AGITATION struck at Wes Walker like a disease, causing the already irritable and vexed werewolf to shift his weight from one foot to the other as he fiddled with his wand in his hand, sighing for what had to be the tenth or so time. The way that his pulse pounded in his ears, the dryness in his mouth, the heaviness of his tongue that was now rendered useless the longer he thought of Dahlia Hawthorne, and the uncertainty in his heart all made him realize that he was nervous to behold Dahlia.

He looked away for a moment and readied himself for the moment that Dahlia would appear in front of him, his jaw cut like steel. It seemed an eternity before he heard footsteps behind him.

Turning on his heels, hoping to greet the witch with a bright smile, catching his breath, he looked up, his breath hitching in his throat as his face fell crestfallen.

The person standing in front of him was not who he had been hoping to see.

Severus Snape stood in front of the three of them lingering outside the entrance to Flourish and Blotts, his hands folded strategically behind his back as he regarded them with a heavy scowl, eyeing Wes Walker as though the werewolf was no taller than an ant, an ant he looked like he wanted nothing more than to squash with the heel of his black boot.

Severus frowned heavily at Wes as he took in the sight of the younger man's crestfallen expression.

"There is no need to look so…disappointed, I do not intend to take up too much of your time this morning," he replied stiffly to Wes before Wes could open his lips to speak to him. "Merely to deliver this to you per Miss Hawthorne's request," he remarked, and he held out his hand containing a vial of Wolfsbane Potion for Wes to take.

Hesitantly, Wes reached out and accepted the vial with slightly shaking fingers and a grateful nod of his head. Wes flinched as he noticed how annoyed Severus Snape was looking. His brow was creased with deep lines. Severus Snape seemed greatly disturbed about something.

"I was hoping that Dahlia would be here, sir," Wes confirmed in a dry and flat tone. "That I could speak with her, just for a moment," he asked in a cordial voice. The werewolf swallowed. He was beginning to feel queasy as beads of sweat glittered along his hairline as Severus's brows rose in mock surprise.

This bastard, he thought, was some kind of a bloody mind reader, he just had to be.

If looks could have killed, he would have been swimming in blood and collapsed into an ungainly heap onto the ground right about now. He breathed out deeply through his nose and sighed.

"I cannot allow that wolf," Severus growled in a low voice through gritted teeth as he clenched his fists.

Wes's desperation got the better of his plans, and he revealed his dislike for the man sooner than he had ever intended, if it all, and frowned.

"You would truly try to keep me from seeing her?" he growled, a werewolf who was unused to confrontation, confronted, as he felt the wolf within him flare to life and his yellow irises shift.

Severus could hold his wrath no longer, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists in anger.

"You are the last person my Healer needs to see right now!" he bellowed, not even caring anymore if his voice carried through the streets as his anger jumped a level, surging in his veins.

Wes frowned and backed away slowly, with his hands raised in surrender. "I suppose there's not a chance to talk this over, as one rational man to another, Snape, sir? I mean Dahlia no harm, Professor Snape. Know that. She's lucky, you know, to have someone like you looking out for her. I was hoping to tell her as such this morning, and to thank her personally for the Wolfsbane," Wes said angrily.

"I…" Severus let his voice trail off as he thought for a moment, quite unsure how to respond. "I will relay to Miss Hawthorne a message if you wish but you would do well to stay away from my Healer going forward if you value keeping your tongue in your mouth, dog," he growled.

Severus felt his throat hollow and chest constrict at the werewolf's words. It took all of the Potions Master's willpower not to blush, both at the wolf's message to him and at the memory of the witch allowing him to place a chaste kiss on her right cheek, letting his lips linger near her scar. His lips still tingled and burned with the memory.

The young werewolf thought for a moment, his mouth twisting upwards in a rather odd smirk.

"Fine," he growled. "Tell her…she's very brave, Professor. Not many witches would willingly associate with…people like me," he added, breathing out a shaking breath and running his hands through his shaggy blond hair as he turned his gaze away from Severus's piercing glower for a moment, before summoning enough strength on his throat to manage to continue his message. "From what I can gather of her, she's no ordinary witch, sir. For her to help someone like me is…ah, frankly, unheard of. I don't think I need to tell you how the rest of society sees people like me and Mr. Lupin, Professor Snape. It takes a special sort of person to go against the societal norm and do something so radical as keeping the company of a wretched, nasty werewolf like me. It makes a statement. A statement that might very well cost Dahlia in the end, sir. You're lucky, Professor, to have a woman in your life like Dahlia Hawthorne who would risk her life for yours. The Headmistress told me what happened, how she risked her own life in the effort to save yours. Don't take her affections so lightly, sir. She cares for you. I see it. I think perhaps, Remus and his mate can see it too. Don't squander the gift that you've been given."

"I will tell her. If you stay away from her, wolf," he growled, hissing his threat through gritted teeth. The werewolf did not turn his head around to face him. Severus's frown deepened as he took in the steel set of the werewolf's angular jaw, and the darkness of the wolf's abnormal and haunting yellow eyes.

He was left with the distinct impression that this savage beast who resided somewhere in the thicket of the Forbidden Forest would like nothing better than to run him through with his wand. He was regarding Severus with a look that he could only describe as hatred, venom in his yellow eyes, labeling him, judging him a snake, a monster, and why wouldn't he? Severus imagined for a moment, the wolf growing his fangs and digging them into the already scarred column of his throat.

He braced himself, his entire body stiffening, but an attempted assault on his life did not come.

Wes shook his head to himself and pocketed the vial of Wolfsbane that Snape had handed over and inclined his head by way of thanks.

"Tell Dahlia that I said thank you and that I hope to see her soon, despite your clear intents to keep her from her friends, snake," he remarked in a stiff voice that was devoid of any semblance of warmth. Without another word to Severus, he spun on his heels, his head the last part of him to turn around.

Severus took note of how the werewolf's posture squared as he stalked down the cobblestoned streets of Diagon Alley. He also could not help but pay particularly close attention to the scowling vengeful look that flitted across the young wolf's lined and angular features as he threw Severus one last menacing glance over his shoulder before Disapparating from the middle of Diagon Alley with a deafening crack!

A rueful sneer flitted across Severus Snape's face as he copied the werewolf's movements, stalking down the same path the wolf had just taken, though as he turned on his heels to Disapparate, his mind flooded with thoughts of home, of seeing her. The moment his feet touched down on the solid ground again, on the front steps to his home, everything was laced with the biting feeling of cold.

The bitter air clung in the hallway around him as Severus quietly twisted open the front door to his home and stepped inside, already hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He gritted his teeth as he dug his tongue along the wall of his mouth, leaning back against the door as the door shut closed behind him.

The moment alone with the wolf had felt like it lasted entirely too long for his comfort. His robes clung to his body uncomfortably, the worn black cloth felt heavy, his body feeling fatigued and weak.

He stood silently in the entryway to his home as the seconds turned to minutes, the quietness around Severus thickening. He took a heavy hand and drug it down his face as he tried to rid himself of his anxiousness.

This was…his home. With a slight limp, an old wound in his leg flaring up from where Hagrid's ruddy three-headed brute of a dog, Fluffy, had bitten him, the drained wizard moved forward down the hallway at a slow pace. Everything around him loomed over him. He moved through the hall aimlessly.

All the poor man wanted to do at this point was to stay within the confines of his home for the rest of the day, counting down the minutes until his dinner with Dahlia. If he had one more stressful or terrifying thought, then the lonesome wizard would surely burst.

He cleared his throat, and he could tell just the sound sent a minor jolt to Dahlia's shoulders.

His nerves were still wrecked, and his throat hurt like hell, but he needed to see her, needed the reassurance she'd not leave. He found her, his Healer, standing in the kitchen near the counter at the window, her knuckles white with the effort to steady herself, her red hair aflame despite the dreariness and dim lighting of the room. She was so still for a moment that Severus began to wonder if she was even breathing at all or had accidentally managed to petrify herself somehow while he'd been with Wes.

But then she spoke his name.

"Severus," she called out to him, and he immediately cringed. She never turned around to face him, her eyes were instead fixed on some distant point outside through the window.

Severus summoned every shred of the man he knew himself to be, the man that he wished he could have been for Lily, had his circumstances been different, and everything in between. He waited for Dahlia, no, he ached for her, to call his name again. He wanted to hear her name on his lips.

And yet, he did not answer her. Not yet. He waited.

"Have you talked to Wes?" Dahlia asked when Severus did not offer up anything by way of a greeting.

"Yes," Severus answered, after a moment. Before he could stop himself, the words left his lips without any semblance of thought, and even he heard the bitterness and jealousy that was dripping from his voice. "The werewolf won't be bothering you again."

Dahlia stiffened and froze, hearing his scornful words long after he'd spoken them and she stood speechless, clutching onto the edges of the man's kitchen countertop for support, as the meaning behind his outburst slowly began to take root in her reeling mind.

"What exactly," she started, speaking slowly as the wheels in her head turned, "do you mean by that?" Slowly, Dahlia finally turned to face him, her expression serious, brown eyes austere and her lips thin and unsmiling.

Severus blinked, seemingly taken aback, and startled by his Healer's quiet, calm response and also realizing a fraction of a second too late that he had accidentally let something slip that he ought not to have done. His posture stiffened, turning hard and rigid as he took a step back away from her, half of his face now shrouded in the shadows of the room.

"Forget I said anything, Dahlia. The wolf is immaterial to our discussion," he growled in a shaking, bitter voice. Severus's voice was deep, Dahlia thought, and almost, she bit down on her tongue, sorrowful.

Jealous, even, she realized. An ache pounded in her stomach, a feeling that had not left her since he'd given her the red dahlia flower that she'd taken gentle care to set in a small blue vase on the windowsill of her bedroom since returning to his home, not since his lips had left her cheek when she had given him her consent to kiss her.

Dahlia could at first do nothing but gape in response to such an emotionless reply and knew at once that she had exposed something Severus was trying to keep well hidden from her and was ultimately failing. Dahlia's eyes snapped upward.

"Wes Walker, Severus. What did you do?" she growled, seriously and bluntly. She flat out refused to avert her gaze, although Severus continued to look away to the side, keeping his profile turned to the left, in a stoic but distant manner, refusing to let her see whatever expression he currently wore.

Throughout their interactions with one another thus far, Severus had always been the one to question her thoroughly beyond reason. Now, however, Dahlia thought that it was only fair to ask the wizard some cutting inquiries on her own, especially when it pertained to the well-being of her friends.

The disgruntled Potions Master took his sweet time in forming a reply, immediately noticing the change within his Healer's normally shy and sweet voice. His gaze seemed to transform right before her, and as result, Severus's expression became more guarded and impassive than it had before.

His mouth turned down into a grimace.

"Where is he?" Dahlia asked calmly as Severus still adamantly refused to meet her gaze, seemingly not able to fully register the witch's quiet words as they wafted through the air and lingered in his ringing eardrums.

"He is where he should be, Dahlia. Back in the throes of the Forbidden Forest, I suspect." His words were unflinching as he spat them as though he's swallowed poison.

Dahlia exhaled loudly, barely repressing the groan that threatened to escape the back of her throat as she pinched her fingers to the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes tiredly. She had already suspected that something had transpired between the two men, considering Severus's current reluctance to look her in the eye, but she still was not sure she wanted to give a voice to the question that now lingered on her tongue just begging to be asked.

But she knew she needed to get the question out to get to the bottom of this.

"You—you threatened him, didn't you, Severus? You did," she hissed angrily, narrowing her eyes as she took in the sight of Severus's face rapidly paling in color, rendering his complexion sallow. "You intimidated Wes, Severus!" Dahlia whispered in a hoarse voice, guessing somehow what had happened from his initial discomfort in her company now. "How could you do such a thing?" she demanded angrily.

"How could I, Hawthorne?" Severus replied, his quiet voice now quivering like a crack of thunder as he turned slowly on his heels to look at Dahlia's incredulous expression with a sideways glance, his black hair falling across his forehead that he swiped out of the way with a swift slide of his thumb and a huff of irritation. "A witch-like yourself is not meant to be keeping the company of wild werewolves. Man lives in the Forbidden Forest, for God's sake! Wolves are dangerous!" he growled as his expression clouded.

Dahlia rolled her eyes and stomped her foot angrily, a temporary release of her frustration. She was more than aware she probably looked like a petulant child thrown a temper tantrum, but she didn't care.

"I will decide who I spend my free time with, thank you very much! I might be your Healer, Severus, but I'm not your—your slave!" she stammered, feeling her voice rise to match her growing anger as the familiar hot fire-seed of her temper welled within her chest. "You have no control, no right, to dictate who my friends are. If I want to see him, then I've every right, and who are you to stop me, Snape?"

Something like guilt flashed across his face.

"I saved your life, Hawthorne," he spat.

"Yes, you did, Severus, I'm not denying that," Dahlia agreed. "I just wish that you could trust me," she pleaded, biting down on her bottom lip, furiously blinking back the onset of angry tears she was sure would slip from her lids at any given moment. "Wes Walker is just a friend. Nothing more, and nothing less than that, Severus," she protested pleadingly. "I've always helped anyone who came into my care, regardless of what they were or were not. Wolves like Remus Lupin and Wes Walker already don't have many resources to survive in this world without fearing for their lives. I know Minister Shacklebolt is working tirelessly to enact changes that will make lives easier for them and undo the Senior Undersecretary's Anti-Werewolf Legislation Act. But that doesn't mean the public is going to approve of it right away. You treat werewolves like Wes Walker with cruelty and hatred when you should be attempting to get to know them instead. A man like you with your skills and connections could make their lives so much easier, and perhaps this could be the start of changing the viewpoints of werewolves in society, Severus, but you have to trust me when I tell you that Wes Walker is just a friend to me, one that I need to help," she added with a sneer as she thought of the pink-loving old hag of a witch.

Dolores Umbridge, who Dahlia had heard many things of throughout the last few years during her time in St. Mungo's, was not kind towards any witch or wizard who was not a pureblood, at least what she knew of her, which was admittedly limited information, and only learned whenever a werewolf would come to her for Wolfsbane or treatment of their injuries post a transformation.

She shivered and shoved thoughts of the witch to the back of her mind. She looked away and a tear trailed down her cheek. Dahlia reached up with her hand and angrily wiped at her nose with her sleeve.

A sinking feeling burgeoned in the pit of his stomach as Severus lifted his gaze to Dahlia. His heart hurt to see her in such pain. It swelled with pride at the thought of the witch's tenderness and mercy.

He could not understand how this woman could be almost moved to tears at the plight of a wild werewolf that Dahlia had only just met. She astonished him.

Dahlia Hawthorne, despite her tragic past and growing up with a bastard wretch of a father like Hans, had grown to be one of the most caring individuals in his life.

Not thinking, nor caring how it seemed, he took her hand and squeezed onto the appendage.

He did not want her to leave. He wanted her and her smile to stay, and because of him, and if that meant entertaining the possibility of attempting to set aside old grudges, then so be it. He frowned.

"You say this wolf is just a friend?" Severus growled. A few shaky breaths later, he strode towards the witch and took hold of her, pressing Dahlia back and back until she bumped against the edge of his countertop. "Swear it," he demanded. "You look me in the eyes and swear the wolf is just a friend to you, and I…give you my word that I will make an effort to try to get along with the dog, Dahlia."

Dahlia frowned at the use of such derogatory slang to describe Wes, but considering the vexed mood he was already in, let it go for now. She sighed and lifted her gaze and dared to look, deep into the fathomless black pits that were his eyes.

"I swear it," she whispered in a meek voice. But Severus did not release her.

If anything, the wizard's grip on her seemed to tighten further. Dahlia looked deep into Severus's eyes and was caught by the intensity of his gaze, it was fierce, smoldering, and somewhat protective, if not perhaps a little bit possessive, but there was a part of her that did not deny she ached for the attention and care that she never got from the likes of Father, at least not the kind that meant a damn.

Without hesitation, she stared back at him. Their eyes held one another for longer than should have been comfortable. However, neither one of them wanted to move, as if breaking their gazes would steal something they'd never have again. Something far too precious to take lightly.

Dahlia felt herself leaning in closer to Severus, surprising even herself at her boldness.

She wanted his kiss on her mouth, to feel his lips move in sync with hers. She could almost feel his caress on her body. She wanted it, ached for it.

Her brain raced wildly to determine when exactly it was she began to have these wildly inappropriate thoughts for her patient, to need Severus Snape so close to her at all times.

Perhaps right from the start, but his wounds had taken up much of her time and attention to think of anything else. But the man was making remarkable progress and healing at a fast rate.

His voice was not as hoarse as it was in the beginning, and with any luck, his normal voice would return to him within another fortnight.

No man, save for Father, had looked at her the way that Severus Snape was looking at her now.

Never, had she seen such dark eyes that followed her with a look of hungered lust. She was sure she had never felt so thrilled, and so completely terrified at the same time.

But a part of her did not want to let down the walls of her heart for the likes of Severus Snape, almost cruelly. And what would Father say to her if he could see her like this? Dahlia choked back the unpleasant thought and bid herself not to think of the wizard who had hurt her so painfully.

The father who had wanted his daughter in a way that no man ever should, with her, holding her hand, caressing her hair in far too intimate of a way, staring deeply and threateningly into her eyes.

And now, for the first time, Dahlia thought perhaps it might be truly possible to leave Hans Hawthorne in the past, where the man belonged.

Now that Father was dead, she could give herself freely to Severus if he would have her. Dahlia's eyes widened as she found herself shocked by how much she wanted to do just that.

At the same moment that her heart began to flutter with new and exciting possibilities, her mind also screamed at her and appealed to her more cautious nature that she had been forced to adapt to survive her father's physical and mental abuse growing up.

What in Merlin's name was she bloody thinking? The man was her patient, even though she did not work for St. Mungo's anymore, considering she was about to work for Minerva McGonagall as a member of her staff for Hogwarts, would her future colleagues look favorably on the fact if they were to dare enter into a romantic relationship? Would it not be seen as a conflict of interest?

Though Severus Snape was as different from her disgusting father as night was to the day, and she doubted this man could ever do to her what Hans had done, the thought of letting another wizard into her life and in such an intimate way terrified Dahlia. She was not sure if she could trust or love him. She had already allowed herself to be too vulnerable around Severus on a few occasions.

She could not and would not make a fool of herself.

Dahlia wrenched her arm out of Severus's touch and leaned back against the countertop.

Severus did not protest, nor did he try to keep his hold on her wrist. A selfish part of him wanted nothing more at that moment than to wrap the witch in his arms and fence her protectively in his embrace, forever, absorbing her radiance and heat for himself. He wanted to make good on his promise that he had spoken to her last night while she was asleep, that he could show her a man's touch did not have to hurt if she'd let him. Severus understood how deeply Dahlia had been hurt.

If Hans Hawthorne were still alive and had been present in the room with them now, he would have gutted the wretch with the tip of his wand, making good use of his Sectumsempra curse, watching the light leave the wizard's eyes. But he would not take advantage of the witch's weakness, he told himself. He'd wait until she was ready. When and if Dahlia gave herself to him, then it would be on her terms and there would not nothing and no one between them.

More than a little bit eager to change the direction of their interaction, Dahlia remembered that Professor McGonagall was expecting them in her office in a little while.

Perhaps, if she broke the news to him gently that she had accepted the position as Head Matron for the Hospital Wing, Severus wouldn't take note of how her face was now flushed pink with color, or how her chest was currently heaving with the rush of her breath, how she'd almost succumbed and kissed him.

"I…I have to tell you something," Dahlia whispered, suddenly hesitant and unsure of where to begin. She chewed on the wall of her mouth and painfully dug her long fingernails into the tender flesh of her palms as she averted his gaze.

All of Severus's senses were immediately on high alert. He straightened, reaching for her arm again.

"What's happened?" he asked, doing his best not to sound demanding or hurt, but he did not like the distant clouded look in his Healer's dark eyes. He realized, suddenly, that Dahlia was trembling now, biting down hard on her lip. "What?" Severus asked again, frowning as he studied her. "What is it?"

Severus grew quiet and intense, steeling herself for whatever it was that she had to say to him. He was more than tempted to probe her thoughts, to learn for himself what was troubling Dahlia so much, but barely resisted the call. She blew out a shuddering breath as she looked into his eyes.

"I…" Her voice was barely a whisper, and if he'd not already been hanging onto her every word, he would have likely missed that she'd spoken entirely. "I accepted a position at—at Hogwarts," she stammered. "Ah, your Healer for your Hospital Wing is retiring, and Headmistress McGonagall, she—she offered me the position yesterday when she...showed up at the graveyard, when she asked to speak to me alone, Severus. I did so because…" she trailed off, suddenly looking shy and glancing down at her feet, at anywhere but at him. "So I could…be near you, I—I suppose. To…monitor your progress as you continue to heal," Dahlia stammered. When she did finally look up, Severus's face seemed blank.

Only the shimmer in his black eyes could hint at the emotional effect her confession that she would be working alongside him come September was having on him. He caught her stare and Dahlia immediately reverted her gaze, and pulled away, unable to bear the intensity of his stare.

At that moment, she realized she could love him. That was, she could finally let herself dare to try to love another man who wasn't her twisted psychopath of a father whose 'love' was dominance.

He scowled at her, which was not admittedly the reaction she'd expected.

"Is that the only reason? To monitor my health, Hawthorne?" he growled. Severus's voice was cold, tearing Dahlia out of her thoughts.

She grimaced and pulled a face. And now, somehow and for some reason, he was annoyed with her, maybe even angry, had completely misinterpreted her reasons for accepting the position. He was a fragile beast of a man, this Potions Master. Dahlia felt a blush creep up her cheeks.

"I….I want to...be near you. I took the job so that I could…get closer to you," she confessed shyly.

There. She'd said it. Merlin, great, now he would pull away, and then that would be that.

She bit down on her bottom lip hard and tried to think of something to say that might supplicate him some as she nervously lifted her gaze to his.

Much to her surprise, Severus was looking at Dahlia as though she weren't real, as though she were nothing but a figment of his imagination. As if she would fade from existence at any moment. Her first impression of the look was that it was sweet, but there was something sad in his expression, too.

Severus was waiting for her to abandon him, tasting the air for the rejection that he thought was sure to come. Looking into the man's stricken and pale face was like watching the end of the world beginning to unfold. Severus looked as though he had something to say to her, but he hesitated, gnawing at his lip, and shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Finally, Snape seemed to settle on the words that he wanted to say to her right now.

"I…hoped that you would accept the role," he murmured, glancing at her and then quickly away, as if afraid to read Dahlia's expression. "Hogwarts could use a witch of your…considerable skill," Severus confessed quietly.

"I-I know it seems ridiculous," Dahlia began, growing increasingly more nervous the longer Severus looked at her as though he were imagining her with no clothes on, his gaze intense. "But I…" She chewed on her lip, thinking over her words, and finally decided to throw caution to the wind and let her heart speak for her. "I'm lonely. My family is all dead. I've no friends to speak of. Not really. My work as a Healer kept me entirely too busy to form those kinds of connections, and half of my time was spent feeling trapped in the Dai Llewyn Ward. All my life, there have been things expected of me that I don't want, and have never wanted, and the things that I do want are disliked and disapproved of. I imagine you feel the same."

Dahlia looked up at him, silently praying that Severus would see something in her face, specifically, in her eyes, that would soothe whatever troubling thoughts that were currently running through his mind and causing him to have doubts that she would leave his side.

"I think…you might be one of the only people so far who understands the sort of sadness that I feel, in all my thirty-four years of living," Dahlia admitted, her tone slightly bitter, though she gave her head a curt shake to rid her mind of the dark thoughts now flitting through her mind. "I think you might be one of the only people I know who knows what it feels like to be surrounded by hundreds of people and yet still feel entirely alone. I think…you're tired of being alone, Severus Snape. And if I'm being honest, so am I."

Dahlia shrugged a little and swallowed down hard past a lump in her throat before continuing.

"So…I—I can't name what this is, Severus, what I think that I might be…feeling for you, and I can't make you any sort of promises as to what my future holds—and I wouldn't, even if I felt that I could. Because a lot can change as time goes on, but I agreed to heal you, Severus, and stay with you, because I wanted…you. Companionship, not because I was forced into this by Minerva McGonagall and our Minister, or for any reason that you might be thinking. I stay with you because I want to. I agreed to dinner with you tonight because I wanted to. There's no need for you to be jealous of Wes, Severus. Does that answer any of your questions?" Dahlia asked softly.

Severus exhaled, an audible deep sigh of relief, and the tension seeped out of him considerably.

"Well enough, for now, Dahlia," he muttered. And then, something truly amazing happened. He smiled down at her as he approached. Not a smirk, but an honest-to-god genuine smile.

Albeit a soft one, but it was a real smile, nonetheless, meant for her and her alone. A smile that Dahlia knew she would always cherish in its uniqueness. He hesitantly pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and his smile widened somewhat when she did not pull away, leaning into his chest instead.

"Would that we had all the time in the world, Hawthorne, but I think Minerva will be calling for us. She's expecting the entirety of her staff to show, and we will be sorely missed if we don't attend. But…" He hesitated, reaching for her hand, and gave the delicate appendage a gentle squeeze. "Considering you've never attended Hogwarts, it can be a bit overwhelming your first time. If there's enough time following the staff debriefing, perhaps you would like a tour of the grounds before our dinner?" he murmured smoothly. "Will the lovely witch grace a foul snake with her company for an hour or two?"

She frowned, furrowing her brows into a frown, and gave his hand a slight pinch, hard enough to hurt. He pulled a face but made no move to pull his hand from her grasp as her fingers curled over top his.

If anything, his grip on her hand tightened, which Dahlia appreciated and was secretly thrilled by.

"Only if the snake no longer refers to himself as such in my presence. Merlin, Severus, but you don't see what I see, and I...wish that you could see yourself as I do. I would like that, for you to show me the school, but please...for my sake, please don't call yourself names anymore," Dahlia pleaded, sticking out her lip in a slight pout.

"You would want that? To truly...be with me, Hawthorne?" Severus was almost in disbelief as he quirked a brow at her incredulously. "I was under the impression that you hated me, Dahlia." he frowned at her.

"As you hate me, Severus." Dahlia was almost half-smiling. "But tonight, we pretend as though we like each other, and…see where it goes from there, Sev." She gave his fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

Severus was too busy almost choking on his breath to refute her suggestion. She'd called him Sev, just as Lily had. Had she meant it or was it merely a slip of the tongue? It had sounded so natural, rolling off her tongue like that. She hadn't even blinked or looked uncomfortable or hesitated in the slightest. Did he dare to hope that she could ever think to have him in the way he knew he wanted?

Severus blinked owlishly at the beautiful witch, wondering if he had misheard Dahlia just now, a name that he had long since hoped to forget, and for a moment, felt a seeping strange pressure in his chest as it dented and almost rendered him unable to breathe, but then he realized that it held a different connotation coming from the likes of Dahlia Hawthorne. That this was a witch that he might have a potential future with, a second chance at the love of a good woman that he was not about to waste.

Severus almost laughed and lifted his rough hands to Dahlia's cool cheeks. The Healer and Potions Master decided to linger in the anchorage of their warmth, their foreheads leaning against one another, their lips in a near-lock, and their fingertips intertwined until Dahlia broke the silence—begrudgingly.

"We should go. If we go early, then…maybe we could take me on a tour of the school before we're supposed to meet with the Headmistress?" Dahlia suggested, suddenly shy, with a sudden playful lilt to her voice that had not been there before as she lifted her gaze to him and wiggled her brows at Severus in a flirtatious way, unaware of how it was affecting him, warming him.

Severus did not need to be asked twice.

Dahlia shivered as he took her by the hand and led her towards outside, to the front steps of his home.

Suddenly, she felt the warm prickle of his magic run up her arms. She saw out of the corner of her gaze how Severus's shoulders stiffened with surprise, as she was almost sure some involuntary magic of her own had reached out and touched him just now without her bidding.

A sudden urge to kiss the wizard almost overtook her senses as the quiet heat of the man's intense stare that burned her cheeks and insides hotter than any dragon fire could ever flame spoke of similar feelings without Severus Snape having to utter a single word to her.

Their faces slowly drifted closer on opposing currents set to collide.

"Take me there, Severus," she whispered shyly before the man's gaze could catch her on fire.

Without any warning, Severus yanked Dahlia roughly to his chest and she felt the sudden rushing of the wind as he Disapparated away from Spinner's End and to the one place she'd always wanted to go.

Hogwarts.

EILEEN Snape's eyes vented in an unimaginable torment as she wished she had never possessed keen eyesight. Right there and then, the witch wished that she could make it all vanish, but she couldn't.

Everything was real, what her eyes had just set upon was real. She had been standing in front of her former home here in Spinner's End now for hours, meditating like death, pondering what she would say to her son when she first saw him, and to the little Hawthorne witch.

Eileen had looked away, wishing to burn away the image of her son looking almost tenderly into the face of Hans Hawthorne's daughter, how the witch's slender fingers curled around her son's bicep, how her head leaned against his shoulder, and his arm drifted around her waist in kind as the pair Disapparated off the front stoop of her home.

The moment Eileen Snape opened her eyes, she was left in devastation to find them gone.

She was confident Severus had disappeared into a place they designed to be alone to consume the remainder of the afternoon and perhaps likely into the night. As the cool spring air crept against Eileen's skin, she sighed and forced her numbing feet back down the street with the intent to Apparate to her new home in Tinworth, where she could temporarily forget this problem with a sizable glass of Firewhisky until the morning, when she hoped to speak to the Hawthorne witch alone and then her son.

But she would likely never be able to sleep tonight thinking of how her son would likely fall in love with this witch of a mad man who was sure to be just like Hans. Why Dahlia? Why a slag of a witch whom everyone detested and spoke of her like a disease? What tomorrow would bring would be unknown.

She knew that she would face her son in the morning as if she had never witnessed anything and would never speak of what she had seen with her own eyes. She frowned, thinking that she would go to her grave one day to accept that her son was falling in love with a wretched disgusting Hawthorne, but then perhaps this was as good as it would get for Severus, considering his life choices.

A part of Eileen was almost ashamed that together, Dahlia Hawthorne and Severus looked too perfect. A snake and an eagle, made Eileen want to tear her eyes out.

Were that Severus would take an interest in any other woman but this one, she would be over the moon and thrilled at the prospect of her son's happiness, but not this…bitch. Eileen crept out of Spinner's End as silent as the phantom she knew herself to be and prepared to Disapparate at the neighborhood's edge before any of their neighbors could take note of the hatred in her eyes, how red and flushed her skin was as thoughts of all things she wanted to say to Hans's daughter came to mind.

And thus, before she could imagine more of her son's defeat in the arms of that witch, she fled, turning on her heels and vanishing, her mind racing fast with so many possibilities of what to do about her son and the girl.