A Side Never Seen

A cauldron on the fritz was one thing to avoid, but sucking up to a worker for the Ministry of Magic was ten times worse. During Defense Against the Dark Arts earlier that day, young Marissa Christon had the worst that can be thrust at her after she asked why Professor Umbridge was not to teach with using defensive spells in class, like they are supposed to. She figured out from her fellow classmates that Potter had asked the same question two days prior. When Potter dug in further about the Dark Lord, Umbridge wouldn't have it.

We're not going to use magic?" Marissa meekly asked.

"Well, my dear, I don't see why we need magic in this classroom." Umbridge's squeaky tone replies. "It's uncalled for." she finishes, beginning to sound agitated, despite her honey sweet guise.

Marissa eased back, embarrassed from even asking. It was courageous of her to even speak up for her meek, innocence, noticed by her other professors. But after she shut up, Umbridge looked at all who were present.

"Now, all of you, listen. One more mention of using spells in this class, I will not tolerate any at all. Understood?" she 'sweetly' warned. "And, dear miss Christon, come to my office after class."

Now it was clear that she was mad at her, especially after that kind, overly sweet chuckle.

As soon as everybody left, Marissa stays behind, dreading to know what Umbridge wanted with her. It was only a mere question. The time came when that pink dressed tyrant emerged out of the office.

"You may come in now." she beckoned with forced, kind smile.

Dreading to even set foot in that office, poor Marissa stood not too far from her desk, with all school things accounted for, and slowly made her way up the stone stairway. The inside of this room was full and covered with, she dare say, pink and seemed somewhat abnormal compared to anything else out of the ordinary in this castle.

"Sit, dear. Do you care for some tea?" she asked, standing as Marissa helped herself to sit down.

"Uh," the girl struggled, not wanting to sound rude. "N-no, mam. I'm-I'm fine. Thank you."

"Pity. Well, do you know why you are here?" the witch continued, looking slightly disappointed.

"I asked the wrong question, I suppose."

"That was not the anwer I asked for." snapped the woman, sounding more tense and annoyed.

Marissa cowered, her feelings shattering, and innocently not knowing what answer she wished to hear. Umbridge sighed, half-heardedly.

"If you don't know why, then writing a few lines will clear your head." she suggested, picking up a crimson quill that looks like it's half Muggle pen and she places it before Marissa.

"Now, on that bit of parchment, do write down, I will only speak when spoken to." she requests, shrewdly.

"But," Marissa speaks. "You didn't give me any-"

"You won't need any, dear."

Nervously, yet obediantly, Marissa began to scribble down the exact words she requested. As she wrote in utter silence, the ink of the quill was, oddly enough, blood red, resembling the thickness of real blood. Soon after realizing on that fact, she started to feel an egging, deepening pain on her left hand for some reason. The pain increased sharply, making her wince. In agony, she saw bloodied scars form on the top of her hand writing out what she had written, exactly how she wrote it. The pain became far too much to bear and it didn't subside ven after the full sentence was scarred in. Tears began to stream from her eyes, feeling completely shrunk by Umbridge's pompous authority. That wench came round, seeing the tears of agony and nods with pity.

"Now, you see. You now know that thinking in such a way in my class is prohibited. Do you hear me?" she smiled in pitying understanding.

Heaving a shaken sigh, sobs stuck in her throat, Marissa nodded, being as strong and brave as she could be.

"Go on." the woman urged, telling her to write more.

After two hours of agonizing quill writing, Marissa managed to finish three pages of lines while trying to ignore her newly retrieved scar that she knew fully that she didn't deserve.

"I want you to report back here after dinner, so that your lesson won't be forgotten." ordered the tyrant.

After all that to put through, she was excused but expected later. Keeping her feelings strapped in tight and loathing that woman, the poor second year made it to the switching stairways, heading toward the front court to be alone to her thoughts, not wanting to speak with anyone. In the midst of her turmoil, the silent Professor Snape purposely tread passed her and only noticed her when he felt a brush under his cape. Grudgily, he spied behind to see a tense little girl, glaring down at the brick, clutching her hand, tightly. She was one of his students for the next Potions period and glowered in annoyance before pressing on, too busy at the moment to look further into the matter. Three hours later, her Potions session had come to call and what made her feel worse, the dungeons was where it's held, away from the comforting sunlight. She simply wished Umbridge to leave and die in a sink hole. Sitting alone as her classmates talked amongst each other, Marissa laid her head down while the pain on her hand still ached tremendously. Suddenly the dungeon door swung open and slammed shut with the Professor forcing in, silent, dark and irritable. The class fell dead silent when he swept to the front of the class.

"I presume you all have done your blasted studying." he growled deeply as he came before all of them. "Explain to me what an antidote is and name me at least two different kinds of antidotes and what they're used for." he asked seriously to the whole class, expecting a sure answer from all of them.

Four children raised their hands high, but the dark, stern Professor paid them no heed and only spied on the small one in the back.

"Miss Christon." he sharply addressed, frightening the poor, depressed girl out of her daze. "Why don't you tell the rest of the class an example, since you seem quite occupied with something other."

That caught her off guard and she had a streak of terror crossing her paled face. The rest of the class all put their gazes down on their parchment rolls, knowing that this was about to get ugly. Heaving a struggled sigh, Marissa happened to be having trouble answering her teacher. Snape hinted a harsh, disapproving glance as he slowly came to where she was.

"None of the foggiest?" he sarcastically hissed, arms crossed and crossed himself.

"I-I . . ." she lost her voice. She hadn't a clue why she felt so unsettled. She shook her head as an answer, feeling about ready to cry.

"This is the fourth time you've been ignorant in my class, pondering how pathetically unkind your life has been, so I suppose you favor receiving a T as your final grade?"

The students all turned wide eyed and scared for her, except for a few Slytherins, who snickered in pure amusement. Marissa kept strong though and actually pulled herself together.

"No." she cooed, ashamed, yet respectful.

Just by looking at her Severus could tell that this girl had endured something, plus the terrible scar on her left hand was enough proof.

"5 points from Gryffindor for your ignorance." he drawled out loud, returning to his desk.

That made her feel even worse.

"Pray that you won't attempt such an act again, miss Christon. I will not put up with a insufferable daydreamer who has no care for her own education."

Things could not get any worse. Costing her house points just because she couldn't find her tongue, that was just pure brilliance! How could she hate herself any further? The Professor sure did, by the way he judged her potion.  He gave her a D just by glancing at it. Potions wasn't the problem. It was that toad of a woman who scarred her with that quill. When the class concluded, Professor Snape secretly eyed her as she sadly cleaned up her station, slowly and low spiritedly placing her vials back into the cupboards just before turning the burner off. He continued with his assignment grading.

"Miss Christon," he coldly addressed again, heartlessly just before she was about to depart from the dungeon.

Marissa froze for a second and her heart throbbed painfully. Suddenly her hand began to sting and throb once again and she grasped it, grimacing while trying to hide it from her teacher's view. He heard her make an odd shift that gave him one crucial message. She felt truthfully hated today and she didn't know why. But now it seemed that hiding her pain from what that toad did to her had already revealed itself. Obeying her Professor's very word, Marissa came up to her professor's desk. When he casually, yet silently stood up from his chair, she shivered, dreading to know how he was going to punish her. She wrapped her arms around herself as the grim Professor harshly shut a drawer closed behind him after placing a parchment inside of it. Marissa caught a glimpse of a pink envelope with his name written delicately on the front and he had a huge mark of disgust when he threw it in.

"Now, Miss Christon," his deep, soft voice broke her attention away from her thoughts and he partially sat on the edge of his desk in front of her, hands folded and glaring her down.

"Mind if I point out that you have not turned in your three rolls I requested on the effects of wolfsbane."

Of course, the in class assignment. She never did it. She was far too distracted by her . . . scarred hand of which she hides from him.

"I-I . . . I'm sorry, pro-professor. I-" she trailed off, her hand beginning to throb.

Severus narrowed his eyes at the hand she was trying so desperately to hide, not in a cynical way, rather concerned for a moment. "Carry on." he ushered in a low, boring tone.

She didn't wish to say anything else.

"You happen to be so inclined to being so devastatingly ignorant for some time, I am sorely tempted to be a striking off some more points from your house, however," he paused. "I will be blunt for your pathetic sake, pray tell, I will allow you to make up for your mistake. You have one hour to turn in two rolls of parchments explaining the few of many cures the bezeor is capable for." he thus made his way back out into the the hall, probably to get something from his stores. "You will do so in silence, foolish girl. I will not repeat myself!" he barked, slamming the classroom door behind him.

She found herself all alone in the dungeons and she sadly sat back in her corner when class was in session earlier and took out a couple blank parchments and a quill to begin her assignment. At least he wasn't punishing her with that weird quill. She actually felt more comfortable with the git than with that tormenting monster. It was better to be yelled at than having her hand cut into pieces. But it stung and burned so much that it made her let out a sob, afraid to go back to that abnormal office again. Poor Marissa looked at the small watch on the desk. Dinner had already begun. Outside the door, however, Snape heard a tiny sob from inside and, with his face slackened with hatred and determination, he heard familiar shoes tapping outside his dungeon stair. Acting as though he was casually going on his way to the Grand Hall, a certain tyrant stepped pompously in front of him, rather rudely.

Slowly and painfully writing that assignment that had to be done and wiping away any escaping tears, poor Marissa overheard the Professor's stern voice followed a nastily familiar kindness of the one who hurt her.

"How do you mean you don't know where she is?" squeaked Umbridge, anger beginning to form behind her fake sweetness. "She was just here, wasn't she?"

Marissa could hear perfectly and broke into a cold sweat, knowing that Snape would surely hand her over to that witch.

"Indeed, mam, Miss Christon was in my last teaching and last saw her heading toward dinner with her classmates." calmly explained the Professor's deepened and sure voice.

He was lying?! Marissa could hardly believe that! He was lying to Umbridge on her behalf, but how was that possible?

"Are you certain?" Umbridge backfired, frustrated with this.

"Would I lie to you?" Snape replied, coyly and harshly.

Extremely grateful and smiling weakly, Marissa continued on with her assignment, as silent as the grave, yet she fought the urge to giggle at his last remark.

"Very well, Professor. If that's all you can recall. You did get my letter, I presume?" she quickly changed the subject.

Marissa could plainly imagine Snape grind his teeth in utter loathing.

"I might have." his patience was being tried.

By sighting the obvious 'please get your arse out of my classroom' glare, Umbridge gave a disappointed giggle, nodding.

"I am somehow quite grieved to have to tell you this, but I am not able to attend dinner tonight for I am completely up to my neck in ruddy grades and bloody potions that need to be attended to." Snape respectfully bowed slightly and curtly, as it were.

"Pity. I must say. Well, Professor, I do hope you have a pleasant evening. Apologies for bothering you."

With that, she departed from the dungeon stair and when he was sure that she was,gone, the Professor placed a hand on his forehead, probably gaining a migraine from all this.

"This is not worth enduring at this hour." he growled, tiredly and irritably.

The girl inside his office kept her head low, writing slowly, keeping her injured hand pressed down in her lap, bearing through the pain. A loud slamming frightened her senseless before she seaw a dark shadow loom over her. There he was, his dark eyes more grim than usual. She humbled herself completely before him, as if apologizing for being such a...burden. After seeing that she was deliberately hiding away her left hand from him, as usual, and having that broken look in her eyes, he swiftly went to one of the cupboards and took out a small phial of clear liquid.

"I cannot believe that you would be stupid enough to not tell a living soul about your predicament, you silly girl." he broke the silence, while pouring a few drips onto a small towel.

Marissa winced, realizing that he knew her secret as he came back to her. "Give me your hand." he passively yet firmly ordered, holding out his.

She did so and she allowed her Potions Professor to take her hand and he gingerly placed this remedy soaked towel upon it. Once it touched the offending bleeding part on top of her hand, she gave a silenced gasp. He knew it hurt, but this would allow this scar to heal much faster.

"It's all right." he told her. "Essence of Murtlap. Will, indeed, heal it in soon time."

Marissa lost her voice again.

"Th-thank y-you." she managed to say, but Snape's expression remained stone cold.

"Don't expect a visit like this in the future, Miss Christon. Vouching for you was not of my intent." he sharply said as he gently wrapped her hand. "You still have that assignment to be on my desk by tomorrow morning." he finished.

He turned his back on her, flourished his cloak as he went back to his desk to continue with his mess of grading. "You are dismissed!" he sharply ended it, silently ordering her to leave that instant.

Saying nothing, she gathered her quill and parchments back into her sack and hastily left the classroom.Once she made it out to the stairway, she looked back, a thankful smile showing up on her face. A greasy git they called him. He wasn't all that bad.  Brilliantly, h hade spared her from doing another detention with that Umbridge. Indeed, that assignment would be on his desk by morning.