The Potions Master and the Ravenclaw

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at fan fiction, so I would love your feedback if you read my story. It begins with Prisoner of Azkaban and I have it mapped out all the way through Deathly Hallows. It's long, but I'm hopeful that someone will find it interesting and that you'll like my take on our favorite potions master. We see a softer side of him in the beginning, but as the story develops his more dominant and possessive qualities emerge. I also hope you come to love my OC as much as I do.

The first several chapters are more about character development, but then the plot thickens.

Obviously, the recognizable characters are not my own and are the property of J. K. Rowling   This story is an original work of fan fiction intended for entertainment, and I receive no financial benefit from its publication.

Thank you for reading!

...

Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and head of Slytherin House, was in a foul humour. But then again, when was he not? He was known for it.

He was standing at the head of his 7th year advanced potions class (Double Potions with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff), arms folded across his chest, scowl firmly in place. He was an imposing figure to say the least. His tall, thin frame was, as always, dressed in black from head to toe. Black coat buttoned down from neck to knees. Black cravat tied high and tight around his throat. Black trousers. Black boots. Black cloak that seemed to billow around him even when he was standing still. His skin was exceptionally pale and the long, shining, shoulder length hair that framed his hard, uniquely handsome face was as black as night. His eyes were so black that one could see nothing but a tunnel of endless darkness if they dared to look into them. Cheekbones sharp as glass. Brow furrowed deeply. His lips were pressed into a thin, angry line as he glared down his long, hooked nose at his students.  His mood was as dark as his clothes.

Gods, would this class ever end?

He watched as one of his pupils emptied an entire vial of dragon's blood into his caldron instead of the three drops that were required.  The mixture immediately turned black and congealed, and the boy's face froze as a foul smelling smoke began to emanate from it.

Snape walked over to peer into the caldron. He sighed deeply and waved his wand over it, causing the failed concoction to disappear.

Merciful gods.  How did this boy ever place into his advanced class?

"Another zero, McTavish. You must take care. This is the second time this week. Are you completely incapable of brewing even the simplest of potions? This will not do. Now start again, and this time... pay attention." 

He never raised his voice -barely spoke above a whisper, actually - but his menacing tone was enough to make the boy's hands shake as he attempted to gather fresh ingredients to try once more to complete the day's assignment.

He strode among the other students to assess their work. He said nothing to those who had managed to complete the task correctly. The poor unfortunates who had made errors received anything from a disdainful click of his tongue and shake of his head to a heavy dose of his biting sarcasm.

He stood over Madeline Clovewater's caldron and looked inside. Perfect. As always.

Madeline Clovewater.

He stole a glance at her face, which he had found himself doing quite a lot as of late.

She was a pretty little thing. Quite beautiful, actually, and by far his best student.  She was quiet. Clever. A quick learner.  Meticulous in her calculations in potion making. Never made mistakes. Always made top marks on every exam but was never arrogant.  Never asked foolish questions or engaged in any of the childish antics of some of her classmates, but seemed to be popular with her fellow Ravenclaws. Friendly with students of other houses, as well. She was also Head Girl - respected and liked by both students and staff.