Disclaimer : it belongs to JKR.

A/N : Thank you Dlbn and thank you readers.


Chapter 7: Sixth year, January / February

Days inexorably piled up and Severus Snape had still to talk to me since Christmas. I must say I had always been quite the loner. Not by choice but I didn't seem to attract much friendliness. If Harry and Ron had not been there, I can't say I'd have had much luck finding friends. Then there had been Ginny— we related because she was Ron's sister at first— and Luna who befriended Harry. Neville, whom I petrified. That was the extent of my real friends back home. And I didn't seem to be able to do better now. I was so far from Lily's or Ginny's popularity. Was I bothered? Yes— and no. It didn't really matter. Part of me died with them and no one could ever compare with them. Maybe I wasn't making much effort either I contemplated one evening, sitting on my windowsill and watching the clouds gathering thunderously in the sky. On impulse, I grabbed my heavy cloak and sprang out into the frozen grounds, running as fast as my legs would carry me, running towards the rain that was sure to fall, running until I was soaked through and panting. I covered the grounds around the lake, and came back up to collapse on the Quidditch pitch, tears still refusing to drop and release me. Memories assaulted me as I laid there, unmoving, silent, not even bothering to try to cover up my misery. Night had come anyway and everyone was safely and warmly tucked away in the castle. Nobody missed me and, regretfully, there was no one in that damn castle that I would have been willing to go to. Comfort came in strange form that night. I was seriously considering spending the night there when a dark silhouette approached. Wand at the ready, I remained still, curses and hexes already on the tip of my tongue. Reflexes die hard and a few months back in relative peace had not been enough to kick the habit. Under my own protective spell, I watched the person walk leisurely towards me. Not a woman, judging by the gait. An adult would have scolded me by then. A boy then. He plopped down beside me and sighed contentedly. I recognized him then. Sirius. I relaxed the grip on my wand.

"Lovely evening," he drawled.

I blinked. Lovely evening? After that pouring rain? That must have been the lamest approach I ever heard. I snickered. Merlin, that felt good.

"Are you seriously laughing at me?"

"Seriously, Sirius? God, yes. What are you doing outside?"

"Saw you out there. Reckoned I could keep you company. You know, being new and everything... It must be difficult sometimes."

"That's nice of you."

"Yes, because I'm a very nice person." He replied airily. I stifled the urge to snigger again.

"Is that your usual chat-up line? It leaves a lot to be desired."

I don't know how much time passed as he stayed with me. It was nice. When I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend I was back with Harry, saying nonsense and teasing each other. This is something we would have done. Of all people, that Sirius would come looking for me, when I would be or already had tried to save his life, was ironic. He was the same, but he was different. The hollowness, the lurking darkness had yet to be ensconced in his heart and soul. He was carefree and it felt good. I laughed more in the time we spent together than the previous months combined. For a moment, I forgot my wretchedness, my goal, my mission. I forgot the looming war and the decisive actions to be taken. I laid my burden at my feet and pretended all was well. I had apparently been in much need of a respite and suddenly felt grateful to Sirius, despite his bullying of Severus, despite his cockiness, his too-loud voice and flirty attitude. He had offered me a memory to cherish, a glimpse into what I was striving for. I had been sucked into this war for so long I had forgotten how the world I was fighting for felt like. Sirius had given me a reason to get up the next morning. He had given me another purpose too. Maybe, in the midst of all this corrupted world, I could learn to live again. After all, I will forever be a part of this world, for better or worse. My mind had understood, my heart hadn't. After that night, I knew I had to come to terms with this harsh truth. I now belonged to this old world and I will have to find a way to relate with the people of this timeline. There simply was no other way.

And another miracle happened. After all the bad hand and rotten luck I had been dealt with, miracles kept happening to me. Forever untold miracles. I managed to find and acquire a Time-Turner, no mean feat by itself even if I say so myself. I Travelled safely. Unhurt. Years back. At the exact Time I had wished for. And Earth seems no worse from it. Small, insignificant miracles for anyone but larger than life for me. I survived Voldemort's victory. Professor McGonagall survived— at least long enough to help me, encourage me, even hug me. I managed to salvage and secure a few pictures of my best friends. I had spent Christmas morning with Severus Snape and he talked to me today. I mean, not just a passing comment or acknowledgement of my presence in the same room. No, I mean an actual, intelligent conversation. Better yet, he offered to work with me for the project assigned in class. On second thought, I shouldn't quote these too loud or I might get committed to St Mungo's and locked up for insanity. Judging by my excitement, maybe I should volunteer.

It had been weeks since Christmas. I knew he had kept an eye on me— I had felt the weight of his stare, answered his nod when he acknowledged me, knew he noticed my exact location in every class we shared, was aware of my grades or answers to teachers. It should have been creepy. It honestly should have freaked me out. But I was oddly flattered. As far as I understood it, he was considering the possibility of associating with me, weighing the pros and cons, evaluating what was the most beneficial considering his actual status— which was low, and his goals— which were ambitious. And he was a Slytherin through and through. The fact Sirius was flirting with me most certainly hadn't helped my case. Was it my fault that spending a few hours in the cold and muddy grass sharing meaningless jokes had ranked me up in his most-wanted-girls-to-bed list? This, on the contrary hadn't flattered me one bit. It should have. Sirius was outgoing and boisterous. He was handsome and easy to talk to. He was intelligent and witty. He was nice to me and very courteous. I definitely should have been flattered— especially as I've never really been noticed and chatted up. And some small insignificant traitorous part of me was, to be perfectly honest. I felt pretty when Sirius sidled to me and tried to get me to go traipsing somewhere with him. I felt overwhelmed when he took my bag or my books. I blushed when he winked at me in the Great Hall. But I felt guilty each time I thought about Ron— or Harry. I felt angry when he spoke ill of Severus. I felt annoyed when I heard his loud laugh somewhere in the school. I felt like shaking him until his teeth shattered when he was his usual arrogant conceited self. I felt like slapping him senseless when he bullied others. Too bad I couldn't use Ginny's Bad-Bogey hex. It would certainly have done him a world of good and spared me the insulting embarrassment of sending him on his way. And I had no idea how many opportunities to relate to Severus he ruined. But hey, in the end, it worked in my favour anyway.

As I listlessly listened to our Potion teacher droning on about exams and ingredients and whatnot, I wondered what I could do to keep my friends alive. Then suddenly, I felt his eyes on me. Not just the kind of surreptitious looks he had contented himself to until then but a very insistent and slightly peeved one. I looked up and around and noticed people shuffling around, settling together to work. I drew a blank. I stared back at him, my mind unable to apprehend the simplest fact: he was accepting me as a work partner. And then his voice cut the air as acidly as possible, as viciously as I remembered, the deep baritone not wholly achieved, not quite perfectly mastered and my feet instinctively took me to him. I knew this tone and it didn't bode well for the few students foolhardy enough not to recognize the threat in our Potions Teacher's words. The vitriol in his voice had always utterly contrasted with the soft velvety tones.

"Coming or not, Barnett?"

Conversations ceased, heads snapped up and turned. Even our teacher stopped in mid-sentence. I had never heard Severus talk in class to another student. Judging by the incredulous stares around, it was a rare occurrence. And it was bestowed upon me. I felt flattered again and smiled suddenly, a small upturn of the lips but he saw it and went back to his work, confident I wasn't going to insult him further by staying rooted on the spot or worse, refusing to join him. I noticed other students looking at me with wide horrified eyes as I almost bounced up towards him. I felt giddy and elated and honoured that he had finally voted in my favour. Severus Snape, future Death Eater, Dark Arts adept, spy extraordinaire and soon to be one of the youngest Potion Master ever had agreed to work with me in Potions. I mean, Potions. He had nothing to gain, he was so far better than I could ever hope to become. And yet, here we were, the whole class rendered speechless whether because he had spoken aloud, because he was talking to me or because I was unmistakably delighted to work with the most rude, acidic, shabby and ill-liked student of our year, I could not tell.

A simple trip to St Mungo please. Right away.

No. Nothing would dampen my spirit that day.