White Heather for Protection

Give and Take

Professor Snape hadn't turned up for lunch that day. Or dinner. Or any of the meals the next day. Heather was worried. She didn't have Potions class, so she hadn't seen him since that talk they'd had.

After dinner, Heather walked determinedly to the dungeons. She made a left turn instead of the right which led to the common room and knocked on the heavy oak door.

"Enter," a low voice stated irritably. At least he sounded like his regular irascible self.

The Slytherin Head was sitting at his desk, marking essays. He glanced up at the opening of the door and tensed imperceptibly.

"Miss Potter," he said stiffly, "is there anything I may assist you with?"

He seemed to have recovered from the episode, except for the uncharacteristic courtesy. "Just wanted to check if you were feeling better, sir," Heather answered, allowing her concern to bleed into her voice. She didn't want to risk coming across as mocking.

"Your worries are unfounded," he snapped. Ahh, there it was. "As you can see, my...lapse had no lasting effects." He was staring fixatedly at her face as he said the last few words.

She realised what he was looking for and obligingly said, "Nothing a simple spell couldn't fix, Professor. No lasting effects here either."

His eyes narrowed. "Madam Pomfrey did not inform me that you had gone to her."

Heather smiled wryly. "Like I said – a simple spell," she repeated. "Episkey," she stated as further proof. She was grateful that she knew actual healing spells, courtesy of the school matron. Those monthly visits weren't just spent checking her weight.

The Professor seemed to want to avoid arguing – a first, surely. As such, he made no more mention of the subject. "Unfortunately for you inept adolescents, I remain alive and snarling. Now, you should leave. Surely you need all the time you can spare to maintain those grades of yours," he said dismissively.

Heather almost gaped. Was that insult or...? She smiled brightly and said, "Thank you, sir! Speaking of which I have several questions regarding potions. May I schedule some time to come back?"

He gave that penetrating stare. He was looking at her a lot today. She hadn't realised how much he had avoided her eyes until now. "Next Wednesday," he finally allowed.

Still smiling radiantly, Heather left the office while mentally listing all the questions she'd been unable to find the answers to.

~~~

"Hey Heather?"

"Yes Fred?" Heather hummed distractedly from where she was proofreading George's Potions essay. "Remove this part – there's no such thing as an Eyeball Exploding Potion," she murmured to George.

"What's your brother's favourite colour? I know yours."

"Blue, sapphire blue, to be precise. Why?"

He waved the letter in his hands. "Mum wants to know."

Heather rolled her eyes at the nonsense George had written. She knew he was doing it on purpose. "Rewrite it, George! I didn't spend all that time tutoring you guys for you to get Trolls!" Turning back to Fred, she repeated, "Again, why?"

The boy shrugged. "She didn't say, but I can guess."

While Heather gave a puzzled look, George looked up from his essay and piped in, "Must be for a sweater."

Nodding, Fred said, "Yeah, Mum knits sweaters for everyone at Christmas."

She blinked dumbly. "Christmas sweaters? For me and Rian?"