Chapter 10: Worth a Thousand Words

Chapter 10: Worth a Thousand Words

Severus Snape was in a peculiarly good mood the next day. He felt that he and Mallory had finally taken that next step in their relationship. He eagerly waited to see her at breakfast, but she never showed. Nor did she appear for lunch. Damn, maybe he had misinterpreted the step that had happened. Maybe she was just avoiding him out of shyness, or maybe she was just sick. There were too many maybes. He needed to go straight to the source to get the answers.

He found her classroom door open. She was still at her desk, going over papers. She gave no acknowledgement of his presence, keeping her eyes on the parchment. Wordlessly, he approached her. Still no motion on the other person's part. He even crouched next to her and watched her scribble comments on the student's essay. Her expression remained unchanged. Okay, so she wanted to play games. He knew of one way to get her attention. He brushed away the hair from the side of her face and leaned in.

She brushed his hand away and stood before he could follow through with the kiss. "Don't," she said softly.

He stood up as well. "You didn't seem to mind it last night."

"Yes, well," she moved further away from him, "I had some time to deliberate last night's events, and decided that our relationship should only be on a professional level."

Severus was definitely confused. "Beg your pardon? 'Professional'? Am I allowed to be given a plausible explanation?"

She seemed to consider the request at great length. After an eternity (or a moment), she sighed and conceded. "All right . . . There is one minor detail that both Dumbledore and myself have failed to divulge." She began to pace a bit, and absent-mindedly scratched her nose. "You see, there is one reason, and one reason alone, for my return to England: I do not know the identity of the Death Eater who murdered my father. My entire life I've wanted to find him, and when I do . . ."

He sat and listened intently. "I didn't realise you were so bent on revenge."

"Do you understand my hesitation at . . . intimacy in any form? Unless, of course, you can honestly tell me that you can remember, or even knew, what the names of your victims were . . ."

"You're assuming that I even had victims."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"There you have it."

"But!" He grabbed her arm and led her to one of the student desks, sat her in one of the chairs, and pulled another around for himself. They sat face to face. "But I do recall the faces of all of them. In fact, I am haunted by them. Some screaming, some rendered unrecognizable after I . . . Every night I see them in my dreams. They have given me nights of punishment. I cannot sleep, for I fear them. I fear to confront what I have done. My work for Dumbledore, teaching and otherwise, is merely a small step toward undeserved redemption."

The entire time, Severus and Mallory kept their eyes locked on each other's. The action affirmed that she was at least hearing him out and that he meant every word. He searched her eyes for a moment, wanting her reaction. She was so bloody difficult to read! She stood and went to her desk. She opened a drawer and sifted through its contents. Finally, she pulled out whatever she was looking for. She smiled at it and sat back across from Severus. She handed him the photograph. "Does this face ever haunt your dreams?"

He looked down at the picture. A man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes, sat with a little girl on his lap. The child buried her face in her father's chest, but now and again she would peek out, revealing dark blue eyes. Mallory's father, Eamon O'Kenly, smiled at his daughter and patted her lovingly.

He smiled at it ruefully. To think that, years ago, Voldemort and his followers managed to destroy such happiness, to tear families apart. And it all was about to happen again. He scrutinized the face of her father. In a way, he wanted to recognize it, just to put Mallory's mind at rest, but alas, "I never saw him before in my life."

He handed the photo back. She looked relieved, actually. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You know," he said abruptly, "this man could already be dead."

"Then God has done his own justice," she said promptly.

"Or in Azkaban."

"Justice has been done through our courts, and now he suffers cruelly."

"And if you find him alive and well?"

"Then he'll beg for Azkaban or death."

Severus nodded in understanding, and got up to leave. He reached the doorway, but stopped and turned. "I hope this means our friendship just got an upgrade."

She joined him at the door and smiled. "Yes, it just got promoted to platonic. And as a friend, I, uh, have a favour to ask of you." She hesitated slightly. "Considering your position within the Death Eaters, you are in a far better place than I to discover . . ."

"Of course, I'll do all I can to help." Damn. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but he fancied it was better than cold professionalism.

She cocked her head to one side as she looked at him. "Why haven't you done anything about this yet?" She ran a finger down the red gash on his cheek. "Better do something soon or it'll scar."

"I like it. It's like a memento of our time together: I won't be able to look at myself without being reminded of you." He smirked.

Her eyes went amusingly wide. "I beg your pardon?"

He tilted his head in a dramatic fashion and recited, "Love is not love/Which alters/when it alterations finds/Or bends with the remover to remove:/O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark." He smiled puckishly.

She cringed. "Smeggin' hell, Severus! I never wanted to hear you spout Shakespeare! I draw the line there! What the hell do you think this is, a Jane Austen novel?"

Laughing, she pushed him out and closed the door right as he was asking, "Who's Jane Austen?"

She went back to the desk and picked up her photo. Both her younger self and her father smiled knowingly. "Don't give me that," she growled as she placed it back in her desk drawer. She knew keeping her true feelings hidden would be difficult, but she couldn't keep down the thought of his former life. She couldn't imagine being with someone who could have been the one who destroyed her world. And yet he is the one helping you rebuild it. What was also true was that she couldn't forget the way it felt to be kissed by him. Oh, to feel that again! She dropped her head in her hands. Why was this so difficult? Maybe with time she would be able to forget and move on with his past.

It ended up being a shorter time span than anticipated . . .

A/N: In case you have yet to notice, I have been making Alan Rickman *swoon* references. Though I suppose the one in this chapter was far more blatant. Here's an explanation of each:

Eamon (Mallory's father): In the flick Michael Collins, the fab AR plays Eamon de Velera.

"To see if there's a pub!": a line of AR's from Galaxy Quest.

Jane Austen and Shakespeare: Sense and Sensibility, 'nuff said.

And there is a Red Dwarf reference as well.

I know this chapter probably cheezed a good lot of you off, my apologies. Thanx and lots of love, as always, to my wonderful reviewers.