Chapter 37
After that drunken night, Snape didn't speak to Julia again. Things had gotten tense between he and Gwendolyn as well. At least, tense on his part. Gwendolyn didn't seem affected by it at all. He didn't know whether or not to be offended by that. He thought it had been a pretty remarkable kiss. The spark he'd felt...how had she not felt it? If she had, she did a good job of hiding it.
Snape tried not to think about it too often, but every time he saw her – in class or alone while they worked on the Wolfsbane – the memory would pop into his head. So he tried not to look at her or stand too close to her.
A misty rain brought in the beginning of December. It made the dungeons chilly and miserable. Snape's bones ached and he wondered at his age.
One Friday morning after her potions class, Gwendolyn lingered behind.
"Miss Phillips," he said. "You'll be late for Herbology."
"I know. I – can I come talk to you later? It's important," she said, biting her lower lip nervously. A million inappropriate scenarios flew through his mind, along with a jab of fear. Was this about the kiss?
"You may come see me during your lunch hour," he said, searching her face for any hint of what she wanted to talk about. Out of respect, he did not infiltrate her mind.
"Thanks," she said, then hurried out the door.
His second year class arrived but he was distracted all throughout the period. When he dropped a vial of belladonna extract on Ginny Weasley's shoes, he decided to leave them to their own devices. He sat at his desk and pretended to grade papers. Really he was thinking about the girl and wondering what she wanted.
When the second years left he cleared the room. He summoned a house elf and requested a pot of tea. Gwendolyn arrived before the tea. She was wearing her uniform and was covered in a fine layer of dirt. She must have been in a hurry not to have changed first.
"Miss Phillips," Snape said, putting down the paper he had been pretending to read.
"Professor," she said, sitting on the edge of a desk close to his.
He was about to tell her to get off the desk when he noticed he could see up her skirt. He closed his mouth and sighed. She was fidgeting. He offered her a cup of tea. She accepted but barely touched it.
"Can I help you Miss Phillips?" he asked finally, setting down his own cup of tea.
"Well..." she said slowly. "My birthday is coming up – my 17th you know. I'll be of age."
Snape's mouth went dry.
"I'm aware," he said.
"Christmas holidays are coming up, too, and I was thinking... I'd like to leave the castle for once. I've been stuck here for years..."
"Oh? ...I suppose that could be arranged. You could stay at my house-"
"Actually, sir, I was hoping to...to stay with Remus," she said, her face turning red. Snape felt his face flush. He was stupid to think she wanted to go with him. He hoped she'd attributed the blush to rage rather than embarrassment.
"No," he said. "Absolutely not. As your professor I cannot allow you to go home with a teacher over the holidays."
"Oh but I could go home with you?" she snorted.
"You are my...I am your guardian. You and I would not be doing what you and Remus would be doing."
"You wish," she retorted.
He stood, furious. HE walked around his desk and glared at her. He wanted to slap her. He clenched his fist and his teeth.
"Not in a million years," he growled. "I would never touch a – a beast like you."
A hurt look came over her face and he saw tears well up in her silver eyes. She turned away from him.
"I wasn't asking you as a teacher," she said in a soft but strong voice. "I was asking as your ward. But it does not matter. I will be of age. You are no longer responsible for me."
She hopped down off the desk and approached him until they were inches apart. She glared up at him with hate-filled eyes.
"Put my name down on the list for the Hogwarts Express," she said coldly, then turned and left.
Snape swore out loud once she was gone. He hated himself. He had done it again. He'd hurt her. What had made him say that, what had made him call her a beast? He didn't mean it. He wanted to call her back to him, tell her he hadn't really mean it... But she had mocked him! The little witch. She had outright made fun of him for the way he felt, she had been cruel. She had hurt him so he hurt her back. She deserved it, he thought furiously.