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The first week of the term had not yet ended and already Livia Malfoy Schlosser-von Tepes felt very tired. Really, when she’d agreed to take the post, she’d assumed that she’d only be teaching students who had achieved at least an “E” on their DADA and Potions OWLS, not students of every year. However, Dumbledore seemed to think that the art of magical war be taught to students of any age interested and many of the students at Hogwarts had signed up for the course. The sheer number of children in the castle was mind-boggling. Streaming in and out of classrooms, hallways and passages … shouting, jostling, running …and the questions. Every class she’d taught thus far had begun with the same questions. “Are you related to Draco Malfoy?” (This was always asked by a girl, she noted.) “Were you in Slytherin?” “Are we going to learn Unforgivable curses?” That last one had only been asked twice and Livia wasn’t sure whether to blame the question on the stupidity of the students or on their assumptions about her. Either way, it was not a question she’d deigned to answer. As she pondered her decision to accept the position at Hogwarts, the last class of the day - sixth years from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor- streamed into the room.


“Good afternoon. Please take your seats.” As she was yet an unknown quantity and a curiosity, the students complied with a minimum of shuffling and last-minute whispers. “Before we talk about this, your sixth year studies in Magus Bellitorius, I wish to indulge in a small exercise in logic.”


Livia pointed her wand at the corner chalkboard, which obligingly scuttled forward and flipped itself over to reveal writing. “Four points. And no, you do not need to write this down, so please, put away your quill, Miss - ah?”


“Granger. Hermione Granger.”


“Miss Granger, thank you. I must stop and ask you all to forgive me if I do not remember your names at first. You have only one new name to remember, being mine, and I have a thousand. Now, as I was saying, you do not need to write this down, but as this relates to questions I have thus far received in every class, I would appreciate it if you pay attention. I offer this in hopes that these questions will not reoccur and that any salacious curiosity you may have will either be sated or indulged only out of my earshot. First point: my name is Livia Malfoy Schlosser-von Tepes and yes, that means that I am of the same family line as one of your classmates, Draco Malfoy. His father and my mother are siblings. Should you so desire to know more of our genealogy, please disturb him, not me, with your questions.”


Livia paused and looked at the students. They seemed suitably well-behaved so far. “Point two: I did not attend Hogwarts; I attended Durmstrang. This brings me to points three and four: Just because I am a Malfoy does not mean I attended Hogwarts. Contrary to what some of your compatriots believe, it is not a requirement that a Malfoy attend Hogwarts. And finally, I was not in Slytherin. Why? Because I did not attend Hogwarts. Please understand the logic I’m trying to explain. While I’ve been asked innumerable times about my time in Slytherin House, I cannot logically have ever been a member of that house, given that I was never a student here. Was all this clear?” The students nodded, looking a little steamrolled. “Good.”


As she turned to banish the chalkboard to its corner, she heard a whisper and a giggle. She turned. The culprit was not difficult to locate, as he tried to scrunch down in his seat. “Mr. Ah-?”


“Lo-lo-Longbottom. Neville Longbottom.” The boy gulped.


“What did you say, Mr. Longbottom? It seems to have been amusing to at least one of your classmates.” Livia tried to smile encouraging at him. She did not want to start the year as a disciplinarian, but neither did she want to begin by tolerating whispers and giggles as she turned her back. “Come on, tell us.”


Neville stammered a bit, casting his eyes desperately around the room as if hoping to find salvation in another student. “I said … I said you reminded me of a fe-female pr-pr-professor Snape,” he whispered reluctantly.


Livia thought about the comment for a moment. Although she had not had the opportunity to speak with Severus Snape since the faculty meeting at the beginning of the week, she had seen him patrolling the halls, a sea of frightened students parting before him. She grinned and then laughed. “Mr. Neville, five points to Gryffindor for being the first student of the year to amuse me rather than pain me.” She grinned again at his open-mouth surprise. “But don’t do it again. Now. Let us turn to a discussion of your upcoming studies.”


* * *


Friday finally arrived and, as she slipped into a chair at the faculty dinner table, Livia felt as if she’d fallen off her broomstick from a great height. Ignoring the plate before her, she reached for the jug of wine.


“Are you finding the edification of tender young minds to be rather more challenging than you’d hoped?” Severus Snape had taken the chair to her left and was watching her drink deeply from her goblet. “They can be extremely tiring, I know. Some more so than others.” With this, he looked across the room towards the Gryffindor table.


Livia noticed the direction of his stare. “Actually, it is some of yours that have been giving me the most trouble. News travels quickly here, it seems. Because my cousin is in your house, it has been assumed that I, too, was not only a student at Hogwarts but a member of Slytherin. I have put the better part of my introductory class to quashing these questions that students persist on asking me.”


Snape smiled slightly. “Yes, I heard about your exercise in logic. It would appear that you’ve left the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor students a bit confused as to your education methods. I believe they are yet unsure of whether they should fear you or like you.”


“Either one, as long as they behave.” She helped herself to green beans and roasted potatoes.


“I’d suggest fear, then. I once threatened a class with poison, telling them that they’d be responsible for correctly concocting the antidote. Of course, I’d never poison a student, but they seem to think I would. It certainly made them work more diligently that day. Perhaps you might try this same end with curses and counter-curses.” Snape sounded quite serious, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.


“I think what I need is to leave the school grounds for a short while. I’m unused to hordes of thundering youth charging about. Are there any worthwhile pubs in Hogsmeade? I did not have a chance to explore the village before I came here.”


“Worthwhile is an objective term, but, yes, there are two pubs. The Three Broomsticks is your better option; the Hogs Head is what I believe Muggles commonly refer to as a dive. It attracts a less savory crowd.”


“The Hogs Head, you say? Perhaps I should venture down for drink this evening.” She watched Snape’s face closely. “Would you care to accompany me? After all, I don’t even know the way.”


“Thank you for the offer, but I must decline. And I suggest that, should you go, you try the Three Broomsticks rather than the Hogs Head, at least on your first visit.”


“Oh, come with me, Professor. You don’t want to be responsible for sending me off alone to a … a dive, did you say? Surely you haven’t any other plans this evening, with school just beginning. What are you going to do instead?”


He hesitated, not really having any plans other than to read one of the new books on potions he’d acquired recently and perhaps drink a glass of firewhisky. “I shouldn’t. Perhaps another night.”


“Severus, really. Come with me. And don’t make me ask you again; it’s unseemly as it is.” Livia smiled and looked at him expectantly.


“Oh, alright. But I’ll need to take care of some things first. I’ll meet you at the castle doors at nine and we can walk down to the village.”


Livia appeared rather pleased. “Good. I’ll see you at nine.” Laying her fork on her empty plate, she left the Great Hall.


Snape watched her leave and wondered what exactly she wanted, for he doubted sincerely it was merely the pleasure of his company.


* * *


“So, what’d you think of her?” Ron nodded towards the teacher’s table before reaching for another roll.


Harry watched their new professor as she left the Great Hall. “I’m not sure. She seems okay, but look at her - talking to Snape. What do you think their up to?”


Hermione placed her arithmancy book beside her plate. “What makes you think they’re plotting anything? I know you hate Snape and you’ve good reason to do so, but you know he’s on our side. Why shouldn’t they talk?”


“Harry’s right, Hermione. They do look awfully close. They’re probably plotting how to take away all Gryffindor’s points and give ‘em to Slytherin this year.”


Hermione shook her head and went back to reading.


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A/N: Yes, I realize that this hasn't been all that Snape-centered, but I promise that it will be! I just needed a couple chapters to set the scene. And again, first attempt at writing, so reviews always welcome!