The end of holidays went as if William had reached a parallel universe as he felt so uprooted from reality since that meeting. This upset him because that disturbed his revisions and he almost greeted the end of term courses with relief, as he certainly would come back on tracks. His emotions were at high level, drowning him from head to toe, barely could he realize he was breathing. He did not know what hurt him the most in everything he had to listen and witness during the holidays that pain only let a strange feeling in him. He felt so bad yet he could not name it.

But soon, too soon, had he revised his judgement about resuming class: it was necessarily linked with bullying. However, this time he could not remember what just had occurred to him and soon enough, professor Snape had to fetch him before he fell once more…

'What happened?' Snape asked in a sour voice, and yet William could hear 'again' at the end of his question, as he usually did. An ugly cut was bleeding from his lower lip, he surely had some bruises here and there, hidden by his clothes as he felt his right side hurting him as Hell, still the teenager showed no specific humour.

He merely answered in a mumble: 'I fell because I was reading while I was going down the stairs.' which was close to truth as he had a book in one hand.

Of course the Potions Master did not trust him, he was far from idiot and naive and knew perfectly well what those bruises came from as he had had some similar inflicted during his youth. He barely restrained a sigh and held his nose bridge with his fingers, all tired of the boy's attitude even though he could not reproach him so as he exactly did the same at his age. But still…

Honestly, the Eaglet could only answer his professor this way as he had no proper memory of the incident. His mind was blank about it and he was more stressed because of that than being bullied - the fact was that he was so used to it he even did not react against it anymore. Therefore he never tried to respond back to his bullies like before, like several weeks earlier.

On his side, the adult was wondering if he was ready to ensure the responsibilities suggested by Dumbledore which would change his dealing with Melbourne's bullying affair. If he ever became his tutor, how would he react? Would his attitude as professor change? How would he react as proper tutor, taking aside his professor role?

Hurting, that was all; bloody hurting, as he already was upset as if a storm had taken his brain to smash it upside down. Well, when did he feel that bound to the boy? When did he lower his guard?

Did he even take distance from the boy, then? A spiral of questions was invading his mind and he felt all dizzy and on the verge to faint as it was so painful and stiflingly - dangerous.

'Hospital Wing. Now.' he finally commanded when he got rid off his thoughts and emotions as he had built strong mental walls in his mind. To be sure the teenager would obey him, he imposed him his presence and William sheepishly followed the Potions Master to Mrs Pomfrey's aisle. That passivity and immediate obedience worried a bit the adult who was more used to the boy's slight rebel attitude. Where did it disappear?

Oh, well, he was mistaking at some point. Since the term had resumed, he had found Melbourne all distracted, differently as usual, merely reacting to the world around him. The meeting had overwhelmed him, the young man immediately concluded. So, that also took some of his nerves away.

Just before they came in properly, Snape stopped and stopped William as well, by the while he put a hand on his arm to do so.

'Don't give up, just don't,' he muttered and as the teenager rose an eyebrow he continued 'otherwise you die drowned in your own miserable despair.' His sour remark seemed to cheer up the boy who nodded and even smiled at bit to it. Oh, yes, Snape was unable to either upset him or scare him to his wits like the other dunderheads - sigh.

'I'll try my best' was the Eaglet's brief answer before he opened the infirmary's doors. As soon as the matron had the boy in her sight field, she ran towards him and wanted from him the reasons why he was so poor in health because she surely had to refer it to the staff. Again. Why Snape did not say it? Again. William quickly pouted and became as inaccessible as the Great Wall of China. Trying to help and solve his problems always had been difficult to take at stake due to his attitude and rejection of help.

Later on, William was in the security of his own dorm, in bed, out of sight thanks to his curtains and he was crying against his pillow.

He started to doodle a portrait of Queen Victoria at around two in the morning, his crying strained all of his strength and he had slept, barely and badly still he had slept. All shaken due to a nightmare, he had lit his bed with the top of his wand and now was drawing the long gone wife who ruled the quarter of the world at her time. He knew her well: she was small, petite one would had said old-fashionedly, round shaped, not that much beautiful. Still, she was all human, displaying her own aura as the years went by. William was his opposite: tall despite his eating habits and beautiful - not handsome but beautiful. Some would have mistaken him for a girl if they did not pay any peculiar attention. Nonetheless, any wizard did so but Muggle… He remembered a few of those embarrassing moments when classmates mocked him because of his girl-like silhouette. Puberty also seemed to stay at bay as he had not yet any hair growing, such as his Adam apple - and his voice… A knock soon blocked his throat and his hands shook slightly. He even started to cry again. His pencil made a wrong movement and despite erasing the mistake, he threw all of this away. He then thought about home which he missed vividly. What about his old books? Did his family throw them away when it was time to empty the house? He never came back there to save some though. He had had no strength to do so, it would have hurt him - and what about Nightingale? Another yulp, another cry, another shudder and new flows of tears. How miserable he was.

Next day, the teenager went to the Great Hall, his eyes red and swollen for having cried almost all night. He felt all sore, his muscles and back were hurting. He avoided Elizabeth and Virginia worries, the professors inquisitive looks and drowned his attention in his cup of tea, not able to tidy his thoughts and say any word.

'Why can't you continue teaching him private lessons,' Dumbledore muttered as discreetly as possible.

'My reports should have given you some clue.' The Raven replied in a snap, still in a murmur. 'Well, my Slytherins had become suspicious,' he then added, rolling his eyes while the Headmaster only shot him a curious look to his first bit of answer. 'Better of stopping those for a couple and coming back on tracks with a better cover… I don't want him in that state every single day.' he finished all angry.

'So, you are telling me you suspect one or several of your charges as the authors of last night's incident,' Dumbledore then whispered.

'Lacking evidence but considering the situation, I may not be that much mistaken.' Snape pointed out, his hand automatically stirred his cup of tea. He next drank a bit of it while watching the boy who barely drank his own. 'Still, I cannot help him like this for a long term. Private lessons cannot solve anything. Though they distract him a bit every week but nothing deeper is made for him to change.' he trailed off.

Something irritated him much and the young man came out of the Great Hall, his cup of tea half full and his breakfast intact.

William had some difficulties staying awake all day, even if his courses changed from one another and interested him. Exhausted as he was, physically as much as emotionally, he fought back his desire to keep his eyes open, which became more and more hard to fulfill. Shame was near as he knew his professors were watching him closely.

'Alas for you, the Draught of Living-dead is too much complicated to brew and for you to accidently smell it to have its effects but - it is likely no necessary to Mr Melbourne.' Snape commented mockingly, liking the idea to compare some potions to the dunderheads in front of him, either to taunt them or criticize them. Nonetheless, the teenager did not react from lack of energy. He merely glanced at the Raven for a couple of seconds before losing back his gaze somewhere unknown to anyone. The Potions professor internally sighed at this lack of reaction - clearly, what was going on with this brat? Yet, he could figure out easily that whatever the teenager said or unsaid only showed his inability to accept Dumbledore's solution to his problems, such as he, Snape, still - oh, how could he complain of while adults made their possible to sort him out of his current situation?

The Head of Slytherins gave them instructions to start the course properly, then he crossed the room to watch their cauldrons.

An unusual move attracted his attention, lack of subtlety but - interesting so far. What was his name? A hufflepuff boy sometimes peered at Melbourne's direction. Thomas something - he could not remember every student's last names. What was it? Still, Melbourne paid no attention to the other's glimpse, so that he stopped, mostly because of the Dungeon's Bat gazing dead at him. A blush on his cheeks, he lowered his gaze and came back on making his potion. The least he could manage so far as - for Merlin's Sake, he had to keep high levels of concentration with manipulating dangerous products. Another inside sigh.

Next, the adult went to Melbourne's side and watched him carefully. The boy was doing just fine, yet it was only the beginning of the process, and if he had enough brains, that only could work for the moment, Snape thought. Nevertheless, the white face, the darkish purple shadows and the reddish eyes worried him.

'I need you here after the class ends,' he whispered in a 'don't-try-otherwise' tone. The Eaglet could only manage a nod. Then, the adult moved to put some pressure on Virginia, and the others but he regularly had a look back at Melbourne in case his exhaustion would endanger everyone here once more. …..

However, he did good from beginning to e… No, not to end, unfortunately because when it was time to stir some potion in the vial to be examined, a shattered sound reverberated as one of them smashed against the ground. Sudden silence, everybody quickly gazed at the source of the incident. Melbourne stayed motionless, his face blank. Snape watched him. He watched him back. Nothing displayed on his face.

In normal time, the Potions master would have slickely said 'ten point from [House]' or 'detention, you moron' but here, here, he was so destabilized by the brat he also remained motionless for a blimey couple of minutes. The bell rang somewhere outside the classroom, the other students did not wait his reaction as usual because they were most in a hurry to escape him, put their vials on his desk and fleed. They wanted to avoid his wrath - how wise it was from them.

Still, when Snape came closer to Melbourne, his gaze fell upon the vial - the vial?

'I didn't hear you saying the Repairing Charm,' was the only - stupid- remark he made, and he internally flagelled at himself.

Then, a wheel of understanding fitted, but the adult only frowned at this.

'Since when are you capable of wordless spells?' he demanded - not asked, demanded by his tone of voice.

Melbourne shivered slightly, unable to watch him straight in the eyes.

'Last year,' he croaked.

Indeed, the Potions master knew about his top marks in Charms, nevertheless, he did not put it on the sole abilities of the boy. He certainly thought that Flitwick favored him somehow, as every professor favored some students above others despite the necessity of being neutral. That was pure nonsense according to Snape, because professors merely were human beings. So, when he had attended the last professors training at the Ministry, he had smirked throughout the whole meeting hearing this whole nonsensical view about teaching.

Ok, this dialogue he intended to have with the brat had not started like he initially wanted at first hand. He sighed while he grasped his nose bridge and closed his eyes.

'What I told you last night - not giving up and yet you come here as if you have mourned hundreds of people,' he managed to say threateningly.

A shot of deep blue eyes told him he touched a sensitive point - how could those dunderheads be so irritable. 'I didn't.' Melbourne replied back fiercely, before he blushed from his attitude and added a sheepish 'sir.'

'Still, you act as if,' the Raven pointed out dryly. 'I don't know if you ever were aware of the fact that life isn't fair.' he continued. 'And you behave like the perfect victim of this.'

Yet, he could understand the boy all torn by life unfairness. Luckily (or not), he, Snape, had the support from a few members of Slytherins while he was bullied by the Marauders on a daily basis; whereas William was desperately alone, though those Elizabeth and Virginia were quite close to him - well, it was not exactly true since the potions incident during last term. And that Thomas something from Hufflepuff … But the Eaglet had ignored him through his temptative non verbal communication. They surely had "met" recently. In addition, as some Huffies had jinxed Melbourne as well, his behaviour would have been qualified as normal to the professor's point of view.

'I'm not acting like a vict -' but soon, the teenager stopped halfway. Snape rose an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. The boy then focused on his shoes, ill-at-ease.

'It's like you wandered in the castle with 'hex me' on your forehead.'

Oh - that - he touched another sensitive point as the boy's gaze was full of hurt feelings. However Snape did not care he hurt him for truth sake. He needed to acknowledge this as far as possible. This boy surely wandered as entirely skinned off, everything occurring to him hurt him deep down to an utmost level - unbearable even. He clearly needed to strengthen his mind to endure life or else he would commit suicide.

'Even though it's unconscious, it's likely how you behave.' Snape replied back, his eyes as hard as stones. 'And whenever you feel hurt by people, don't let them know this, just pretend. People always pretend, they are great hypocrites.'

'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players,' William murmured and nodded, trying to figure out everything his professor told him, putting aside his upset.

A raised eyebrow received this quote from another William.

'I do expect from you to understand this, not only on the words themselves but also on what it is translated in behaving.' the Raven concluded. 'Go to Charms, or you'll be late and I would have to justify myself to your Head.' he ended in a sour tone, clearly annoyed by this prospect.

Your Majesty,

It's been a while - again, since the last letter but I possess no strength to write down anything… Yet, that restlessly turns around inside my head and I can't clear up my thoughts. I am all lost.

What am I supposed to do?

Then, William dropped his letter and opened back the book he was reading, trying to focus on his studies; the OWLs so soon to ignore them.

Finally, they came all of a sudden and had drown the whole castle in a gloomy silence, as if it had been completely haunted. The atmosphere was so odd somehow, the corridors were full of people whispering, books in their arms, stress on all faces. Indeed, some succeeded in breaking this oddity by making jokes and they generally were well received by others - only a minority pouted and yelled at them to stop this noise.

The students who attended their final exams were also part of that odd atmosphere, still they tried their best not to worry too much by stating their own exams were less life important than the fifth and seventh years. However, the professors had a total different point of view about these sessions and let them all know about it. So that contributed in all the tension reigning in the castle.

During his Charm practice, William longuely wondered if he would cast non verbal spells, as it was not in the programme, but… Yes, he then thought the contrary, not to impress the examiner (that was not a Ravenclaw trait he possessed) but because he had become used to cast some silently so naturally he could not figure them out differently.

The Eaglet finally stopped thinking twice when he was called and entered the Great Hall with a bunch of other students whose last names started with M or N. The man in front of him looked as old as Dumbledore even though it was hard to precisely define the Headmaster's age. The examiner was quite short and wrinkles ran all over his face. On the other side, his warm smile and his twinkling eyes somehow reassured the anxious teenager.

'Good afternoon, Mr Melbourne,' the wizard said in a soft tone. William answered him, not smiling as he was so stressed out but his voice did not shake a bit.

How could he be so destabilized by exams and not wince in front of Snape, he suddenly wondered - aghast this assumption never crossed his mind before. He shook his head slightly to concentrate on present day. He had no desire to miss his OWLs on an assumption sake. Statistically, he wordlessly cast more than half of his spells. He surely went out the Great Hall exhausted, still he never complained, loudly or not, because the week would be like that and that was all.

'Just give up, you won't brew the Draught of Living-dead but…' Snape trailed off that night in the library while William was almost sleeping over his Transfiguration. The young man raised an eyebrow, the left one, scrutinizing the teenager exhausted to death. 'If you continue this way, we'd bury you in two days,' he snarled in a murmur, his arms behind his back, his robes flouncing around his ankles. 'I again find you half asleep on a Transfiguration book.'

William shot him a blurry gaze, nevertheless his face was blank of any emotion and he lost his eyes anywhere as soon as he had a glimpse at the Raven.

'Did you eat?' If he had so, he would have protested strongly because he hated when the implied accusation was biased for once. Nothing happened and Snape received this with a heavy sigh, closed eyes and fingers holding his nose bridge as if it would contain anger or headache. 'How stupid an attitude it is,' the adult then gritted under his teeth. This time, the gaze the dunderhead shot him was alive, like he dared, clearly dared, to wordlessly reply 'what about you, then?' Both finally froze for a disturbing couple of minutes in a statu quo both of them dared not to break or feelings, bloody feelings would take over their following gestures and words.

At last, Snape looked away, lost his dark as coil eyes somewhere above the ceiling, released his arms which rested at each side of his body as if he were as exhausted as William. 'Have a rest, sleep, don't bother drowning the remains of your brain with too much data.'

A Snapish concern, to take as it was for whom it came from. The Eaglet silently gave in and obeyed the Potions professor, recollecting his school stuff and putting them in his bag out of order. While he got up and took his bag, the teenager rose his chin to meet the Head of Slytherin gazing straight at him, that gaze more direct than Dumbledore's.

'Won't you mind a last Potions private lesson this weekend, same day, same hour as usual?'

It was then hard to concentrate on exams until D-Day, William torn between anguish and anxiety. He could have blown up the Great Hall as much as his mixed emotions threatened to overwhelm him at any time, at any thought crossing his mind, at any painful memory squeezing his heart like a stress-free ball, at any reminiscence of the old days… Yet, he succeeded not to lose control and wrote and practiced everything he had been asked for to graduate. After the last exam passed, Elizabeth, Virginia and Michael quickly gathered around him to ask him if everything had been okay for him… So weird that the only nonsensical thing that came out of his mouth was a stammering 'How should I call you? Lilibeth? Like the Queen? Lilie? Like the flower? Lizzie? Like the actress?' That puzzled his classmates who stared at him, nonetheless trying not to be that obvious, still they were concerned about it.

William had been the same but it had been a while since the last time they heard his disoriented sentences.

'Are you okay?' then asked Elizabeth gently, pressing her hand in a soothing move on his arm. His pupils dilated at once, he shook off his arm to break the contact and ran away, not outside as he would have done if no one was doing exactly the same, but upstairs, not to reach the Ravenclaw tower, but the library to crawl down at the Potions sections. He fell down at one corner formed by the shelves, his bag at his feet and he buried his face under his knees and arms as protection from the world.

'I don't really know where we are going here, I clearly had lost track on how to cope with him.'

His upper lip moved from nervousness. Minerva was pouring some Firewhisky, but he opposed his veto by raising a hand at her proposal. She silently accepted it without commenting and raised the glass to Filius otherwise. 'He'd spent hours in the library crying. Madam Pince had to overcall me to do whatever I could because he hadn't reacted when she had asked him to fetch his dorm because of curfew…'

Oh damn it, he grasped something in one of his numerous pockets - that was why he was dressed like he was because he could hide anything he would like - as a Potions Master, better off he did so.

'I believed you dropped that silly habit,' Minerva commented flatly after the slight surprise of him lighting a cigarette in front of witnesses.

'Everyone has his sins,' Snape replied in a sweet tone, the one indicating his most threatening temper, as if to close the upcoming useless debate as soon as possible by cutting up the grass under their feet. 'And he gets over my nerves even though he just breathes next to me.' Nothing more to clear up his thought, everybody had understood he was referring to Melbourne.

'That's a bit hard to say so,' Filius replied, his eyebrows frowned from disapproval, but his voice remained calm.

Albus said nothing, though he shared a quick glance at the former Death Eater, as if he wanted to acknowledge the other parts about his statement the other professors were not aware of; asking him to silence them anyway. Snape only rolled his eyes, sighed and smoked quickly, all nervous - almost as nervous as when he had asked Dumbledore forgiveness, mercy and help and then came back to the Dark Lord, hoping he would not blow up his cover as soon as he had become a spy.

The fact he was all upset was that Melbourne knew him too well to be able to face him on the "feeding and sleeping enough" business. That was so unnerving. He could be that master of lies and of Legilimency, all of pretence and secrets - this boy had been the witness of a bit of his former life that every granted truth about him immediately fell apart.

'I'm giving him a last session of private lesson before end of term,' he finally said mezzo voce when he threw down the remains of his cigarette in the hearth. 'Only to check what's wrong with Elizabeth's name…'

He went away after those mysterious words because no one was aware of William's whereabouts between the time he had finished his OWLs and the moment Madam Pince had fetched Flitwick to come over. Unfortunately, the Raven had - accidentally - overheard the boy's babbling nonsense - still, it was not, wasn't it. Lilie - Lily - he sighed and as soon as he fetched his private apartments, he went out through the access to his private garden where he had his own collection of plants for his potions. Taking care of plants, flowers, trees and bushes would be relaxing if he ever knew the plain sense of this word, but he tried his best when he needed it. Apart from this time, he only watched around him whenever his thoughts drove his movements, lit another cigarette and let the smoke evaporate heavily high in the dark blue sky. Stars sometimes winked at him, some clouds slowly went by, some bird sang, more or less longingly, often alone or chatting with others. Nevertheless, Snape did not care at all about what nature told him that night. He was exhausted, quite like when he had just finished a mission, and his mind went restlessly over and over on the problem - according to Dumbledore, that was a solution.

Still, summing it up, it was about raising a teenager. As if teaching those dunderheads all year was far from enough, he bitterly thought. He crashed his cigarette on the ground with precise movements not to burn anything. His nerves were going to kill him, sooner or later. Master of Legilimency AND of Occlumency. People were too simpleton thinking that Occlumency was the best solution ever to deal (crash down) one's feelings. Indeed that discipline of the mind helped a lot in reaching one's aim but the person mastering it had to discipline one's mind on one's own at the same time. It was with time and dedication that one can succeed in feeling but not depending on the feelings' effects. Indeed, again, some had become crazy or sociopaths when they had reached their own limits, the ones dealing with their humanity by going too far.

Snape was brilliant, still he was learning and Melbourne was one of the many challenges his practice of Occlumency had to endure.

His nerves made him shake slightly, continuously. Yet he thought that Melbourne, like other students, needed to go away the place he was living in at summertime. The Raven could not think otherwise, his own miserable existence still hurting as hell. Dumbledore was caring, better off now than never, and dealing with Melbourne was an emergency case not to ignore. You never could tell how things could turn up with such a traumatic past and present. If the headmaster had not received him, Snape surely would have committed suicide. His own thoughts had not calmed down, they would never, they went parasitic in his mind, disturbing the normal process of thinking. He lit another cigarette and as he inhaled once, he suddenly coughed. It had been a while he had not smoked that much in a couple of minutes - less than a hour, he realized as he did not really know how much time had come by now. The cough went away and he could smoke with no second thoughts. Then, he wondered if the boy would accept. Legally speaking, with an internal investigation from the Ministry, Melbourne had nothing to say. In addition, with his influence, Dumbledore would interrupt the normal procedure of that kind, suggesting to the employees on charge of this dossier to give to Severus all rights of tutoring rather than to strangers. Knowing him quite well, Snape knew that would be easy to do so, and giving them some of the arguments the Headmaster had told him, that would work. By so, he never worried about the legal part of Dumbledore's plan; mostly did he on a moral basis. Whatever he could think, feel, argue, no one was listening to him. Did he have that right anyway? He had come months ago pleading for mercy. Living was too expensive a cost, so he only had to shut up as a thank you. Dumbledore seemed to be the perfect man to deal with how the Potions master had to reach redemption - and if that was about raising that idiot of …

Melbourne?

William?

How should he call him outside of school?

He grumbled from pain, taking his head with both hands, his cigarette still consuming.

'I didn't know lilies…' he trailed off before shutting it up at once when he met Snape's gaze. Both of them were at the greenhouses, Sprout was happy to help for once because no one had a clue about what Snape was teaching to Melbourne during his private lessons.

'Take notes', the Potions master commanded. 'It seems necessary to cover your holes on that matter.'

William obeyed immediately, fetched his notebook and pen, under a surprised Sprout and a unreadable Snape - well, if he took notes quicker than on a proper parchment and quill, why not. 'Don't you like animals, cats more specifically?' the Raven then asked.

The Eaglet looked at him curiously, wondering if it was a trap, surely it was knowing who was addressing him. 'Yeah,' he muttered, cleared his throat and answered again, more politely; 'yes, sir.'

'Were some lilies at your garden?' Snape remembered perfectly what young eleven-year-old Melbourne had told him when himself was still a student.

He remembered that the Melbournes lived at Reading, a city in Berkshire, but his parents had a nice, cosy cottage with a huge savage garden where cats wandered through all year. William nodded.

This exasperated the man, who sighed and snarled: 'You idiot. Lilies are toxic to cats! Write down: Lilium species, such as Lilium longiflorum and Hemerocallis, create damage to the renal tubular epithelium, so they cause acute renal failure. Remember this. If you want to poison animals, some potions are useful to obtain the result expected, so that lilies are important in brewing those potential lethal potions.'

While William wrote all of this down, his face displayed his slight horror to the probability some of the cats he had met in his youth would have died miserably because of some lilies at the edge of their garden. 'And stop this melodrama, what's done is done. If you want to be an efficient potion brewer, you need to keep all emotion at bay. You only keep in mind the very specific values potions you're making. There's no room to cry.'

Pomona said nothing about this harsh tone of his, conscious that behind this rudeness was the requirement due to his field of knowledge. We could not babble in potion making. Next, Snape gave a long list of potions where lilies were used and his student wrote them carefully.

'Is that why in the Victorian language of flowers lilies are associated to grief and mourning and those are present during funerals?' William dared to ask in a shy voice, not looking at his professor.

It took the young man a couple of seconds to keep control of himself before he answered in a flat tone 'Consider the people from the nineteenth century quite pragmatic in their interpretation of the mundane.'

Any more comment was said and they both continued to fill the blanks the younger had about lilies. At times, Sprout went with her own comments - as Herbology knowledge was capital to succeed in potions as well.

When it was over, William felt a uneasy emptiness right at his stomach. That was the end of too much things at the same time: school, exams, his former life.

Too much to have a stable emotion level.