Authors Note :I apologize for the wait for both the continuation of the story, as well as, the introduction of Snape into the story…tell me what you think…

She stood pacing outside Dumbledore's office. Once she went in there was no going back and she really didn't feel quite ready to face that yet. She sighed, said the password and opened the door. Great, no one's here, she thought. She made herself comfortable on the winged back chair and yawned. If Dumbledore didn't get here soon she was going to fall asleep. She squirmed in her seat to keep herself awake.

"Miss Granger", she jumped up, startled at the baritone voice. Snape. "I believe you are coming with me instead." He swept out of the room, assuming she was supposed to follow; she broke into a jog to catch up with his long, brisk stride. This was not what she expected. She had expected Dumbledore's understanding, not Snape. "This was already going to be difficult enough with Dumbledore, and now this wonderful new development with the snarky professor, bat of the dungeons, pain in my ass for all my school years trying to psychoanalyze me just is going to make my day.", she thought bitterly.

He twisted down the hallways and opened a door she had not seen before. The room was warm, with a hearty fire blazing in the fireplace. A lush green carpet covered the stone floor that also lined the walls and ceiling. The fire had cast a glow over the chairs that sat around the fireplace, a table and the expanse of books that covered the western wall. Typically, she'd search through the collection, but as another wave of lethargy made its presence known the chair looked more enticing.

"Sit," he ordered as he waved her into the room. She took the seat that faced the door and stared at the fire, as he closed the door. "If he thinks he is actually going to get anything out of me, then , obviously, he's huffed too many potion's fumes," she laughed inwardly at her thoughts and concentrated on the dancing fire.

There was a tickling in the back of her mind; something didn't feel right, like an appointment she missed or a paper she forgot to hand in or…"Girly, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

The memory snapped her back to the present as she pushed those thoughts behind the wall in her mind. She found it was a new addition to her subconscious, but a helpful one. Besides if she was to get through this interrogation with Snape, she was going to need all the mental power she had just to make him believe she wasn't lying to him. It was either that or have the Professor sort through your thoughts and there was no fucking way was she going to let that happen.

She found herself picking at the fabric on the chair. She stopped and looked up only to find two eyes staring back.

She had never really realized how dark they were, how brooding, how hypnotic, how powerful. She couldn't look away from them, he held her there in the chair without touching her at all. He spoke to her through those eyes. She could imagine him saying, "Tell me, I want to know. I want to know you, what you feel, what you think. Tell me." Somehow the voice that spoke to her just did not match with the face she was staring at, the professional title that face held, or the personality that matched with both.

And he just stared back. She diverted her eyes, trying to find something in the room that did not remind her of the-night-she'd-rather-not-think-about, but could not focus on anything.

"Miss Granger…" he spoke irritably, trying to call her attention back to the present. She almost looked up, but that would have a mistake. Screw him being a skilled Legimens, or even her opening her mouth to tell him the whole story, he would have been able just to read it from her eyes; she wasn't really sure he didn't know some part of the story already.

Shit, she was losing her nerve, couldn't let this happen. She stood, staring at the green carpet anywhere but at him. This cannot be happening…I need to get out, she thought.

"Goodbye, Professor Snape" and walked as composed and collected as she could towards the door. It creaked as she shut it behind her, as soon as the door clicked in the lock she ran to the one place she hoped she wouldn't find judgement, pity, anger, disappointment, and whatever it was that unsettled her in the room with Snape. "Anywhere else but here," she thought. She ran to the library.

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Severus sat still and unmoving, gazing at the fire. What had she seen in it that unsettled her so much? He reviewed the session mentally. She had seemed surprised when he first acknowledged her in Dumbledore's office, but also calm and tired, as to be expected. It was only at the arrival in his personal library that she felt an unease, she tensed immediately after placing herself in that ugly abombination of a chair that some forgotten relative had given him years ago. He had specifically chosen this place for its books, he had always noticed she spent her free time in the library, he thought it would be easier to talk if she felt surrounded by something familiar. Not that he would be the one to start the conversation, if she wanted to talk, like the Headmaster said she wanted to (obviously he was wrong), then she would be the one to start the conversation and then she could blather on all she wanted to about subjects meaningless to him, like she often did in class. He had wasted all this time for not one word from her, he had risked his life to saved her from the clutches of whoever had kept her there and all he got was a scraped up bloody arm from her deathly sharp fingernails and a bruise from where she'd jabbed him in the ribs from rescuing her.

But why her?, the question kept bubbling up in his mind. Who was it that kidnapped her and why? He thought. He pushed away the nonsensical ponderings, frustrated that he had come up with no answers. Still, a small thought scratched at the back of his mind, Why does it even matter anyway what is wrong with her? She is fine and back at Hogwarts safe and sound. He turned back to grading the horrific papers of first years, and dared himself not to think of the answer to his question.