Snape's Criminal Daughter

Chapter 27

Dedicated to my small group leader, who gives me the strength to move on. Even when I have none. Thank you.

-Clover-

She had woken in her bed, it appeared she had made it there. The covers were ruffled from her sleep and blood stained the pillow and top sheet. Damn, she thought, I liked that. And with a flick of her wrist and a few chosen words, she waved her wand at the stain and it vanished. Smiling slightly to herself, she walked to the window. It was still dark outside, but a thin line of light on the horizon indicated dawn was arriving soon. 

Seeing as she had fallen asleep in her clothes from yesterday, she grabbed a  pair of robes from the chest at the foot of her bed. The bathroom door, as always, creaked in the slightest when opened. She hadn't looked in a mirror until now and when she did, she bit back the urge to gape. 

There was a long cut on her cheek, one that was angry red. A welt on the side of her head was accompanied by the black circles under her eyes. 

In other words, she looked like a zombie. 

She wandered back into the main room, only to find a very familiar looking piece of parchment lying on her sheets, that had somehow, in the five minutes she had been gone, been folded neatly. 

Miss Prince,

I have arranged a lesson with yourself and Professor Snape at one o clock

Albus Dumbledore

Great, that's just great, she thought. Judging by the amount of light outside and the absence of chatter outside the door, she had to assume it was very early in the morning indeed. Seeing as she had nothing else to do, she grabbed the open spell book that she had left there the day before, open on the ground, too lazy to close it and return it to its shelf. 

Flipping through the pages until she found the one she had marked with a fold in the corner. 

"Avis." She muttered to herself, but nothing happened. She hadn't been able to perform this one, she had spent all of a previous evening practicing it. McGonagall had told her to practice certain spells. She had thought, that because Eileen had practiced them outside of class was because she was talented, in fact, she went as far to say she would be better than some of her older students. 

But Eileen only practiced them because she had nothing else to do. Snatching her potions textbook on the way out, she decided that she was going to venture down to the Great Hall. It was usually open even early in the morning, and it meant she didn't have to be around a number of students. 

But walking down to the Great Hall, she found that avoiding students, even early in the morning, was easier said than done. She must have looked horrible because she drew looks from where ever she went. The few people seated at the tables, or wandering around, glanced at her when she passed. 

Sitting down at the Slytherin table, she stole a glance at the staff table. Only Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Umbridge were present. Dumbledore looked cheerful, McGonagall looked as though she was going to fall asleep any moment, and as usual, Umbridge looked as though she could kill. When they locked eyes across the hall, Umbridge sent her a sneer. 

She sent one right back. 

Umbridge looked shocked for a moment before turning back to the paper and breakfast in front of her. She could've sworn, when she had stolen a glance at Dumbledore, that he had given her the smallest wink possible, and the shadow of a smile. 

There were a few select students at her table, and they were sitting at the opposite end of the benches. But even from this distance, she could see their eye's trailing over her's, and the hands over their mouths, whispering who knows what into their neighbor's ear. No one sat at the Hufflepuff table, and only two sat at the Ravenclaw. And as always, they had their noses in a book. 

At the Gryffindor table, however, there were multiple people. There were the red-headed twins, hunched over what looked like a sheet of parchment. There were a good amount of what looked like first years, chattering amongst themselves. And then there was a group of about three people, one with the same shade of hair as the twins, one with bushy, curly, brown. And the other with black hair that looked oddly familiar. 

Snatching a plate on the table, she fills it with food from the platers that are scattered around the table. Dipping her fork into the pile of eggs, she opens her textbook, flipping through the pages without looking at anything imparticular. 

"Miss Prince." Immediately, without looking behind her, she knew who the silky voice belonged to. 

"Professor." Her voice was equally silky, as though she often had Professors sneak up behind her. 

"You will look at me when speaking Miss Prince." His tone was becoming cert, demanding, annoyed. She doesn't turn around immediately, but after a moment, when it becomes clear that he's not leaving anytime soon, she slowly turns. 

There's something that registers in his face when she meets it. It looks like shock, his eyes widen in the slightest, and if she wasn't looking straight at them, she wouldn't have noticed. There obviously looking at her wounds, clearly visible on her face. And when they slide down her cheek, are her thoughts confirmed. 

And without so much as a warning, he grabs her by the scruff of her robes and drags her from the entry hall. And not to gently. After regaining her footing, she walks alongside him, and he has released her robes from his grasp. 

They were in the middle of the corridor, standing there alone. He stared at her for a moment before speaking. 

"What happened Miss Prince." And with a snarky tone, she replied. 

"I don't know what you mean Professor." He didn't immediately respond. He looked as though he was restraining himself from slapping her. She smirked at the thought. 

"You know exactly what I mean." With no formal name calling to end his phrase, and a kinder tone, she wonders if she should tell him. 

"Just a couple scratches Professor, nothing horrible." He pauses before he responds. 

"Where did you get them Miss Prince?" His volume of voice has lowered dramatically, as though he almost doesn't want to hear the answer. 

"Nowhere Professor, just a couple of normal scratches." He didn't buy a word of it, she could tell from the expression on his face. 

"The truth Miss Prince, I am aware you excel at lying." Her smirk grows and a small chuckle escapes her lips. 

"Thay are really nothing Professor, just a couple scratches." And with that, she walked out of the corridor. Within minutes, she found herself on the grounds, staring at the lake. She didn't know quite why she hadn't told him, but she didn't regret the decision. 

And with a final glance back at the castle she walked toward the forest, thinking it time to explore other things.