices to be so young..." Sashenka closed her eyes and tightened her arms around Max slightly and did something she hadn't done in many years; she prayed for strength.


	2. The First Detention

DISCLAIMERL: refer to the Prologue

Finally, a challenge. Sashenka grinned to herself as she thought about 6th year Potions. Of course, aside from Hermione Granger who was a year above her, she was probably one of the oddest, most intelligent Gryffindors. Sashenka Semenov KNEW potions which, due to who the professor was, it seemed all the more odd when she would get excited by a difficult assignment or essay. Her whole life, until she was thirteen and moved to England, had been potions. Russia was famous for producing the best Potion Masters in the world due to their stricter education system. Her uncle had a serious reputation of his own in Eurasia as the best Potions Master in that part of the world, and Sashenka took a certain amount of pride in being his only, thus favourite, niece. With her uncle running in high circles, Sashenka had heard about the reputation of a certain European Potions Master by the name of Severus Snape, who was also the professor of Potions at Hogwarts. It was a shame, really, her parents said when they found out he was teaching "snot nosed Brits" but were thrilled that their little girl would go to a school that, at least in the Potions department, came close to the superior education she would have gotten in Russia. It was this attitude that Sashenka tried to shed when she started later than all the other students her age. She didn't want to fuel the misconception that all Russians were arrogant- she just came from a higher class pureblood family. There was a distinct difference in the more wealthy and dirt poor, it was just that the snobbish wealthy that was heard, mostly. She hadn't told anyone who her uncle was to avoid any high expectations and stereotypes, but it seemed that they were difficult to avoid anyway.

Sashenka tightened her fuzzy, curly haired dark brown pony tail and looked up as Snape, as usual quite grumpy, entered the room. She always chose to sit in the back, not because she wasn't willing to help, but it was easier to ignore those who dared speak in the class and concentrate on the potion at hand.

O

Snape turned, bewitching the chalk to write down the spell on the chalk board. He glanced around, resisting wincing as the chalk scratched against the board, and raised a brow.

"Well, away with the books!"

His students, a small number from each house, obeyed the clipped order without hesitation, some unceremoniously stuffing their books into tote bags while others took more care not to bend any pages or allow the corners to suffer any damage. It was commendable that they wanted to preserve the books, but this semester they would get more than enough abuse from over use, Snape silently mused as he gave the slower ones an impatient glare. By the sixth year, some students had absorbed as much into their minds as possible, while others, a bigger sponge could learn so much more and were prepared to do so. This was that class of uprising Potion Masters, or at the very least incredibly talented individuals; he had no doubt that half of them didn't even require a book. This was also the class he combined with the exceptional seventh years. Hermione Granger, the know-it-all, of course was in the class. Yes, she was instrumental in the Order, but he still couldn't stand her cockiness. It was no surprise to him when, six years ago, the Russian girl proved to show extraordinary skills in potions. He knew that when they finally reached this time, she would be here in the advanced class, it had been just a matter of time.

"All of your ingredients are here on my desk. Retrieve them then immediately start on the-"

The sound of something hitting the outside of the door with a hard _thud_ stopped Snape in the middle of his instructions. Everyone turned to look at the thick wooden door as Snape started around his desk. It was then the sound of someone on the other side scampering about to apparently pick various articles up off the stone outside that made Snape pause. He raised a brow slightly, curious but hesitant to open the door. Barely missing a step he approached the door and, right as he reached the bronze handle, another thump sounded from the other side, this time along with a loud curse. His hand going to his wand in his robes, Snape opened the door quickly only to take a few hasty steps back.

On the other side stood, or rather staggered, a short, odd looking person. Standing only about five foot three, her hair consumed another four inches and was bright carrot orange. It stuck out in all different directions in unruly spiral curls, despite her headband and poor attempt to control it. She was wearing a school uniform and, after a quick assessment Snape knew that technically she was within the rules. The vest and white blouse was unbuttoned to reveal a black tee shirt under it, some black and white still photo of a man on a board with wheels printed on it; a dog collar was fastened as a choker around her neck, black nail polish coated each of her bitten down fingernails, and she wore a pair of ghastly black fishnet stockings. Chloe grinned up at the man she had nearly bowled over in another attempt to get the door open. She had the worst luck in the world. On the way down the stairs, some bratty poltergeist had got a kick out of stringing her books and paper all the way down the stairs and all the way to the class that she was late for. When she reached the door her arms were full of the unorganized mess and, when she tried to kick the door open with her free foot, the fact that it was firmly shut became obvious when she actually hit the door and lost everything yet again. Just as she got everything up again, with her wand out waiting for the poltergeist, she pointed her wand at it to cast an opening spell. A book slipped, she grabbed it, forgot to cast the spell and again repeated the humiliating introduction to the door. Now she looked up at Lurch and gave a crooked grin.

"Uh, sorry for the knockin' there. There is this dude out there flying around, the poltergeist, and I guess he's got issues with Americans and carrots-"

Chloe trailed off as she glanced around the classroom. She didn't think she got the wrong room, it WAS Potions.

"Miss, I'm afraid you're a month early for Halloween. Although with that hair..." He said and glanced her over with a certain snobbishness that Chloe personally found offending. "Yeah, like you got much room to talk." She muttered and hobbled further in, her books sliding down her short, stout form.

"I'm Chloe Martin. I transferred from Atlanta and just got sorted into Gryff-"

"I don't care. Sit down and twenty-five points from Gryffindor." Chloe looked back at Snape with narrowed eyes and bit her tongue. Glancing around, she shuffled to an empty seat and carelessly sat down next to one of the students wearing a Gryffindor uniform. Ignoring the loud mouthed new student, Snape walked back to the front and continued with the instructions on the board.

Chloe snorted quietly and glanced to the girl next to her. "What's wrong with Lurch? Is he always such a sour puss?" Despite Chloe's earlier ruckus, her whispering was very quiet. Sashenka glanced to her and leaned into her cauldron to reply quietly.

"_Lurch_ is Professor Snape, and he is a _very_ strict teacher." Sashenka whispered and glanced up to the front. "I'm Sashenka," She said and held out a hand. Chloe grinned and shook her hand. Sashenka inwardly winced at the enthusiastic girl's shake. Soon they were working on the potion, the only sounds in the room being the sounds of each student's potion popping to life and the soft murmurings between people working together. While they brewed, Chloe took the opportunity to learn as much as she could from Sashenka.

"-so this is advanced?" Chloe looked at the dark headed girl beside her with an expression of uncertainty. Sashenka got the impression as she looked at the unique girl that this wasn't the class she was supposed to be in. Sashenka nodded to her and, when Chloe got a particularly nervous look on her face, she rubbed her shoulder briefly.

"Here, I'll help you through this class, then you can talk to Professor McGonagall." Sashenka guided her through making the potion and, on more than one step, had to prevent her from making a mistake that would ruin the potion. It was exhausting to do her own and watch Chloe enough to make sure she didn't completely ruin hers. By the end of the class, Sashenka was quite ready to stop, which was a rarity for her. Potions, despite her house, was her favourite subject just because she knew so much more and the general science of it. At the moment though, she did not love it.

Snape made his rounds slowly, examining the potions and commenting here and there. This was the more advanced class, the ones with talent. His scathing remarks that were reserved for the less talented students in most cases stayed with the less talented students. Sashenka had hoped that the influence of more talented students would dampen any lashing remarks he was going to have for Chloe. The mentioned carrot top American looked over at Sashenka and bit a lip before glancing down at her potion. It wasn't supposed to be that shade or that consistency. It looked more like mud or some very large animal's bodily waste liquefied, rather than the light blue oily look that it was supposed to have. Sashenka looked down at hers and winced. It wasn't just right: the colour was a little off and it was just a tad too thick, but nothing as horrendous as Chloe's, who must have lost a few of her odd coloured hairs into the potion.

"I see America has done nothing to improve their educational scores." Snape's voice dripped with the usual sarcasm and general hatefulness that his long term students had become accustomed to. Sashenka looked over to Chloe, wondering how she would handle it. Sashenka hadn't known many Americans, but she got the impression that the whole country was more laid back than Russia. Sashenka didn't have to wonder for long.

"Yeah, well, if you actually _taught_ maybe it wouldn't have turned out like this. At least in America they make an effort."

"And yet you still lag in style and any notable intelligence. It certainly makes one wonder if you lot are worth it. Twenty points for being disrespectful to a professor." The unmistakable tone of belittlement and arrogance in Snape's voice seemed to have quite the opposite intended effect on Chloe than it would on a student familiar with his work. Chloe's filled out face turned a shade red closer to her hair colour and she stood up, her jaw out and eyes narrowed.

"You want to see disrespectable you overgrown bat-"

"Twenty more from Gryff-"

"Go ahead and make it fifty for all I care!"

Sashenka watched, like the rest of the students, with a certain wary expression. They could almost see their notorious Potions Master's temper rise as his already straight stance seemed to stiffen just a little more. She was sure if everyone else could see the barely restrained expression on his face, they would agree that anyone else who came in contact with him would compare their mood after to an encounter with a dementor.

"Professor!" This time Sashenka interrupted before he could actually take off the fifty and, no doubt, double it. "I helped her, and I told her wrong. She was having trouble reading your handwriting and I got distracted. It's my fault." Alright, so it was a complete lie, but if it saved them from losing every single point Gryffindor had earned in the short semester, then so be it. Snape whipped around on her and glared her down. Rather than cowering under the look, Sashenka stared back. If he wasn't so difficult, then they wouldn't be having this encounter. So as much as Chloe should show more respect, he shouldn't have picked on her. When Sashenka didn't back down, Snape settled for punishing her as well as the brat.

"One week's detention for you both. Stay after to receive your assignments." With that he turned and started back up for the front but paused just short of his desk. "And Miss Semenov, an extra week for you and ten points for telling such a bold lie."

Sashenka sighed and started cleaning up her workspace along with everyone else. In the five full years and one month of her school career at Hogwarts, she'd never gotten so much as a detention or points taken away. She hadn't even gotten a detention when, in her second year, she accidentally tackled Remus Lupin to the ground. Of course now it was a source of amusement for both of them, but then it had been terrifying. She had been so afraid that she'd caused serious injury to the frail-looking professor. Now that he was back after Moody, Umbridge, and Snape, he looked better than he had before. Despite the war outside of the grounds of Hogwarts, it still seemed peaceful within the grounds–most of the time. Last year it had not been, and for the first time, Sashenka's parents encouraged her to flee the school and the entire continent in all. If they had to deal with evil self-proclaimed lords, they could do it in mother Russia, but Sashenka couldn't leave. Hogwarts had a charm all its own, and she couldn't leave it. Battle was fought here too, she reflected with a frown; student against student, man against man. In the end Dumbledore nearly died, and a small part of the student population officially left Hogwarts, their childhood, and fled with the Death Eaters, who terrorized the residents of the castle. She remembered fighting along side her fellow classmates as much as she could. She wasn't sure who they were at the time and hadn't really comprehended what exactly they were capable of until she saw their expressions–and their wands drawn not to duel as gentlemen, but to hurt, to kill. It was then she pulled out her own and started to fire off curses, while pushing any of the younger students back. It was true she had been a bit pampered, but she was still from Moscow. She still knew about the monsters hidden in the shadows of the concrete jungle, and although she never had to defend herself from them, she knew how to.

Sashenka blinked a few times, pulling herself out of the memory of last year and taking the charm off the sponge that was scrubbing her cauldron for her. Chloe was muttering over by one of the sinks as she scrubbed out her cauldron. Apparently, her first detention started right after class. Sashenka didn't think she would have willingly cleaned up her own mess.

She approached Snape's desk and glanced at the potion recipe he had sitting out, no doubt to do after she and Chloe received their punishments. Moonstone, Hellebore- Sashenka recognized the potion as the Draught of Peace. Her uncle made it often, although she had never had any. Her uncle preferred to add powdered sandalwood leaves into the mix. It took a lot, but it seemed to be slightly more effective.

"You already have detention; do you really think it is smart to read anything on my desk?" Sashenka looked up at her sneering professor. "But of course Gryffindors are notorious for being thick and their stupidity." He picked up the parchment and folded it before sitting behind his desk. For a moment, she considered not making any suggestions.

"You know, powdered sandalwood leaves boost the effectiveness. It's only slight, but more effective." Sashenka couldn't help but make the suggestion. She liked to help people and improve on things, even if it was for someone she didn't really care that much for. Snape wasn't that bad, she reasoned, although he could be taught some manners. Snape looked up at Sashenka, raising a brow. He was a bit surprised that she would make a suggestion in the first place, telling the Potions Master what to put in a potion, but also that she was somewhat right. The leaves did increase the effectiveness of the potion, but the amount you had to add defeated the purpose.

"Miss Semenov, when I want your opinion, no matter how uneducated it may be, then I will ask you. Until that happens, practice the rules of your Russian schools and speak when spoken to, and only when spoken to." Snape's voice was soft, but cut as well as a German-made dagger. Sashenka breathed in deeply and bit down on her tongue, willing herself to keep her mouth shut. She tilted her head a bit before slowly letting out her breath.

"Yes,"

"Yes, _sir_."

Snape outwardly smirked as he added 'sir' on to it for her to repeat. It was like breaking a wild horse; of course, if he said that she might forget her place and curse him, but he enjoyed enforcing the principle nonetheless. The expression on her face and the fire the leapt up out of her dark chocolate eyes was very satisfying.

"Yes sir."

Sashenka said the two words slowly and softly, unable to keep the tone out of her voice and barely restrained fury out of her eyes. Russians were hot heads, she had a temper, and he was very, very fortunate that they were in the school and not outside of the grounds.

"Now that we have that cleared up," Snape looked down and idly arraigned a quill and ink on his desk. "I do believe that the Entrance Hall hasn't been scrubbed in ages. Russians are used to being on their hands and knees for one reason or another; you should do fine at that without magic." Sashenka opened her mouth and settled a chilling glare on him but shut it before saying anything. Without another word she turned and started for the door, ignoring his sneering comment about not waiting for him to dismiss her.

"He asked me out! He really asked me out!" Sashenka looked to Sarah Mann and smiled a bit. What was done was done with Snape; she'd just try and forget it until it came time to scrub. Instead, she focused her attention on the excited blonde in front of her. Sometimes she felt a little jealous of Sarah. Where Sashenka had fuzzy, curly hair that was a bear to brush out, Sarah had long, straight, light blonde hair. Her skin was just the right shade of porcelain. Sashenka's looked more like a beach, light sand at best and at worst, which was naturally the most, it looked like muddy sand drenched in water. Sarah had the dazzling blue eyes that matched the sky; Sashenka's matched cow manure. She had perfectly shaped, perfectly sized peachy lips; Sashenka had full flounder lips that were always in a childish pout. Yes, whoever said Russian women were the most beautiful in the world must have been blind.

"So, when are you going out?" Sashenka asked as Sarah linked her arm in Sashenka's and headed off to the Great Hall with her.

"Thursday, we're walking down to Hogsmeade and going to eat at the Three Broomsticks. Nothing glamorous, mind you." Sashenka nodded silently as they climbed the dungeon steps, hearing the chatter and padding of all the other students heading into the Great Hall for lunch.

"Come with me, please?" As much as Sashenka sometimes envied her, sometimes she was just so annoying.

"Sarah, I have homework to do, not to mention Snape gave me detention-" Sarah was a big girl and could go on a first date by herself, Sashenka reasoned, but knew that she'd end up going anyway. Sarah would bug her about it until she agreed just to get her to leave her alone.

"Oh come on, I'll owe you-" Sashenka inwardly sighed. _Let the annoying begin,_ she thought to herself with an inward roll of the eyes.


	3. Base and Acid

A/N: Thanks to my wonderful betas for doing such an excellent job with my writing! These first two chapters and the prologue were more, as you can see, for setting up. Chapter three has more action in it and will be up as soon as I recieve it back. Your reviews, as always, are much appreciated!

Today had been Sashenka's first day scrubbing down the entrance hall, and she was convinced of two things. Number one, Hogwarts absolutely had to have mats for people to wipe their feet off on, because the floor was a shade darker due to all the dirt ingrained in the stone. And, secondly, if she ever died and became a ghost, she would haunt Snape until his dying day, it was just unfortunate that she couldn't curse him to scrubbing floors.

After a much needed long steaming shower she, with a glass of water, padded back into her room in a terry cloth robe, her hair dripping, and went to the green seedlings planted at her window seat. Outside, a rainstorm beat at the window and ran down the partially stained glass in defeat, obscuring any vision that was possible at night. It was really quite lovely, Sashenka thought with a smile, and glanced around the room. In Moscow, the room would have been a clean white with linoleum floors and a standard, plastic covered bed. The window would have been square with a ledge on both the inside and outside and below, rather than the grassy hills and calming lake of Hogwarts, there would be the busy street of Muggle Moscow or wizard Moscow, depending on what side of the residence you were on, not that there was any significant difference between the two worlds. In Russia, wizards and witches were non magic folk, _then_ their magical heritage—it wasn't separate, or the other way around. A wizard got their automobile license as well as their Apparition license; for a wizard there was no one or the other. With that in mind, Sashenka had been shocked when she started at Hogwarts and realized how little purebloods knew about Muggles. She pitied one if they were ever thrown in the middle of Muggle London without the aid of a Muggle-born or otherwise Muggle savvy person.

The thought made Sashenka laugh as she turned away from the rainy dark window and picked up the glass. With care she watered the fragile green stalks that were starting up in the large pots she had them in. She wasn't gifted with plants; it didn't matter how devoted she was to them at the beginning of the year. Somehow they always seemed to die.

The truth was that she simply forgot to nurture the plants because she was always studying. This year, though, she had come up with a plan over the summer. When she got her books, she also got Muggle Post-it notes and sat with her books, marking each chapter with a Post-it note, reminding her to look up every so often and water the plants, make sure she didn't need more robes, and write home and let her parents know she was doing well. She even had a few that reminded her to sleep at the more interesting and engrossing chapters. When she had told Sarah this on the way to the school from King's Cross, Sarah just laughed and said she really wasn't that surprised.

"Most normal people need Post-it notes to remind themselves to actually study. You've always been an odd duck; I'll be surprised if you don't have them stuck around your room reminding you to eat or sleep, or get out of your shell and find a man." Sashenka had just rolled her eyes at the time and told Sarah that she wasn't that much of a bookworm, but now that Sashenka looked at her books spread all over the floor, each open to a different page with some piece of parchment with scribble on it stuck in the spine, she wondered if Sarah was right.

She was jerked out of her thoughts by a soft knocking at the door. "Come in," Sashenka called and set down the glass she had been holding. Sarah eased into the room holding her pillow, her pajamas pink, the bottoms with large white hearts on them, and her hair up in pigtails. Sashenka knew why she had come at ten o'clock at night too. When the new dorm assignments for this year had come in and the girls weren't assigned to the same room, many of them decided to do some rearranging of their own. The result: overcrowded in some rooms, such as Sarah's, and single people to other rooms, such as Sashenka's. It suited her fine, though. She liked her privacy, but at times she had the company of Sarah.

"Do you mind?" Sarah looked at Sashenka and grinned, her blue eyes sparkling. She knew Sashenka would let her and didn't wait for an answer, just threw her pillow on Sashenka's bed and started weaving her way through some of the farthest books. "Kammie is having one of her sleepovers. I would stay, but Lin is going to be there and Lin and I…not a good mix." Sashenka smiled and shook her head as Sarah welcomed herself to hopping in the middle of Sashenka's bed, sitting cross-legged.

"Hey, get those ridiculous slippers off the bed. I've been scrubbing that floor for four hours today. I hate dirt, any kind of dirt, and dust too. So off with the bunny heads on the bed." Sarah stuck her tongue out and slipped off the furry white bunny slippers, settling for throwing them at Sashenka and making a childish face at her when she gave her a scowl.

"Four hours, huh? Who finally told you to stop? Not Snape, I don't think. I think he fancies seeing people pass out of exhaustion and overwork." Sarah shrugged as she watched Sashenka kneel and pick a few books up.

"Lupin came along and insisted that I go to the kitchens and get something to eat, then go rest." Sashenka straightened and glanced at her, frowning a bit. "I rather fancied sleeping in my undies tonight; I just don't have the energy to fight a nightgown in my sleep." She shrugged it off and threw her hair up in a ponytail.

"And you think I would cop a feel? You're not my type, too curvy." Grinning playfully she reached out and made an hour glass motion with her hands at Sashenka's body. Sashenka rolled her eyes at Sarah and forwent the night gown. Instead she just slipped off the robe and shooed Sarah off the bed to pull the covers back.

"You're just jealous because you have to wear the frilly bras and I get to look at the ones for heavy duty work." Sashenka tugged at her camisole. Even in her undergarments she chose modesty and didn't have any fancy underwear. In general she and Sarah were the same size: both of them had thin legs and small waists. But Sashenka was gifted, and she used that word very loosely, with a larger endowment of her breasts and more filled out hips.

With an exhausted sigh Sashenka crawled into bed and huffed as she got comfortable on her stomach. Sarah crawled in behind her and laid on the other half of the bed. After much shifting around, and ill aimed kicks of protest from Sashenka, the blonde finally got comfortable on her side, allowing Sashenka to settle down into the bed and close her eyes. It wasn't but a few minutes later that she was sound asleep, the only sound coming from her being a soft breathing emitting from her.

The next day's only consolation was DADA with Lupin. Out of all her teachers, she liked him the best. Not only was he pleasing to look at, but he was such a refreshing change from hormonal, macho teenagers and an otherwise unmentioned bastard of a professor. Finally though all of her classes were done and, while getting a bite to eat, a darker shadow came over her otherwise mediocre day closed down on her.

"Miss Semenov, I do believe you have a detention to continue with. I noticed that the entrance hall was only partially done."

Snape looked down at the Gryffindor. After her episode of telling _him_, the Potions Master, what to put into a potion, he had done some checking. Nowhere in her files or transcript to Hogwarts did it say that her uncle was one of the best Potion Masters known to the modern wizarding world. It certainly explained a few things, but in no way made him have any desire to let up on her. Rather, his curiosity was perked up by her silence. Could it be that a Gryffindor was overlooking the chance to show off? Of course, he replied to himself, she wasn't an ordinary Gryffindor, but he would have thought she would mention it at least to her head of house. McGonagall hadn't known anything about it and was surprised at Snape's interest in the whole thing when he mentioned it over dinner.

Along with his curiosity came his suspicion as well. Why was she there and not in a Russian school? Hogwarts didn't have as much to offer her as one of her native schools, so why be there? Was her family banished from Eurasia? Was there a new dark power on the rise there that was worse than Voldemort? These questions formed in Snape's mind and he shot down as many as he could, but with each one came a renewed curiosity about what the answer could be.

"I felt that sleep, food, and class were more important." Deep down Snape applauded her lack of nervousness with him. It was surprisingly nice to get an acidic reply such as hers, and a volatile glare now and then. Having people intimidated into silence kept things in check, but it was no assurance that his snide remarks and insults were still affective. When someone like her came along and humored him with her stubbornness, it was reassuring. If his students no longer had a complete dislike for him, then he wouldn't have anything, not anymore.

"Well, I feel that cleanliness is more important and, since I am the professor, I do think what I feel carries slightly more weight than you." Snape watched her slowly take a drink of her pumpkin juice and, stealing another bite, got to her feet. Despite the fact that he was a little amused at her resistance to give in, he did feel a little annoyed, possibly out of habit, when she was deliberately slow about it. "Miss Semenov," He was going to enjoy antagonizing her. "I understand that you are used to dirt, and that the only Russians who know how to clean are servants to everyone else, but I'm sure even you can manage to scrub-"

"You know, the only thing I did to you was to make a small suggestion! Are you offended that a student dare help you, or does the fact that I breathe your air put a chip on your shoulder?" Snape raised a brow; Sashenka put her hands on her hips and glared.

"I do believe that little outburst earns you further detentions." Sashenka shook her head and looked off before looking back at him. What else did she have to lose?

"You know, I don't know what your problem is with students. In Russia, we have teachers like you, so you might bully around all these Brits, but I am Russian and not in the least intimidated by an overgrown-"

"50 points-"

"-point-taking happy bat like-"

"Sashenka!"

Sashenka turned and looked up to see Remus standing in the doorway to the kitchens, looking at her surprised and, she could swear, amused beneath that. Despite the trace of amusement, she felt suddenly foolish for getting caught arguing with Snape.

"Detention until Christmas break." Snape snarled slightly and turned, sweeping from the room. Sashenka watched him walk out and looked to Remus, who let a faint grin slip after Snape was out of the door.

"You were standing there just arguing with him?" Sashenka grinned at him a bit before making a certain 'oops' expression and laughing quietly.


	4. At Wandpoint

A/N: A ruffian is an undesirable character. Think of a thief, just in general someone you wouldn't want to spend a whole lot of time with.  
Savvy means something you'd know about. Being 'street savvy' is knowing how to survive on the street. It's the same usage in this chapter!

Minerva McGonagall sat behind the large oak desk that had once been Albus Dumbledore's. She looked over her mug of hot tea onto the surface of the desk, uncomfortable behind it. Dumbledore himself was weak, the events of June had taken their toll on him, and he was at Grimmauld Place, resting. Not that he could go anywhere anyway; Albus Dumbledore died according to the Wizarding world. She sighed and got up, feeling uncomfortable sitting there, and started pacing slowly.

"She's an exceptional young woman, Alastor." It didn't surprise Minerva that she was the only one saying anything on behalf of her Gryffindor; heavens knew that Severus Snape wouldn't speak up for an intelligent Gryffindor.

"But she's still a student! This isn't like Potter, Granger and the Weasleys. They were already involved." Alastor shook his head, it was evident that he didn't like the idea of having this otherwise over looked student knowing about the Order.

"Miss Semenov has never given any indication that she would be inclined to help the Death Eaters-"

"And has she ever given you any indication that she'd want to hurt them?" Minerva went quiet a moment at Alastor's reply. He did have a point, and Minerva couldn't immediately come up with an argument to defend one of her prize Gryffindors. She sighed and looked to Alastor.

"Just because she hasn't _openly_ opposed them doesn't mean that she _doesn't_ oppose them. She is an intelligent woman, and from a country where ruffians are common, I think she would have a certain savvy for dealing with less savory individuals." Minerva frowned, thinking that it was a weak argument at best against Alastor.

O

"There is one way to find out."

This had been Snape's first time since himself, McGonagall, Moody, and Lupin decided to have a quiet meeting. Moody had Portkeyed directly to Minerva's office and was waiting when Snape and Lupin had made it up. Although he hated to admit it, he did agree. Sashenka did have a brilliant mind and, although with less schooling, sometimes youth brings about fresh ideas and new approaches to things.

He wasn't surprised when Moody made discouraging comments; the man was so damn paranoid! But, unlike Moody, he _was_ a spy. He'd recognize someone who was up to no good. It was a little disturbing though that Sashenka didn't look him in the eye, but a lot of people didn't–especially when he was pretty sure she'd know at least a little bit about Occlumency and Legilimens, given the quality of education in Russia.

"I can use Legilimency on her. It isn't the most moral way to obtain information, but it will suffice. _If_, and I do stress if, someone else talks to her first and is positive that she would be more inclined to be against Voldemort." Snape looked at all of them from his seat further back. He didn't like the idea of invading anyone's mind. It was rape on a mental level; to an intelligent person, even more so. But Sashenka seemed like a reasonable person; he hoped that she'd see why he did it and forgive him. On the outside, it appeared that he didn't care; he was a cold bastard, and that was _exactly_ what he needed to be. Inside, closed away from the public eye and his meddling students, he was only a little less cold. He was bitter, angry, and didn't even love himself, much less anyone else. Dumbledore was the closest thing he had to a father and now- now he had helped in almost killing him. What was the point in giving a damn about anyone if he would only hurt them? Snape sighed and sat his empty glass on one of the many tables arranged around the office.

"Lupin, you should talk to her. Most Gryffindors seem to enjoy your company; you make them _laugh_." Every chance Snape got he rubbed the boggart and Neville Longbottom incident in the werewolf's face. It was humiliating; Lupin deserved to have it turned around on him and, as the Muggle saying went, to 'pour vinegar on the wound'.

Snape watched with an inward satisfied smirk as Lupin smiled slowly, a sure sign that he didn't enjoy being reminded.

"Are you sure that that is the best way to find out?" Minerva frowned at the thought of it, but then again if she could help the cause, a little discomfort and anger didn't hurt anything.

"I'm sure that it is the only way to tell without a shadow of a doubt."

The air was starting to get a little bit chillier, so before leaving on her walk, Sashenka grabbed a sweater. Stepping out onto the grounds, she closed her eyes and inhaled the cool air deeply, smiling as she felt it fill her lungs. She let out a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. One of the other girls in her year let her use her conditioner; it did wonders. Her hair was still frizzy, but much softer and actually laid on her head and shoulders.

Listening to the soft clunks of her boots on the walk, Sashenka started down for the covered bridge where she loved to look out over the lake.

"Sashenka?" Sashenka turned and smiled as she saw Professor Lupin make his way down to him. She tightened her arms around herself slightly and waited for him to reach her.

"Hello Mr. Lupin." He had always been nice to her in the past. It was hard to tell which of her teachers she liked the best: Flitwick was nice too, and McGonagall was good. Remus Lupin had always been nice to her, and he was a good teacher. Remus came up beside Sashenka and began to walk with her.

"Do you miss Russia?" Sashenka glanced over at Remus and smiled a bit.

"I do," she admitted quietly, her arms wrapped around her as they started across the bridge.

"You know people make out like Russia is this barren snow land, but it isn't. Siberia is, but not all of mother Russia is. Some places look as if God used a fine paint brush and dabbed vibrant colours onto the trees." Sashenka glanced to him and smiled before stopping and looking out over the lake.

"We used to go to southern Russia some summers. I remember a swing my father made that went out over the water. It was so low that I could hold on with one hand and lean back and run my fingertips over the top of the water with the other. It was like slow motion, watching the V that came from it ripple across the water." Her eyes were closed as she told him, seeing it in her mind. Because her eyes were closed as she savoured the moment, she missed the look on Remus's face.

"Are you going to go back after you finish here?" Sashenka thought over the question and tilted her head. Finally she shook it and shifted her feet a bit.

"No, at least not immediately, I like England." She looked over at him and smiled at him.

Remus looked over at her with a sense of happiness when she said she wasn't leaving. He shouldn't be so happy that she was staying, but… Sashenka was something special. He hadn't really noticed when he was there four years ago, but now, she seemed to have the amazing gift of lighting up whenever a challenge came along, or she found something that captivated her interest. He'd grown to enjoy seeing it during class; just the thought made him smile.

"You may not want to hang around England, or Europe for that matter, too much longer." Time to get down to business. Remus saw, through his peripheral vision, Sashenka looking at him questioningly. Of course she had only heard what the Ministry was saying, and the Ministry wanted to downplay it. "Lord Voldemort is growing in power. I know, the Ministry doesn't say much about it," He answered her question just after she opened her mouth to ask. "But I was around before, so were a lot of wizards and witches. Course, if you agree with _him_…" Remus looked over at Sashenka, who was frowning.

"He believes in intolerance of Muggles, doesn't he? In mother Russia, wizards and Muggles live peacefully. Well, the Muggles who know." Remus inwardly grinned. Sashenka was a good person; she wouldn't agree with Voldemort.

"You don't agree with him, then? Unfortunately, the people who like him have money."

Sashenka sighed and shifted before shaking her head. "Men who want power are never happy with what they have. It is like people who have problem eating. They cannot stop, even after they are full." Remus looked over at her and just laughed slightly at her comparison. She always had a funny way of looking at things.

"Well, yes, I suppose that is true. It's…an interesting way of saying it, but true." He grinned at her and laughed, which in turn made her laugh.

Meanwhile, Snape watched from the castle, just able to make out the forms of Lupin and Sashenka on the bridge. She hadn't left yet, nor had her body movement indicated disagreement. Either Lupin wasn't touching the subject yet, which wouldn't surprise him, or she was agreeing with him, which wouldn't surprise him either.

As Snape stood there watching, he reflected on his own time in Moscow. It was pleasant enough for what it was and what it could be. It wasn't all that different from London. The city itself had a newer, colder look and in most cases, the Muggle world heavily influenced the Wizarding world to the point that the wizards drove automobiles and used cellular phones. He, of course, never learned. It was inappropriate for a pureblood wizard to _drive_ or hold a metal contraption up to one's ear to speak. That was what Apperation was for, or talking through a fireplace. Of course, Muggles couldn't disappear from one location and reappear elsewhere, nor could they throw magic powder into a fire place and talk into it and expect for someone somewhere else to actually hear them. Snape reluctantly admitted this to be true, but there was no excuse for wizards embracing that way of life.

"Were you expecting her to storm off?" Snape turned to look at Minerva McGonagall, who had silently come up beside him. Normally he would expect Dumbledore to slip up like that, but to the whole Wizarding world, Dumbledore was dead. Snape had to keep reminding himself of that. He couldn't very well go appearing around Hogwarts at random times.

"It had crossed my mind that she may. Gryffindors are irrational, and she _is_ Russian. That is two counts against an otherwise intelligent mind." In the presence of his colleagues, he wasn't quite as harsh as he would be in front of students. True, most of the time he enjoyed antagonizing Minerva–the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was a great source of fun for him–but even with her he wouldn't deny the truth. And the truth was that she had a student, a girl who really shouldn't be a student anymore, in her former house.

"Two steps back and one step forward. That is one step more than you usually make. I must say I am a little surprised." Minerva merely raised one thin eyebrow at the look he gave her, which made him inwardly sigh. Damn old woman. "She shouldn't be a student, Severus. Hogwarts, in her capacity now, only restrains her. If we decide to approach her about the Order, it would be best that she remain here. Perhaps you are in need of an assistant-"

"I do not need an assistant, Minerva. Thank you very _much_." Snape immediately cut her off with a crisp reply. It was true, he didn't NEED one. An assistant would be nice, so he could pursue his more personal projects. But he worked better without a girl–no matter how grown up she was–nipping at his heels with some silly notion that he was going to help her build her talents in Potions just because she was his assistant. Thanks, but no thanks, he didn't need that.

"If she is accepted into the Order, that is the most logical place for her. I don't know why you are so against the thought. But, I believe you would find it beneficial to just go with it." Snape sighed and looked over at Minerva, knowing the witch would win, even if she had to get reinforcements in the form of Dumbledore to back her.

"Oh fine." He finally spat, aggravated, and just glared at the little grin that tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Oh, and there is one other thing I wanted to ask you about." Snape rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the wall as he saws the two forms of Lupin and Sashenka start back across the bridge. It would be a good ten minutes before they made it back.

"I wanted to know how long you plan to keep having her scrub the entrance hall. Which, by the way, I do know that you have been having your Slytherins dirty it up again." Snape smirked slightly and glanced at her, noting the defensive tone in her voice that she often adopted when it came to one of her Gryffindors being treated unfairly.

"Call it a social experiment. I want to see how long it will take before she refuses to do anymore." Snape would have given anything for the indignant look that came over Minerva's face at that. He imagined that the idea of him doing that to anyone would stun her. It was rather mean, he knew, but then again, he wasn't exactly known for being 'fluffy'.

"Minerva," He called her name in a very serious tone as she had started to retreat back into the castle. She turned and looked at him. "I looked into her family history. We need to be careful with her. I don't think she would do anything, or _intentionally_ bring any harm to anyone here, but there is a lot of suspicion surrounding her mother and grandmother about the death of a certain high up vampire some years ago." He watched as Minerva seemed to think it over before she gave a short nod and disappeared back into the castle. Snape turned fro a moment and watched the two figures climb the hill before, also, disappearing into the side door behind her.


End file.

Harry Potter, Adventure, Romance