"I killed a person."

Emma's eyebrows were knitted together as she was waiting for Snape to pick up after a long silence that fell once he admitted to having had something on his mind that he decided to share. What he said, though, was not what she ever took into consideration at all as a possibility.

"You did?" she blurted out and mentally scolded herself for answering in such a shallow manner. "I mean... I don't think that it's true."

Snape looked up at her heavily – there was a spark in his eye that didn't mean good.

"Oh, and you do, of course, already know what I intend to tell you. That is very arrogant of you, Hawthorne."

Emma disliked how he returned to his venomous self and she shook her head immediately, wanting to mend what she disturbed in him.

"You wouldn't be here if you did is what I meant," she spoke calmly. "Working at a school."

Snape snorted and eyed Emma with the look that made her cringe internally, realising she was not in any position to speak on that matter.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Please go on," she let her eyes drop and she bit her lower lip, resolving that until the man was done she would just stay silent. Hopefully that would be possible to accomplish.

"Why did I even think that you were someone worthy of wasting my time talking to," he murmured and distanced himself again by turning in his chair to face elsewhere. "Interrupt me again and you will be banished from my office forever."

The tone to his voice indicated seriousness, although bore a connotation of an unspoken deal between two people well aware of the context. Emma only nodded, not brave enough to look up or to try another sip of the digusting coffee. She wished she had something to chew on to keep her mouth occupied and less prone to blurting out inappropriate words again.

"My choices led to a death of a person," he began again, this time facing the girl again, as Emma realised by the sound of the echo. "As much as I would like to deny it, take into consideration other factors and situations that led to that end to excuse myself, I am solely responsible for the majority of it and I am repenting now."

When he paused, Emma finally looked up and to her surprise noticed a pained expression on Snape's face, a very subtle one, but the way his muscles clenched on his forehead creating weird wrinkles told her he was reliving the memory. She swallowed and it got to her that it was indeed a real conversation about a real event, and not a play between an annoying kid and an infuriated teacher anymore. And now their not-too-big age difference came into light. Snape was still young, just as she was.

"This is as far as I am willing to share with you," the man added and left Emma slightly confused, as she was prepared for a detailed story, or at least one she could follow as to how it connected to what she had said before. She couldn't answer him, so she only eyed him without a word.

"Of course, why would I expect you to understand. You are daft, after all," came a mean murmur and Emma rolled her eyes, realising he suddenly got defensive, not having been validated by her saying something in response. She sighed.

"I might be daft, but you are giving me no choice."

"Excuse me?"

Emma intensified her look.

"I'm sure you didn't take time to notice that while in your own mind it all makes sense, what I got from you is a story about something leading to someone's death, sir. I wouldn't like to sound too intellectual, but... all that we do leads to eventual death, directly or not," Emma grimaced at how awkward it sounded coming from her mouth. "I see no reason to be in pain because of that. I am in pain, though, because the one who died was someone close-" Emma trailed off, suddenly coming to a realisation. "Oh. It was someone important for you, then, sir."

Snape looked very disappointed in her. She could clearly see that he was trying to undo what he started as though he regretted having had mentioned anything to Emma in the first place. She felt slightly uncomfortable and had no idea how to feel for him. Yet it was painfully obvious that he was suffering, just in his own way. The man leaned in towards her and rested his elbows on the desktop.

"With what I did, I placed a curse on a family. Eventually the woman and her husband died and the child survived. I had given the killer a detailed instruction on how to get at them," the overwhelming gloom and heaviness in his sour words felt very uncomfortable to Emma. She became unsure whether or not she really did want to know what exactly happened. But she kept quiet. "I led the abuser right to their the victim. Nothing could have been done about anything that came later. I killed a person."

Snape had asked her about the string of failures a few moments prior. Emma realised his cryptic speech contained a message that somehow connected to that concept. Naturally he had not handed those people in on purpose. And Emma suspected that that hurt him the most. Judging by what she knew of him – which wasn't much – one thing was certain; he didn't care for the entire family. Only one member was dear to his heart.

"You cared for that lady, didn't you, sir," she asserted firmly. "And you don't know what to make of her death regarding yourself."

Snape grimaced and pierced her with a look full of hatred, not necessarily directed at her, but the fire burning in there was raging.

"I know exactly what to make of it. I am condemned and nothing can justify what I have done."

"Why would you ask me how much my mother's death hurts me, then, sir?"

Snape paused for a moment and then resumed bitterly.

"To know where to place my own pain on a scale. And apparently it goes beyond it."

Emma froze, surprised beyond imagination to hear this level of emotionality come from the man's mouth. She was not ready and God knew she was awful at handling this sort of situations. She didn't want to make things worse, she also didn't know what to say, how to act. She was faced with raw and pure misery and was completely hopeless and helpless against it. The stupidest idea came to her mind to entertain the man, make him laugh, pull a prank on him or conjure cake and make him eat the emotion away. But the realisation came that it was rather her who needed aid in that situation, because Severus Snape seemed to be completely in agreement with what he was going through. He accepted the pain, the guilt and what was left for him was to philosophise on the matter. And Emma was more of a go-doer, not willing to mull over her the meaning of her problems.

"Is there any way I can help you, then?" Emma finally asked.

"There is not because I do not need help," Snape muttered and leaned back. It seemed he was done confessing. Emma only nodded and moved a bit in her chair. "I did not give you any details for a reason. If you keep digging for further information, I will know. And I will have you punished. You have been warned, Hawthorne."

"Yes, sir."

Emma realised it was finally time for her to go. Though neither spoke of the end of the conversation, the general feel of the situation called for closure. She rose from the chair and dusted off her clothing.

"There is a reason I got you involved in this story, Hawthorne," Snape spoke and stood up as well. Emma gave him a questioning look, slightly unsure what to expect. The man walked around his desk and stopped in front of Emma, giving her a stern look.

"Yes?"

"You have made multiple ridiculous efforts with your annoying behaviour to get a part of me. Your responsibility – now that you have received it – is to carry that burden for me."

Emma had no idea what he meant and just kept staring back into his eyes. He was standing much too close for her liking and she could feel what she had been trying to shut off so much – the urge to kiss him. So ridiculous at a time like this, completely mismatching the context and the general feel, but also undeniable at the same time. What better timing than now? She should definitely follow her gut instinct.

Something twirled in her stomach as she fought the urge. Snape stood in place, probably revelling in the confusion he induced in her. He was a mean being, after all, driven to unload his misery on people around him because in fact he could not stand himself. Emma found that bizarre and it drew her towards him. His resolution to stubbornly stand by his misfortune was unique to him.

Without thinking too much she finally gave in to her instinct. She had failed to back then, a few times that she had the opportunity to. She was risking it all, but was there really anything to lose? In the end Emma got what she aimed for – a story of Snape's misery. It confirmed her suspicion and justified her behaviour. There was nothing more that could possibly bring them any closer and a kiss would be a definitive closure, followed by Snape's probable outrage and her being handed over to Filch. But why would that matter? She has already caused herself problems, so adding another wouldn't feel much different.

Emma leaned in and very awkwardly crashed her mouth with what she hoped were the man's lips. It was too dim to see, with him standing between her and the source of light.

Snape did not return the gesture. He remained still, did not rebel against what Emma did. In fact she could swear he inhaled and still was keeping his breath. She moved away from him immediately and clenched her fists, realising what she has just done. It hit her quite intensely, but she remained just as calm as Snape seemed.

"I, uh... thank you for sharing your story, sir," she cleared her throat and, still dumbfounded, turned to leave when Snape grabbed her forearm much too painfully, pulling her back to face him.

The man looked her in the eye with intensity that she more felt than saw, and he just kept aggressively looking at her. He then let her go.

Emma quickly walked off towards the door, swinging it open and darting out into the very chilly corridor. Her stride soon became a sprint and she did not even care if she got caught on the way back to the dormitory. In fact she did not care about anything anymore. She was surfing on the adrenaline wave.

Within minutes she was back to her bed, wrapped up in a duvet like a coccoon and passionately crying her eyes out. Emma could not remember the last time she cried, but this night was just too overwhelming. And it wasn't even sadness that caused the tears – rather just a simple overrun. Way too many things to process and just not enough time. She had to let go of some of that. And there was the following day, when she would have to face Peeves at dawn, complete the remaining homework and pray for the best.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the twist.

I would love to know what you think, so don't hesitate to review the chapter

Take care!