While the chatter in the corridors was all about Neville's boggart, the chatter amongst the staff was about the dementors and how Azkaban had sent more of them in response to a string of possible Sirius Black sightings in Dufftown, not far from Hogwarts.
As the next full moon rolled around, everyone was both on edge and worn out by the constant dreariness of the castle. It was a rainy Friday morning when Hazel took a little-known shortcut that saved her several flights of stairs, emerging from behind a painting of Amara the Wise, who had fallen down a well and granted wishes to Muggles in exchange for help escaping. She'd been burned at the stake when she fed an entire village, curing a child in the crowd of dragon pox as a lact act of mercy. The dungeons looked even darker today, with no light at all filtering in from the lake.
An artificial light spilled onto the floor from a small door down the hall. She'd hardly ever seen it open. Professor Slughorn kept it locked whenever he wasn't in the room, only granting the key to his most trusted students if he needed them to run out for more ingredients in the middle of a lesson. It was rare for him not to have what he needed in the storeroom next to his office. She supposed Sev was the same way.
He was balanced on a ladder, cataloguing things on the top shelves. "Death adder venom," he mumbled, adding it to a running list. "Good morning." She'd seen him a few hours ago at breakfast, but now they were both on a quick break before their next classes.
"Hi." Hazel stopped in the doorway, watching as he rifled through a box. "How do you always know when it's me?"
"I just do. Besides, I can see you from up here. You are welcome to walk in here, it's hardly forbidden." He was still focused on trying to find something, giving her ver little of his attention.
"What about all of the kids who would definitely try to steal some of this stuff? Aren't you going to keep track of who's been in here?"
"I doubt you are the type to steal from this room… anymore. I do seem to remember a couple of precocious potioneers who would break into Professor Slughorn's personal stores fairly often." He climbed down, Hazel suddenly aware of how small the Potions Storeroom was. It had seemed a lot bigger the first time Professor Slughorn had given her the key, sending her off to grab more lacewing flies in the middle of class. It felt like it took forever to find anything in there, but now it was just an average broom closet, albeit a little taller. "Are you looking for something?"
She leaned against one of the shelves, confessing, "I was looking for you, actually. I normally work in spells, but I want to show the first-years a ghost cleansing ritual - for the non-malevolent and not-too-troublesome ones, you know? Pomona's out of Angelica root, and I figured you might have some."
He thought for a second before climbing the ladder, passing her down a handful of the dried stems. "Will that work?"
"Perfect. Thanks, Sev."
Both of them lingered for a little longer than they normally would have. Finally Snape spoke, pocketing the list that he had been making. "What are you doing later on today?"
"Working?" she smiled, holding up the dried Angelica root. "I have the first years, then lunch, then the second years and my N.E.W.T. class to round out the afternoon. Oh, and I was going to stop by and visit Remus before moonrise. Why?"
He shook his head, holding the door open for her. "No reason. I - I'll see you at lunch."
"Yeah, I'll see you later," she frowned, wondering what was on his mind as she climbed back up to her office through the secret passageway.
She didn't have to wait very long to find out. Sev was supremely distracted through lunch and ended up missing dinner, even though he'd only picked at his food earlier in the day. Hazel didn't think too much of it at first, since he was busy with his O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. classes that afternoon and, as he always seemed to be, incredibly tired. She'd just left Remus and settled in with a book when there was a knock in her door. It couldn't have been Remus following her - the moon was rising, and he'd made her lock him in his office as she left.
A very worn-out Sev stood in front of the door, a book in his hands. "Sorry to bother you," he said, noticing that she'd changed into her pajamas and looked like she was winding down for the day. "I found this in my personal library and thought you might like it."
"Ghosts and Ghouls of Great Britain, Fifth Edition," she read, turning the book over in her hands. "Thanks, Sev. I've been meaning to hunt this down in the library for ages." One look at him told her that she had to ask. "Do you want to come in for a bit?"
They sat up talking for a while, but when they both started to yawn, Hazel realized why he was back. Of course. It was a full moon. "You can stay, if you want," she offered. "If it would make you feel better. I do have a sofa."
"Why would I be worried?" He was a little too defensive. "There's nothing to worry about."
"I never said you were worried, which means you are," she answered with a sly smile. "Sev, I see you in the corridors. I sit next to you in the Great Hall. I drop by the dungeons on occasion. But you only show up here this late at night when there's a full moon. I think you're worried about Remus, and I'm the only one who knows you're still… uneasy about werewolves, and I think you'd rather not be alone when there's a werewolf in the castle, even if he's completely harmless, because no matter what you still see the thing that almost killed you when you were a kid. Not to mention Sirius Black and the dementors and all."
He stared into the fire, sighed, and finally asked, "You wouldn't mind?"
"No, you're welcome to stay if it'll make you feel better." She stood, waving her wand and summoning a pile of pillows and blankets. "Bathroom's right off of my room, if you want to change while I get this all set up."
He disappeared for a second, returning in dark pajamas that she could tell he'd hung onto for a few years. "Thank you," he said, coming over to give her an awkward hug.
Hazel smiled, telling him again not to worry. "It's fine, Sev. I'll leave my door open in case you need anything."
It didn't feel like they had been asleep for long before Hazel woke up, hearing someone talking. She lit her wand, walking out into the living room to find Sev talking in his sleep. "Please don't - not werewolves, anything but - please don't hurt -"
"Sev." She crouched down next to him, shaking his shoulder as gently as she could. He bolted up, Hazel telling him, "It's fine, it's me." He blinked, registering where he was, that he was safe with her. "Werewolves?"
"Yeah," he managed as Hazel waved her wand to reignite the dying fire. "Sorry I woke you up." She sat on the sofa beside him, Sev moving a bit to make room for her. "I usually take a Potion for Dreamless Sleep during full moons, or at least I have since the start of term. I know you're not supposed to take them very often, so I've been trying to taper off, but…" He shrugged, the silence telling her all she needed to know.
In that moment, she saw the same scared fifth-year who would sleep on the sofa in Ravenclaw Tower sometimes, or send her owls in the middle of the night when he'd woken from a particularly bad nightmare. He wasn't the hardened Death Eater (Though was he ever? Were any of them?) or the repentant man who had marched into the Wizengamot to petition for his freedom knowing that he may have had his soul removed right there, or the stoic professor that was the bane of half of the students at Hogwarts. He was the boy who would show up to breakfast exhausted the morning after a full moon, afraid that the werewolf would find its way into the castle and hunt him down. No one would mind if he sat next to Hazel at breakfast, the Ravenclaws moving over to make room for him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't - it's been ages. I shouldn't still be like this."
"You're not allowed to be afraid of anything?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. It was a tone she had stolen from Dumbledore, the tone he adopted when he would ask her something so obvious to get over a roadblock she'd put up in her own mind.
"I shouldn't be," he said, steadying himself. "Not werewolves, of all things. I've seen much worse."
"That's not how our brains work," she told him matter-of-factly. "I still have nightmares about coming home for Mum's funeral. And Dad's. I've seen a hell of a lot worse as an Auror. I've done so much worse as an Auror. But we were kids when that stuff happened. Younger than we were when I went to the Auror Office and you went to the Death Eaters, anyway. It sticks with you. I'll tell you what," she gave him a weary smile, "I'm exhausted. I'm sure you are too. We both need sleep. Why don't you take the other side of the bed, so you're really not alone?"
He was hesitant. He wanted to insist that he was fine, that the werewolves and dementors and the looming promise of Sirius Black's return hadn't been bothering him all term. But the tenderness in her voice, the genuine concern on her face in the firelight, overtook all of it. So he followed her, though he insisted on taking the side closer to the door.
When he woke up in the morning, the first thing he realized was that he hadn't had any more nightmares about werewolves. Or anything else for that matter. The second thing he realized, the moment he opened his eyes, was that he wasn't alone. Hazel was still asleep, sunlight illuminating the flame-colored hair that had fallen into her face. The third thing he realized was that one of them had reached out for the other in their sleep, and they were still somewhat holding hands. He'd woken like this before, back when they'd been together. Since then he'd had the occasional dream about it, but always woke up alone in the cold dungeons.
As he lay there, he decided not to move, afraid of waking her and afraid of admitting that he rather liked this. It was a lot more comforting than the emptiness of his rooms in the dungeons. Though he didn't want to admit it, he'd missed her. He'd missed this, even though he had no clue what this was. But he did know that he felt better than he had all term, and that she had the unique ability to make him smile no matter how bad of a mood he was in.
When he felt her starting to stir, he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Very slowly, he opened his eyes just enough to see her smile for a second. She squeezed his hand lightly before getting up as carefully as possible so she wouldn't wake him. He could hear her walking around for a bit, humming to herself. Something by the Weird Sisters, though he would never be able to remember the name of the song. Eventually she left the room, so he sat up and stretched, looking around for a second before going to find her.
"G'morning," she smiled, pouring cups of coffee for both of them. "How'd you sleep?"
"Better than I have in a long time. Thank you." He took one of the mugs from her, hesitating for a moment. "Erm, Hazel, would you, well, there are two nights where the moon is full. Would you mind…?"
"Of course not. Now I've got to get ready for breakfast and be off to oversee the Hogsmeade trip, but I should be back well before dark. Maybe I'll see if I can pick up some butterbeer. Oh, is there anything you'd want from Honeyduke's?"