The Rewards of Taking a Genuine Interest in One’s Students
Author: jncar
Title: The Rewards of Taking a Genuine Interest in One’s Students
Rating: PG
Prompts: Sloth, Orange (Happy, Courageous, Successful)
Word Count: 6,200-ish
Summary: “This was the kind of encounter with students that threatened to give him ulcers in his stomach-a confused adolescent’s desperate cry for help. A cry that he was supposed to answer.” Snape gives Tonks career advice.
Author’s Notes: This little story was rendered AU before I even finished it, because it contains Slytherin!Tonks, but I couldn’t very well change it since belonging to that House is a crucial component of the story. So I figured, a little AU now and then never hurt anyone. ;) This is my first story for this community, and I hope you like it!
The Rewards of Taking a Genuine Interest in One’s Students
There was nothing Severus Snape despised more than talking to students. Not lecturing-that could be reasonably enjoyable. And commenting on his pupil’s work during class could also be a source of some pleasure. Even administering discipline wasn’t wholly disagreeable. No-what he hated was really talking to his students. One on one personal conversation with them positively made his skin crawl.
He kept the shortest office hours of any of the staff purely to avoid those dreaded conversations. And when his students did seek him out during office hours, he made it clear to them that, whenever possible, they were to restrict their discussions to academic matters.
Whenever one of them would come complaining to him about issues with their peers, or their family, or-Merlin forbid-their romances, his instinctive response was to shout some sense into their hormone addled brains, and then throw them out. Or to give them detention if they were excessively irksome.
Because of his distaste for those personal conversations there was one time of year that he dreaded above all others: career advice week.
Some of his students were practical and to the point during their career advice meetings, but inevitably several of them would be pathetically directionless, and it was up to him to help give them direction. Unfortunately, that entailed getting into serious personal discussions of the very sort he so deeply despised.
This year, he’d already had to convince one boy that becoming a professional Quidditch player was simply not an option for someone who had failed to make the house team all four times he had tried out. And he had to sternly inform a girl that despite her uncle’s status as the most renowned Wand Maker in England, she possessed none of the qualities necessary to follow in his footsteps.
As he sat waiting for his next pupil to arrive for counseling, a particular kind of frustration and anxiety roiled in his gut. He had no idea what he was going to say to Nymphadora Tonks.
He didn’t dislike the girl; on the contrary, in spite of her incurable clumsiness she was the brightest girl in her year, and she possessed a rather biting wit that reminded him somewhat of himself in his school years. But, unfortunately, she was also the most brazen flirt he had ever seen. She was constantly surrounded by a crowd of drooling boys of all ages, and-from what he could tell-had no female friends at all. He had chided her over the years that she could make far better use of her Metamorphmagus skills than using them for nothing more than to attract boys. Of course, she never listened to him. She would merely glare at him with those flashing black eyes with a look that made him immensely uncomfortable.
Her flirtatious nature, however, hadn’t interfered with her studies-that is, until this year.
Though she had regularly received two or three detentions a year in the past, this year she had already served eight detentions: two for talking disrespectfully to her teachers, and six for being caught in compromising positions with boys. A different boy each of the six times. And on top of the detentions, her marks in all of her subjects had steadily declined. It was almost as if she was giving up on academics in favor of her more fleshly pursuits, and Snape had no idea why.
He sat nervously shuffling the stack of career pamphlets on his desk as he waited for her. It was no surprise that she was late.
At last, she swept into his office, her waist-length black hair billowing behind her. Her full lips pouted in her flawless porcelain-smooth face, and her trademark black eyes looked hard and set.
Without uttering a word, she flung herself into the chair in front of his desk, and defiantly folded her arms in front of her.
Snape ignored her air of challenge, and launched into his usual speech about the importance of selecting the appropriate courses to compliment her career goals. Finally, he reached the dreaded question.
“So, Miss Tonks, have you given much thought to what career you might be interested in pursuing?”
She glared at him fiercely. “Yeah. I’m going to be a courtesan.”
Snape gaped at her in unabashed shock. “A courtesan?!”
“Yeah. You do know what it is-don’t you?”
“Of course I know what it is-and if you think I’m going to let you get away with this kind of ridiculous answer, then you are gravely mistaken. I’m taking twenty points from Slytherin, and if you don’t give me a more serious answer immediately I’ll give you detention as well.”
“I am serious!”
Snape was about to respond with the promised detention, when the grim look on her face made him pause. What if the girl was telling the truth?
He frowned. “Why in the world would you want to be a prostitute?”
“It’s not a matter of wanting it,” she said, glaring at the floor. “It’s all I’m fit for.”
Snape swallowed hard, at last realizing what was going on. This was the kind of encounter with students that threatened to give him ulcers in his stomach-a confused adolescent’s desperate cry for help. A cry that he was supposed to answer. For a moment he was tempted to call on Minerva for assistance, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. He was a Head of House, for Merlin’s sake! He was perfectly capable of handling one confused and rebellious little girl.
“You’re being absurd,” he snarled at her. “Up until this year you’ve been an excellent student, and if you properly apply yourself, you will be fit for any number of respectable occupations.”
She shook her head, looking angrier than ever. “No, sir. I won’t. No respectable business would want to hire me.”
“Why not?”
“Because respectable people don’t trust shapeshifters. They’d be afraid I’d steal from them, or steal from their clients, or sell their trade secrets, or seduce their sons or their husbands. No one trusts a Metamorphmagus.” Her voice was shaking, and her perfect complexion was marred by red splotches flushing on her forehead and cheeks.
“Where in the world did you get these ideas, Miss Tonks?”
She pouted again, and finally answered: “I started researching careers over the summer, and I decided to look up what other Metamorphmagi have done.”
“Ahhh…” All of her troubling behavior over the past year was finally starting to make sense.
“All of them-without exception-have had one of four careers,” she said. “They were spies, thieves, actors, or prostitutes. No one would want someone as clumsy as me for a spy, I don’t fancy spending time in Azkaban if I got caught for thievery, and I dread getting up in front of people so that rules out acting. So there’s only one option left, isn’t there?”
“Don’t be absurd,” he sneered. She was getting melodramatic, and he couldn’t abide melodrama. “Your thought process is completely devoid of logic. You may be right that you’re dreadfully unfit to be a spy or a thief, but prostitution is certainly not the only option left to you. I will simply not permit a member of my House to become a sex worker merely because she is too slothful and cowardly to choose a better path.”
“Slothful!?” she exclaimed.
He noticed that she didn’t dispute the charge of cowardice. “Yes, slothful,” he said. “You’re a bright enough girl that if you properly applied yourself you could be very nearly anything that you want-you are simply too lazy to put forth the effort required to overcome the prejudice you might encounter along the way.”
She scowled, and he noticed her fists clenching at her sides. “It’s not laziness!”
He raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? You certainly had me fooled. So if your sudden ambition to become a prostitute is not a result of laziness, then what is it? Masochism? Nymphomania? Enlighten me.”
“No! That’s not why. That’s not why.”
Her whole face had turned red, and Snape was unsure whether she was about to hurl a curse at him, or break down crying. He rather hoped it was the former-it would be much easier to cope with.
“I suggest you explain yourself before I lose what’s left of my patience.”
“No one trusts me! How can I ever have a normal life when no one trusts me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “No one?”
“No one! None of the other students have ever really trusted me. And a few years ago it got worse when the girls all started accusing me of morphing to look like them so that I could snog their boyfriends.”
“Were you snogging their boyfriends?”
She glared at him. “Sometimes-but I didn’t have to morph for that. I’ve never been with a boy who didn’t know exactly who he was with.”
“And don’t the boys trust you?”
She shook her head, and looked away. “Not really. They don’t care about trusting me. All they care about is what I can do for them.”
Snape chose not to delve any deeper into this answer. He didn’t really want to know if this girl-at sixteen-was more sexually experienced than he had been at twenty-six.
He hated to admit it, but she was right about one thing-none of her fellow students seemed to trust her. He’d seen it himself, in their treatment of her during class and in the halls. And she would undoubtedly face mistrust throughout her life. That did not, however, exempt her from making more of herself than a prostitute. But he had to think of something to say to her that would convince her that a life full of the kind of hard work necessary to win and keep people’s trust would be worth her while.
Trying to buy himself time to think, he blurted out: “Your teachers trust you.”
“They don’t count. They have to think the best of me-it’s their job.”
This was just the starting point that he needed. “No, it most certainly is not. I assure you that there are several students that I would trust less than a vampire who swore he didn’t care for the taste of blood. You, on the other hand, have had my complete trust. At least, until this past year, when your shenanigans called my judgment of your character into question. And I’d hazard a guess that most of the staff feels the same way.”
She shook her head and looked away. “So my teachers trust me. What’s the big deal? How is that going to help me out there,” she waved her hand vaguely in front of her, “in the real world?”
“The ‘big deal,’ as you so crudely put it, is that your teachers, as knowledgeable and experienced adults, are far more representative of what you will encounter in the so-called ‘real world’ than any of your classmates.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.
“We haven’t been at Hogwarts our whole lives, Miss Tonks. All of us have spent time out in the wider Wizarding world before taking up our teaching posts.”
“But do any of you really know what it’s like to be constantly surrounded by people who don’t trust you? And by people who openly despise you? You have no idea how hard it is.”
He could tell by the quiver in her voice that the girl was looking for sympathy, but she would receive none from him. No one gave him sympathy when he found himself in a similar position. But he had been given firm and realistic guidance, and now it was his turn to provide the same for this lost little girl.
“I know exactly what it is like to be surrounded by people who mistrust and hate me, and if I was capable of proving myself to them and earning a position of respect in the community, then so are you.”
Her eyes grew wide. “When did you-?”
“The details of my life are not important. What is important is what we are going to do about the predicament you and your laziness have got you into.”
“I am not lazy!” she repeated, but he silenced her with a hard glare.
“Do not try my patience, Miss Tonks.” He flipped through the notes from her other teachers. “It appears that you are still doing sufficiently well in Charms and Herbology to bring yourself back up to OWL-level performance without outside assistance. In your other subjects, however, you will require extra tutoring. I will contact your teachers and have them recommend NEWT-level students who would be able to exchange tutoring services for extra-credit, or for a small fee. If the tutors wish to be paid, we will have to contact your parents to arrange for it.”
“Do we have to?” she asked with a desperate look in her eyes.
“Yes,” he said unequivocally. “In Potions you are so dismally behind that you’ve left no choice but for me to tutor you myself. As with other students in the past, I am willing to provide this service for a nominal fee. I will be writing your parents directly to negotiate terms. As soon as they are decided upon, you will begin staying an extra half-hour after each of your Potions lessons, and you will attend tutoring sessions every Saturday morning along with several other students that have arranged for extra help. I will also make the Potions classroom available to you for extra practice, should you desire it.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, finally beginning to look suitably contrite. “Do you think this will be enough to pass my OWLs?”
“I do. You’re bright enough. But you will have to make one final sacrifice.”
“What?”
“No more boys.”
“No way!”
“Very well, then. Next time I’m in London I’ll stop by Knockturn Alley and make some inquiries about whether anyone knows of a good bordello that would be interested in adding a Metamorphmagus to their collection of offerings. Would that suit you better?”
She scowled at him, her face flushing again-this time with anger. “Fine. No boys.”
He was tempted to smile, but refrained. He didn’t want to look too accessible or she might try using the extra study sessions for more personal conversations. “Very well. The details of our arrangement should be finalized with your parents by this weekend, so plan on attending your first tutoring session at ten o’clock sharp, Saturday morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And…” he added, “I’ll expect you in my office Monday evening at seven o’clock for a detention.”
“What?!” she said, her jaw dropping.
“You’ve been unbearably impertinent during this interview. Detention is the only suitable punishment.”
“You can’t do this to me!” She looked about to rise to her feet.
“I can, and I will. Would you like to serve detention on Wednesday, as well? Or would you prefer to shut your mouth and leave my office in peace?”
The girl prudently clamped her mouth shut, and rose to her feet. “Am I excused?”
“You most certainly are.”
With one final glare, she turned and stormed out of his office.
He finally permitted a small smile to form on his lips as she left. He found that he rather enjoyed that. There was a small degree of personal gratification in helping his students, after all. And few had ever needed his help as much as Nymphadora Tonks.
****
The arrangements for her various tutors came together quickly and easily, and Snape saw-to his satisfaction-that Nymphadora was far more often to be seen in the company of her books than with her fellow students.
She made fast progress in their extra Potions sessions, and she soon seemed on track to receiving a passing score on her OWL after all.
A few days before the OWL-review week began, he called her into his office for another meeting.
This time her dark hair was shorter, and pulled back in a sensible ponytail. She entered his room meekly, and sat respectfully waiting for him to speak.
“I’ve been reviewing reports on your progress from all of your teachers. You seem to be making admirable progress.”
“Yes, I think I am. Thank you, sir.”
He nodded sharply. “Now, I do believe that in our first career-counseling meeting you never did tell me what career you would truthfully like to pursue. Perhaps, now that you’ve overcome your temporary fit of sloth, you can share your real ambitions with me?”
Her lips drew tight, and she seemed nervous. He waited patiently, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“I’d…I’d like to be an Auror, sir.”
Her answer caught him completely by surprise. He couldn’t imagine that it would be very easy for her to attain her goal. The department of Magical Law Enforcement was notoriously distrustful, and she had two strikes against her: being a Metamorphmagus, and being a Black. But after all his talk to her about being whatever she wanted to be if she merely applied herself, he couldn’t bring himself to warn her off.
He nodded again. “A difficult career. It is fraught with danger, and requires a high level of self-discipline. The training program is highly selective, and few of the trainees successfully complete it.”
“I can do it. I know I can,” she said stubbornly. It was amazing how much her demeanor had changed in the five short weeks since their last counseling session. “I’ve wanted to be an Auror since I was a little girl. I just got a little distracted, is all. But now that I’m back on track, I know I can do whatever it takes.”
Snape felt an unfamiliar surge of pride in his chest. Somehow it was his words and his guidance that had got this wayward girl back on the path of success, and it felt very good indeed. “I’ve no doubt of it,” he said with one of his rare smiles.
But he didn’t want to encourage her without also warning her of the barriers in her path. “You must know that the Auror department is known for its rigorous examinations of its agents’ characters-especially their trustworthiness.”
“I’ll do whatever I need to do to prove myself to them.”
He nodded, and then said, “It might also help if you looked…less like a Black.”
She raised her eyebrows, but remained silent.
“The Black family has a very bad reputation with the department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the appearance that you have been favoring for the last several years makes you look far too much like several of your criminal relatives. If you really wish to become an Auror, you should distance yourself as much as possible from that side of your family. No Senior Auror is going to want to train someone who looks alarmingly like Bellatrix Lestrange, or Sirius Black. Is this isn’t your natural appearance?”
She was quiet, and pensive. Finally she shook her head. “No. It’s not.”
“Let’s see it, then.”
“It’s not very pretty,” she said softly.
Snape stifled a sharp retort. He was trying to help the girl-not demoralize her. He took a deep breath, and said, “Aurors, as a rule, aren’t pretty.”
She stared him in the eyes for a moment, and then, with a slight frown, scrunched up her face and morphed.
The resultant face was ruddier than her earlier porcelain skin, with round rosy cheeks and a light scattering of freckles. Her heart shaped face and snub nose weren’t nearly as memorable as the visage she’d been wearing for several years now, but she was still moderately pretty. And she still had those large, striking, black eyes.
“Much better,” he said. “But you still might want to do something about the hair.”
With another scrunch of her face her hair turned red.
He shook his head hastily. “No! Too much like a Weasely.”
She scrunched her face again, and her hair turned blonde.
He eyed her for a moment. “Better, but I’m still not sure if it’s quite right.”
“What would you suggest, then?”
“I’m not certain. Give it some time. Something will come to you, I’m sure. This is already a vast improvement, and I suggest you make a habit of it. I’m certain that your eventual supervisors in the Auror department will be impressed if they hear that you habitually wear your natural face-it will be an excellent starting point for building trust.”
She nodded.
“Now, on to your academics,” he said. “You’ve made great progress these past weeks, but you will need to redouble your efforts during this review week. You will need an E or higher on all of your subjects in order to progress on to NEWT level work. And in Potions, you will need an O. I do not advance students unless they achieve an O.”
She bit her bottom lip, worry evident on her face. “I’m sure I can manage an E, sir, but I don’t know about an O.”
“Are you sure you want to be an Auror?”
“Yes!”
“Then you will score an O. You’ll find a way.”
She smiled, and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
As she left his office, Snape felt very content indeed. Maybe taking a real interest in his students wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.
****
Four weeks into the summer holiday, Snape received a packet containing copies of the OWL results for all the students in his House. He flipped through them, planning to assess which of the students might need extra direction from him in the Fall. But he stopped cold when he reached the scores of Nymphadora Tonks. As he had hoped, she had received Es and Os in all of her subjects-but, unfortunately, she had only scored an E in Potions. He frowned, starting at the parchment in front of him. After a moment he set her results in the stack with the others that he had already reviewed, and moved on to the results of the other students.
He tried to continue his day as normally as possible, reading his periodicals, taking his tea, going for an invigorating stroll. But his mind kept returning to Nymphadora’s scores. He knew he shouldn’t let them bother him-but he couldn’t help it.
He saw for the first time that over the course of their extra tutoring sessions he had actually started to like the dratted girl, and he truly felt sorry for her now that she would no longer be able to pursue her ambition to become an Auror.
Even a good night’s sleep didn’t drive the troubling thoughts from his mind. So finally, after his breakfast, he sat down to compose a note to her parents. He stated that he was pleased with her results, but let them know that the scores were still insufficient for her preferred career choice. He explained that although he normally didn’t allow students with scores of E to continue on to NEWT level Potions, he would, in her case, be willing to make an exception. But the special treatment wouldn’t come easily; Nymphadora would have to attend bi-weekly study sessions with him for the duration of the summer in order to bring her up to the level of the other NEWT level students, and her parents would have to pay him a very handsome fee.
When he was done with the letter, he looked it over carefully, and smiled in satisfaction. If her parents agreed to the arrangement he would be providing much needed help to a promising student, and adding a considerable sum to his annual wages in the process. And if they chose not to utilize his assistance, then he would still have a nice leisurely holiday to enjoy. Either way, he would win.
But, deep down inside, he hoped they would accept his offer. It really would be a shame for the girl to miss out on her ambition.
The Tonkses were hasty in their reply, readily agreeing to his terms, and thanking him profusely for making this special exception for their daughter. In their first face to face meeting, Ted Tonks looked almost ready to embrace him as he shook his hand enthusiastically.
“You should have seen her the day her scores arrived, Professor. We were thrilled, but she looked as if all the color had drained right out of her. She shut herself away in her room, turned up that awful music she likes so much, and pretended we didn’t exist. And when we showed her your letter she lit right up like someone was shooting off a Lumos inside her head. She tried to act nonchalant, but we could see that she was thrilled!”
Snape actually had to fight not to smile-this was business, not pleasure, after all.
So he began coming to the Tonks house for twice-weekly four-hour study sessions. Nymphadora worked hard, and by the end of the second week she had already caught up with the other NEWT-level students. But he certainly wasn’t going to tell that to her parents. He had no intention of losing the nice new stream of Galleons now lining his pockets. Plus, it wasn’t altogether unpleasant work. Nymphadora seemed to take a genuine liking to subtleties and nuances of potion-making, and it was exhilarating to find a student that truly enjoyed his subject. He didn’t even mind the moments when her sharp tongue would get the best of her. Her wit was a bit immature, but could still be quite amusing.
There was, however, one part of each of their sessions that he thoroughly disliked. At the beginning of each of their meetings she would fix a brazen stare on him with those black eyes of hers, and ask whether or not she had found the hair that suited her yet. Every meeting she would wear her hair in a different color and style, each more outlandish than the last, and she seemed determined to goad him into some sort of outburst. But he would have none of it. He merely grunted, “Keep trying,” and launched into the day’s lesson. And each day she looked more and more frustrated by his blunt answer. He had no idea what the girl thought she was doing, but he would have no part of it.
On the day of their final study sessions together before the start of the new term, she seemed downright cross when he refused to comment on her long stone-grey hair. At the end of the session, as she ladled her bright-orange potion into a flask for his examination, he unconsciously remarked. “Dreadful color, isn’t it?”
He realized his mistake as soon as the comment left his mouth. With a defiant stare, she scrunched up her face and morphed her hair into a short, spiky style in the exact shade of orange as the potion.
A cheeky grin spread across her face as soon as the transformation was complete. “I think I’ve found my perfect hair!” she said cheerily.
He scowled, and bit back the sharp retort about to form on his tongue. No, sharpness was exactly what she was looking for. This called for something entirely different. With as blank a face as he could muster, he said, “Keep trying.”
The look of outrage on her face was well worth it.
****
The next two years went by quickly, and Snape never again had to give extra tutoring to Nymphadora-though he still had to give her detentions several times.
Her scores in Potions continued to be exceptional, and it became a tradition that at the end of every class, she would turn in her flask of potion wearing hair that exactly matched its color. But she never again asked for his opinion.
She faithfully wore her natural face for the majority of every day, but in spite of her assertion that it wasn’t “pretty,” she had no lack of admirers. Snape noted that everywhere she went she still appeared to be surrounded by a handful of boys-but instead of the Slytherins that once favored her, most of them were now Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and there were even one or two Gryffindors. It was unfortunate that she lost so many potentially valuable social contacts from among her housemates, but if that was what it took to maintain her self-respect, then it was a small price to pay. And she never again received a detention for getting caught with a boy.
At the end of her seventh year, when she came to ask him to write a letter of recommendation for her application to the Auror training program, he was delighted to comply. She had earned it.
On the final day of potions class at the end of her seventh year, she lingered after class to talk to him.
“Is there something you need, Miss Tonks?” he asked.
She smiled at him like she had a secret that she wasn’t planning on telling. “I just wanted to say thank you, for all the help you gave me the past few years. I really appreciate it.”
“There is no need for thanks. What you have accomplished you earned through your own hard work. And your parents compensated me very nicely for the extra tutoring I gave you your fifth year. I was only doing my job, and you were doing yours.”
She rolled her eyes at him. Normally, he would deduct House points for such an act, but since she was nearly done with Hogwarts, he decided to let it slide-just this once.
“You might claim to have just been doing your job,” she said, “but I know for a fact that there are some students you wouldn’t have tutored no matter how much their families paid you.”
He allowed himself a small smile. “True.”
“So, thank you,” she repeated.
“You’re welcome,” he replied.
She paused for a moment, and then added, “I’ll send you a note when they accept me to the Auror training program.”
“I’d like that,” he said, surprised even as he said it to know that it was the truth. “However, if I ever hear that you wash out of the program I shall be gravely disappointed, and I’ll deny ever having known you.”
She grinned even wider. “I’d expect nothing less. Good-bye, Professor.”
“Good-bye, Miss Tonks.”
He felt a slight pang of regret as he watched her walk out of his classroom for the last time. He believed that he would actually miss the girl. But such was the life of a teacher. Students inevitably moved on to bigger and better things. He was only glad to have helped her along the way.
****
The ensuing years passed with the same old routines-broken up only by the unwelcome mischief of Potter and his friends.
One summer, while he was still fuming over the loss of his Order of Merlin First Class thanks to the untimely escape of Sirius Black, he found something pleasant in the Daily Prophet to lighten his mood. It was an article about the first new Auror to make it through the training program in five years: Nymphadora Tonks. He hadn’t thought about her since the summer after she left Hogwarts. His lips curled into a small smile as he looked at the black-and-white photograph of her shaking hands with Rufus Scrimgeour. He was pleased to see that she was still proudly wearing the natural face that he had encouraged her to adopt, and he couldn’t help wondering what color her hair was when the picture was taken-orange perhaps?
He clipped the article and photo out of the paper, and carefully pasted it into an old journal, alongside half-a-dozen articles about other former students that had gone on to noteworthy accomplishments. It wasn’t wrong, after all, to take pride in the role he may have played in his former students’ successes.
He didn’t think of her again for another year. Two days before the first meeting of the reconvened Order of the Phoenix, he met with Dumbledore in private to discuss his work with the Death Eaters. At the end of their meeting Dumbledore casually mentioned, “We’ve already managed to bring a few new recruits into the Order. One of them in particular might be of interest to you. A young Auror by the name of Nymphadora Tonks. She was in your House, if I recall.”
“Yes. She was. A very good student. I’m certain she’ll be an asset to the Order.” His mind was spinning, wondering what kind of woman that headstrong young girl had grown into.
He was nearly late for the first Order meeting, and made his way down to the dank kitchen as soon as he arrived at Headquarters. As he entered the room, he saw her. She was casually perched on the edge of the large kitchen table, laughing and grinning at the group of doting men surrounding her. Bill Weasley, Black, Shacklebolt, Fletcher, and even Lupin were all gathered around her, hanging on her every word like moths hovering over a candle. It was hard not to smile-clearly, some things never changed.
When she caught sight of him, her face froze in wide-eyed amazement. She must not have expected him, as he had expected her. He merely nodded, to acknowledge her presence, and then took a seat across and down the table from her. A few moments later the meeting began, and her gaggle of admirers all seated themselves around her.
She must have overcome her initial shock in seeing him, because part-way through the meeting he glanced over at her to see her grinning at him, with those brazen black eyes twinkling with mischief. As soon as she caught his eye, she scrunched up her face, and her short blue-black hair suddenly blazed into an unnatural shade of orange. He frowned. She winked at him. It seemed that she was as impertinent as ever.
As the meeting ended, she quickly excused herself from amongst the men jostling for her attention and made her way straight for him. He waited patiently as she stumbled over a chair leg on the way. She regained her balance, brushed a loose strand of orange hair out of her eyes, and smiled up at him.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Severus.” She rolled his name off of her tongue like she was savoring the taste of it.
“The pleasure it mutual, I assure you. You seemed surprised to see me.”
“I confess, I was. I had no idea that when you agreed I wouldn’t make a good spy that you were basing the opinion on personal experience.”
“If you’d been able to tell, then I wouldn’t have been a very good spy, now would I?”
Her smile grew even wider. “Not at all.” She stared him up and down, as if appraising him. “Come to the pub with me,” she blurted. “You can buy me a drink.”
Now he really did smile. “Tempting, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I have a prior engagement.”
“Oh.” She looked genuinely disappointed.
“Next time, perhaps?” he said without thinking, and immediately wondered why. As pleased as he was to see one of his favorite old students doing well, why in the world would he want to accompany her to a pub?
She grinned at him, those black eyes flashing tantalizingly at him. “All right. But I’ll hold you to it, Severus, so don’t try to worm your way out of it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, a strange thrill surging through him.
“See you later, Severus,” she said, and then turned to walk back to the group of men eagerly awaiting her return. She looked back over her shoulder to favor him with one last sly smile before settling down beside Lupin.
Snape turned and headed up the stairs, with all sorts of unexpected feelings coursing through his veins. As he left Headquarters and stepped into the cool night air his senses began to come back to him.
What in Merlin’s name was he thinking, flirting with the girl like that? She used to be his student! He couldn’t possibly take her out to a pub and buy her a drink. But the image of her flashing back eyes continued to dance in his head, taunting him.
As he pondered his new predicament, he allowed himself to acknowledge that she was a grown woman. And she hadn’t been his student for five long years… Snape began to wonder if, after all these years as a teacher, he was finally going to win a reward for taking a genuine interest in one of his students.
With that pleasant thought in his mind, the prospect of a long dreary night with Rosier and Goyle no longer seemed quiet as awful. As he prepared to Apparate away, another image of Nymphadora’s black eyes rose to the surface of his mind, and he smiled, wondering what their next meeting would bring.
A/N: Yes, I know this is crying out for a continuation. And I really do have it down on my list of stories to write. But that list is kinda long right now. Sorry! But I really do want to continue this Slytherin!Tonks universe that I’ve started, so I promise to post more as soon as I get the chance to write it. :)
Title: The Rewards of Taking a Genuine Interest in One’s Students
Rating: PG
Prompts: Sloth, Orange (Happy, Courageous, Successful)
Word Count: 6,200-ish
Summary: “This was the kind of encounter with students that threatened to give him ulcers in his stomach-a confused adolescent’s desperate cry for help. A cry that he was supposed to answer.” Snape gives Tonks career advice.
Author’s Notes: This little story was rendered AU before I even finished it, because it contains Slytherin!Tonks, but I couldn’t very well change it since belonging to that House is a crucial component of the story. So I figured, a little AU now and then never hurt anyone. ;) This is my first story for this community, and I hope you like it!
The Rewards of Taking a Genuine Interest in One’s Students
There was nothing Severus Snape despised more than talking to students. Not lecturing-that could be reasonably enjoyable. And commenting on his pupil’s work during class could also be a source of some pleasure. Even administering discipline wasn’t wholly disagreeable. No-what he hated was really talking to his students. One on one personal conversation with them positively made his skin crawl.
He kept the shortest office hours of any of the staff purely to avoid those dreaded conversations. And when his students did seek him out during office hours, he made it clear to them that, whenever possible, they were to restrict their discussions to academic matters.
Whenever one of them would come complaining to him about issues with their peers, or their family, or-Merlin forbid-their romances, his instinctive response was to shout some sense into their hormone addled brains, and then throw them out. Or to give them detention if they were excessively irksome.
Because of his distaste for those personal conversations there was one time of year that he dreaded above all others: career advice week.
Some of his students were practical and to the point during their career advice meetings, but inevitably several of them would be pathetically directionless, and it was up to him to help give them direction. Unfortunately, that entailed getting into serious personal discussions of the very sort he so deeply despised.
This year, he’d already had to convince one boy that becoming a professional Quidditch player was simply not an option for someone who had failed to make the house team all four times he had tried out. And he had to sternly inform a girl that despite her uncle’s status as the most renowned Wand Maker in England, she possessed none of the qualities necessary to follow in his footsteps.
As he sat waiting for his next pupil to arrive for counseling, a particular kind of frustration and anxiety roiled in his gut. He had no idea what he was going to say to Nymphadora Tonks.
He didn’t dislike the girl; on the contrary, in spite of her incurable clumsiness she was the brightest girl in her year, and she possessed a rather biting wit that reminded him somewhat of himself in his school years. But, unfortunately, she was also the most brazen flirt he had ever seen. She was constantly surrounded by a crowd of drooling boys of all ages, and-from what he could tell-had no female friends at all. He had chided her over the years that she could make far better use of her Metamorphmagus skills than using them for nothing more than to attract boys. Of course, she never listened to him. She would merely glare at him with those flashing black eyes with a look that made him immensely uncomfortable.
Her flirtatious nature, however, hadn’t interfered with her studies-that is, until this year.
Though she had regularly received two or three detentions a year in the past, this year she had already served eight detentions: two for talking disrespectfully to her teachers, and six for being caught in compromising positions with boys. A different boy each of the six times. And on top of the detentions, her marks in all of her subjects had steadily declined. It was almost as if she was giving up on academics in favor of her more fleshly pursuits, and Snape had no idea why.
He sat nervously shuffling the stack of career pamphlets on his desk as he waited for her. It was no surprise that she was late.
At last, she swept into his office, her waist-length black hair billowing behind her. Her full lips pouted in her flawless porcelain-smooth face, and her trademark black eyes looked hard and set.
Without uttering a word, she flung herself into the chair in front of his desk, and defiantly folded her arms in front of her.
Snape ignored her air of challenge, and launched into his usual speech about the importance of selecting the appropriate courses to compliment her career goals. Finally, he reached the dreaded question.
“So, Miss Tonks, have you given much thought to what career you might be interested in pursuing?”
She glared at him fiercely. “Yeah. I’m going to be a courtesan.”
Snape gaped at her in unabashed shock. “A courtesan?!”
“Yeah. You do know what it is-don’t you?”
“Of course I know what it is-and if you think I’m going to let you get away with this kind of ridiculous answer, then you are gravely mistaken. I’m taking twenty points from Slytherin, and if you don’t give me a more serious answer immediately I’ll give you detention as well.”
“I am serious!”
Snape was about to respond with the promised detention, when the grim look on her face made him pause. What if the girl was telling the truth?
He frowned. “Why in the world would you want to be a prostitute?”
“It’s not a matter of wanting it,” she said, glaring at the floor. “It’s all I’m fit for.”
Snape swallowed hard, at last realizing what was going on. This was the kind of encounter with students that threatened to give him ulcers in his stomach-a confused adolescent’s desperate cry for help. A cry that he was supposed to answer. For a moment he was tempted to call on Minerva for assistance, but he quickly pushed the thought aside. He was a Head of House, for Merlin’s sake! He was perfectly capable of handling one confused and rebellious little girl.
“You’re being absurd,” he snarled at her. “Up until this year you’ve been an excellent student, and if you properly apply yourself, you will be fit for any number of respectable occupations.”
She shook her head, looking angrier than ever. “No, sir. I won’t. No respectable business would want to hire me.”
“Why not?”
“Because respectable people don’t trust shapeshifters. They’d be afraid I’d steal from them, or steal from their clients, or sell their trade secrets, or seduce their sons or their husbands. No one trusts a Metamorphmagus.” Her voice was shaking, and her perfect complexion was marred by red splotches flushing on her forehead and cheeks.
“Where in the world did you get these ideas, Miss Tonks?”
She pouted again, and finally answered: “I started researching careers over the summer, and I decided to look up what other Metamorphmagi have done.”
“Ahhh…” All of her troubling behavior over the past year was finally starting to make sense.
“All of them-without exception-have had one of four careers,” she said. “They were spies, thieves, actors, or prostitutes. No one would want someone as clumsy as me for a spy, I don’t fancy spending time in Azkaban if I got caught for thievery, and I dread getting up in front of people so that rules out acting. So there’s only one option left, isn’t there?”
“Don’t be absurd,” he sneered. She was getting melodramatic, and he couldn’t abide melodrama. “Your thought process is completely devoid of logic. You may be right that you’re dreadfully unfit to be a spy or a thief, but prostitution is certainly not the only option left to you. I will simply not permit a member of my House to become a sex worker merely because she is too slothful and cowardly to choose a better path.”
“Slothful!?” she exclaimed.
He noticed that she didn’t dispute the charge of cowardice. “Yes, slothful,” he said. “You’re a bright enough girl that if you properly applied yourself you could be very nearly anything that you want-you are simply too lazy to put forth the effort required to overcome the prejudice you might encounter along the way.”
She scowled, and he noticed her fists clenching at her sides. “It’s not laziness!”
He raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? You certainly had me fooled. So if your sudden ambition to become a prostitute is not a result of laziness, then what is it? Masochism? Nymphomania? Enlighten me.”
“No! That’s not why. That’s not why.”
Her whole face had turned red, and Snape was unsure whether she was about to hurl a curse at him, or break down crying. He rather hoped it was the former-it would be much easier to cope with.
“I suggest you explain yourself before I lose what’s left of my patience.”
“No one trusts me! How can I ever have a normal life when no one trusts me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “No one?”
“No one! None of the other students have ever really trusted me. And a few years ago it got worse when the girls all started accusing me of morphing to look like them so that I could snog their boyfriends.”
“Were you snogging their boyfriends?”
She glared at him. “Sometimes-but I didn’t have to morph for that. I’ve never been with a boy who didn’t know exactly who he was with.”
“And don’t the boys trust you?”
She shook her head, and looked away. “Not really. They don’t care about trusting me. All they care about is what I can do for them.”
Snape chose not to delve any deeper into this answer. He didn’t really want to know if this girl-at sixteen-was more sexually experienced than he had been at twenty-six.
He hated to admit it, but she was right about one thing-none of her fellow students seemed to trust her. He’d seen it himself, in their treatment of her during class and in the halls. And she would undoubtedly face mistrust throughout her life. That did not, however, exempt her from making more of herself than a prostitute. But he had to think of something to say to her that would convince her that a life full of the kind of hard work necessary to win and keep people’s trust would be worth her while.
Trying to buy himself time to think, he blurted out: “Your teachers trust you.”
“They don’t count. They have to think the best of me-it’s their job.”
This was just the starting point that he needed. “No, it most certainly is not. I assure you that there are several students that I would trust less than a vampire who swore he didn’t care for the taste of blood. You, on the other hand, have had my complete trust. At least, until this past year, when your shenanigans called my judgment of your character into question. And I’d hazard a guess that most of the staff feels the same way.”
She shook her head and looked away. “So my teachers trust me. What’s the big deal? How is that going to help me out there,” she waved her hand vaguely in front of her, “in the real world?”
“The ‘big deal,’ as you so crudely put it, is that your teachers, as knowledgeable and experienced adults, are far more representative of what you will encounter in the so-called ‘real world’ than any of your classmates.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.
“We haven’t been at Hogwarts our whole lives, Miss Tonks. All of us have spent time out in the wider Wizarding world before taking up our teaching posts.”
“But do any of you really know what it’s like to be constantly surrounded by people who don’t trust you? And by people who openly despise you? You have no idea how hard it is.”
He could tell by the quiver in her voice that the girl was looking for sympathy, but she would receive none from him. No one gave him sympathy when he found himself in a similar position. But he had been given firm and realistic guidance, and now it was his turn to provide the same for this lost little girl.
“I know exactly what it is like to be surrounded by people who mistrust and hate me, and if I was capable of proving myself to them and earning a position of respect in the community, then so are you.”
Her eyes grew wide. “When did you-?”
“The details of my life are not important. What is important is what we are going to do about the predicament you and your laziness have got you into.”
“I am not lazy!” she repeated, but he silenced her with a hard glare.
“Do not try my patience, Miss Tonks.” He flipped through the notes from her other teachers. “It appears that you are still doing sufficiently well in Charms and Herbology to bring yourself back up to OWL-level performance without outside assistance. In your other subjects, however, you will require extra tutoring. I will contact your teachers and have them recommend NEWT-level students who would be able to exchange tutoring services for extra-credit, or for a small fee. If the tutors wish to be paid, we will have to contact your parents to arrange for it.”
“Do we have to?” she asked with a desperate look in her eyes.
“Yes,” he said unequivocally. “In Potions you are so dismally behind that you’ve left no choice but for me to tutor you myself. As with other students in the past, I am willing to provide this service for a nominal fee. I will be writing your parents directly to negotiate terms. As soon as they are decided upon, you will begin staying an extra half-hour after each of your Potions lessons, and you will attend tutoring sessions every Saturday morning along with several other students that have arranged for extra help. I will also make the Potions classroom available to you for extra practice, should you desire it.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, finally beginning to look suitably contrite. “Do you think this will be enough to pass my OWLs?”
“I do. You’re bright enough. But you will have to make one final sacrifice.”
“What?”
“No more boys.”
“No way!”
“Very well, then. Next time I’m in London I’ll stop by Knockturn Alley and make some inquiries about whether anyone knows of a good bordello that would be interested in adding a Metamorphmagus to their collection of offerings. Would that suit you better?”
She scowled at him, her face flushing again-this time with anger. “Fine. No boys.”
He was tempted to smile, but refrained. He didn’t want to look too accessible or she might try using the extra study sessions for more personal conversations. “Very well. The details of our arrangement should be finalized with your parents by this weekend, so plan on attending your first tutoring session at ten o’clock sharp, Saturday morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And…” he added, “I’ll expect you in my office Monday evening at seven o’clock for a detention.”
“What?!” she said, her jaw dropping.
“You’ve been unbearably impertinent during this interview. Detention is the only suitable punishment.”
“You can’t do this to me!” She looked about to rise to her feet.
“I can, and I will. Would you like to serve detention on Wednesday, as well? Or would you prefer to shut your mouth and leave my office in peace?”
The girl prudently clamped her mouth shut, and rose to her feet. “Am I excused?”
“You most certainly are.”
With one final glare, she turned and stormed out of his office.
He finally permitted a small smile to form on his lips as she left. He found that he rather enjoyed that. There was a small degree of personal gratification in helping his students, after all. And few had ever needed his help as much as Nymphadora Tonks.
****
The arrangements for her various tutors came together quickly and easily, and Snape saw-to his satisfaction-that Nymphadora was far more often to be seen in the company of her books than with her fellow students.
She made fast progress in their extra Potions sessions, and she soon seemed on track to receiving a passing score on her OWL after all.
A few days before the OWL-review week began, he called her into his office for another meeting.
This time her dark hair was shorter, and pulled back in a sensible ponytail. She entered his room meekly, and sat respectfully waiting for him to speak.
“I’ve been reviewing reports on your progress from all of your teachers. You seem to be making admirable progress.”
“Yes, I think I am. Thank you, sir.”
He nodded sharply. “Now, I do believe that in our first career-counseling meeting you never did tell me what career you would truthfully like to pursue. Perhaps, now that you’ve overcome your temporary fit of sloth, you can share your real ambitions with me?”
Her lips drew tight, and she seemed nervous. He waited patiently, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“I’d…I’d like to be an Auror, sir.”
Her answer caught him completely by surprise. He couldn’t imagine that it would be very easy for her to attain her goal. The department of Magical Law Enforcement was notoriously distrustful, and she had two strikes against her: being a Metamorphmagus, and being a Black. But after all his talk to her about being whatever she wanted to be if she merely applied herself, he couldn’t bring himself to warn her off.
He nodded again. “A difficult career. It is fraught with danger, and requires a high level of self-discipline. The training program is highly selective, and few of the trainees successfully complete it.”
“I can do it. I know I can,” she said stubbornly. It was amazing how much her demeanor had changed in the five short weeks since their last counseling session. “I’ve wanted to be an Auror since I was a little girl. I just got a little distracted, is all. But now that I’m back on track, I know I can do whatever it takes.”
Snape felt an unfamiliar surge of pride in his chest. Somehow it was his words and his guidance that had got this wayward girl back on the path of success, and it felt very good indeed. “I’ve no doubt of it,” he said with one of his rare smiles.
But he didn’t want to encourage her without also warning her of the barriers in her path. “You must know that the Auror department is known for its rigorous examinations of its agents’ characters-especially their trustworthiness.”
“I’ll do whatever I need to do to prove myself to them.”
He nodded, and then said, “It might also help if you looked…less like a Black.”
She raised her eyebrows, but remained silent.
“The Black family has a very bad reputation with the department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the appearance that you have been favoring for the last several years makes you look far too much like several of your criminal relatives. If you really wish to become an Auror, you should distance yourself as much as possible from that side of your family. No Senior Auror is going to want to train someone who looks alarmingly like Bellatrix Lestrange, or Sirius Black. Is this isn’t your natural appearance?”
She was quiet, and pensive. Finally she shook her head. “No. It’s not.”
“Let’s see it, then.”
“It’s not very pretty,” she said softly.
Snape stifled a sharp retort. He was trying to help the girl-not demoralize her. He took a deep breath, and said, “Aurors, as a rule, aren’t pretty.”
She stared him in the eyes for a moment, and then, with a slight frown, scrunched up her face and morphed.
The resultant face was ruddier than her earlier porcelain skin, with round rosy cheeks and a light scattering of freckles. Her heart shaped face and snub nose weren’t nearly as memorable as the visage she’d been wearing for several years now, but she was still moderately pretty. And she still had those large, striking, black eyes.
“Much better,” he said. “But you still might want to do something about the hair.”
With another scrunch of her face her hair turned red.
He shook his head hastily. “No! Too much like a Weasely.”
She scrunched her face again, and her hair turned blonde.
He eyed her for a moment. “Better, but I’m still not sure if it’s quite right.”
“What would you suggest, then?”
“I’m not certain. Give it some time. Something will come to you, I’m sure. This is already a vast improvement, and I suggest you make a habit of it. I’m certain that your eventual supervisors in the Auror department will be impressed if they hear that you habitually wear your natural face-it will be an excellent starting point for building trust.”
She nodded.
“Now, on to your academics,” he said. “You’ve made great progress these past weeks, but you will need to redouble your efforts during this review week. You will need an E or higher on all of your subjects in order to progress on to NEWT level work. And in Potions, you will need an O. I do not advance students unless they achieve an O.”
She bit her bottom lip, worry evident on her face. “I’m sure I can manage an E, sir, but I don’t know about an O.”
“Are you sure you want to be an Auror?”
“Yes!”
“Then you will score an O. You’ll find a way.”
She smiled, and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
As she left his office, Snape felt very content indeed. Maybe taking a real interest in his students wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.
****
Four weeks into the summer holiday, Snape received a packet containing copies of the OWL results for all the students in his House. He flipped through them, planning to assess which of the students might need extra direction from him in the Fall. But he stopped cold when he reached the scores of Nymphadora Tonks. As he had hoped, she had received Es and Os in all of her subjects-but, unfortunately, she had only scored an E in Potions. He frowned, starting at the parchment in front of him. After a moment he set her results in the stack with the others that he had already reviewed, and moved on to the results of the other students.
He tried to continue his day as normally as possible, reading his periodicals, taking his tea, going for an invigorating stroll. But his mind kept returning to Nymphadora’s scores. He knew he shouldn’t let them bother him-but he couldn’t help it.
He saw for the first time that over the course of their extra tutoring sessions he had actually started to like the dratted girl, and he truly felt sorry for her now that she would no longer be able to pursue her ambition to become an Auror.
Even a good night’s sleep didn’t drive the troubling thoughts from his mind. So finally, after his breakfast, he sat down to compose a note to her parents. He stated that he was pleased with her results, but let them know that the scores were still insufficient for her preferred career choice. He explained that although he normally didn’t allow students with scores of E to continue on to NEWT level Potions, he would, in her case, be willing to make an exception. But the special treatment wouldn’t come easily; Nymphadora would have to attend bi-weekly study sessions with him for the duration of the summer in order to bring her up to the level of the other NEWT level students, and her parents would have to pay him a very handsome fee.
When he was done with the letter, he looked it over carefully, and smiled in satisfaction. If her parents agreed to the arrangement he would be providing much needed help to a promising student, and adding a considerable sum to his annual wages in the process. And if they chose not to utilize his assistance, then he would still have a nice leisurely holiday to enjoy. Either way, he would win.
But, deep down inside, he hoped they would accept his offer. It really would be a shame for the girl to miss out on her ambition.
The Tonkses were hasty in their reply, readily agreeing to his terms, and thanking him profusely for making this special exception for their daughter. In their first face to face meeting, Ted Tonks looked almost ready to embrace him as he shook his hand enthusiastically.
“You should have seen her the day her scores arrived, Professor. We were thrilled, but she looked as if all the color had drained right out of her. She shut herself away in her room, turned up that awful music she likes so much, and pretended we didn’t exist. And when we showed her your letter she lit right up like someone was shooting off a Lumos inside her head. She tried to act nonchalant, but we could see that she was thrilled!”
Snape actually had to fight not to smile-this was business, not pleasure, after all.
So he began coming to the Tonks house for twice-weekly four-hour study sessions. Nymphadora worked hard, and by the end of the second week she had already caught up with the other NEWT-level students. But he certainly wasn’t going to tell that to her parents. He had no intention of losing the nice new stream of Galleons now lining his pockets. Plus, it wasn’t altogether unpleasant work. Nymphadora seemed to take a genuine liking to subtleties and nuances of potion-making, and it was exhilarating to find a student that truly enjoyed his subject. He didn’t even mind the moments when her sharp tongue would get the best of her. Her wit was a bit immature, but could still be quite amusing.
There was, however, one part of each of their sessions that he thoroughly disliked. At the beginning of each of their meetings she would fix a brazen stare on him with those black eyes of hers, and ask whether or not she had found the hair that suited her yet. Every meeting she would wear her hair in a different color and style, each more outlandish than the last, and she seemed determined to goad him into some sort of outburst. But he would have none of it. He merely grunted, “Keep trying,” and launched into the day’s lesson. And each day she looked more and more frustrated by his blunt answer. He had no idea what the girl thought she was doing, but he would have no part of it.
On the day of their final study sessions together before the start of the new term, she seemed downright cross when he refused to comment on her long stone-grey hair. At the end of the session, as she ladled her bright-orange potion into a flask for his examination, he unconsciously remarked. “Dreadful color, isn’t it?”
He realized his mistake as soon as the comment left his mouth. With a defiant stare, she scrunched up her face and morphed her hair into a short, spiky style in the exact shade of orange as the potion.
A cheeky grin spread across her face as soon as the transformation was complete. “I think I’ve found my perfect hair!” she said cheerily.
He scowled, and bit back the sharp retort about to form on his tongue. No, sharpness was exactly what she was looking for. This called for something entirely different. With as blank a face as he could muster, he said, “Keep trying.”
The look of outrage on her face was well worth it.
****
The next two years went by quickly, and Snape never again had to give extra tutoring to Nymphadora-though he still had to give her detentions several times.
Her scores in Potions continued to be exceptional, and it became a tradition that at the end of every class, she would turn in her flask of potion wearing hair that exactly matched its color. But she never again asked for his opinion.
She faithfully wore her natural face for the majority of every day, but in spite of her assertion that it wasn’t “pretty,” she had no lack of admirers. Snape noted that everywhere she went she still appeared to be surrounded by a handful of boys-but instead of the Slytherins that once favored her, most of them were now Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and there were even one or two Gryffindors. It was unfortunate that she lost so many potentially valuable social contacts from among her housemates, but if that was what it took to maintain her self-respect, then it was a small price to pay. And she never again received a detention for getting caught with a boy.
At the end of her seventh year, when she came to ask him to write a letter of recommendation for her application to the Auror training program, he was delighted to comply. She had earned it.
On the final day of potions class at the end of her seventh year, she lingered after class to talk to him.
“Is there something you need, Miss Tonks?” he asked.
She smiled at him like she had a secret that she wasn’t planning on telling. “I just wanted to say thank you, for all the help you gave me the past few years. I really appreciate it.”
“There is no need for thanks. What you have accomplished you earned through your own hard work. And your parents compensated me very nicely for the extra tutoring I gave you your fifth year. I was only doing my job, and you were doing yours.”
She rolled her eyes at him. Normally, he would deduct House points for such an act, but since she was nearly done with Hogwarts, he decided to let it slide-just this once.
“You might claim to have just been doing your job,” she said, “but I know for a fact that there are some students you wouldn’t have tutored no matter how much their families paid you.”
He allowed himself a small smile. “True.”
“So, thank you,” she repeated.
“You’re welcome,” he replied.
She paused for a moment, and then added, “I’ll send you a note when they accept me to the Auror training program.”
“I’d like that,” he said, surprised even as he said it to know that it was the truth. “However, if I ever hear that you wash out of the program I shall be gravely disappointed, and I’ll deny ever having known you.”
She grinned even wider. “I’d expect nothing less. Good-bye, Professor.”
“Good-bye, Miss Tonks.”
He felt a slight pang of regret as he watched her walk out of his classroom for the last time. He believed that he would actually miss the girl. But such was the life of a teacher. Students inevitably moved on to bigger and better things. He was only glad to have helped her along the way.
****
The ensuing years passed with the same old routines-broken up only by the unwelcome mischief of Potter and his friends.
One summer, while he was still fuming over the loss of his Order of Merlin First Class thanks to the untimely escape of Sirius Black, he found something pleasant in the Daily Prophet to lighten his mood. It was an article about the first new Auror to make it through the training program in five years: Nymphadora Tonks. He hadn’t thought about her since the summer after she left Hogwarts. His lips curled into a small smile as he looked at the black-and-white photograph of her shaking hands with Rufus Scrimgeour. He was pleased to see that she was still proudly wearing the natural face that he had encouraged her to adopt, and he couldn’t help wondering what color her hair was when the picture was taken-orange perhaps?
He clipped the article and photo out of the paper, and carefully pasted it into an old journal, alongside half-a-dozen articles about other former students that had gone on to noteworthy accomplishments. It wasn’t wrong, after all, to take pride in the role he may have played in his former students’ successes.
He didn’t think of her again for another year. Two days before the first meeting of the reconvened Order of the Phoenix, he met with Dumbledore in private to discuss his work with the Death Eaters. At the end of their meeting Dumbledore casually mentioned, “We’ve already managed to bring a few new recruits into the Order. One of them in particular might be of interest to you. A young Auror by the name of Nymphadora Tonks. She was in your House, if I recall.”
“Yes. She was. A very good student. I’m certain she’ll be an asset to the Order.” His mind was spinning, wondering what kind of woman that headstrong young girl had grown into.
He was nearly late for the first Order meeting, and made his way down to the dank kitchen as soon as he arrived at Headquarters. As he entered the room, he saw her. She was casually perched on the edge of the large kitchen table, laughing and grinning at the group of doting men surrounding her. Bill Weasley, Black, Shacklebolt, Fletcher, and even Lupin were all gathered around her, hanging on her every word like moths hovering over a candle. It was hard not to smile-clearly, some things never changed.
When she caught sight of him, her face froze in wide-eyed amazement. She must not have expected him, as he had expected her. He merely nodded, to acknowledge her presence, and then took a seat across and down the table from her. A few moments later the meeting began, and her gaggle of admirers all seated themselves around her.
She must have overcome her initial shock in seeing him, because part-way through the meeting he glanced over at her to see her grinning at him, with those brazen black eyes twinkling with mischief. As soon as she caught his eye, she scrunched up her face, and her short blue-black hair suddenly blazed into an unnatural shade of orange. He frowned. She winked at him. It seemed that she was as impertinent as ever.
As the meeting ended, she quickly excused herself from amongst the men jostling for her attention and made her way straight for him. He waited patiently as she stumbled over a chair leg on the way. She regained her balance, brushed a loose strand of orange hair out of her eyes, and smiled up at him.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Severus.” She rolled his name off of her tongue like she was savoring the taste of it.
“The pleasure it mutual, I assure you. You seemed surprised to see me.”
“I confess, I was. I had no idea that when you agreed I wouldn’t make a good spy that you were basing the opinion on personal experience.”
“If you’d been able to tell, then I wouldn’t have been a very good spy, now would I?”
Her smile grew even wider. “Not at all.” She stared him up and down, as if appraising him. “Come to the pub with me,” she blurted. “You can buy me a drink.”
Now he really did smile. “Tempting, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I have a prior engagement.”
“Oh.” She looked genuinely disappointed.
“Next time, perhaps?” he said without thinking, and immediately wondered why. As pleased as he was to see one of his favorite old students doing well, why in the world would he want to accompany her to a pub?
She grinned at him, those black eyes flashing tantalizingly at him. “All right. But I’ll hold you to it, Severus, so don’t try to worm your way out of it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, a strange thrill surging through him.
“See you later, Severus,” she said, and then turned to walk back to the group of men eagerly awaiting her return. She looked back over her shoulder to favor him with one last sly smile before settling down beside Lupin.
Snape turned and headed up the stairs, with all sorts of unexpected feelings coursing through his veins. As he left Headquarters and stepped into the cool night air his senses began to come back to him.
What in Merlin’s name was he thinking, flirting with the girl like that? She used to be his student! He couldn’t possibly take her out to a pub and buy her a drink. But the image of her flashing back eyes continued to dance in his head, taunting him.
As he pondered his new predicament, he allowed himself to acknowledge that she was a grown woman. And she hadn’t been his student for five long years… Snape began to wonder if, after all these years as a teacher, he was finally going to win a reward for taking a genuine interest in one of his students.
With that pleasant thought in his mind, the prospect of a long dreary night with Rosier and Goyle no longer seemed quiet as awful. As he prepared to Apparate away, another image of Nymphadora’s black eyes rose to the surface of his mind, and he smiled, wondering what their next meeting would bring.
A/N: Yes, I know this is crying out for a continuation. And I really do have it down on my list of stories to write. But that list is kinda long right now. Sorry! But I really do want to continue this Slytherin!Tonks universe that I’ve started, so I promise to post more as soon as I get the chance to write it. :)