Chapter 25


He is not above staring.

He never has been, neither does he think that he will ever be. Thus, he stares at her.

From the very moment that he locates her, he stares at her, for the simple reason that he came to see her. Her letter brought him to her and until he has fill, he will keep staring at her.

Or rather, he would have kept staring at her if Molly wasn't insistently looking to steal his attention away from her.

He has patience.


26Chapters


When he has the opportunity to look her way again, she is sitting too many seats away from him. He'd stood by the table, waiting for everyone to take their chosen seats and when there remained only one place, he took it. It's too far from hers, of course, but that is no matter when in place of proximity, he is rewarded with her eyes.

Unlike the first time when she'd remained oblivious to his entrance, their eyes have met now. He is currently able to see the colour of hers, just as she is able to see the colour of his from where she is. Neither of them attempt to look away in the beginning, giving their visual contact a feel of quiet salutation -a cool welcome perhaps.

To his interest, freshly aroused a mere moment later, he discovers a particular about them being mutually aware of one another. Upon realisation, he just slightly raises his eyebrows, questioning himself for an explanation mostly. He would have contained the particular discovery to his end only, had she not hastily shifted her eyes from his.

If that's not a tell, then he is surely going mad.

If he is going mad, though, he will direct his attention to eating.

For now, lunch can be served and whoever feels up to it can try and engage him in a conversation.

He will allow it.


26Chapters


He is beginning to suspect that she knows what she's doing, that she has been fully aware of him from the very beginning.

Two separate times now, he's watched Potter and then the girl talk to her while looking directly at him, but she did nothing to look his way. When he has been looking at her whenever it pleased him to do so, he cannot deny her heart's desire. And if her heart's desire is to behave as though she cannot take hints about him, so be it.

She may do as she pleases, however, she shouldn't be as foolish as to believe that he is not able to see what she's doing.

He shall wait.


26Chapters


'Did you enjoy yourself, Severus?'

The woman only asks, and yet he has the strangest feeling that she'd be glad to envelope him into the embrace that will fill him up, if he happened to not have enjoyed himself. Should she try such a thing, he will surely take a step back, away from her reach.

'I did,' he answers, stealthily taking the step just in case. 'Thank you, Molly.'

Short of squealing, Molly beams at him, suggesting, 'Then you should come more often, don't you think?'

'Hmm,' he replies, non-committed to the prospect.

He would not like to be tangled into lunch with the Weasleys at any point in his life. Wonderful people though they might be, his life has made him used to himself only and tolerable company. If he had to live through lunch with them, it would be akin to service in the Death Eater clan - involuntary.

'Wonderful!' she exclaims. 'I look forward to seeing you more often.'

He does not.


26Chapters


He had planned on a meeting with her before he left. That he finds himself walking into the kitchen with her being the only one inside it, is according to plan. What is not according to plan, though, is the distinct sense of memory that comes over him; the Hogwarts kitchen -the last place where they spoke openly.

'Miss Granger,' he announces himself.

'Professor Snape,' comes from her without her changing her position.

It's no shocking thing to him that she is not turning away to meet him, when she has been doing her best to avoid him all day. In fact, it only makes him more determined to go up to her and mirror her position at the sink. Little by little, he will eliminate her hiding avenues until he gets to the bottom of her hiding.

'Dishes,' he comments next to her, keeping his eyes on her face.

How else should he strike up a conversation?

'You came to lunch,' she returns, still keeping her attention on the dishes in the sink.

Refusing to look at him, she can do until she turns blue in the face, she cannot, however, keep his eyes from her.

'I do eat,' he returns.

'I had no idea, Professor.'

Ah, a joke.

Should he smile, perhaps? Does she expect him to? And seeing as she will not look at him, would it be wise to smile if she won't see it? It's that while he likes that she didn't hesitate to make the joke, that she didn't take a moment to gauge whether he would appreciate it or not, he is not in the same mind of ease. Perhaps if he reads her face, he'd know what to do.

To capture her full attention, he brings out his wand to clear up the dishes which she is so adamant on keeping her. The effect is not the desired one, compelling him to use a verbal method as well.

'Look at me, Miss Granger.'

What it is about this girl that has him doing things that he wouldn't normally do, he will never be able to say. He does not scare her, that is certain, but even so, he wouldn't have exerted this much attention on another student. There are times when she makes him feel as though he needs her, when that's not the case at all.

Thankfully, she faces him and he takes the opportunity to study her quickly. Her face first, and then the general state of her body. Well, he wouldn't be able to note the difference in her body, because he never noted it before. If she's lost or gained weight, it would be lost on him. He only knows that she's no longer the short and small girl who started Hogwarts.

'You look unharmed,' he evenly settles on, moving his eyes back to her face.

'I haven't had any problems, Professor,' she begins. 'I don't feel at all strange, but I suppose that I will only know once I am back to school. I can use my magic there and if there's anything that I can't do, then I'll know if my magic is affected.'

Oh, good, they've come upon familiar ground, if her enthusiasm is something of significance to go by.

'You will let me know, if that is the case?'

With a strong frown, she looks at him, appearing as though she understand what he just said to her. Not being an idiot, she is sure to have grasped what she said, except, she must have some sort of qualm with it.

He needs to know, 'What is it?'

'Nothing,' she dismisses.

Nothing, if she would like to know, does not look that way. Nothing is unable to place a frown on her face. No, this girl is withholding from him and it has to do with his offer.

'Do you perhaps think that I do not care whether your magic is affected or not?' he digs for the reason.

'I don't know,' she lies, being obvious enough to look away as she does.

'You do know, it seems.'

That confirmation proves to be enough to return her to him, because while she at first looks uncertain, she replies with, 'When I told you about Thestrals, you didn't seem to care.'

'I did care,' he tells her in earnest, not allowing any moment to pass before he answers.

If it's to do with that, he will not muck around. There's nothing like death and everything associated with it, and coming straight from a point of torture before this lunch himself, he understands the need for assurance. He may not ever have experienced that much needed assurance, but more than anyone, he intimately understands the dire need for it.

Her face communicates that she would like to believe him, but she'll need an explanation as to why he did nothing then. He would've begun to tell her that he'd been unsure of what to do for her then, if not for the shuffling feet at the kitchen entrance, causing them to look that way and away from each other.

'Hermione, are you finished with the dishes yet? We want to start already.'

Weasley is clearly paying him no mind, the way he is strictly fixing his attention on Miss Granger. As if he'd ever be bothered to not receive attention from Weasley.

'I'm finished,' she tells the boy.

'Then let's go,' he invites with a beckoning hand.

'I'm coming,' she says but doesn't make the move to go.

Weasley must not understand her behaviour, because he still pushes, 'Let's go then.'

'I'll be right there, Ronald! I don't need to leave with you.'

Hearing that, the boy's face changes and for the first time since he entered the kitchen, looks at him. He'd appreciate it very much if he was not brought into their spat, for he has nothing to do with it. By the silent look of accusation on Weasley's face, as if to say that he's the one keeping Miss Granger in place, it does not appear that he will be kept out of it. Nonetheless, for curiosity's sake, he will remain where he is. And say nothing, of course.

'But we don't want to start without you,' Weasley turns back to her.

'I said, I'll be right there,' she hotly returns. 'Besides, I don't even play, what does it matter if I'm a little late?'

'It matters!'

Disbelieving, she cries, 'How?'

'It bloody well does matter and you know it!'

'No, it doesn't!' her voice raises. 'You only want me there to cheer for you, because Ginny will be cheering for Harry. You know how I feel about wizard chess!'

'That's never stopped you before!'

'That's why I said that I'll be there, didn't I?'

'That's what I'm saying as well,' Weasley continues to insist. 'What difference does it make, you going with me and coming after me? It's all the same, isn't it?'

'It's not the same,' she replies. 'I need to speak to Professor Snape, Ronald. Now, if you'll excuse us, we'll be outside!'

As soon as the words leave her mouth and fill the air, just as he is taking them in, she stalks out of the kitchen, leaving him to realise that in a way, she just summoned him to follow her while leaving Weasley deserted.

This girl.

He could laugh, but he won't. He is, after all, summoned. Priorities.

Making a show of it, mostly to irritate the deserted boy, he promptly follows after her, his strides long enough to catch up with her –two steps behind, really- just as she is leaving through the front door. In her anger, she roughly pushes the door closed, making him quickly move out of the way. Later, when he replays this moment in his head, he'll see how foolish the scene looked; what with him rushing and nearly ducking out of the way.

This girl makes him do the most uncharacteristic of things when it occurs to her to be upset. He wonders, just how much more would she have him under her control if she put her mind to it? And look, she's led him close to where the others are, taking an empty round stone table –perfectly in her element. Without being told to, he takes the cue to sit down as she takes her seat. Strangely, he does not feel like a follower in all of this. In fact, the whole situation is amusing to him.

'He did that on purpose!' she says, turning to him.

'Miss Granger,' is all he says.

No one can blame him for simply being able to only say her name at a time like this, when he face speaks of her seethe. Someone has to bring her back to rationality, do they not?

'Oh,' she appears to realise something, for her expression shifts dramatically to that of recognition. 'I'm sorry for using you to get rid of him, Professor.'

Never mind that argument. If they were to dwell on it, she might just become agitated all over again. A change of subject will do; whether smooth or crude.

'Before, you were telling me that I didn't care,' he reminds her.

Nodding, seemingly better in state now, she responds with, 'You said that you did.'

'I do,' he corrects.

Now, he did not say that to produce a smile from her, but magic, he's touched that the effect is that. It's all too reminiscent of that particular from earlier when their eyes met. He'd stored that for later exploration, but if she insists on smiling at him, he will be forced to start testing what it really is about them that arouses that particular.

'They're staring,' she all of a sudden looks over his shoulder to say.

And then, because his life is what it is, a real summons from the Dark Lord makes itself known on his skin. From that first day when Albus made him ignore the burn, he has learnt to accept its burn. He no longer emotionally feels the pain of it, even though it's designed to be painful so as not to prolong the appearance of followers before the master.

He has to go, apparently; he has stayed too long. Only, an impromptu call is never good. He prefers the scheduled ones. Sudden ones always have him training himself to be exceptionally calm and insistent in his responses. Damn it.

'Are they?' he asks, looking to get her eyes on him again.

'They're probably wondering what I'm telling you,' she explains. 'Do you know, Professor, they actually asked me why you were coming to lunch. As though I would know why you were coming!'

Briefly, she looks at him like she's expecting him to confirm that he'd do no such thing as tell her that sort of information and then she returns to looking over his shoulder.

'They're still staring. It's not like I'm doing anything wrong.'

'Miss Granger,' he suddenly says, taking hold of her arm and directing her back to him.

It's important that she looks at him, because while he does have the liberty of arriving late to meetings, he should go. Although to be fair, he needn't have touched her arm along with calling her name. Perhaps, in a manner, he wants her to now that he isn't simply cutting their time short for the sake of it.

'Professor?' she looks at his hand on her arm.

'Please tell Molly and Arthur that I had to leave.'

To touch and indicate to where his Mark is, he lets go of her, placing two fingers to where he needs her to realise the message is. She has already seen the thing, and she knows that he works for the Order, so this little bit of information will not be out of place for her to know.

'I understand, Professor,' she aptly responds, touching his arm the same way that he had touched her. 'I will let them know.'

Nodding his appreciation, he begins to get up. His first two steps take him only a minimal distance away from her, when she calls for him, stopping him.

'Professor?'

He does not like, he realises, the thought of turning back to her, and so he does not. There is no explanation for that, neither will he look for one.

'I will let you know if my magic is not fine,' she tells him, to which he nods and then tarries no more in disappearing from sight.


26Chapters


'Calm yourself, Severus,' he says aloud to himself.

Interestingly, without being conscious to having done so, he finds himself on his feet, out of the armchair. He cannot, it seems, calm himself yet. Not when he borders on the subject of Miss Granger.

But what of it? What harm is it to let himself have memories of her? He is not asking for a lifetime of commitment, neither will anyone ever know that he's kept her in his memory. That remedy for a blackened soul, that light in the maze of darkness, could it not be her? In memory only, of course.

But Miss Granger?

Is he being rebellious in a way?

Is he trying to be unpredictable before his soul is darkened?

If so, why not go out into the world, attempt to seduce a woman – no specific sort in particular- and live out a fantasy of having a life; a friend, loved one and family? Because he is not that sort of person. He could never tolerate getting involved with any woman while his belonged to another. Neither will he be. He has never had the desire for anything of the sort, and he bears no shame in being loyal to what he holds dear to his heart.

No, no, he needs to collect himself and start all over with his thoughts again. They require the utmost order. He cannot simply throw reason away and start at the point where his tortured soul found a little reprieve.