House colors, that'll do. It didn't take her long to get ready, but Hazel was still running a little late. Better late than early, at least for the Slug Club. Otherwise she'd be paraded around and introduced as one of his most promising students, finally returned to Hogwarts after a successful career as an Auror. Now he had Harry, but she didn't feel like being shown off as one of the Aurors who could have been the next Mad-Eye Moody. And she certainly didn't feel like reliving her Auror days when they weren't exactly something she was completely proud of. "Hello, darling, it's been too long!" Slughorn reached out to hug her, handing her a glass of mead from a passing House Elf. "We've hardly had time to catch up!"

"How have you been, Horace?" she asked, smiling politely as she surveyed the room. Green and red draperies hung from the ceiling, giving the potions classroom the air of a tent more than anything. Students and staff milled about, mixing with Slughorn's collection of friends from across the years. A vampire lurked in one corner, drinking from a flask whose contents Hazel wanted to remain a mystery. She recognized some of the others, her students and coworkers. Others were new, people who had graduated and made a name for themselves long before she had ever set foot at Hogwarts.

"Ah, Severus there you are!" Slughorn floated away, Snape unable to escape his over-enthusiastic greeting. He cast a desperate look her way, but Hazel wasn't about to get caught by Slughorn again.

When he finally extracted himself from Slughorn's conversation, Sev made his way over to her, planting a chaste kiss on her cheek. They'd hardly seen each other for a fortnight, each of them being pulled away to Order meetings, Death Eater meetings, or all of the furtive meetings Sev and Dumbledore had been having to work on whatever plan they had in the works. He would drop into bed late, kiss her goodnight, and fall asleep only to be up and in his office before she was properly awake. "Thanks to our friend Wormtail, the Dark Lord knows about you. He's told me personally that despite your career, he thinks highly of you. You could be an asset, and I am, er, responsible for recruiting an ex-Auror to their side," he whispered, the two of them finding a corner to talk in.

"Sev, don't you think that's taking it a little far?" She swapped her empty glass for a glass of elf-made wine, thanking the House Elf who was roving the room with a tray of refreshments.

Taking a glass of wine from the House Elf, he assured her that everything would be alright. "I've told him that you're tired of war. You want to help the students, not fight. He sees that as service enough, so as long as you don't do anything too questionable, you should be alright. I'm laying the foundation for your safety on both sides."

Hazel frowned, downing half of her glass before asking him, "Did you even think to ask me about this? You're trying to curry favor with You Know Who… soon enough he'll want me to start working for him, even if it's just here."

"I only had your best interests in mind. I'm trying to keep you safe. It was Wormtail's comments to the Dark Lord that make him think of you in the first place."

"I can keep myself safe, Sev," she hissed, trying to keep her voice down. Part of her felt bad for him, knowing that she was one of the few people he would do anything to protect. He had failed so many people before, it only made sense that he was this protective. "I'm an adult. I was an Auror, and a pretty damn good one at that."

"I only thought -"

"Professor Snape," Filch interrupted, dragging Malfoy in by his ear. Sev and Hazel turned to look at him, shelving their argument for later. "I found this one lurking in the corridor. Slughorn told me to bring him to you."

Malfoy was about to protest, but Sev cut him off. "Thank you. I shall deal with him." Filch skulked away as Sev turned back to Hazel. "This shouldn't take long. We'll continue this conversation later. Come with me, Draco."

Taking his student into the hall, Sev left the party as Hazel drifted back to the main room. Several of her students were milling about, thankful that the holidays were approaching. She had been in their shoes once, Slughorn recruiting her and Sev, along with a few others from their year, as new parts of his collection. They'd all proven themselves as standouts in some way. Most of them went on to be Aurors, professors, professional Quidditch players, expert Healers, or climb through the ranks at the Ministry. A fair share of them died in the First Wizarding War. Several of those in the Slug Club photo from her seventh year had died long ago.

"Professor?" Luna Lovegood found her amongst the crowd, asking a pointed question. "Is Professor Snape alright? He looks even more pale than usual. That usually happens if you eat too many Dirigible Plums, but I don't think he's been raiding the greenhouses. They're not ready yet. Though perhaps that may be why he looks so unwell..."

"He's alright, just busy. Thank you for the concern, Miss Lovegood."

"My father told me that the two of you were close when you were at school, and then he went another way. Personally, I trust him. He may not be the kindest of professors, but I can see it when he talks to you. The way he looks at you over breakfast, you'd think you had pulled the moon from the sky for him."

Not entirely sure what she was getting at, Hazel just smiled, swapping her empty glass for another. "Professor Snape is a unique kind of person. He's been through a lot. You and your father," she paused, checking to be sure no one was listening in before discussing anything personal, "coped with the loss of your mother in a very different way than Sev copes with things like that. Every one of us who was alive back then lost someone, sometimes a lot of people. I wish he had buried himself in growing Dirigible Plums and researching Erumpets, but he threw himself into studying other things. That doesn't mean he's a bad man, though he was severely misguided. He still can be, at times."

Luna's wisdom was beyond her years. "Before you got here, he had this air of… eternal sadness around him. But when he's with you… We didn't think he was capable of smiling in our first year. This group of first years has seen him laugh more than he has in ages. It suits him. He deserves it."

"He does."

"Luna, there you are. Hi, Professor," Hermione smiled, coming to find her friend. "They've brought out more butterscotch fudge, and I think there's a tray of treacle tart going around."

"Excellent. Have a good night, Professor." Luna floated away, following Hermione back to where their friends were standing around and talking.

By the time Sev returned, Hazel had turned Luna's words over in her mind more than once. She was right. Sev's decisions, misguided as they were, were still based in how much he cared. Altruistic? Not entirely. But no one made altruistic decisions when they were worried about keeping someone in their lives like this, especially when he had already lost so much. No one wanted their friends to be sacrificed to Voldemort. And the two of them were far more than friends.

The constantly-scowling man the students feared was nothing but a shell, a series of walls and boundaries that had been thrown up after decades of successive hurt, pain, and anguish. Even in private he was cold, but when he would hold her as they tried to share a sofa, when he would instinctively reach out for her after waking up from an unspeakable nightmare, when he would show up with Butterbeer after a long day, she knew he cared. Even if it was hard for him to say, he would show it through a dozen tiny gestures. A glance her way in the hall, casually holding her hand during Quidditch games, a soft smile in staff meetings. If the words never passed his lips again, she still knew.

"Where were we?" he asked, stopping in front of her. "Actually, we should talk in the corridor. Best not let the students overhear."

Following him out into the hall, Hazel took his hands, offering an apology. "Sev, I know you're doing this to protect me. I know sometimes you can't ask me in the moment, but if there's any chance - You knew before you went into that meeting with Voldemort, you know you were going to try to pretend to recruit me. If there's anything like that, please, let us talk it over beforehand. Let me decide for myself."

"It's hardly a decision," he said pointedly.

"I'd still like to know about it."

Something was weighing on him, something heavy. But now wasn't the time to divulge it. They were far too exposed. So he sighed, deciding to shelve the conversation for another day. Perhaps over the winter holiday. "Alright," he assented, reaching out for her. Hazel kissed him hesitantly, knowing there was a lot he'd buried, a lot he was waiting to tell her.

"Do you want to actually rejoin the party?"

"Perhaps we should just go to bed," he said, glancing back down the hall at the classroom door. Light and music spilled out into the hall, but neither of them really felt like going to mingle with everyone. It seemed silly to be at a party when they were thinking about the great, inevitable, and horrible thing that was looming over them.