Afterlife

Chapter 2

Winnie had been awake for over an hour when Hermione came out of her room to find Winnie sitting on the sofa sipping a cup of coffee. She hadn't been able to sleep for more than a couple hours before dreams of that fateful night roused her from her sleep. Lifetimes seemed to have passed since then, and Winnie had spent the early hours of the morning to reflect on the past four months.

After the battle and ensuing funerals, Winnie had been forced to return home. She had no money or resources, and the months with her family had not been easy. They had not forgotten the hardships of the year they had spent in constant fear and anxiety of being found by the Ministry. Her mother and father had made sure that she knew that they had not forgotten or forgiven. The tense atmosphere had almost reached an explosion when Winnie wrote to McGonagall with hopes of returning to Hogwarts to finish her education. With a final plea to her parents that if they paid for one last year, she would be gone for good and her future for one year was secured.

"What are you thinking?" Hermione asked when she saw Winnie's pensive face.

Winnie glanced to her side at Hermione who had sat in an armchair close to the sofa. "I'm thinking that detention with Snape on Saturday is going to be bloody awful," she said dully.

Hermione's head snapped up to stare incredulously at Winnie. "What? How in Merlin's name did you get detention already?" she asked in disbelief.

Winnie stared into the cold and empty fireplace. "I couldn't sleep last night and went for a walk. Needless to say, I was caught."

Winnie didn't need to look at Hermione to know she was looking at her with a smug smirk. "That should teach you not to be out after curfew."

Winnie snorted. "I'm almost eighteen, Hermione. Curfew is a ridiculous concept. Besides, I was not doing anything mischievous. I just needed some air."

"Next time, open a window, Winnie," Hermione said sternly. She stood up and walked out of the room, unquestionably to eat breakfast.

Winnie decided to skip breakfast since Snape would certainly be there, and she wished to avoid him as much as possible. With a resigned sigh, she put her coffee on the table and went to her room to prepare for classes. Today was an easy schedule with double Care of Magical Creatures in the morning followed by Charms in the afternoon. Since she was the only student to pursue N.E.W.T. Care of Magical Creatures, the class was more like being Hagrid's assistant. She would follow him around and help him in his duties. He usually made sure that they were animal related, so Winnie could absorb as much hands on experience as she could.

She didn't much mind spending so much time running after Hagrid. He was great company and always had something important to say about some creature. Winnie could never understand his fascination for the dangerous creatures, but his love for anything that walked on four (or more) legs was touching.

Winnie glanced at her reflection before she left to make sure nothing was out of place, and came up short. The sight of her robes with the Ravenclaw embellishment was a startling sight. She had grown so used to seeing herself in Muggle jeans and t-shirts. A smile spread across her lips, though, as she gazed at the robes. She forgot how nice it was to feel like she belonged somewhere. She was so happy that, for a moment, she forgot about her detention, and nearly skipped her way to class.

The week was easy. The first week of classes is always easy. One exception, though. Potions was bloody miserable, but not because of the subject matter. Merlin's beard! It was nice to brew Potions again, but Snape is just as insufferable as he always was. It will be a true nightmare having to spend Saturday afternoon with the man. He is just so cruel and unfair! To make matters worse, every time I am around the man, my wretched heart beats like a pixie is trapped in it. It has made me start thinking that I feel something different towards Snape than just indifference, especially since that night. I've found myself wondering how he would react if he knew what I had done. During the late hours of the night when the castle is completely dead, I find myself fantasizing that he would be grateful.

Listen to me! I am mental! Snape is a bastard, albeit a glorious one. There is no denying it. I'd better be off. I've promised to help Hagrid record the unicorn population in the forest tomorrow morning, and the best time to catch them is at dawn or shortly thereafter. ~Winnie

At ten to noon, Winnie walked into the castle from the grounds mentally groaning at her messy clothing and mussed hair. As she walked towards Snape's office, she attempted to pull her hair into a decent looking bun, but all she managed to do was make herself look even more disheveled. Before knocking she used the back of her hand to wipe her face off, hoping she got most of the dirt off. There was nothing she could do about the small cuts on her arms, or the tears in her jeans. She made a mental note never to go into the forest in normal Muggle apparel again, and then, she knocked, her heart starting to patter a little more quickly as if anticipating its acceleration in just a moment.

There was a bark of "Enter!" and Winnie opened the door. Snape was sitting behind his desk undoubtedly grading. Winnie walked to his desk and stood there silently until he looked at her. Those dark penetrating eyes met her for a moment before she looked away. "You are to make enough Draughts, Rejuvenating Draughts, and Energizing Potions to stock the Hospital Wing. There are ample ingredients on the table," he snapped, much more coldly than his normal tone.

Winnie stared at him for a moment in shock before she walked over to the table. She glanced at the books that he had laid out for her, and with a determined look, she set them on the floor. She knew the steps, she was sure of it. Without a moment's hesitation, she picked up a knife and set to work.

Even Winnie had to admit that brewing three different yet immensely similar potions was a difficult task. The instructions for each potion kept getting mixed up in her head, and more than once, Winnie had to snap her hand back from putting an ingredient into the wrong cauldron. Again and again she repeated the process of making three potions at once until there were no ingredients left for her to use.

With a content sigh, Winnie set her the last flask on the table and went over to Snape's desk. During her hours of potionmaking she had been blissfully ignorant of his presence, but now that she was looking at him she realized how quickly her heart was thumping. She clenched her fist and cleared her throat, wanting nothing more to get out of there. Snape looked up from his work, and Winnie's eyes instantly looked away.

"I finished, sir, or at least, I ran out of ingredients," she said nervously. She had no idea where her nerves had come from. They hadn't been there a moment ago, but the instant she tried to speak, her voice failed her, revealing her true discomfort.

Snape stood up and walked around his desk to the table. Winnie stayed by his desk, not wanting to be closer to him than she had to be. A few minutes passed as he examined each flask closely. Winnie twisted her hands in impatience, and breathed a deep sigh of relief when he said she could go. She scurried out of the office like a frightened mouse, not caring if her dignity was wounded in the process.

Winnie's heart did not slow down until she made it safely back to her room. She slid into an armchair letting out an exasperated sigh that roused Hermione from her schoolwork. She set her quill down and leaned back to look at Winnie.

"How'd it go?" Hermione asked.

"Fine, boring. Snape made me make Potions." Winnie cracked her stiff neck.

Hermione winced. "I hate it when you do that." Winnie shrugged. "How was it being around Snape?"

Winnie shrugged again. "I don't know. The same as always I suppose," Winnie lied. "He's a bloody git, isn't he? I didn't expect him to be any different. I still find him completely intolerable."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Do you? I don't seem to recall you finding him to intolerable four months ago."

"That's not fair, Hermione. I did that because I had no choice. He didn't deserve what was going to happen, even if he is a git."

Hermione stared at Winnie knowingly. "Stop it, Hermione," Winnie snapped. "You really don't have a clue what you are talking about." Winnie pushed herself off the chair. "I'm going to shower. I smell like unicorns and potions."

Winnie strode away to the bathroom, Hermione's insinuations ringing in her ear. With a wave of her wand, Winnie had music lofting through the warded bathroom in a vain attempt to block out her thoughts. Stupid git, she thought before she magically increased the volume to a low roar finally managing to stop her thoughts about Snape and her wretched memories.

Author's Note: So I decided to try something new with Winnie and her journal. It's a way to look a little more deeply into her thoughts. Let me know if you like the idea. Thanks for reading and please review.