Monday 4th April
11:00a.m. Office.
All has been quiet on the Western front, as they say. Indeed, have not had much cause to write in my diary for the last week or so.
Lucinda has had a week off work, so I've not seen her until today. She was at her desk when I arrived this morning, and, of course, she greeted me warmly. I managed to say 'hello,' but that was about it. Should have probably asked her how her holiday had gone… Oh, well.
Half expected her to come in and arrange another outing, but she has not. Have thought about it very much lately and have decided that I would like to see what it might be like to get to know her better.
Maybe she will come in later on.
17:30p.m. Home.
Lucinda did not come in.
Humph.
Tuesday 5th April
Noon. Ministry.
Made myself stop at Lucinda's desk this morning and speak to her properly. I, of course, had a pretext for being there—needed my supply of parchment replenishing, didn't I.
I was clever, though. Instead of bringing up the parchment first, I asked her if she had enjoyed her holiday. That evidently please her for, she threw down her quill and smiled.
'Oh, it was wonderful, thank you, Severus.'
I admit, the slightly bronzed pallor to her skin suits her rather… well.
'I love Ibiza—have you ever been there?'
I'm sorry to say, this question was posed to me entirely seriously. So it fell upon me to answer it seriously as well.
'Ah, no.' I replied. 'I've not yet had that pleasure.' And never will. Bloody hell.
Shortly after that, I took my parchment and retreated back to my office.
Still there was no sign of a further meeting between us. Perhaps she's changed her mind about me.
Find myself actually a little bit disappointed.
Friday 8th April
14:30p.m. Office.
Had briefing with Wilson this morning to discuss the progress of Miss Moran.
I had to tell him I thought she would probably last the distance, at which he looked relieved.
She has been doing rather well, I suppose. I have had no reason to take significant issue with her. Indeed, have had to tick her off against most of my criteria.
Not all, however. A good working knowledge of Muggles is desired in the ideal candidate, according to the brief I sometimes glance at when I'm bored. Miss Moran is a Pureblood, and while not entirely ignorant, is still prone to using ridiculous malapropisms such as 'felly tone' and speaking of Muggles with a rather disagreeable but unconscious pedantry. This is an area I shall have to address, and it's the worst one for me to deal with, because it usually means me having to leave the confines of my tiny office to undertake a little 'field-trip.'
That will be for another time.
Another issue I have with her is the state of her handwriting. Have to get a bloody magnifying glass out to read it.
I nearly took it up with her, but, infuriatingly, she got to me first.
'Excuse me,' she said one day, oh so frankly, 'but I'm afraid I cannot read your writing. Do you mind clarifying your instructions for me?'
I nearly hexed her for her impudence.
To make matters worse, when I snatched the parchment off her, I could barely read my writing either. It seems to have deteriorated over the years, and whereas it used to be small and spidery, but legible, it is now small and spidery, but illegible.
When Miss Moran was not looking, I discreetly held my right hand out to see the steadiness of it, thinking that maybe my drinking has finally become so out of control as to make me develop a nervous tremor.
There was no such thing, of course.
Deep down, I know why my writing has become so reprehensible; it's because I can't be fucking arsed.
16:30p.m.
Why hasn't Lucinda asked me out again?
We could have done something tonight.
Saturday 10th April
1:00p.m. Yorkshire.
Oh.
Is she waiting for me to ask?
I bloody well asked last time! Well, in a manner of speaking I did, of course.
Hmm… Or maybe she just doesn't want to. That's fine.
Monday 12th April
10:30a.m. Office.
Ha!
She brought me tea and biscuits this morning!
'Did you have a good weekend, Severus?' she asked with a small smile.
'Tolerable, thank you, Lucinda.' She doesn't need to know I spent it scouring heath-land for rare plants. 'How was yours?'
'Boring,' she said, looking directly at me.
That moment; that was when I should have said, 'Oh, well why don't we do something next weekend?'
As if.
All I did was nod and stuff a custard cream in my mouth.
2:15p.m. Canteen.
Potter has just asked me if I am going to the reunion he and some of his ridiculous friends have organised, to be held at Hogwarts during the Easter break. I vaguely remember receiving some invitation of the sort, but, unfortunately, I used it to wipe my arse.
Ha ha. I didn't really; but I wish I had thought to say that to Potter just now. I can just see his face.
He said: 'We can't have a proper reunion without our arch-enemy present, can we?'
'You'll manage.'
'There'll be former students there from more than just my year. Don't you want to see how everyone has turned out?'
I looked at him stupidly. 'Potter,' I said. 'You've mistaken me for someone who gives a shit.'
'Well… the house-elves will be doing a spectacular spread...'
'What time is the kick-off?'
Yes, I am that easy.
Wednesday 13th April
11:25a.m. Office.
Have had a rather interesting idea.
An interesting, alarming, good, dubious, and suggestive idea.
Think it could be better to pretend I never had it, but…
I am considering asking Lucinda to come to the reunion with me. Have been thinking lately about her lack of magical ability and her ignorance of Hogwarts. I'm sure she would appreciate being able to visit the castle. And let's face it, I think she would be impressed and flattered to be asked to such an event.
Have no doubt just jinxed self by writing such a thing. Sod dictates she will now laugh in my face and say she wouldn't come to Hogwarts with me even if I paid her.
Bugger. Nice one, Snape; can't do anything right, can you?
Stupid git.
Friday 14th April
12:30p.m. Office.
Aargh!
12:35p.m.
Aargh!
Just asked Lucinda to the reunion. She said yes, and was very pleased and excited, but I still can't believe I did it. Am cringing at myself for no apparent reason. I did not make an arse of myself, but I think the thought that I potentially could have is enough to make me want to hex myself.
I was outwardly calm and composed, mind. However flustered I might be inside, I can always rely on a deadpan expression and drawl to be at my ready. Benefits of having such a sharp mind, I expect.
I did not walk past and say 'WannagotoaHogwartsreunionwithme?'
Indeed. I'm quite proud of myself, really.
I was so smooth and detached, I could have been asking about the weather…
Actually, is that a good thing?
Hmm…
Thursday 21st April
1:00a.m.
Oh Merlin. Wish I had never asked her to Hogwarts. Feelings of pride at actions has evaporated to be replaced with terror and dread.
Wednesday 27th April
3:00a.m. Bed.
What if someone assumes that Lucinda is my long-lost daughter whom I've only just been reunited with?
Oh Merlin.
I think the embarrassment would actually kill me.
Thank God she looks nothing like me; might get away with it.
Saturday 30th April
17:30p.m. Home.
Time remaining until I have to meet Lucinda: ninety minutes.
Not long enough, I fear; I feel a bit sick. Really struggling to remember why I thought it a good idea to invite her.
And I feel uncharitable now.
Ugh.
17:45p.m.
Never mind trying to remember why I invited Lucinda; why the fuck did I agree to go in the first place?
Think it's time I went to a Healer and had a check-up. Maybe my father's mental problems are hereditary and are manifesting themselves within me at a more premature stage.
Now there's a prospect to relish…
18:45p.m.
Have forced myself into my robes.
Did hope I might trip in them and fall down the stairs to spare myself the impending night, but alas, no such luck was forthcoming.
Maybe I'll Splinch myself during Disapparition…
Maybe I need to get a grip. Or a stiff drink.
I wonder what it is I shall be writing here when I return…?
11:45p.m. Home.
Well, it's done. I survived, but it was not really a good night, I'm afraid.
It started off well enough. Lucinda looked rather pretty, and when I saw her, I admonished myself for my earlier dread. I told myself I should be grateful she even wanted to be seen with a wreck like me in public.
My spirits rallied… (Merlin; I've made myself sound like some delicate eighteenth century maiden who has taken to her bed with exhaustion…) When we entered the Great Hall (through the main doors!), I couldn't help it, I felt smugly chuffed with myself. For the first time in a long while (if ever) I felt almost normal and surprisingly unselfconscious.
For about five seconds, that is. Then I felt eyes on me.
I gently manoeuvred Lucinda, who was busy staring openly at the ceiling, off to the side, so that we were not so directly exposed. Just from a few brief glances, I spied a few of my former students nudging each other with expressions of what I like to think was horror. Nice to know some things never change.
I was about to pull Lucinda away from where she was admiring a stained glass window, when I saw them. It was a coven of witches gaping at me.
'What?' I mouthed rudely at them, scowling.
Lucinda was currently examining the Slytherin coat of arms, so I quickly stepped over to our onlookers. I arrived just in time to hear Minerva hiss to Poppy:
'It's off. Quick, run and tell Charlotte it's off. He's brought his own bloody woman!'
'Who the hell is Charlotte?' I demanded.
Minerva flinched.
'Oh, ah, no one for you to worry about…' placated Poppy.
'Wouldn't happen to teach Ancient Runes, would she?' I asked.
'She's been known to step into that classroom…' said Pomona with a smirk.
Before I could ask them what in the name of arse they were thinking, Minerva sniffed and pursed her lips. 'Well, you've certainly kept her quiet.' The look on her face was most accusing as she looked between me and Lucinda.
'Sorry; I'll put an advertisement in the Prophet next time, shall I?'
At least no one had thought to assume she was my daughter, I suppose. I'm always grateful for small mercies.
I introduced them all to Lucinda, but no sooner had the pleasantries been gone through, I had Horace tugging insistently at my arm.
'A word, please, Severus.'
Turns out he'd discovered a horde of deadly poisonous potions and undetectable powders under a loose flagstone in my old office. Not only that, they were warded against his touch. He was afraid someone might discover them and report him to the authorities. He wanted to know if I'd been aware of them during my time there.
I told him he could dispose of them, as I no longer have need of them in my current line of work.
I'm sure I have hidden away enough questionable mixtures away in Hogwarts to give an Auror an embolism. Can't remember where they are now, though. Oh well, no one can prove they are mine.
'Anything else, Horace?'
He looked at me, a little bit frightened, to my mind. I don't know why. He does know me, after all. I turned to leave, only to find Minerva now vying for my attention.
'Is Charlotte broken hearted?'
'No,' she laughed. 'No, no.' She looked troubled for a moment and I felt briefly concerned. Briefly, mind.
'Something wrong?'
'Lucinda seems lovely,' she began. 'We were talking, just now, and, ah…'
'Spit it out!'
'Were you, ah, aware that she's a…' Her voice lowered to a whisper. 'A Squib?'
I nearly laughed. 'Of course I bloody well am!'
She looked surprised, suddenly. I, however, became angry.
'Do you believe me prejudiced, Minerva?' I folded my arms and gave her an uncompromising look.
'Oh, no…'
'Well?'
'Oh, come on, Severus! You are the biggest snob there is when it comes to intelligence and magical superiority. You often treat those with lesser strength and knowledge with nothing more than contempt! Or have you forgotten how you used to torment Sibyl?'
'That's because I never liked Sibyl. I like Lucinda, therefore, she is not beneath me.'
'Fine, fine.'
I started making my way back to where I had left Lucinda, only to stop in my tracks, horrified.
She was talking to Potter.
I rushed through the people milling around. Think they realised I was a man on a mission, for some watched, maybe thinking I was about to blast Potter from all existence. A nice fantasy, I must say.
He saw my approach, damn him, and smirked. 'I'm probably Severus's best friend, you know. Does he talk about me much?'
'Um no,' Lucinda answered. 'He's never mentioned you.'
'Damn right I haven't!' I glared at Potter. 'Run along back to your little friends, why don't you?' I looked across the hall and saw that Weasley and Granger were watching us. I hoped they would stay away all night, too.
'Come, Lucinda,' I said. 'Perhaps there's more of the castle you would like to see?'
As we moved away, I distinctly heard Potter say, 'Yes, and I'm checking the rosebushes later, Snape.'
Right there. Right there, in the middle of the Great Hall, I nearly throttled Harry Potter to death.
I think my hand even twitched at the thought of it. Alas, my liberty is something to be preserved, so I pretended not to have heard him. Unfortunately, matters only became worse. It was announced that dinner would now be served and I hesitated.
When Potter had said spread, I thought he'd meant buffet. Not a dinner.
Tables appeared, and so did Potter, at my elbow. 'Saved you a couple of seats with us, Snape,' he stated with another smirk.
All I wanted to shout was, 'Please; no!'
But it was true. My name appeared over a chair, along with a host of undesirables.
We sat down at the table and I resisted the urge to stab myself with my fork. They were all there: Granger. Weasley. Mrs. Potter. Longbottom. Lovegood, amongst others. How honoured I was to be included in their special, self-important group. At least I was glad to see Minerva was there. Can't say the same for Hagrid, of course.
Lucinda looked rather pleased with the company she was in. Poor, naive girl, I thought.
I had barely made any inroads into my starter before I felt my first insistent stab of impatience. Weasley was regaling us with his latest Quidditch triumph.
What a fucking arsehole.
However, I nearly choked on my wine when Lucinda said, entirely seriously:
'I don't follow Quidditch, I'm afraid; what team is it you play for?'
You could have heard a pin drop.
'Oh, the Cannons, of course,' replied Weasley, looking stunned.
'Oops,' Lucinda whispered to me when the conversation had moved on. 'Should I have known that?'
I gave a small chuckle. 'I am eternally grateful that you didn't.'
While we waited for the next course, Potter and his sidekicks started waxing lyrical over their school days. I tuned them out. Lucinda seemed to be listening with interest, and Minerva, of course, has an unfortunate tendency to indulge her former charges. I drifted back to attention though when Lucinda put her foot in it slightly.
They'd been talking about favourite teachers, and she said, teasingly, not realising the significance, 'Severus wasn't your favourite teacher, then?'
A chorus of snorts sounded.
'Like hell,' spat Weasley.
Typically, Potter was looking a bit uncomfortable, and I knew what was about to come and it irritated me exponentially.
'Well, he wasn't so bad, in hindsight—'
'Oh, have a day off, Potter. I was a thorn in your side and you were a veritable harpoon in mine.'
He looked at me and scowled. 'You were the bloody harpoon.'
'Shouldn't have been such a nuisance, then, should you?'
'Was hardly Harry's fault if he was a thorn in your side, was it?'
That was Granger speaking. I ignored her. But her next question nearly made me flinch, however.
'By the way, how is your father?'
There was definitely silence around the table now. She looked at me directly and I stared back at her hard. How dare she bring that up. I wondered if everyone else could hear the undertone of accusation in her voice, as well. Not that they'd understand it; unless she'd told everyone of our meeting in Yorkshire, that is.
Minerva saved my having to answer. She was looking at me, shocked. 'Your father?' she asked. 'You never mentioned you had got back in touch with him.'
Granger's expression flickered a little with uncertainty. It was only to shame her that I even remotely considered discussing such a personal matter in such company.
'I did not get in touch with him. He found me, several years ago.'
'And you gave him the light of day?' she asked incredulously.
Granger now had the grace to look uncomfortable. I watched her, cursing her as the self-righteous, know-it-all person that she is.
'I did,' I said tightly, turning my attention to my plate, indicating the conversation was at an end.
Minerva knew some of what had happened with my father when I was a child, through Dumbledore, I think, for I certainly never told her. Dumbledore hadn't known until years later, and I wouldn't have told him, had I any choice in the matter.
Someone else started up another discussion, but I did not listen. I ate my dinner automatically, hardly tasting it. As soon as manners would allow, I asked Lucinda if she would like to join me for a walk. No one said anything as we left.
We went out into the Entrance Hall and she walked right up to the hourglasses. Slytherin, I noted, are not doing well. Humph.
'What House were you in?'
I nodded towards the yellow stones. 'Hufflepuff,' I said seriously.
'Really?' she asked dubiously. 'I thought they were supposed to be meek and mild?'
Ouch.
She turned now to the portraits. 'Where shall we go? There must be hundreds of places to see.'
Her voice held such wonder, and while I had had it in mind to indulge her, suddenly I felt I could not. There was nothing I wanted to do less than go wandering around the castle. I didn't want to do anything really. Her enthusiasm for the castle suddenly ignited within me an acute pain that I was hard-pressed to analyse, but felt had been lurking within me more insistently tonight than it had in a long while.
My eyes moved to the plaque commemorating those who had died in the Battle of Hogwarts and all I could think was that I couldn't do it. What would I do? Take her to all the spots from which I have such wonderful memories?
The Astronomy tower?
The Headmaster's study?
The dungeons?
It was ridiculous, I felt. Everything was. Me and her included.
'I'm sorry, Lucinda,' I said. 'I think I should like to go back into the hall.'
I walked off without waiting for a reply and furnished myself immediately with a drink. Eventually, she appeared beside me, looking as awkward as I felt.
'Do you dance?' she asked plainly.
I nearly choked. 'No, I do not,' I answered, before I could think twice. Her face clouded slightly, but what could I do? It was the honest truth.
I turned my attention to the people around us. All looked to be enjoying themselves. Even Granger had a smile on her face. Smiling at Weasley, no less.
But the only feeling I had was that I was kidding myself. I'm not sure how I arrived at that conclusion, but the fact remains that I did. How should I explain it to Lucinda? In the interest of fairness, I knew that I should.
And so, maybe it was guilt that led me to say to her next, 'I think I can make an exception this once. Would you like to dance?'
I think she knew it was half-hearted on my part, as her smile of acquiescence was faint.
There was something rather pleasant about holding her hand. But I felt oddly removed from that little warm tingle, as if it could not reach me emotionally in the way that matters, and I'm beginning to think that nothing ever will.
We danced quite slowly, probably giving the impression of some more romantic interlude than was certainly the case. Reality was, I barely know how to dance, and furthermore, my mind was focused on condemning myself.
Why was I inflicting myself on this woman? She might have a spark of interest in me, but nothing could ever come of it.
I've just read back over my previous writings about finding someone to share my time with. I can see now that it is deluded nonsense. Nothing more, nothing less. Too much has happened in my life, I think, that has affected me in ways I have never really considered.
I can't give of myself any more than I strictly have to. Why else did I joke that I was in Hufflepuff? Might have been a joke on the surface, but underneath I recoil at having to explain the person I really am.
I don't think I will ever feel a proper attraction for someone, because my desire to remain known only to myself is just too strong.
When the music stopped, I extricated myself. 'Lucinda,' I began.
She cut me off, however, by, well, stepping forward and kissing me. It was soft, and nice, but again, I didn't really feel like it was me standing there. Felt like it was someone else.
From the look on her face she could tell it too. 'It's all right,' she said. 'I can't tell this is not really working.'
'I'm sorry. I just cannot… I can't explain it, properly…'
I'm just irretrievably fucked up.
She said she would like to remain friends. I have no issue with that, after all, we have to work together. Except, I'm no good at maintaining friendships either.
We stayed a little while longer. Guilt and disappointment made me make an effort in ensuring she had some enjoyment, so I answered all her questions about Hogwarts with as much enthusiasm as I am capable of. I found during this time that I admired her. She was not one for bitterness, I could see. Were I her, I would have secretly loved the thought of Hogwarts, but outwardly I would have spitefully scorned it, and probably scorned magic as well.
And now I'm home. Back to square one, if, indeed, I ever left it.
Feeling rather melancholic, to be frank. Can't even bring myself to get a drink.
Maybe I'm writing myself off prematurely, but, you know what?
I fucking doubt it.