the dark Lords secret daughter

chapter 1

​The air in the Potions classroom was colder than usual. The new professor didn't seem to care for the cozy, bubbling atmosphere Professor Slughorn had maintained.

Instead, Severus Snape moved through the shadows of the dungeon like a predatory bird, his black robes billowing behind him in a way that made the room feel smaller.

​Heather sat at her workstation, her eyes following the hem of his cloak rather than the instructions on the blackboard.

​"He’s terrifying," Lucia whispered, leaning over her cauldron as she chopped valerian roots. "He looks like he hasn't slept since the seventies, and he took five points from Gryffindor just for breathing too loudly. I think he's actually made of stone."

​Heather didn't look away from the front of the room, where Snape was currently leaning over a student’s potion, his face twisted in a look of cold disdain. "He isn't made of stone, Lucia. He’s... focused."

​Lucia paused, her knife hovering in the air. She squinted at Heather. "Focused? Heather, he’s a nightmare. He’s barely older than us, but he acts like he’s a hundred years old and hates the sun".

​Heather felt a flush creep up her neck that had nothing to do with the steam from her cauldron. She leaned in closer to her friend, her voice a barely audible hum.

​"I don't think it's a nightmare," Heather murmured, her fingers tracing the edge of her textbook. "I think he’s brilliant. Did you see the way he corrected the textbook formula for the Draught of Living Death? He didn't even look at the notes. He just... knew."

​Lucia’s eyes went wide. She dropped her knife with a small clink. "Oh, no. No, Heather. Not the 'brooding, misunderstood genius' thing. Not the new Professor."

​"I can't help it," Heather hissed, finally looking at Lucia. Her eyes were bright. "There’s something about him. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. It makes you want to... I don't know. Help him carry it."

​Lucia groaned softly. "He’ll give you a week's detention if he hears you talking like that. Or worse, he’ll make you scrub cauldrons until your hands bleed."
​Heather looked back to the front of the room. At that exact moment, Snape turned, his dark eyes sweeping the room until they landed briefly—sharply—on her. Heather’s heart did a strange, painful somersault.

​"Then I'll just have to make sure my cauldrons are the cleanest he's ever seen," Heather whispered.