Late For Dinner

I'd nearly forgotten about Professor Snape after I'd climbed back up the eerie staircase for the last time. I didn't realize I had tears swelling in the corners of my eyes until I blinked and set them free. Why was I crying?

I certainly didn't feel upset… or sad… or heartbroken as I had the last time I'd spoken to him. My feelings for him have changed over the years. No… they haven't changed… they've vanished completely!

I quickly wiped my face dry and hurried back to the Great Hall to enjoy the Farewell Feast with my fellow graduates. There's no use dwelling over him. He means nothing to me anymore. Nothing at all.

Within the Great Hall the long tables had been rearranged from what I remember. In their place there were several smaller tables, which were quite fitting for our small gathering. We were no longer divided by our Houses but rather mixed and mingled all together. Gryffindors and Slytherins shared tables, as did former Quidditch rivals.

There were three others at my table this evening. To my left was my best friend Aribeth McKenzie who was now married with two daughters, and to my right was Rodney Shore, a Beater for the Welsh Wonders. Across from me was the very man I used to despise dearly when I was a student. His name was Morton Davis. Slytherin. He always used to steal my homework and peek over my shoulder during exams. I grew tired of his habit near the end of our sixth year and finally decided to put a stop to it all. During our Arithmancy final I put a spell on my parchment to display all of the wrong answers, and then after he'd stolen my answers, I'd changed them to all of the correct answers. It wasn't until this weekend that he'd forgiven me.

"Honestly, I don't think I've had a better meal since the last time I was here," Rodney told us before he'd taken an unusually big bite from his drumstick. I watched him chew his chicken and giggled at him.

"Perhaps if you'd found time to marry after all these years you'd have a lovely wife to cook you such prestigious meals," Aribeth said. She was leisurely working on dipping her mashed potatoes into her gravy, coating it perfectly before lifting her fork to her mouth.

Out of the four of us, Rodney was the only one who'd not wed in the past ten years. I didn't say it out loud, but I couldn't help but think how lucky he was. Marrying Daemon Sullivan was the biggest mistake of my life and apparently Morton's luck hadn't turned out in his best interest either. However, I'm certain his wife was a dear in comparison to Daemon. He was one of them. Everyone knew it, too. Everyone here had heard of the notorious Sullivan's and that's why no one had bothered to ask me anything about him. It was a subject best left alone. Nobody wanted to ruin a perfectly enjoyable conversation by bringing up Death Eaters.

"I'm sure going to miss this place," Aribeth said after dotting her lips with a napkin. "I'm so glad my mum was able to look after the girls this weekend. She lives in Stockholm now."

I was in the middle of sipping my pumpkin juice when Morton raised his fork to his mouth and stopped frozen just before the potatoes touched his lips. He looked right behind me and stared curiously.

"Well, I don't believe it," he said in a soft whisper.

"What?" I asked and set my pumpkin juice down before picking up my fork.

"Snape," he said. My fork slipped out of my hand and clattered as if fell against my plate. "That old bat's still here."

I cranked my neck around to see for myself. Sure enough, Professor Snape had made his first appearance at the Head table. He pulled a chair out next to Professor McGonagall.

Before sitting down he looked my way. I could feel his eyes right on me. His head nodded in acknowledgement and then he pulled his chair in and then glanced over at Minerva McGonagall as she began to speak to him. He had very little to say in comparison to Professor McGonagall. His mouth open barely enough to punctuate the words spilling out of her mouth. He never was much of a conversationalist. When he did have something to say, it was usually in a calm, eerie whisper. However, there have been times – plenty of times where I've heard him raise his voice.

He never looked back at me again. Instead, he casually picked up his glass and began swirling the orange liquid around in small circles. He nodded once at the Transfigurations professor before touching the glass to his lips and gently tipping it up.

I could see his throat flex as he swallowed. Then he set his glass down and muttered something short to McGonagall. His hand was still encircling the clear, slender glass. His fingers massaged gently along the outside and his thumb slipped up and began churning softly over the mouth.

My mouth and lips felt dry. I could feel my body beginning to sweat. The summer sun beat through the glass windows of the Great Hall just behind the Head Table.

I can't imagine how Professor Snape finds such dark, heavy clothing so comfortable this time of year and I don't believe he'd stand a chance of losing his dignity should he bare a touch more skin. Merlin knows he's sweating like a pig underneath that hideous costume.

"Are you all right, Lizzie?" I heard Aribeth ask me after a moment.

I turned my head back around and smiled nervously at her. "Yes, of course," I assured and swiftly reached for my own glass. "Why?"

"No reason," she said and began stabbing her spoon into her peach cobbler.  "I was just curious as to why you've been staring at the Head table for the last two minutes."

"I wasn't staring," I assured.

"Then what were you doing?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. Nothing at all."