Harry Potter 50 Shades of Gray

If the sharp rap on his door hadn't sounded at precisely half past noon, Severus wouldn't have thought that the student on the other side was Miss Raine. Much like the cretins he had endured for seven years, she possessed enough magic for him to detect the steady glow of her signature. But now, the flame had dwindled to an ember.

He frowned.

"Enter," he said, smoothing his expression back to impassivity.

The girl stepped into the room, glanced at him, then meekly looked away. Lacing his fingers together, he leaned back on his chair to study his Slytherin. She bore his scrutiny poorly, shifting with clear discomfort as she chewed anxiously on her lip.

The rest of the faculty wouldn't have noticed subterfuge even if it was happening right under their noses with flashing neon signs, but Severus was not quite as blind. Still, it pained him to admit that one of his snivelling students had a passable act.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," she said.

"Miss Raine, who taught you how to hide your magic?" He noted the instant her eyes sliced sharply toward him before they skittered away.

"... My mother taught me since I was young, sir."

"But did you know, Miss Raine," he said, now watching very closely, "that concealing one's magic—suppressing it—is not common knowledge? Even if they were aware, mastering it is beyond the reach of many."

"I wasn't aware of that," she answered stiffly.

"No?" His fingers unlaced. Getting up swiftly from his seat, he strode towards the girl who had her chin lifted in defiance.

"No," she said.

Severus let the silence fester, waiting for the girl's inevitable breakdown—hoping she would reveal more information. Yet the girl simply averted her gaze and withdrew into herself. He arched a brow when, after a while, her eyes began darting intermittently towards him, as though she harboured an intense curiosity about him.

He caught her eyes, but rather than shrink away in fear, she appeared mortified instead.

Clearly, the imposed silence would not prove useful in extracting further information from her.

With growing irritation, Severus marched back to his desk. Summoning the selection of knives she would be allowed to choose from, he bit out, "I assume you've brought your spikes. I needn't remind you of the consequences if you were to damage the equipment?"

"No, sir."

Taking a seat, Severus watched as she assessed the array of knives. With surprising decisiveness, she selected the scalpel. How peculiar. The class-standard knife, and thus the knife that most students were accustomed to, was considerably larger. With a wave of his hand, the leather case binding the other knives rolled itself up and returned to the shelves.

"You may begin."

The girl took out a spike from her bag, then experimentally applied pressure on the tip of the knife. Dark eyes narrowed at the correct handling of the knife. She made a slice, and the knife broke through the outer layer of the spike. But too much force had been used, and the spike burst, clear water running out the spike instead of the emulsion she wanted. Undeterred, she took another spike. Her cut, once again, was a perfectly straight line.

Obviously, some imbecile had instructed the girl on how to cut with a scalpel. Her grip, as well as the use of her arm rather than her wrist to pull the blade was perfect. Nevertheless, there was a reason he reserved the scalpel for fifth year. It was a tool of fine precision. Any earlier introduction and the dunderheads would not have the requisite sensitivity to handle it properly.

Mediocrity? His lips twisted in self-satisfaction at having exposed her ruse. If this was indeed an act, it spoke of her intelligence. Her skill in concealing her magic also suggested instruction in that regard as well.

What else was the girl lying about?

Lips thinning into a scowl, he sifted through every piece of information he had gathered about her.

All those tiny little coincidences.

She evidently avoided standing out, yet she did not offer much effort into blending in either. Her inordinate amount of magic, her advanced skill and knowledge in odd things, her desire to hide her abilities, her disinterest in socializing with other children, apart from a select few. And her choices were unusual, remaining staunch in her friendship with Potter despite the pressure from her housemates.

His wand hand twitched—someone with a dubious background had found their way towards the boy, the one he had sworn to protect? If she wasn't a child, he'd be certain that she was at Hogwarts for more nefarious reasons.

Polyjuice was unlikely; she never drank anything during the two-hour Potions period on Fridays. However, there were other means—appearance-altering charms, for instance. Silently—

Finite Incantatem.

He wove his magic with an unprecedented delicacy, but somehow, she sensed it.

The girl frowned and halted all movement. She tilted her head, seeming to question her own senses before glancing hesitantly at him.

"Professor?" she asked.

"What is it now?" Severus said sourly.

"Um," she hesitated. "Well—"

"Don't dawdle. If you have changed your mind about this whole thing then simply say so, and you are free to go."

....

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