Chapter 3

Over the next few days I took every available opportunity to observe Professor Snape. Regarding him as lonely really cast his coldness in an entirely new light. When he refused to engage in small talk with the other professors I started considering him stoic rather than antisocial. When he snapped at people I could see now that the walls he built up were for them more than anything else.

If classes hadn't started I may have become altogether obsessed with watching Snape. As it was the sudden influx of students rendered me busier than I had ever been before.

In the first week Madam Pomfrey and I were pretty much confined to the hospital wing, administering a series of vaccinations. The first years needed a slew of shots as well as anyone starting Care of Magical Creatures. Starting right after breakfast until late in the evening there was usually a line out the door.

We ate meals rapidly in her office, while taking notes on which students have received what. By the time we had finished paperwork in the evenings it was all I could do to make it back to my room and pass out asleep. By Thursday afternoon though, the end was in sight. We had only to do physical exams on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and then we should have a break. As Madam Pomfrey was weighing the final Chaser she assured me that the second week was always a breeze compared to the first.

So you can imagine my surprise when Thursday night, only an hour after turning in there came a startling knock on my door. Bleary eyed I opened it and was surprised to find a tiny, female house elf quivering before me.

"So very sorry to wake you, miss," she squeaked. "Buts Madam Pomfrey is needing your help."

"Oh," I said, startled. "Of course. Um, thanks." I was still uneasy around house elves. We really had nothing like them in the U.S.

"What was your name?" I called out. She had already started to retreat but turned around instantly.

"It's Millie, miss," she answered, looking uncomfortable.

"Well thank you for fetching me, Millie." I said, just as uncomfortable. Somehow, though, knowing her name made me feel better.

She nodded and disappeared and soon after, I followed.

When I got down to the hospital I was surprised to see it mostly empty. In fact, the only person I saw was Madam Pomfrey who was scurrying in enough of a frenzy to occupy the space of five people.

"Sodden earmuffs," she mumbled to herself, toppling a pile of sheets in a frantic search.

"What happened?" I asked, concerned.

She looked up as if surprised to see me. "The Herbology Club," she sighed. "Someone broke open a pot with a baby Mandrake and they're dropping like flies."

"Do we have enough restorative?" I asked, moving quickly to the storage closet.

She waved her hand towards me as she triumphantly withdrew a large pair of earmuffs from a drawer.

"Oh yes," she said. "Don't worry about all that. They'll all be fine. I just need you to stay here."

I looked around at the empty room. "Why?" I asked, entirely puzzled.

Madam Pomfrey stopped pacing and looked at me.

"Dumbledore says you can be trusted," she said, more to herself than me. She raised her voice. "We have a patient you should stay with."

Before she could tell me more, a tall, round faced boy burst through the door. "Madam Pomfrey," he croaked, "please hurry."

She was animated once again. "Coming Mr. Longbottom," she told him. "Fourth door on the left," she called to me as she departed.

I looked down the long, dark corridor for a moment before going forth. Somehow I knew what I would see even before I got there.

Sitting up along a cot, face white and drawn, was Professor Snape. His one leg dangled to the side, as though he were in the process of rising. The other though, was propped high before him. Just a few inches below his knee was a bite mark, bloody and swollen, and obviously extremely painful.

"What are you doing here?" he asked when he saw me. He leaned over as if to stand but winced.

"Apparently I'm trustworthy," I muttered moving closer and pressing my hand into his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. "Sit back," I instructed, surveying the injury.

He complied but set his jaw against me as if willing me to combust.

"Where's Madam Pomfrey?" he asked tightly.

"Greenhouses," I answered. I moved across the room to the Binding Solution that was sat on a side table. "Issue with the Mandrakes. Do you know how much she's used already?"

He didn't want to answer. I could tell by the look in his eyes that a large part of him still hoped I would just leave. "About a quarter of the bottle," he finally said. "It's already healed quite a bit."

"I guess it's just a matter of time them. How's the pain?"

"Insignificant," he said clenching his jaw.

"Well that's just not true," I smiled, hoping he would see it as a sign of kindness and not mocking. "Let me get you something for that."

"No," he insisted brusquely.

I stepped a bit closer and looked into his eyes. In addition to pain I saw obvious distrust. "How quickly did you take the anti-venom?" I asked quietly.

He didn't answer.

"If you waited more than fifteen minutes I imagine a good deal of venom is running through your bloodstream. The pain must be excruciating." I paused. "Snake bites are nasty things."

"It was about twenty minutes," he said, almost inaudibly.

"I'll tell you what," I said, moving away again. "I'll make you a nice Sleeping Draught with pain reliever. By the time you wake up you'll be completely healed."

"That's unnecessary."

"Come on," I chided. "I need the practice."

"Oh and I'm going to be your guinea pig?" he said bitingly.

I fixed a smile to my face. "See I was trying to be decorous. I actually make an awesome Sleeping Draught. The second it touches your lips the pain in your leg will melt away. You'll sleep all night with only the faintest and most pleasant dreams and when you awake you'll be as fresh as a newborn. Your leg will feel so good you'll want to go running."

I stopped. Did I sense longing in his eyes. "I'll be back with it in a few minutes," I said, departing the room.

As I mixed the ingredients I could see what a struggle Snape would be. Every concession he made cost him dearly. And yet, I imagined it would be worth the trouble. I smiled to myself and added an extra dose of wormwood for good dreams.

Chapter 4

The semester went on and the weather began to lose the blunt edge of heat. On my afternoons off I would take a couple of Medical Magic books outside and read under the shade of the trees. Although I had yet to make any real friends I was starting to learn names and even be recognized by a larger collection of students and staff. A few of the regulars in the Hospital Wing, mostly Quidditch players and that Longbottom boy, would stop to chat when they passed me in the halls. I had gone out to help with a few Care of Magical Creatures classes that proved to be more dangerous and had struck up a casual acquaintance with the teacher, Rubeus Hagrid. Professor Snape, even, had started responding to nearly half my greetings. It was typically only a stiff nod, but I accepted what I could get.

I usually ate my meals in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey who only ventured into the Great Hall every few days or so. She littered conversations with complaints about the dangers surrounding the school. By mid-October I was becoming a bit tired of her prattling on about under qualified teachers trying to heal and dangerous classes where students were lucky to survive. I resolved to branch out and November first, started eating regularly in the Great Hall.

After the first day of feeling completely out of place, I was surprised at how warm people were. The other professors, save the Potions Master of course, were eager to hear about my education at Newt Manor.

"You took Muggle correspondence courses?" Professor Sprout asked me one day, so shocked she neglected to swallow her pot pie first. A few other professors stared at me, astounded.

"Only in medicine, really," I answered shyly. "There's a lot of overlap in the material."

"But, they didn't know what you are?" Professor Flitwick asked.

I shrugged. "I didn't exactly keep it a secret. But then, I don't think they really believed it anyway. Most of the Muggles in America that know about us, just assume we're crazy and try to avoid the subject. Our government isn't as strict as yours with secrecy. There just isn't as much of a divide."

From behind us Dumbledore caught my eye and smiled. Sprout and Flitwick gaped as I went back to my food.

"Is he not eating again?" I heard Professor McGonagall ask the headmaster quietly.

"He says he's too swamped with work to take a break right now," Dumbledore answered. "Poor bloke. I hate having him do double duty like this but…"

"What can you do?" McGonagall finished for him.

I didn't have to look up to know who they were speaking about. I won't lie and say that seeing Snape didn't at least partially motivate my emergence into Hogwarts' society. But it was very disappointing. He seemed to show up only rarely for meals, often scarfing down just a few bites before excusing himself to go back to work.

"If I have the time later," Dumbledore continued to the Transfiguration professor, "I'll ask a house elf to bring him some food."

Again I didn't need to raise my head. I had the sneaking suspicion that the comment was directed towards me.

Not twenty minutes later I was knocking lightly on the Potions dungeon door, a tray of sandwiches and mug of pumpkin juice balanced carefully between my hands.

"Come in," a surly voice called out.

I managed to drop nothing as I worked the door open and brought in the food. I placed it gently on the edge of Snape's desk, on the only space not covered in parchments.

"What's this?" he asked through his teeth.

"Lunch," I said simply. "Generally taken between breakfast and dinner, intended to provide nourishment requisite for maintaining health and energy levels through the afternoon."

He stared at the food for a moment before dropping his eyes back to the paper in front of him. "Thank you," he said.

I leaned back against a lab bench and watched as he finished the paper he was grading. He didn't touch the plate. After circling a large "D" on the top of a paper he brushed it aside and looked up at me.

"Anything else I can do for you Miss Pendergraft?"

"Is there an answer key?"

"I beg your pardon," his voice was silky but severe.

"A test containing all the correct answers against which one could grade a student paper," I continued my little joke.

He considered for only a moment, during which I wholly expected to be banished from the room. Then he slid a sheet of parchment across the desk. "You can use Granger's exam to grade against," he told me.

I pulled up a chair and sat at the end of his long desk, collecting a stack of tests as I rapidly went through the answers. We didn't speak again and I managed not even to raise my head when he reached for a sandwich. When the tests were finished and sorted he looked up at me with his usual nod. But then, shocking me to my core, his lips curved into an uncomfortable and forced-looking smile. I grinned foolishly back and then left before I could say anything stupid enough to lose the major step I had just earned.

From then on it became a bit of a routine with us. Some days I was too busy with work and some days he managed to show up in the Great Hall for lunch. But on the other days, those blissful other days, I would meet Millie in the Hogwarts kitchen and take from her an ample supply and variety of food. And then I would venture off to sit beside Snape in silence, enjoying every moment of it.