Snape was mostly pleasant over the next couple of weeks. There was work to do in the evenings, detentions to oversee in his office, and Leah even found herself in an evening staff meeting since it was the only way he could attend. Leah found it harder and harder to believe that their time together was winding down. She was also feeling a growing sense of unease at the reports she was seeing in the news, and the whispers from the staff and students at the way the world was going. Finally, one night she asked Snape about it while he was working.
"Severus? What do you think You-Know-Who is planning to do?"
He looked surprised for a moment. "Er... why are you asking me?"
"Well... you used to be a Death Eater. You had an inside scoop."
"I did. But... I couldn't tell you these days. I do know his desire for power is insatiable. He will probably try to gain more followers until his army is big enough to be quite forceful." Leah was shocked at how he could make such dire predictions with so little emotion.
"That's terrible! And scary. Don't hate me for this, but Defense against the Dark Arts was my worst subject, unfortunately. It's the only one I didn't Owl in. So maybe I have more reason to be scared than some. Are you scared?"
"Where is this coming from all of a sudden?"
"It's not really all of a sudden... it's been building for months - people are afraid of what he'll do, and whether anyone can stop him. I'm not really too terrified as long as we have Dumbledore though."
"Yes, of course," said Snape, in his usual deadpan.
"What do you think about Harry Potter? Will he be able to stop You-Know-Who?"
"I have no idea," said Snape, suddenly sounding crankier. Leah figured she was annoying him and went back to her book.
But Leah didn't want to let the subject drop. She'd been hearing about Harry Potter for months, and while the newspapers has gone back and forth as to his role, she knew the staff at Hogwarts seemed mostly to believe in him.
"So what do you think of Harry Potter? Is he an exceptional student or anything?"
"No. In fact, his work is barely average most of the time."
"So he doesn't have any special abilities that you know of?"
"No. I don't notice anything outstanding about the boy except his father's penchant for causing trouble."
"Oh... okay."
For some reason, the week leading up to the projected Day of the Enchantment Breaking seemed to fly by. The potion bubbled away in its place as usual, and Leah found it hard to believe that soon it would no longer be there... and that she would no longer be there. She was amazed at how much three months could change her. She had long grown to expect and enjoy the evenings when she and Snape could relax in the sitting room and read with their tea after a long day of work. It was all she could do not to speculate as to what their relationship would be after all of this was over. Would he acknowledge her in public places? Would he ask how she was doing when she dropped off a delivery, or would he just revert to the usual pseudo-pleasantries? Would they ever have an evening together again? "Stop thinking about that!" she would demand in her head, knowing she was just making herself more miserable.
Finally, the last evening arrived. The potion was set to be consumed the next morning and then, ideally, they would retire to their separate chambers that evening and assume that everything would be back to normal. She would pack her things up before breakfast, take them out, and probably never set foot in his office again unless official business required it. It seemed too painful to think about, and so she tried not to.
Snape sat in his place as usual. His once-washed hair was now looking decidedly unwashed as usual, and he was hard at work marking essays, organizing ingredients, and other tasks as usual.
"I have a detention tonight," he informed her. Leah groaned inwardly. That meant more time in the office and less time in the sitting room together.
"Who is it this time?"
"Harry Potter."
"Oh."
Harry arrived at 8 o'clock, and Snape gave him his task. Leah didn't always enjoy being with Snape when he had a student there, because he always took on his very teacherly demeanor, which was sometimes not very pleasant. There were several boxes piled in the office, and Snape informed Harry that he was to be sorting through the infraction records from the days when his parents were at school, expressly pointing out the names he might encounter. Leah was shocked in spite of herself. She realized that James Potter was his father who had been murdered by Voldemort, and also realized that Sirius was the godfather that he had lost just the previous year - she had heard stories about the battle from Madam Pomfrey.
And Snape was deliberately forcing this boy to encounter the memories of his deceased loved ones as a punishment? Goodness, what had he done? She tried to focus on her book, but she couldn't stop thinking. She hated it when she couldn't stop thinking, but she was on edge this evening, and her anxiety made it almost impossible for her to follow the train of thought in her book. She looked over the binding and watched Harry work. He seemed focused, in a sad sort of way... not really sullen, but not necessarily happy either. She felt bad for him. It was a long night of work before Snape let him go.
He finally began the process of locking up the office for the night, and found Leah already waiting for him before he was done. They entered the sitting room together, and Leah, her anxiety rising, was determined to ask him about what she'd witnessed.
"So, why did you pick that particular task for him? Isn't that rather cruel?"
"I don't know, is it? Would you rather be the one to teach classes all day and deal with all my student problems?" he asked, in a snarky tone.
"No, it's just... what did his father do that makes you so upset with him?"
"Well if you must know, he was an arrogant bully, and he also married the woman I love, if that adds anything to it," he said bitterly.
The sudden realization dawned on Leah. "Wait a minute, so... Lily Evans... was Lily Potter? You loved Harry Potter's mother?"
"Do love! And yes."
"As you should. But... if you really love her, why would you treat her only son that way - the one she died for? Do you like seeing him in pain?"
Snape whirled around and faced her. "What I do is my business and I'll thank you to stay out of it, you who will be here only a few mere hours longer!"
But Leah was getting angry, and wasn't going to let things go so quickly this time. "Forgive me, Severus, but I have a hard time understanding how you can have SO much love for a dead woman and yet so little for the living people who are actually around you every day!" Her voice rose to keep up with his loud curse in response. He was livid. His eyes blazed, and he had drawn his wand out of his robes.
He lowered his wand and drew closer to her. "What's the matter, Leah?" he asked, treacherously. "Are you jealous? Envious that a woman who is no longer alive merits more devotion than you do?" He knew he had hit a nerve. She had been referring to all the various people around him, but realized she was included in that as well. Leah felt her emotions rising, but told herself she was NOT going to run away this time. Her tears spilled out down her face as she continued to fix him with her intense, passionate gaze. She knew it was all over now. He would not want to speak to her again, and whatever vain hopes she had held out for this future were extinguished. But she couldn't leave without telling him how she felt.
"Severus," she said in a pained voice. "Do you understand that you're valuable? You don't seem to act it... you don't take care of yourself. And if I may be bold enough, could it be that this potion of yours is an act of fear? That you're afraid that if you stop taking it and are forced to live in the present, you won't be worthy of love?"
He had whirled around and headed for his door, but was stopped short by the enchantment. "Let me go!" he roared. Leah stood her ground.
"Severus, please. Whatever else happens-" her voice broke, but she kept on speaking through the tears, "Please understand that you have value far beyond your own bravado or accomplishments. And not because I say it, but because it just is. Please believe that. Please remember it." She stepped forward, and he flung himself headlong through the doorway without looking back, slamming the door hard behind him. Leah knelt on the floor near her curtain and cried until she had no tears left. It felt like she was grieving the death of something. Then she walked to her bed in a dazed state, and threw herself down on the covers without undressing.
Leah woke up earlier than usual. Her eyes were puffy and her mouth felt weird. Then she remembered she hadn't been able to brush her teeth the night before. She couldn't believe she had actually slept in her robes. The feelings of the night before came rushing back onto her. Usually a night of sleep brought peace, but she still felt the ache of loss deep inside her. It was as over as it was going to be. All she needed to do was drink the potion. She wiggled out of her robes to get more comfortable. She wished she could just get up now and leave before Snape did, but she had to be there to drink the potion. She wouldn't want him thinking she'd tried to skip out... not after last night's row.
Finally, an hour later, she heard him walk through the room to the office. She slipped out of bed and threw on her dressing gown, then began packing all of her belongings from the under-the-bed drawers. After a quick scan of the bathroom, she decided she had everything. She took another look at the Gottlieb books in her bag. Magic and Might, and The Attitude of Love. He would never ask to borrow them now, but she wanted him to have them anyway. She could always find other copies. Well, perhaps not if You-Know-Who took over. She shivered. Grabbing a quill, she quickly wrote her name on the inside cover of each book, and placed them in the corner of the chair he always sat in. She stared at them for several moments. A parting gift. She hoped he wouldn't throw them away.
Leah sat on the edge of her bed for several moments, breathing deeply. She had tried to make her face look presentable. It was time to face him again. It was now or never. She stood up, threw the curtain aside, and made her way to the door.
Snape had apparently heard her coming. He was standing in the middle of the room. The little potion table had been moved out in front of his desk, and there were two glasses of potion sitting on it. His face was as deadpan and unreadable as ever. Leah wasn't sure if that was better or worse than a remaining trace of anger.
"Shall we?" he asked, quietly.
"Yes," mumbled Leah. She was hoping to hide how much her hands were trembling. They both picked up a glass, and drank it down quickly. Leah gagged and made a horrible face. "Oh Merlin! It tastes like feet."
"It tastes like freedom," muttered Snape. Leah set her glass down and immediately refilled it with water to get the taste out of her mouth. By the time she was done, Snape had returned to his desk and sat with one hand holding The Daily Prophet, and the other holding his mug for occasional sips of tea.
Leah returned to her bags, and started heading for the door. She turned and looked at him again. His face was barely visible behind the newspaper. She decided to be bold. Quickly, she crossed to his desk, and gently squeezed his hand and released it. "Take care of yourself, Severus," she said in almost a whisper. He made no response. She went out the door and shut it behind her. Walking back up the hallway for the last time, she was glad she had used up all her tears the night before.
The day passed faster than Leah thought it would. Madam Pomfrey had wished her a tepid congratulations, but could clearly see that Leah was not exactly in a celebratory mood. And of course, it had been one of the rare delivery days. And of course, there had been a box for Snape. Leah finally had to break down and tell Madam Pomfrey the broad details of the past evening, and then asked if she could do her a favor. She had only to say the words "There is a box for..." when Madam Pomfrey had interrupted, "Absolutely." Leah was grateful to not have to go down there. She knew that if Snape spoke to her she'd probably cry, and if he ignored her she probably would too.
She was resting on her own bed that evening, glad to have her feet up. There was certainly a part of her that had missed her old room, and the freedom to move around at any time without feeling like she was inconveniencing anyone. She looked at the clock and saw that it was 5:52. She tried to force herself not to check it every minute.
Of course, the possibility that a Potions Master like Snape would brew a potion incorrectly almost boggled the mind, even as complicated as it was. She began to rethink all the questions she had thought before the row, as well as others. Would he acknowledge her in public? How much did he hate her right now? Had he noticed the books yet? Had he simply waved his wand and destroyed them, or were they resting safely in his room somewhere? She wondered what his room looked like. He'd probably moved his bed back already to wherever it had been. Heck, he'd probably done that first thing in the morning.
5:54.
Would he be as lonely as she was that evening? Maybe he'd have another student doing a detention that night. No... he'd probably be fine. He was probably very happy. How impudent she had been to make such statements to him. But she'd meant them... so weren't they the truth? But what if he didn't understand where she was coming from? What if she was so deep in theory that she missed his human side? Just shut up! she said in her head.
5:57.
He was probably only feigning interest in her reading joys for the sake of giving her something to talk about. And then she couldn't help but remember the morning of the love potion, and how she'd rested her head against his chest, feeling his arm around her. His strong hand steadying her wand. His bustling around to make her a potion to help her feel better. But he probably just felt bad since it was his fault she'd been hurt. Still, he would often pre-emptively make her tea. His intensely focused gaze when he was doing his work, or figuring out potion formulas. His dark eyes and long, dark hair, even though he hardly ever washed it. The way he'd roll his eyes every time she made a pun. The mulled mead they'd shared. The velvety sound of his voice, even when he was in a bad mood. The way he walked, so confident and intimidating sometimes, and yet she'd stopped being afraid of him a long time ago. How she never had to worry about handling an unpleasant confrontation because he was good at that kind of thing. When he told her to stop apologizing. The two times he'd held her - one by his own choice, the other not. The time he'd told her she was jealous of a dead woman, and he was probably right, and that's why it hurt so much.
Stop, stop, stop! she told herself. She looked at the clock again.
6:04.
