Disclaimer in 1st chapter
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I awoke the next morning to late, summery afternoon sunshine. I don't know why I had slept so late, except for the fact that I had stayed up late, crying exhaustive tears that had been pent up inside for so long. I had been exhausted when I was done, and had curled into a ball before drifting into a restless sleep.
I heard clanking in the house, so I stood and dressed quickly in a soft long-sleeved dress. Opening my door, I was presented with the sight of a disheveled Snape muttering to himself over a cauldron of something thick and bubbling. He glanced up at me before returning to his work. I stepped around the laboratory, heading for the kitchen to make a pot of tea, only to find one had been left out for me under some sort of charm to keep it warm. Glancing back over my shoulder, I smiled slightly to myself before wandering outside to sit in my wicker chair and think about roses.
Weeks passed. We lived in awkward comfort, having some bad days when we bickered beyond belief, Severus mocking my age and inexperience. I would retort with something inappropriately personal, or just inappropriate, and he would get a strangled look on his face and stomp off to his room, or the village bookstore he had discovered, or apparate to somewhere else entirely. He would always return, often late, carrying a bottle of cheap wine and an apology. Or I would apologize, and we would awkwardly laugh about it, and retreat to our books. Even if we were in the same room, there was something so safe about sitting behind a book and not thinking about the strangeness between us.
And gradually I stopped accidentally calling him Professor, except when I was angry. And he stopped "removing points from Gryffindor." And we became more comfortable. And it felt like home.
And one night we were sitting on the wicker sofa on the porch, looking out at the village. And I may have shifted left, or he shifted right, and then I was leaning on him with all my weight, and then I was curled in his lap, our books discarded. And the weight of my pain on my shoulders, and the beautiful town, and the stars, and his thin arms wrapped around me, and I cried. I cried for so long that I soaked his shirt, and I fell asleep with his lips against my hair.
And when I awoke, I was in my bed, tucked in so tightly I could hardly move. And there was a plate of toast and a cup of tea on the floor next to my bed.
So when I stood, walked out into the house, and didn't see him, I got nervous. I walked straight to his room, and saw the door was ajar. And his room was empty.
