September 2, 1996
It’s well known that for the last five years each professor assigned to Defense Against the Dark Arts has survived in the position for only a single term. This year, be it the failure of Potter to acquire skills of Occlumency – of which I can no longer personally instruct for fear that the Dark Lord’s mind is accessing or influencing Potter’s – or perhaps my persistence over the past few years, Headmaster finally insisted I take charge of the course. I accepted knowing it would likely be as short term as my predecessors.
For years I prepared a most thorough lesson plan of the dark arts focusing mostly on curses and hexes. These spells cast upon another without their free are by far the bleakest of all dark arts, and in light of recent events it is even more critical than ever to effectively train students in counter curses & defensive spells. Professor Dumbledore insisted I be the one to accomplish the results so many of the previous professors had failed to do. If a student possessed a truly gifted mind, the task should be as simple as concocting a mixture of boil cure potion.
It was on this first day of class that Potter had already proven he could not control his own mouth let alone his easily penetrated mind. That self absorbed boy once again tested my tolerance and I saw fit to once again assign him detention. When I eventually dismissed the class I had to turn away to stop myself from projecting a dog eared copy of Defensive Magical Theory in the direction of Potter’s backside.
“Excuse me professor Snape. May I trouble you for a moment?” A woman’s voice unexpectidly echoed across the empty classroom.
I knew even before turning around that L’apercil had entered the room with her flowery layered dressing and intoxicating scent.
“Yes.” I answered, hoping her visit would be as brief as my answer. She had unnerved me enough during the feast and I had no time for frivolity.
I watched as her form carried her across the room like an exquisite peacock. Her billowing golden hair rolling across her shoulders like liquid gold as she glided down the aisle between rows of desks and effortlessly hexing each window shade to open as she passed.
“You know Professor, just because the subject is named “Dark Arts” doesn't mean it must be instructed in darkness.” She said satisfyingly as the last window was cast open.
In spite of daylight streaking into the classroom, every step closer she took made the space smaller and even more uncomfortably silent. I felt a sudden and inexplicable desire to inch closer to her pure, ivory skin like the irresistible cry of a siren's song. I could sense her eyes bearing into me, perhaps even reading my thoughts. Could she be a master of Legilimens herself? Perhaps a she was a temptation or spy sent by Voldemort.
“Professor Veritas, I do not appreciate” SLAM “ you redecorating” SLAM, “my classroom” SLAM. I flipped the last of the shades closed again. “What exactly do you need assistance with? I am very busy.”
“I wanted to apologize for my behavior this morning at the feast. I’m normally not that clumsy.” She paced somewhat nervously a few yards from me. “At least not outside of the Three Broomsticks.”
“Really?” I asked. “And is frequenting this establishment something you are proud of?”
“Come now, we all need time to unwind Professor Snape. I am quite fond of Madam Rosmerta’s red currant rum.” She stopped and turned towards my podium. Her expression actually showing no sign of tension whatsoever. “Have you tried it Severus? C'ést trés délicieux!”
She stepped closer, too close for comfort as I was entranced by the trés délicieux manner my name fell from her lips. Discipline your mind, Severus! The Dark Lord is at hand. I instinctively stepped behind the black rustic trunk.
“Excuse me professor, have I done something to offend you?” She asked as she slid one step away from the trunk.
“The last woman to step inside these four walls was not quite what she seemed. Let's just assume I have my reservations.”
L’apercil pierced her vibrant blue eyes through two narrow slits as her mouth began to bear her perfect teeth.“I assure you I am NOT Professor Umbridge.”
“Yes, well...” I began.
“Professor,” she interupted, “I have not come to engage in some will of the ways with you, I have simply come to ask for your help on with an elixer.”
She sat on the lid of the bogart trunk and reached into a small laced pocket located on the breast plate of her bodice. “I am having difficulty successfully brewing the proper mixture for this strengthening solution.”
“In case you missed the announcement at feast, Professor Slughorn is the Hogwarts Potions Professor now.” I corrected her.
“Yes, yes, I’m aware of that. But Headmaster Dumbledore insisted that you are by far the more brilliant mind and would be generous enough with your time to assist in this task.”
Once again Professor Dumbledore asks too much. “I’m sure Professor Slughorn is more than capable of such a simple feat.”
“Please Severus, I must insist. This is a delicate matter which cannot be trusted to just anyone.” She hesitated for a moment holding the flask in front of her before opening her mouth to sing my name again. “My apologies. May I call you Severus?”
I found my hand unconsciously reaching for the flask as if it had a mind of it’s own. “What could possible be so important about creating a batch of strengthening solution Ms. Veritas?”
“I’m sorry. I cannot say. But I promise to return the favor, somehow, some way. Will you please help me?” She asked opening her eyes as large as the house elves.
“Yes, yes, alright. But only this once. I have far too many duties to be distracted by such remedial tasks.” I had hoped that by assisting L’apercil this one time it would diffuse the feminine charm she exuded. I had no idea this was just the beginning.
“What seems to be the trouble with the solution Ms. Veritas? Your ingredients seem in order.” I asked after scanning the list tied to her pouch.
“I believe it’s the salamander blood. Every new batch becomes contaminated.”
I examined the thin bottle she retrieved from the pocket on her bodice only to discover bubbling green boils coating the inner edge of the vile.
“Ms. Veritas, where did you obtain this?” I asked taking a brief sniff of the infected fluid.
“It comes from the Southern coast of France.”
“Is this of the Pyrenean Euproct variety?” The bitter smell made it clearly obvious that it was.
“I’m afraid I cannot answer that. Is it bad?”
“Is it bad? My dear Ms. Veritas, ingredients are like the veins of a leaf, the swells of an ocean, the snowflakes of a storm, no two are exactly alike. If you mix the incorrect variety, amount or timing you can quickly create a disaster. Follow me and I'll correct this gross negligence.”
As we walked the halls towards the potions vault I attempted to uncover the secrecy behind her unexpected quest for strengthening solution, but to no avail.
“Are you going to divulge the purpose of this elixier Ms. Veritas? From my understanding, you have been brought here to Hogwarts to enlighten students on the worth of beauty and art. A strengthening solution seems like an unrelated necessity.”
“I covet my lesson plans Professor Snape, but you are more than welcome to join our class on the day we see first hand the effects of this potion.”
“No thank you.” I said. “Don’t you think Creative Arts is quite meaningless and inconsequential with the Dark Lord approaching?”
She stopped her pace as I was forced to stop mine and look back at her.
“Professor Snape, now more than ever we must recognize and nourish a world filled with beauty, love and art.” She said with the conviction of a poet.
“I am quite familiar with the Bohemian mantra L’apercil, but it’s absurd to focus the mind away from what matters most in these dark times.”
“But don’t you see? This does matter most!”
She stepped towards me and raised her tone to the point it echoed off the stone wall behind me.
“You cannot fight the darkness without the light! You cannot win without cause to protect.” Beauty. Love. Life. These are the man’s most treasured gifts. They must be served and preserved at all cost!”
“Are all French this...passionate?” I asked beginning to set my pace again towards the door which secured all potion ingredients for the school.
“Absolutment!” She insisted and caught up with my pace.
It took only a moment to identify the correct grade of Salamander Blood in the potions vault. I carefully placed three drops into the second vile L’apercil carried on her person, spun the mixture in the air for 10 seconds until it reached a deep shade of aquamarine with tiny gold fibers swimming about.
I held the elixer in front of my chest, creating a reasonable proximity from her person. “I believe this will suffice Ms. Veritas.”
She examined it again squinting her eyelids as if the power of the action caused her to see further than one’s natural eye. She looked up to me and smiled, a slight dimple appeared along each cheek.
“Professor Snape, you are truly a prince of potions. I can’t thank you enough. I must treat you to a visit to Madam Rosmerta’s?”
“No thank you. I will have no part of such nonsense,” I insisted. “You’ve already expressed your gratitude, now I must insist I return to my duties and you, yours.”
I couldn’t resist watching as she graciously slid the newly completed vile back into her bodice. She revealed her dimples again when she caught my gaze upon her. “I see,” she said.
And in the moment all I could think of is yes, she did. She did see. I felt unprotected, unguarded and quickly turned to return back to the dungeons.
“I do promise to return this favor Severus.” She called to me as I resisted the overwhelming urge to view one last glimpse of her graceful feminine figure.
