I really had not planned to spend that afternoon with Snape, but for some reason, for a second time I found myself following him. I did not want to meet Filch, who had never liked me... well, he had never really liked any student, however, he still remembered me as a student there. Of course, I could just turn back and walk away, but for some reason I followed Snape instead, praying in my heart for him not to lead me back to his room.

I was slightly surprised by the fact that this time he did not even try to do that. The corridors he was leading me across, were the exact same ones which I had been crossing for seven years of my education there, which I knew way too well.

I felt an unpleasant tingling in my hands when we stood in fron of the door leading to his office. I had never associated it with anything nice, and now, after those few years, it had become strangely ghostly, as though it was some kind of a nightmare that I had been dreaming throughout my entire life, not a real place.

"I was under the impression that you did not like my room, Shirley," he addressed me only as he had pointed the wand towards the lock. The door opened with a quiet squeak. I dared not look up at Snape, but I knew, I heard in his voice that there was that sarcastic sneer on his lips once again.

I did not answer. Of course I had not liked it. How could I like a room that looked more like a haunted house in a Muggle funfair than an actual room? However, I did not dare say it out loud... though, on the other hand, I had a strange feeling that Snape somehow managed to read my mind.

I had heard that he was brilliant at Legilimency and Occlumency... maybe that was the reason why? I could only hope that he had not yet possessed the power which, as rumours had it, had been possessed by You-Know-Who. That he was not able to sense the thoughts without using any spells.

"Calm down, I don't plan on taking you there. I don't want to cause any rumours. It's the middle of the day," he added, then waited for me to pass the threshold before he walked in as well and closed the door behind himself. It was probably the first time he was so close to me.

Immediately, then, I stepped aside and looked around. The office looked exactly the same as I remembered – lots of shelves filled with jars of unknown content, sending chills down one's spine, especially the ones with more vivid imagination. No wonder I turned my eyes away so I would not have to look at them.

"Who would have thought," murmured Snape, passing me by and approaching the desk. "Out of everyone in this castle you, Shirley, should be capable of appreciating the properties of those ingredients."

Although he had probably been trying to offend me, I could not help but feel that in this insult a compliment was hidden. If Snape thought that I could determine the benefits of particular ingredients, it must have meant that he did not really think of me as of a complete idiot.

And he knew that I was not that bad at Potions. He might have not liked me, but it did not change the fact that I had always got the best mark.

"I may be capable of appreciating the properties of the ingredients, but I don't have to like looking at them," I replied, frowning. "Even if something is useful, it doesn't mean it must be pretty. There are some things that are not nice to look at."

He remained silent for a while, sitting on the edge of his desk. His hands clasped in front of him, he fixed his eyes on me.

"Is it better for something to be useful but not nice to look at, or to be pretty, but completely useless?"

The question astonished me. It was almost as if he was trying to start some subject but did not want to do it without having explored the ground first. And I had already begun to think that I would find a way to just sneak out of his office before he started a conversation. After the previous time I had learnt that the conversations with him could not be pleasant.

"I guess it's obvious," I answered, raising my brow. "Regardless of how pleasant it is to look at the pretty things... it's better to properly appreciate the ones that have some benefits. Though, it's best when both of these traits appear together."

A slight smile appeared upon Snape's face. I was not quite sure what to expect of him now.

"Do you believe the same applies to people?"

His quiet, velvety voice for some reason drove me crazy. I think I would rather like for him to yell at me.

"What exactly do you mean, Professor?" I asked hesitantly.

"Exactly the same I have just said, Shirley," he answered, then pushed himself away from the desk and put his weigth back on his feet. He made a couple of steps in my direction, then began to walk around me slowly. "I asked if you believe that it's better to know someone who looks good amongst your friends... or someone who might turn out to be useful?"

I frowned a bit. Something about the tone of his voice made me feel quite bothered, besides, the way he spoke about people...

"I do not treat people like things, Professor," I replied angrily. "If I like someone, I just like them. Knowing someone doesn't require any benefits."

"That would explain a lot of things," he muttered, then stood right in front of me. I stared stubbornly at the floor. "Let me restate the question... Is it better to know someone who looks good... or someone who has a beautiful spirit?"

I did not want to answer his question, because I had a feeling that he was going to use my answer against me. Snape had a peculilar gift thanks to which he could use even the best intentions against his interlocutor.

And I, regardless of what Snape thought of me, really did not intend to begin another argument with him. I was already tired of it. I just wanted to do what I had been doing until now – be a good teacher.

"I'm waiting for your answer, Shirley," he spoke up when I kept silent. "You know the rules... You're not leaving this room until you don't tell me what I want to hear. As for me, you may sit here until you're dead."

My hands were trembling. One of them was clenched tightly on the little bottle with medicine I had got from Snape. When I realised that, I began to wonder if I really did not understand what he had meant, or just kept stubbornly pushing this knowledge away from me... and I was not sure which of those options could be worse.

"You're playing some strange games with me, Professor," I frowned, finally forcing myself to look up at him.

He stood there, calmly, the tips of his fingers put together on the height of his chest. He stared at me, as though he was really awaiting my answer. I wondered if he was really curious of it, or just amused by torturing me.

"Absolutely not," he protested. "I just want to get to know one, very specific thing."

I had not even a single reason, though, to suspect that any of it had anything to do with Neville; and yet, I felt some kind of nervousness.

"It's obvious that it's better to have those with beautiful spirit amongst your friends," I answered at last. It meant my loss, but I realised that it was the only way to free myself from his grasp. From him and all those questions, inquisitions, games whose meaning I did not really understand.

"And yet, you seem to love to surround yourself with people who can't give you anything."

So it meant I had been right. My heart jumped up to my throat, then fell down, right into my stomach, making me feel a very unpleasant sensation.

"How can you know that?"

"I'm not blind, Shirley. But a time will come... when I'll stop following you step by step, and you'll be left all alone. And you will have to deal with everything just by yourself," he whispered, and I understood that it really had not been my paranoia. Snape had really been stalking me. For what reason, I had no idea... or at least, so I told myself.

"I can deal by myself, Professor."

He rolled his eyes in a way that had been irritated me throughout all those years when he had been teaching me.

"Oh, of course. If you'd been left all alone, Shirley, you would've been dead by now."

My hands trembled once again. There was some truth in his words, but at the same time, I did not want to admit that it was only thanks to him that I was still alive. Besides, such a wording would border on a lie.

"Drink this potion, it'll do you good," he added as he had noticed that I had no intention of answering. "And no, it's not a poison."

Having realised that once again he had sensed my thoughts, I blushed a lot, then uncorked the little bottle. The elixir had no smell, but it was definitely not transparent. If it were so, I would have already started suspecting that Snape wanted me to drink Veritaserum, and I definitely would not like it.

Finally, deciding to take the risk, I drank the contents of the phial and felt some pleasant warmth spreading all across my body.

"I have told you already that I don't want to be your enemy, and you wouldn't like it, either," he said calmly, then sighed.

Something about the tone of his voice and the manner of his behaviour bothered me a bit. No matter what, he was strangely kind to me, especially when one remembered it was him. But now, as I thought of it, besides those moments when he for some reasons unknown to me had begun to offend Neville, he had never been cruel to me.

"And I've told you that it was not my fault that I cannot force myself to like you."

Some muscles in his face twitched slightly, a dangerous light flickering in his eyes, but this time he managed to take control over his emotions.

"If you think that Neville is a person who can just look good amongst the friends," I continued, making use of the fact he did not interrupt me, "you are wrong. Neville helps me a lot. But I will not say that you do not help me."

"How does Longbottom help you, Shirley?"

The question sounded a bit tricky, but I decided not to let him provoke me. I put the phial back onto his desk.

"With conversations and company."

"Lately he hasn't seem to be either sociable or talkative."

His words made my stomach turn a somersault. I really wanted to move away, but my legs decided otherwise. Funny, how easy it was to them, especially when the door was so close. I just needed to open it, and I would be free, away from Snape, from my paranoia...

"He was busy."

"Oh?" Snape seemed to be genuinely surprised, but there was sheer irony in his voice. "And what he was so busy with? Most plants are dormant at this time of the year. Maybe he's putting blankets over them?"

My blood seemed to boil, and I started shivering.

"What is your point?" I asked, no longer able to hide my irritation. "Why are you trying to make Neville look bad in my eyes?"

"This idiot makes himself look bad in anyone's eyes." Snape's voice had changed. It was no longer as calm and velvety as before. And even though it terrified me a bit, I preferred it that way. "This coward... Who kept you company when you were lying lifeless? Not Longbottom, Shirley. Me. Who lets you get rid of all your sorrows now, as you're no longer in the hospital wing? Longbottom? No. Longbottom is too busy with his little plants. Me, Shirley, me again. Who has been trying to protect you against his destructive influence? Me."

Only then did I realise that I had been standing with my back pressed against the stone wall for a long time. With each word, Snape was getting closer and closer, and now his hand was resting on the wall right next to my face. I was afraid of breathing normally, knowing that then my breath would brush against his face.

I had a feeling that he was still taking me for Lily. However, that time he had not faltered, he had not hesitated even for a moment. He kept pronouncing my name with a morbid conviction, as if he was trying to point it out.

"Can't you get anything through your head?"

No longer could I avoid looking into his eyes. They were just a few inches away from mine, like two dark tunnels. Pearly scars on his face glistened softly in the dim candlelight.

I knew that he had asked me a question, but I did not risk giving him an answer. My breath was ragged, and I was unable to inhale enough oxygen to stop myself from feeling dizzy. At last, I closed my eyes, praying that all of that would turn out to be just a weird dream, so I could lift my eyelids and make sure that nothing of that had ever taken place.

However, no sooner had I done that than I felt something I would have never expected to feel in such a situation.

His hand was cool when it cupped my cheek. His thumb gently caressed the skin right under my eye, as though he was trying to wipe away some invisible tears. And suddenly, as quickly as it had started, the feeling vanished. Snape stood up and moved back.

"Go back to your room," he whispered. "You need to rest."