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"What did he do this time?" Pomona asks when I enter the staff room. She obviously has read the scowl on my face correctly and figured out that the blonde nuisance did something again. Well, it's not hard to guess really, since we're usually taking turns cleaning up his messes. On the other side of the room Severus, who is grading essays with the vigor of a man bored to sleep by what he is reading, looks up from where he scribbled half a page of red ink onto a paper. We share a look. "Did you know that he released a flock of Cornish Pixies onto the second year Slytherin/Gryffindor class this morning?" he asks Pomona with a raised a eyebrow and shrugs when her eyes go big. "Filius was delighted to sort out that particular mess, believe me." "This man!" Her cheeks become indignation in anger and she crosses her arms in front of her chest. "I don't know what Albus was thinking, letting him teach. However good he is supposed to be with dark creatures, he's as useful as a Flobberworm in a classroom." "I would like to remind you, dear colleague," Snape sneers, puffing himself up and doing one of the best imitation's of Lockhart I've seen so far, "That a Flobberworm is an important ingredient in various potions." All three of us snort at the same time. "So?" Pomona asks when we've stopped grinning and gives me a look. "He didn't learn," I mumble and rub my wrist that is aching and swollen my this point. "Set a bunch of Doxies on the First Years, that's what happened. Bloody nuisance." "Did any of them get bitten?" Snape is already stacking up his essays and readying himself to jump to the rescue of the children unfortunate enough to have been in Lockhart's classroom when tragedy struck. "Fortunately for him I was passing by and saw the kids running out the door in panic," I grumble. The man is obviously a fraud, even if none of us can prove it. He can't handle a simple doxy or fairy but boasts with having fought and survived werewolves and vampires. It's not hard to figure out that the stories and the actual man don't line up. Pomona groans in sympathy. Severus however has finished collecting his papers and gets up from his chair by the fireplace. He's watching me like a hawk as he walks up to me. "Your pupils are dilated and your skin is getting shallow," he declares and scowls. "You should have told me that you got bitten right when you came in." "It’s just one bite," I say and want to wave it off, but have to take my hand down halfway through. The bite hurts like hell now. It wasn't that bad in the beginning. "It's only a Class Three creature, it's not that bad." Severus narrows his eyes, but Pomona beats him to it. "Minerva! You should know better than to be this irresponsible. Your health should always be most important… especially when Gilderoy is causing another incident every other day." I'm tempted to argue the point, but it would be futile anyway, not to mention the stinging sensation I feel from my left wrist. It's a constant pain now. "Well, Severus will be able to hand me a concoction to fix this, I hope." We all tend to forget that he is barely past thirty, with a good two-thirds to three-quarters of his life in front of him, so I make it my duty to remind him from time to time, to bring him out of his stoic persona. His ego is usually the way to go, and right now he doesn't disappoint. "Of course I can, Professor," he huffs and walks up to the door to lead me into the dungeons. I follow him, docile enough because the pain has started pulsing up my arm and maybe I should have indeed gone straight to Snape instead of seeing the students to their Common Rooms. Severus leads me past the potions classroom and straight to his own rooms. I've been here only a few times since Horace left the position, but I'm unable to avoid the comparison between the two of them whenever I enter private quarters of the Head of House Slytherin. Slughorn's rooms were lavish, Snape's are sparse. "This way," he grunts, as if I didn't know the way to his private laboratory. "On 1 to 10, how bad is the pain?" I clench my hand into a fist and hiss in pain. There is an egg-shaped dent on my wrist where the doxy bit me. "Five." He turns around sharply to stare at me. With his height, black hair and billowing robe it would be quite effective at intimidating me... if I was a Third Year student. "Four and a half," I reply to his incredulous look and watch his expression turn sour. "Fine!" he snaps and stomps away with the grace of a young erumpent. I would comment on it, but at this point it isn't worth to irk him even more. Severus has a limit and most of the time I try stick to it - I think that he does it the same way with me, sometimes. Not that I like the thought. "Here." He shoves a phial with a dark drown liquid into my hand. It smells like old fish when I open it, but I simply down it one go. Severus looks both impressed at the gall and disbelieving that I would chug whatever he hands me without second thought. He's thinking too badly of himself most of the time, really. "This tastes vile," I comment to bypass his moment of weakness. "It saves you from falling ill with a nasty fever, so you will have to overlook the taste in favor of the effect, I fear." "No need to be flippant, Serverus," I tell him, but there is no bite in the statement like there would be on other occasions. Namely Quidditch. He doesn't reply but is browsing the array of his personal stock of potions and other brews, shoulders tense. Severus Snape is too tense in general, but I can't fault him for it. "You should take better care of yourself. It would be a disgrace if a member of staff would faint in the hallways because of a common doxy bite," he rebukes me, voice taunting. I'm already turning around to take my leave – I know my way around the castle well enough to let myself out – when his hand grabs my shoulder to stop me. A tin that smells faintly of herbs is trusted into my good hand. He doesn't need to tell me that it will ease the swelling. I did have an O in potions, even if I doubt that anyone ever told that to Snape. When I turn my head to look at him he's already opened his mouth for a malicious comment to go with the kind gesture, but I interrupt him before he can even start. "Thank you, Severus. I really appreciate your help." His mouth forms into a thin line, but his eyes are soft now. I save him from having to come up with a sufficiently nasty reply by turning around, tin cradled against my chest, and making my way to the door.