Snape "Bullies" Me

In a move very unbefitting of myself, I overslept. I really need to figure out something to decrease the amount of sleep I need without crippling everything else I do. I even missed my morning exercises, but there is no use crying over spilled milk, or in this case, spilled nutrient-rich energy drinks and magic-induced pain. The problem with sleeping in once is all of a sudden you start to realize just how nice it is to not have to wake up.

I walked into the parlor, and there Snape was, sitting and enjoying a cup of coffee. "Ah, Miss Malfoy," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So kind of you to grace us with your presence. I do hope the time you spent dawdling was as productive as the time you could have spent here. Perhaps next time, you might consider arriving on time—unless, of course, you prefer to learn at the speed of a lethargic Flobberworm." He was doing his best to hide his smirk. My perfect little niece had messed up for once, and now he was going to make the most of it. I bet that in ten years I would still hear about this in passing from the man, unless, of course, I did something he could be even sassier about.

I grabbed my bag and quickly placed a few notebooks and the best of the physics books that Dumbledore had picked out. I was going to get everything I could out of this meeting. With that, Snape and I flooed our way to the Leaky Cauldron. Our walks had become more and more conversational over the last year of lessons. Snape was always interested in talking about potions, and for the last month, he was kind enough to listen to me rant about the gravity rune and how useful it could be. Today, however, our conversations were much more personal.

"Seras, what is your opinion on Muggle-born wizards?" Snape asked in a serious, almost melancholy voice. I had honestly been completely caught off guard by the question. Was this a test of some kind, and if it was, who was it set by? Snape had a great relationship with my father, but at the same time, learning from him has taught me that he holds Dumbledore in high regard. My uncle was a logical man, and he seemed to have no problem with Muggle-born wizards as long as they didn't try to fight against the establishment, but he had also been a Death Eater.

Thinking quickly, I replied calmly, "I see no issue with Muggle-born wizards. When I saw the few walking around Diagon Alley, they seemed to have similar amounts of magic to some of the weaker pure-blood families. I believe that pure-bloods are inherently superior, but many don't use their talents and end up below the half-blooded and Muggle-born wizards. There are also great talents that come from those two classes that bridge the gap in magical power and, due to hard work, surpass even the greatest pure-bloods. If given the chance, I would like to do a few studies on the matter to see if there are any grounds to what I perceive."

I thought that my answer was perfect. If Snape was a supremacist, he would think that my answer had just been naive due to me being a child and that with his help, he would help me see sense—no reason to report negatively to my father. If my uncle believed them to be completely equal, then he would just assume that Lucius had been feeding me a bit of negative information and that the studies I would do into the matter would change my mind—no reason to report negatively to Dumbledore.

Snape looked me deep into my eyes in a way that he rarely did, a small smile appearing on his lips. "I truly wish I thought that way when I was younger. It may have saved me from a lot of heartbreak."

I wasn't really sure what he meant, but my viewpoint had clearly been one that he was hoping to hear. Despite knowing various facts and the interests of my uncle, he had always been quite private about his life. I didn't wish to push deeper because there was clearly something painful there. I should at least wait until I'm strong enough to deal with whatever consequences might come about because I ask.

We entered the castle and were met right at the secret entrance by Dumbledore himself. I had seen many photos of the old wizard, but none of them could have prepared me for the near inferno of magical power that was in front of me. The amount of mana in the great wizard ahead of me was many times that of my father and many times my own. The odd part is his aura wasn't intimidating; it felt pure and clean in a way that none of the other adults in my life had felt, but just like Snape's, there seemed to be a feeling of sadness tucked somewhere within. There was a knowledgeable glint in his eyes that no portrait of the man could capture; it both seemed to invite questions and hint as a warning of just how much strength this man possessed.

"Seras, the notebook, if you please. I trust you haven't filled it with anything less than insightful observations and meticulous details. I would hate to think I entrusted such an important task to someone who values creativity over accuracy." I must have spent more time sizing up the man in front of me than I realized. I opened my bag and noticed that I had grabbed the wrong notebook. My uncle smirked; he had noticed back at the mansion and didn't say anything.

Snape's eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. "Miss Malfoy," he began, his tone dripping with a sardonic edge, "it appears I have an urgent task that requires your... unique perspective. You will be writing the pop quiz for my third and fourth-year students. Consider it an opportunity to contribute to their education and to demonstrate the thoroughness of your own understanding. I expect nothing less than perfection." He smirked slightly, clearly relishing the fact that I had made another mistake. I picked out two of the multiple-choice quizzes that would best suit the current unit for the third years and two other quizzes that would do the same for the fourth years.

Snape looked at the papers and looked back at me a few times. He laughed to himself and then walked off with the copies to his classroom. He didn't even take the answer key with him, which meant that I would end up grading them. I had just somehow managed to get homework on the only day I didn't have a class with him. My godfather must be having the day of his life.