Chapter Text
Their first potions class is not what Piper was expecting. She stands at a table beside Draco and watches with interest as Snape sweeps into the room, robes billowing dramatically behind him. Piper blinks at that and decides he has to have a charm for that or he’s practiced that because there is barely any air flow in this classroom. Even she isn’t bold enough to ask him about that, however. Not when he looks so displeased to be there.
Piper glances at Hermoine from across the aisle, the girl is nearly bouncing in anticipation. The other Gryffindors don’t look near as excited by the class. Her fellow Slytherins look like they’re dying of anticipation when she looks around at them though and she knows why. Lati had been happy to tell her that the first potions lesson was a proverbial bloodbath for the egos of Gryffindors. Good for the soul, is what Lati said in regards to witnessing it. After the prank pulled on them the other day, a little part of Piper rather looks forward to it. Or would if her friend were not a Gryffindor. It makes her squeamish, to be anticipating the suffering of the Gryffindors when her friend is one of them.
Still, when professor Snape begins his “welcome” speech, Piper is as fixated as the rest of the Slytherins at the picture their severe head of house paints. Her mum always talked about the precision of potions, the satisfaction of making them perfectly. Professor Snape talks about bottling luck and stopping death. Talks about the power of potions and there’s a part of Piper that sits up and pays attention at the promise of power. Even raised in the wizarding world, where magic is commonplace and unexciting, Piper is enthralled.
She’s surprised then to glance over at the Gryffindors and see they mostly look bored and disinterested. Save for Hermoine who is listening with rapt attention and Potter, scrawling away on a piece of parchment. Draco nudges her suddenly, and when she glances over, the blond boy has an expectant, sly look on his face as he watches their head of house. Draco looks at her out of the corner of his eye and grins a little, nodding at Potter’s frantic scribbling.
It’s the only reason she doesn’t jump with most everyone else in the class when Professor Snape stops his lecture to swoop in on Potter. It’s almost painful to watch the embarrassment Potter undergoes as her head of house questions him and over and over the green-eyed boy comes up blank. She cringes for the boy, embarrassed for him and imagining how terrible it would be to be in his shoes, to have his ignorance waved like a flag in front of the entire class. She would have thrown up, she thinks, right there into her cauldron.
Still, Draco and the rest of the slytherins are snicking at Potter’s misfortune. She tries not to show her discomfort as she joins in, they have to present a united front, after all. Especially in front of the Gryffindors. Professor Snape had emphasized house unity and her housemates had all made it clear that Slytherin must stand together, especially in front of the Gryffindors.
Things don’t improve once the class progresses to making a simple cure for boils. Not for the Gryffindors, anyway. Professor Snape criticizes every minor mistake anyone makes, but only takes points from the Gryffindors and Piper takes note that his criticism is particularly harsh when it’s a Gryffindor making the mistake. It makes it that much more satisfying when he comments on her and Draco’s potion, making sure the class knew they were making theirs properly. Though he rewards no points, Piper preens under the detached praise right alongside Draco.
She’s pleased by Draco’s aptitude in potions. For all he’s a prat, he’s an excellent potions partner and takes their assignment seriously. They work well together, carefully rereading their professor’s script on the chalkboard and checking and double checking each other before either proceeds to the next step of brewing. Piper thinks they’ll do well in potions together, she expects she, Draco, and Hermoine will be at the top of their year. If only she could convince Draco to warm up to her bushy-haired friend.
When Longbottom melts his cauldron and has to go to the infirmary, Piper remembers her mum’s advice, always follow professor Snape’s instructions. Her warning that potions class could lead to a painful trip to the infirmary and supposes no one warned Longbottom. She grimaces at the painful boils on his face and is glad it wasn’t her. She’s impressed he didn’t cry from the pain as he’s lead out of the room by a fellow Gryffindor.
At the end of class, Piper deposits a vial of the potion she and Draco made on Professor Snape’s desk and falls into step with her housemates, listening intently as they chatter around her.
“Did you see Potter’s face?” Draco grins meanly as he speaks loudly enough to draw a glare from the Gryffindors in the corridor with them, “You’d think the Boy Who Lived would at least know wolfsbane and aconite are the same thing.”
Pansy titters as she links arms with Piper, “Fame isn’t everything, like Professor Snape said.”
Blaise hums from behind them, “He could have given us at least one point, I think we more than earned it compared to Gryffindor.”
Draco sniffs, “He’d be accused of favoritism. It’s better we prove we’re the superior house by earning points from everywhere else.”
Piper draws her eyebrows together, “How do you know he’d be accused of favoritism? Professor Mcgonagall gets to give the Gryffindors points. Professor Flitwick gives Ravenclaws points. Professor Sprout gives Hufflepuffs points.”
“Sure, but he never gives points to anyone. Ever. And I know because he’s my godfather,” Draco drawls and puffs his chest out proudly. Childish arrogance showing once again.
“Oh,” Piper tries to imagine the dour man tolerating a little baby Draco drooling on his shoulder and finds she can’t picture it, “I suppose he would definitely be accused of favoritism then.”
Daphne glances back at them and rolls her eyes, “Of course, we are his favorites, to be clear.”
Clearly, Piper thinks, but if what everyone is saying is true, they need Snape, since no one else is on their side. It’s not a great source of comfort for her, not yet at the very least. Still, she carries that thought with her into her meeting with the man after dinner that night.
She sits primly across from the man when the meeting starts. Doing her best not to look like she’s too curious about looking around at the office instead of focusing on the meeting. It’s as dark as the rest of the dungeons. The old books on shelves and jars of potions ingredients catch her attention more than she hopes lets on.
“Miss Williams,” The man’s voice is smooth and detached as he commands her attention, “do you understand why we’re having this meeting?”
She blinks, thinking he’d made it obvious in his welcome speech and quotes him verbatim, “To discuss my courses and goals, professor.”
Black eyes regard her, “Correct, Williams, though more critical thinking and less memorization would serve you well. You’re a Slytherin, I expect more than rote memorization.”
She thinks apologizing for disappointing him would be a bad idea, “Yes, professor, I suppose then, that this meeting is to make sure I live up to Slytherin standards.”
She doesn’t mean for the cheek to slide out at the end there, isn’t trying to disrespect her head of house, but she suspects she’s done it anyway, if the way his face darkens slightly is any indication. His voice is soft and warning when he speaks next, “Careful, Miss Williams, I hold high standards for my students, higher still for my Slytherins.”
She nods politely, choosing not to say anything in case she accidentally angers her professor.
“We will begin with your background,” His voice turns bland and emotionless as he flicks through parchment on his desk. A file, she realizes quickly, about her, “You’re a halfblood, as I’ve said before, in slytherin house, your blood is second to the green of your robes, but the point remains. Your life is different than the life of Miss Parkinson, by virtue of blood alone. And so your ambitions and future are different. You attended muggle schooling before Hogwarts, correct?”
“Yes, professor,” She isn’t sure how much he already knows and how much he expects her to clarify, “Only until I was ten, both my parents work, you see and—“
“Yes, your mother at Flourish and Botts and your father in the ministry of magic,” He interrupts her, “I’m well aware. That being said, I suspect you’ve rather more experience in a structured schooling environment than your peers. I will expect you to adjust quicker to studying and attending classes than the others, is that understood?”
She blinks, “Yes, professor.”
“Is there any reason to foresee you failing to live up to that?” There’s no accusation in his voice, no reason for her to think he would be angry if she were to give a reason. It’s just a question she thinks is genuine in its asking.
“No, professor, I don’t think so, I’ve already read through all my textbooks and begin studying for finals,” She thinks of her study session with Hermoine and thinks so far Professor Snape should have no reason to be dissatisfied with her performance.
“Is there anything you’re struggling with that you haven’t sought aid for?” He presses, staring her dead in the eyes.
She thinks hard and comes up blank, it’s just the first week of classes so she’s not really been thrown any difficult lessons yet, “No, professor.”
If he’s satisfied with her answer she can’t tell, though he briskly moves their meeting along, “Slytherin is the house of ambition, Miss Williams. As such, I expect each of my students to set clear goals and actively work towards them each year, do you understand?”
“Yes, professor,” She has given thought to her goals for the year, though some are silly, such as making Draco less of a prat. She thinks he’s probably only interested in academic goals, “I want to be top of my class.”
He nods slowly as if he’s unsurprised. She would bet that’s a common goal and that he’s probably heard it at most of these meetings. Still he treats what she said with the upmost seriousness, “You will need near perfect, if not perfect grades, to accomplish this. you are not the only member of your year with that ambition or with the potential to achieve it. You will need a clear study plan and actively dedicate large portions of your days to studying and perfecting your understanding of the materials. There is little room for slacking off if you truly want to be first in your class.”
She nods, “Yes professor, I have a study plan for the finals already.”
“The finals alone are not enough to reach the top of your class. You will need to be exemplary in your coursework as well. I will not tolerate any display of laziness or foolishness from you if that is your goal. Nor will I tolerate failure if you allow pride to prevent seeking help when you struggle,” He looks like he’s said this all before, but she thinks he’s still genuine. She hopes so, anyway.
There’s a pause, and she realizes he’s waiting for a response from her, “Transfiguration is the only class so far I’ve had any problems with, I think.”
He nods, “Then you will need to dedicate more hours to transfiguration than perhaps you wish. Is there anything else?”
“No, professor, I don’t think so,” She isn’t sure what she’s supposed to say during their meeting, really. It’s all very serious for the first week of classes.
“You may go, Miss Williams,” he seems to decide there’s nothing more to discuss and flicks his hand. The door behind her opens and just like that he’s lost interest in her. She tries not to be offended by that as she obeys the clear order to go. She’s not sure if there’s a point to the meetings, but she guesses she has a clearer understanding of the expectations she’s under now. Assuming professor Snape actually cares how one first year student performs.