To Mend The Broken Heart (Snape/Student Love Story)

To Mend The Broken

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE JK ROWLING CHARACTERS! I DO HOWEVER OWN CLAUDINIA NARISSA VITROSIS, SHE IS MINE.

CHAPTER ONE

I crossed the empty room, obvious to my early arrival to class. Of course, I always arrive early. I suppose I'm just an involuntary overachiever that way. My classes are: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Divination, Transfiguration, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, and Potions in that order. Here I sat, eight in the morning on a Thursday, in an emptry room with only the sounds of students tiredly bustling around in the outside halls. They would soon show up, however. They can't avoid class forever. Besides- it's Thursday. Every student will be running around, having a blast this rapidly approaching weekend. Well, everyone but me.

I, Claudinia Narissa Vitriosis, am an utter outcast. I study alone. I spend my weekends alone. I don't even have a roommate, or ever a pet at that. No owl for Claudinia. Not even a rat- not that I desire a rat. I have no friends, nor do I strive to make them. I see it as this; if I stay away from them, mind my own business, and never speak unless spoken to, than I can avoid all drama and teasing. So I don't speak unless either spoken to or asked a question in class. It's really quite effective, I'd say. Sixteen and I've yet to have any problems with people yet. So I keep to myself.

My pale white skin practically glowed compared to my black Slytherin robes I wore atop of my pleated black and green skirt, button up white blouse, and Slytherin house colored vest, the house crest embroidered into it. My tall black socks were mandatory, due to the cold weather outdoors. It was fall, October to be exact, and my scarf was tucked neatly around my neck, long curly dark brown locks sprawled on my shoulders and back. I leaned intently over my text book as other students entered the room, chatting away with one another.

"Hey, Claudinia." Shouted Damian Alckozer, a sixth year Slytherin like me. I pointedly ducked my head down further, hiding my wide jade green eyes and blushing pink face under a curtain of hair. I ignored him.

"Claudinia! We're talking to you!" Joined in a friend of his, One whom I didn't know. "Pick your head up, girl! Speak!"

They all laughed it up for a minute longer, ridiculing me further. I rarely got into these situations, so it isn't all that bad. I can take it. But today, things seemed to dish out differently.

"If you were wise, boy, you would move, before I deduct a healthy amount of House points." From a part in my long hair, I noticed a tall dark figure enter the near empty room. That deep frightening voice. Jet black hair. Pale pallor skin. However, it was always the growl-like voice that stood out the most.

Professor Snape. He is, as it turns out, my potions teacher. And a scary one at that. Most kids, even the Slytherins, are afraid of him. He strode across the room through my isle, long black cloak billowing behind him. The two boys jumped away from him. I flinched as he passed, though not out of fear. I had a high amount of respect for Professor Snape. He is a strong, though scary, man. He doesn't take anything from anyone, and always has the courage to fight back. I only wish I could be that brave. Never have I, in my six years at Hogwarts, seen him back down.

I suppose most of my fear and fidgety nature came from my home. My muggle mother abandoned me with my wizard father when I was young. A year perhaps. I wasnt old enough to remember her really, though sometimes things just reminded me if the mystery woman. That wouldn't be all too bad, if my father was not abusive. He wasn't too bad, not on the killing standards, but he did hit me around and get on rages at times. I dared not tell anyone, in hopes of keeping some sort of normality. Then again, who would I tell?

Professor Snape tossed a pouch onto Professor Moody's desk, who nodded to him approvingly in thanks. "You have my thanks, Severus. I really needed this for a spell." Snape, oblivious to Professor Moody's gratitude, walked away without a word. As he passed me, I felt a chill down my spine. Perhaps I was afraid of him, after all.