It had taken Ophelia Snape a few days to become accustomed to sleeping in her own small room at 12 Grimmauld Place. Every morning she would wake up to the noises of the kitchen below her and the people who were also spending the Holidays there. As cheerless and decrepit as this house was, it was certainly a busy place.

She rolled out of bed on a particular snowy morning, the sunlight was glinting off the snow outside making it midday-bright in her room and it was only half past seven. She yawned, stretched idly and went for the towel that hung from her door. She didn’t bother with a dressing gown. She lifted off the loose fitting dress shirt that she had borrowed from a certain dark haired cousin’s closet. Ophelia might have regretted leaving behind most of her possessions, but most of them had been gifts from her family, gifts that were too much of a reminder of her old life. So when she had gone back to that house, (no longer her home), she had chosen only her favourite items and a few necessities. That left her with a quarter of her wardrobe and one or two memorable items she couldn’t bare to part with.

So, while Severus was otherwise distracted one day over the summer, Ophelia went in search of something she could sleep comfortably in as all her other bed clothes were soiled. When she had opened his wardrobe she found mostly neatly pressed white shirts, a few lamb’s wool jumpers, and some lighter dress shirts. Apparently the man didn’t believe in T-shirts.

She had ended up taking down one of the neatly pressed, white dress shirt with the full intention of returning it as soon as her other nightgowns were clean. Here it was December and any thought of returning it had completely flown from her mind. She had never let him know about it, she felt too embarrassed about taking it in the first place, but there was also the strange attachment she had formed to this article of clothing. It reminded her of him and strange as it was, Severus Snape was a comforting thought as she fell asleep at night. Perhaps it was his foreboding, impenetrable gaze, or his unapproachable stance –none of these qualities intimidated her as they were meant to. In fact she found them reassuring –others would be frightened of him, and this made her feel safe because somewhere she knew in the corner of her heart that he would protect her.

She would never admit any of these feelings toward her first cousin once removed; on the surface of things she resented him. These were things she only remembered in her sleep, and would forget them quickly upon waking, because in waking she remembered she was little more than a stain on his freshly pressed white shirt.

Ophelia shed her man’s white dress shirt, thinking of how little he cared for her as she stared down at it, lying crumpled and wrinkled on the bed –no longer neatly pressed. She wrapped the long, soft-yellow –Mrs. Weasley had taken to redecorating with cheerful colours- towel snugly around her body. She wasn’t worried about anyone seeing her –the bathroom was on the adjacent wall, one room down. A few quick steps and she would be there.

The bathroom door was shut as it always was. All the doors in Grimmauld were largely kept shut. Even so, she paused for a moment outside the door, listening for any occupants. Hearing nothing but stillness behind the door, and the soft clamour of people downstairs, Ophelia opened the door and then closed it softly behind her –noise had a way of carrying through an old house.

She was just removing her towel when she caught a flash of movement from the corner of her eye. Thinking nothing of it, she turned calmly towards the shower. It was then that the curtain swung open nonchalantly. She scrambled to cover her nakedness, but from the look on the face of the Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived, it was already too late. He was so shocked at seeing her exposed that his own nudity didn’t seem to register. Ophelia saw more of Potter’s anatomy than she ever really wanted.

Their mutual, horrific scream came as a delayed reaction.

In two seconds flat, nearly half the inhabitants of 12 Grimmauld Place were up on the second floor landing. Ophelia had, by that time, re-wrapped her towel snugly around her thin frame and was furiously yelling insults. Harry, soaking wet with a towel pulled up high on his waste, had followed her out into the hall, shouting back at her. Those who had come to the sound of screaming calmly lowered their wands and gawked. Mrs. Weasley ushered Fred and George away at the site of Ophelia. Mr. Weasley set about shooing the rest of the children who had poked their heads out back into their rooms. That left Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks to deal with two very distraught teenagers wearing only towels.

“Don’t yell at me for any of this –you’re the one who didn’t knock!” Harry glowered, pushing his glasses up on his face.

“Like I would have gone in if I had known you were in there!” She replied bitterly.

“Well next time I’ll bloody put a hex on the door!”

“Good! I’d rather be hexed than see that again!” She spat.

Harry’s anger seemed to waver in face of insecurity. “Just… how much did you see?”

“Everything –which is to say not very much.”

Harry’s face turned bright red as the implication hit him. “You’re not much to look at yourself.” Harry shot back, but with considerably less bite.

“I’m a late bloomer!” Ophelia screeched, feeling somehow molested by his words.

“That’s quite enough from both of you.” Tonks intoned. Lupin was already pulling Harry aside, and Tonks seemed about to do the same, but Ophelia would have none of it. She stormed into the bathroom –intent on taking a shower regardless, and slammed the door in her wake.

*****

Tonks was waiting for her when she got out. Ophelia didn’t know why, but apparently Tonks was determined to take on a big sister role with her. She was sitting patiently on her bed, idly bobbing her head to a song that played on her mental soundtrack.

“So…” Tonks stated, looking as though she didn’t realise she was intruding on Ophelia’s personal space.

“I’d like to get dressed.” She snapped, looking crossly at the disgustingly pink haired witch from her dresser.

“Right-o,” Tonks said, kicking her feet off the bed so that she faced the other way. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but I understand if you want your privacy.”

Ophelia snorted at the mention of privacy. Her very presence was an invasion of her privacy.

“I was thinking,” Tonks began, “that you might like to get out for a bit.”

Ophelia slammed the drawer shut in irritation by way of reply.

“You could certainly use some nice undergarments,” Tonks said in a musing tone.

Ophelia had her back turned, “and just what would you know about my” –she cocked her head over her shoulder as she fastened her bra “-hey! You’re not supposed to be looking!”

Tonks giggled girlishly and got up off the bed and strolled towards her. Ophelia whipped around, feeling more exposed wearing only plain white underwear and a cotton bra than she had naked in front of The-Soon-To-Be-Dead-Boy-Who-Lived.

Tonks gave her a pitting once over. “That bra does nothing for your form, and those granny knickers simply won’t do.”

“There’s nothing wrong with –”

“Why don’t you and I go shopping for a bit, yeah?” Tonks grinned, “It’ll be fun!”

“Fun?” The idea didn’t seem at all fun to Ophelia, more like degrading and humiliating.

*****

The last person Ophelia expected to be sitting down in the kitchen reading over an article in the Daily Prophet was Severus Snape. He seemed board with the paper and glanced up at her as she entered as though he was expecting someone.

“Afternoon, cousin,” She greeted, her voice bordering on careful indifference.

“Afternoon,” He replied blandly.

“Holiday going well?” She asked as a manner of politeness.

“Nothing too extremely beyond the ordinary. Which may or may not be a good thing. It remains to be seen.”

It was the most he had said to her in a while, well the most he had said to her in what came close to a conversational tone. Ophelia didn’t know why, but she felt relieved to see him.

“Hullo, Professor.” Tonks said as she came bounding down the stairs. “Ready to go then, O?”

“Go where?” Snape asked. He looked a mix between suspicious and surprised.

“I planned on making a little day trip to the city. I figured I’d take O along and we could have some girl time.” Tonks replied, oblivious to the annoyed glare coming from Ophelia for shortening her name to a monosyllable.

“You did, did you?” Snape asked curtly, arching an elegant eyebrow in challenge.

He seemed on the verge of saying something more, but Tonks beat him to it, “Yes, sir. You see I was going to take her out for a bit of feminine shopping, if you know what I mean. A girl does require a certain amount of bras and panties while growing up.” She smirked, “Unless you’d prefer to take her yourself,” she added slyly.

Snape made a face at the mention of bras and panties and turned back to his paper with a disgruntled cough. “Carry on.”

Ophelia’s face was heated as Tonks led her out. She wanted to duck and cover in embarrassment, unfortunately there was really no where to hide and it was too late now to back out. The damage was done, but she still couldn’t believe Tonks had said something like that to Snape. She really would have preferred it if Tonks had kept the bras and panties bit to herself. Thank gods no one else was around, especially that damnable Potter.

As they made their way out, Professor Finckle came in shaking the snow from his cloak.  Tonks addressed him cheerfully, “Wotcher, Fin. Professor Snape’s already waiting for you in the kitchen.”

“Right, right, thank you, Tonks.” He nodded towards Ophelia in greeting.

“He might be a bit testy.” The Auror warned.

Professor Fin smiled knowingly. “Isn’t he always, though?” The animated coat rack from behind him took the cloak he had been unsuccessfully trying to hang. “Besides, he’s a tad more fun that way, I find.” He grinned for a moment and then headed off in the direction toward the kitchen.

“Well, at least someone finds your cousin’s black moods amusing.” Tonks shrugged and lead them out the door, but not before Ophelia could have a curious glance backwards.

Illustration! tee hee!  ^_^  She's a bit sleepy.

Illustration: "Sleepy" ©Weslyn

End Part I

Flashback Part I     Part II