Snape was used to teaching now, or as used to it as he could ever be, and his stomach wasn't so tight now when he walked into the classroom at the start of term. And yet he could barely keep in his frustration, that he'd been passed over for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job yet again. It wasn't that he didn't love making potions; it would always be one of the things he loved best, but trying to teach it to clueless teenagers made him want to pull his hair out, and he needed a change. He wondered if Dumbledore was suspicious of him still .The old man had some nerve, if he was. Snape had never showed him anything but loyalty, even after he'd failed to save Lily.
He woke up early the first Saturday of term, and on a whim he made his way though the silent corridors to the library. The rooms were empty, the light coming in through the windows dim, and the silence and stillness and smell of old books drained his tension and filled him with something like peace. He knew the layout by memory, without the need to look at the signs. He walked towards the section of children's tales and folktales and skimmed the titles until he found what he was looking for, a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. It was worn and the binding was loose and he held it with the very tips of his fingers, flipping through it until he found "The Fountain of Fair Fortune."
He hadn't read the story in ages, not since his mother had read it to him. His eyes scanned over the words and as they did his hands gripped the book so tightly they were white. His father hadn't been any storybook knight. He'd been the monster under the bed.
Glancing around him even though he knew there was no one around, he pulled his wand out of his robes and stood there with it hovering over the page. Seconds passed, and he was starting to feel like a bit of an idiot. He didn't know how long he stood and stared at it. Finally, he jabbed his wand at the parchment and thought the incantation, and the words turned to scribbles. He set it back on the shelf.
Dumbledore chatted with him over dinner that night, and for some reason Snape couldn't quite meet his eye. When he retired to his office for the evening and there was a knock at the door he nearly jumped, but it was just a student, with a note. Dumbledore wished to see him in is office. Snape straightened his collar and stood up. He wasn't about to tell him anything.
When he had ascended the spiral staircase and entered the room he found Dumbledore sitting at his desk humming softly to himself, one hand in a bowl of toffees and the other holding a copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, which he appeared to be reading. Snape cleared his throat.
"Ah, Severus," said Dumbledore, looking up from his book. "Please, sit down.
Snape sat, and Dumbledore held out a small dish. "Toffee?" Snape took some, and Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "I thought it might be pleasant for us to catch up a bit," he said. "How have you found the term so far?"
His tone was casual, pleasant, but Snape rather thought he was watching him too closely. He shifted in his seat like a guilty schoolboy and wondered if the old man knew.
"It has been fine, Headmaster." This wasn't really true, but Dumbledore likely knew him well enough to know how he really felt, and was merely being polite.
"Excellent," said the old man. There was a pause while he chewed on his toffee. "I have had good reports about you from the rest of the staff, you know." Snape was genuinely surprised by this. Dumbledore was smiling at him with his eyes in that characteristic way of his.
"They tell me you have quite the gift for keeping order in your classroom," he continued. Snape felt a little warm around the neck now, but Dumbledore didn't look too stern. There was another pause while Dumbledore leaned back in his chair with another toffee.
"Do you see much of Lucius Malfoy?"
Dumbledore's voice was light, casual, and yet Snape was more uncomfortable than ever; Dumbledore was more perceptive than even the Dark Lord.
"On occasion," Snape said, in what he hoped was an equally casual tone.
"So I suppose you know about our recent, shall we say, difference of opinion?"
"He might have mentioned it, yes."
"I thought perhaps you might. And what are your thoughts on the matter?"
For a moment he didn't know what to say; Dumbledore had never asked his opinion on anything not related to espionage. He chose his words carefully.
"Forgive me for saying so, Headmaster," he said quietly, "but I wonder if it is wise to promote such ideas. Close relations between wizards and Muggles have often been...rather fraught."
Dumbledore paused a moment, putting his fingers together. "There is some truth to that, I suppose. I grant that there may be some good intentions behind such beliefs." He put his hands together, and Snape saw that he looked much more serious now."But it is alarming to me, how quickly our good intentions can turn into something else entirely."
Snape didn't have a clue what he was on about. Typical Dumbledore, speaking in riddles. Dumbledore dismissed him, and Snape descended the spiral staircase wondering how someone so intelligent could be so infuriating.
But he didn't have much time to spend thinking about it, or about much of anything really. The start of term was always hectic, and by the time things settled down Hallowe'en was approaching and like every year Snape was left wondering how he'd ever get through it.
He felt sick waking up in the mornings. Sometimes he'd forget what had happened and think he was back in Spinner's End or his old dormitory and none of this had ever happened, which was almost worse, in a way. The night before Hallowe'en he took a potion for a dreamless sleep and the moment he woke he busied himself with teaching and planning lessons.
The feast that night was just as loud and raucous as ever, memories of the war still fresh in everyone's minds, he supposed, and he only stayed to eat a quick dinner before heading down to the dungeons.
He was headed to his room, but on a whim he turned and went down a different corridor, dark except for the blue light of the black candles along the walls. The temperature dropped with every step and could see his breath floating ahead of him in the low light.
He'd been dismayed at how easily Lily made friends, since hardly any of them liked him and it inevitably meant less time spent with her. But when she'd befriended Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, in her second year, it had led to one of the best adventures they'd ever had together. Snape remembered it well, he played it so often in his mind.
He'd walked up the dungeon steps with Avery and Mulciber on their way to the Great Hall for the Hallowe'en feast.
"Wonder what they'll have for entertainment," Mucliber had said. "Probably something stupid like dancing skeletons."
Snape had let out a snort even though he didn't really think dancing skeletons were all that stupid and Mulciber shot him a grin.
They made their way into the Entrance Hall, and Snape saw Lily standing across the room, under a wall sconce shaped like a griffin. Snape stopped as though to tie his shoes and gestured the others to go on ahead of him.
Once they were in the Great Hall, he walked over to Lily. Her eyes were shining the way they did when she was excited about something.
"Do you want to go to a Deathday party?" she said.
"What's that?"
"It's-well, I think it's sort of like a birthday, only when you died. Nearly Headless Nick invited me, do you want to come?"
Snape glanced around the Entrance Hall to see if there were any teachers about. They all seemed to be at the feast.
"I suppose so," he said, trying not to sound as excited as he felt.
They stole away done the dungeon steps, through the corridors, Lily's face lit up with that impish, lopsided grin of hers.
The room was packed with ghosts, with a table full of putrid food and some strange music playing in the background. Lily's nose crinkled up when she saw the grubs crawling all over something they couldn't identify. Moaning Myrtle drifted by.
"Oh, hello Myrtle," said Lily, and Snape wasn't all that surprised she was on speaking terms with another one of the Hogwarts ghosts.
"Hello," she said morosely, picking at her robes. "Nice party isn't it? Of course, no one ever bothers to remember my Deathday." She burst into tears then, and Lily looked at him with her mouth twitching the way it did when she was trying not to smile.
They'd stayed there an hour or two, and by the time they got back up the feast had ended and they'd had to race back to their common rooms before Filch caught them.
Snape remembered all of it, as though it had just happened, and as he stood there now the smell of freezing air and wet stone and burning candles made it seem so close he closed his eyes and imagined it he was still there with her. He stopped and rested his hand along the stone wall, leaning against it, eyes still closed. He could feel them growing wet.
"Is everything all right?"
Snape nearly jumped at the sound, and he opened his eyes, trying to bring whatever it was into focus, and for the love of Merlin, it was Moaning Myrtle.
"What are you doing here?" he snapped.
"There's no need to get so angry with me," she pouted. "I thought I heard someone crying out here."
"I wasn't crying," he said, mortified by the thought that she might tell all the students passing through her bathroom about it. "There was smoke in my eyes."
"Oh," she said softly, but she was looking at him rather pityingly all the same. "Well, if you ever need to talk about it..."
Snape looked at her for a moment like she'd offered to give him a sponge bath. He wondered if she'd been this daft when she was alive. "And why on earth would I talk to you?"
She crossed her semi-transparent arms and looked sulky. "Oh of course, no one ever wants to talk to Myrtle, let's just ignore her and maybe she'll go away."
"Does that work?"
Her beady eyes narrowed from behind her pearly glasses. "Oh yes, go ahead and have a laugh at me like everyone else why don't you? That's all anyone ever did when I was alive, you know."
"Well, if you were this annoying it's no wonder," he said, recovering himself and smirking a little.
She burst into tears, but he found the sight of it amusing rather than annoying.
"You're terribly mean, you know," she wailed.
"How kind of you to pay me such a compliment."
She wailed even harder, and Snape just stood there watching her until she'd calmed down. She looked at him with her eyes narrowed, as though trying to get him into focus. "Wait a minute," she said, hiccoughing a bit. "I remember you." She drifted closer to him. "You were a friend of her. Lily."
Snape's heart beat faster at the sound of her name.
"She used to come to my toilet you know, talk to me. I rather liked her." She shot him a dark look then, as though wondering how someone so nice could keep company with him. "If you see her tell her hello from me."
Snape didn't know what to say. He gave her a stiff nod and watched her drift away.
He went back to his room and pulled off his boots as he sank into his bed, thinking of Lily, and what Dumbledore said, and what it all meant.
For some strange reason an image of the book floated up through his subconcious, the one he'd bewitched. He tried to push it aside, but couldn't.
Graihagh stopped in the middle of the Slytherin section of the Quidditch stands, her green and silver scarf wrapped around her. She didn't have a clue where to sit. She'd never really patched things up with Emily and her friends, and while Livia's friends weren't ignoring her anymore, they weren't exactly friendly either. She finally found a group of third-years and sat down next to them, keeping her body turned slightly so they wouldn't think she was butting in.
She'd had to coax Milo to eat his breakfast, and she hadn't eaten much herself. This would be his first match as Chaser, and she could barely stand to watch it.
There was someone new doing the commentary, a second-year Gryffindor named Bill Weasley, if she'd heard right, and she hoped he'd be impartial.
"And they're off!" said Bill. "Gryffindor Chaser Towler with the Quaffle, she passes it to Fletcher, Fletcher shoots...and he scores, 10 zero to Gryffindor, and Slytherin in possession. Slytherin Chaser Travers with the Quaffle, passes to Selwyn, Selwyn dodges a bludger from Jones, passes to Brennan, he shoots...it's good, and the score is 10-10."
Graihagh stood up and cheered. Milo had made an assist, and dodged a bludger doing it.
"And it's Gryffindor in possession and Towler passes to Fletcher..." there was a loud groan from the crowd. One of the Gryffindor Chasers had nearly been knocked off his broom by a bludger, and Graihagh had a feeling she knew exactly who'd done it. He clutched his stomach and was helped to the ground by the other two Chasers.
"And the Gryffindor Captain calls time-out as Fletcher is helped to the ground, looks like he's been badly injured..."
There was a loud drone of boos from the Gryffindor end and Graihagh couldn't really blame them. She should've known Thorfinn would pull something like this. The little shit.
Professor McGonagall hurried down the stands and with the help of Professor Sprout they half-carried him back up to the castle.
"And the Quaffle is back in play, and Gryffindor are one Chaser short, looks like the rest of the team are going to have to step up..."
It was a short game. The Gryffindor Chasers were too busy dodging Thorfinn's ferocious bludger attacks to get in scoring position, and Slytherin scored an additional fifty points, with a few more assists by Milo. Shafiq found the Snitch not long after.
The rest of the Slytherins were on their feet, but Graihagh was watching Milo. Thorfinn had patted him on the back but he'd shrugged him off and was walking towards the changing rooms, clutching his broom and looking at the ground. Graihagh made her way down the stands and waited for him.
"You were amazing," she said when he came out, but he wasn't smiling, and he started walking back up to the castle without saying anything.
"What's wrong?" she said.
Milo was quiet so long she wasn't sure he was going to answer her. Only when they'd reached the front steps did he stop to look at her.
"Why'd you have to make him that Strengthening Solution?" he said, and Graihagh could hear the accusation in his voice. "It was my first match, I wanted us to win on skill."
Graihagh's first thought was that it was a bit rich, considering he had taken a good-sized dose of her Strengthening Solution right along with Thorfinn, but she understood what he meant. "I know, I'm sorry, if I'd known he was going to do that-"
"Are you really that thick? What did you think he was going to do with it?"
She'd known. She'd known the moment he'd asked. Her face got hot. "Look, I said I was sorry, I know it was stupid, okay?"
Milo looked away from her and didn't say anything, and a thought occurred to her.
"Do the rest of the team know about it?"
Milo scowled, as though he knew perfectly well why she'd asked, and she wanted to run right back to her dormitory.
"No, just us. But I know Shafiq and Brennan don't like using the Girding Potion. They won't take it."
Graihagh knew this. They hadn't bought any off her for weeks.
Milo turned towards the castle doors. "I'm going to take a bath, I'm freezing. I'll see you later."
Milo had never been this upset with her before, and what was worse, she knew she deserved it. All she'd wanted was to help him, and somehow she'd managed to fuck it up. Her eyes were stinging as she walked back to her dormitory, and she picked at her shepherd's pie at dinner without really seeing it. She wished she hadn't agreed to meet Cate at the library.
"You all right?" said Cate when she walked up to her table in the library. Theodora and Rajiv were sitting across from them and Graihagh almost missed the chair sitting down. She brushed her hair back from her face and shot him a quick glance, but he wasn't looking at her.
"Yeah," said Graihagh, and she tried to look like she meant it.
Cate handed Graihagh her Potions essay and Graihagh handed Cate her Charms essay and they each looked the other's over, making some corrections here and there. When they'd finished, Graihagh pulled out her Transfiguration book, to study for a test McGonagall had scheduled for the end of the week.
"I'm surprised to see you revising," said Theodora from across the table.
Graihagh looked up from her book. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that I thought the Slytherins had all the answers to the tests."
Graihagh slammed her book shut. "Why does everyone assume we're cheaters?"
Rajiv looked up from his parchment. "It was a joke Graihagh, don't get your knickers in a knot."
Graihagh tried to calm herself but Rajiv looked startled and she knew things weren't just going to go back to normal.
"Yeah, well, at least we manage to win at things," she snapped. She picked up her books and stomped out of the library.
There were fast footfalls behind her, and when she turned around Cate was standing there, looking shocked and annoyed.
"What the hell, Graihagh?"
Graihagh couldn't look at her face. Her eyes flicked to a painting of a stern-looking baker tapping a rolling pin against her palm in a menacing sort of way. Sweet Merlin, even the portraits hated her.
"Do you realize how that makes you look? How that makes me look?"
"I'm sorry, okay?"
Cate looked at her a moment. "You know, you're my best friend and I love you, but you're a right little pain in my arse sometimes, you know that?"
She knew. She'd been a pain in everyone's arse that day. Her voice softened. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well, that's a start anyway," said Cate. She turned and walked back to the library without her.
Graihagh went back to the dungeons, and she'd just reached the bottom of the steps when she heard voices from one of the adjacent corridors. Thorfinn and Milo. She stopped along the wall to listen.
"...I'm sorry, mate," Thorfinn was saying. "You flew really well today."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I've never seen anyone dodge a bludger like that."
"Cheers," said Milo, and Graihagh could tell by his voice that he was smiling.
She heard their footsteps and started walking as though she just happened to be walking past, and when she caught up with Milo she saw that he was still smiling, and she wondered if he'd ever really got much praise for anything.