A Potion For Everything (Severus Snape x Oc)

A Summons

The light of dawn had no meaning to the groaning mass of blankets that woke to the sound of Muggle police across the street. The pub there always has one form of trouble or another. Though it couldn't be helped. It was summer in York. And part of the anti glamor charm placed over the appartment complex to keep it almost invisible was the slum like atmosphere. It turned lazily to the clock on the dresser. For it was the only piece of furniture that seemed to be left in the room. Other than the bed.

"Damn." The hands stood steadfast at 4:30 am. The mopped hair mess was supposed to be up an hour ago. The body and blankets move reluctantly to fall out of the bed and begin preparation for the long day ahead. Ignoring the daily routine of tiding the sheets and instead chose to rush to get decent. 'If I'm late for this meeting I'm screwed.' The thought arose in the scatterbrained mind of the young person. Only for it to stand there, trying to tame the hair that had no time for a wash or proper cosmetics to loosen the owls nest it had become. Exasperated the hair had won the battle. And with a quick flick of a slender wand, its design and color changed to a more manageable and pleasing state. The figure grabbed an apothecary satchel from the apartment's entryway before dawning the hood of a cloak like trench coat to hide the newly shortened blue tinted black hair.

The door locked unapologetically as it closed for a final time. And before walking to the stairs, the mass stopping to listen. Though it was odd, she thanked whatever god that would listen that no one was in the halls. Not only is social anxiety a real nightmare, especially to one leaving at such an hour, but most of the time there is the presence of a land lady who the figure had to obliviate every now and again. As no one was supposed to be living in appartment 21B.

The necessary rush out the door of the cheap muggle apartment and into the cool end of summer night air made the obviously hand-made cloak seem useless, as it was not truly the right season for it. The figure looked back up to the decaying apartment apathetically. And It sighed. A roof over its head was in fact a backwards blessing, but now thankfully no longer needed. Nor was the job it had been forced to work for the past 6 months. Working at a muggle library didn't suit its fancy and it never will. The boss would be furious when he would call the land lady, an easily swayed woman by means of a bit of cocktail and sap stories, who would to tell him she knew nothing of a resident staying in 21B. And that the flat has been empty for 6 whole months. The figure of course was very careful about its departure from the London town.

It started making long strides on the filth ridden concrete. Now heading out to do what it so desperately wanted to do. The times it was told how impossible it was slowly faded away. A new beginning was at hand.

It was just three weeks before school would start between magical and muggle in bleak London of 1995 and the temperature can get quite low at nights and mornings. The figure pulled the hood around it's shoulders as it hurried off to the park. The streets are sinisterly silent but the dangers muggles face on them is no threat to the figure. It turned the corner making its way to the middle of the park. With great gusto, it walked up to a small brightly colored ball most oddly stuck in a place to high for children to reach. It takes it upon itself to make sure no one is watching it from behind or lurking in the shadows. Satisfied with the surveying, it plucks the ball from the tree. The feeling of a sudden thrust as its entire body spirals through the air in a wispy fashion. But not without noticing two yellow eyes peering out from under a bush. Making the figure's heart stop before being twisted and turned in all unnatural forms. It hated this method of transportation. But it was the only option. Broom was to risky at this stage. And it still had not mastered apparaiting.

Its body feels another thrust as it landed on gravel. On its face. But luckily over further inspection it only got a scratch as a battle scar. It got up and looked around, hoping to see those eyes again. Only to come to terms with being in a completely opposite part of London. The feeling of familiarity of those eyes pushed aback by a separate realization.

"Damnit all!" The figure stomped its foot and shouted. It seemed that port key of the suspiciously placed ball had failed. For the destination of the figure was but a few blocks away yet. "Shotty counterfeit squib travel items.." It mumbled under its scarf hidden breath. It looks as though walking would be the only option.

So it did. Walk. Until it came upon a large gate Malfoy Manor. This was what was promised too it. Status. Wealth. Importance. A place among wizard kind. No more secret meetings in the back of alley ways or in the dingy appartment. It would have everything. A place by his side. It foresaw this. And as a seer. It knew it must be true.

The gate opened slowly. And two figures approached it. They did not speak. Only knew that their master wanted this figure. Welcomed it. And so they lead it to him.

The room was large. Dark. Say for a fire that blazed. The only furniture in it was a table. And oh. The table was grand. But none sat at it. Say for one. And it could only tell this fact from the billowing robes that dripped off the side.

"My child." The sitting figure spoke. Snaky like and airy. "Come. Take off your cloak. Let me see you."

The standing figure did as told. It dropped in cloak and rushed to the side of its sitting master. Like a child, kneeling before the chair. It's pale hands grasping at the black fabric. Was nothing but a small girl. With black hair. And black beady eyes. Staring up at her master.

At Lord Voldemort.