Disclaimer: All concepts, creations and characters from the Harry Potter universe belong to J.K. Rowling…which I'd hope you know.  So please, don't sue. However, Rosaline Staunton and Anne Prescott are mine, as are any other characters who happen to turn up along the way. The title for this fic is the name of an Ani DiFranco song. It's good. Listen to it.

Rating: PG-13 for now – bad language. It's gonna raise when I get to the juicy bits…whee!

Spoilers: Yup. Oodles.

A/N: This is my first fic, so I'm not really sure how it's going to turn out…please, be gentle – feel free to review, but I'd really prefer some constructive criticism as opposed to just a whole lotta flames. It's going to end up being a Snape/OFC, so if you, for god knows what reason, are not obsessed with the amazingly sexy potion's master….piss off. ^_^



Rosaline Staunton closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. The potion was entirely the wrong colour. Usually she did very well in potions, deriving satisfaction from the delicate precision required of the art, an aspect which appealed to the perfectionist in her.

Sighing, she ran her hands through her unmanageable dark brown hair and glared at the ugly yellow liquid simmering quietly in the cauldron. Her close friend and fellow 7th year Gryffindor, Anne Prescott, frowned at the recipe.

"Ros, I know we did it right…I don't understand what's wrong…" the blonde mumbled.

Rosaline peered over Anne's shoulder at the list of ingredients, and stuck her finger out at the sheet of parchment suddenly. "Shit! Annie, we forgot the ginger." Rosaline sighed and looked around their desk. Glowering in frustration, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled under the table.

"Hah! I found it Annie, the bloody root must have fallen on the floor," she said triumphantly, backing out from under the desk. Standing up, Rosaline dusted her robes off. "We can just get rid of this batch and start again, between the two of us we can…" Rosaline's voice trailed off as she turned around, coming face to face with a wall of black cloth. Sighing, yet again, she looked up to face the sneering potions master.

'It's just one of those days,' she thought to herself while trying to smile weakly up at Snape.

"Miss Staunton," he purred, "I don't recall instructing the class to prepare their ingredients on the floor."

Rosaline frowned and held up the ginger as if it were a talisman with which she could dispel the man in front of her.

"I dropped the ginger…we're just working on finishing up our potion now…" Rosaline trailed off quietly, realising the futility of lying as Snape glanced over her shoulder at the discoloured potion still simmering in the cauldron. He turned his attention back to the girl, looking down at her with an unpleasant smirk on his face.

"Oh really? Pity ginger was the third ingredient you were to add. Or am I mistaken in assuming your utter lack of competence? Perhaps you've discovered a more efficient method of brewing Confusim draught?" he murmured.

Rosaline's face darkened as she matched Snape's glare, her changeable green eyes never leaving his black ones.

"No, sir, I have not discovered a more efficient method of brewing Confusim draught," she growled, her voice tinged with sarcasm, "though when I do, you'll be the first to know."

The dark man stared down at her with surprise for a moment before his face twisted in anger. "10 points from Gryffindor for your sudden ineptitude at potions and 20 more for disrespect," he hissed, "and if you ever take the tone with me again, Miss Staunton, I'll have you scrubbing the dungeons on your hands and knees for a month."

Snape turned abruptly and stalked off to the other side of the classroom to harass a Hufflepuff whose cauldron appeared to be spewing hot pink sparks.

Anne stared at the furious Rosaline in amazement. "Ros…what were you thinking?! I thought he was gonna kill you!"

Rosaline glared silently at the back of Snape's greasy head for a second before turning back to her friend, grimacing with displeasure. "You know me Annie…I was never very good at taking his shit to begin with, and I'm starting to get fed up with it." Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Rosaline waved her wand at the cauldron, dispelling the botched potion.


Curled up in a very plush easy chair, Rosaline stared blankly at the fire in the Gryffindor common room. It was still early in the day, but she and Annie had no class this period. Her friend was sitting in a chair beside Rosaline, watching her with concerned brown eyes.

"Ros…" Annie started timidly, unsure of how to proceed. Rosaline stirred from her reverie and smiled at the worried girl.

"I'm okay Annie, really. I'm just getting very tired of that bastard treating his students the way he does," Rosaline shook her head, and frowned at the hardwood floor, "Can we go for a walk? I'm tired of sitting here…I'd like to stretch my legs."

Annie smiled faintly and nodded as the two girls got up and headed out of Gryffindor tower, "Of course Ros…I just want to be sure you're alright. I mean, I know you have a temper," she grinned wickedly for a moment, "not to mention a talent for producing nasty comebacks and sarcastic remarks, but I've never known you to be disrespectful to a professor like that."

Rosaline stared quietly in front of her walking towards the front entrance of Hogwarts. "I know Annie…I've just been feeling a little odd lately. I'm not really sure if I know how to explain it exactly…" giving her friend a somewhat embarrassed look, Rosaline started to speak quietly.


Anne stared at Rosaline in abject horror as the girls sat on the front steps of the castle, in front of the open doors.

"You're attracted to SNAPE?!"

Rosaline glared at Anne. "Could you please shut up?" she hissed, "For fuck's sake Annie, it's not something I'm particularly proud of!" Sighing, she ran her hands through her hair and shook her head.

"It's not like I'm in love with the man, hell, I don't even have a crush on him. It's just…I don't know. Something about him. Something about the way he moves, his voice, his hands…it's all these little things. And besides, he's really not that bad. His eyes Annie…have you ever really looked at his eyes?" Rosaline frowned slightly in thought, and smirked. "I wonder how they'd look mid-coitus…"

Anne gave a strangled moan, sounding for all the world as though she were about to retch. Composing herself, she gave Rosaline a pleading look "Please…if you're truly my friend, you will never, ever mention sex and Snape in the same sentence again."

"Oh shut up," laughed Rosaline, a wicked grin spreading across her features, "is it really so hard to imagine Snape getting head?"

"Oh gods, Ros…please…" Anne groaned.

Staring out at sun setting behind the wild Scottish landscape, Rosaline sobered quickly. "I can't help it Annie. It's frustrating because not only is it completely infeasible, but Snape is also a complete and utter wanker. He's a total prick, to everyone except his precious Slytherins. But at the same time, he's generally civil to me – when I'm not being rude, of course. It's clear he respects those who have an affinity for potions, Slytherin or not. So why is he so nasty all the time?"

Shaking her head, Rosaline scowled. "I just don't understand."

Anne shook her head reproachfully and patted her friend. "You probably shouldn't. Gods know what you might end feeling for him if you got inside his head."

Rosaline smirked.

"Trust me. I have no romantic delusions about Snape," she said smoothly, "I just want to fuck his brains out."

Anne moaned and shuddered before standing up and tugged Rosaline to her feet. "That's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard you say. And you're generally quite perverted. C'mon, it's getting close to dinner. Though completely nauseated, I'm hungry nonetheless."

Laughing, Rosaline followed Annie back into the castle and towards Gryffindor tower.

Neither of them had noticed the black silhouette which had disappeared from the shadows within the entrance hall of Hogwarts moments before they stood up.