I felt guilty, so guilty, and then angry for feeling that way, about Snape, of all people. At first I refused to believe that he was telling the truth. He's lying, I thought, as I headed back to the Ravenclaw common rooms. He must be lying. I'll go back and read the rest. I'll find proof that I am right. But I knew deep down that Snape was telling the truth, and I also knew that I would never read another page of that diary. It was private; I realized that now. I do not know why I didn't realize that before. Perhaps it was the memory of the look on Professor Snape's face. The look that showed, finally, that Severus Snape was, in fact, human. He is a man who feels. He feels sadness, shame, and regret, just like everyone else. I had come to know that as truth, and this truth circled around and around in my head as I drifted off to sleep that night, the diary of Severus Snape's mother still under my mattress.

The next day was another difficult one. I grew more and more anxious by the minute. I skipped meals, for fear of seeing Professor Snape in the Great Hall. I avoided going anywhere near the dungeons or even the possible paths Snape might have to take to get from them to the Great Halls or other places. I spent what little energy I had on avoiding him. I felt color rise to my cheeks every time I thought about him. I felt like such a fool. I was humiliated and ashamed of myself for stealing the diary, and then for reading it. I felt sick to my stomach every time the words I had said to him echoed in my head.

"She thought that you were disgusting, just like I do!"

I had told him that I thought he was disgusting and he did not yell, or scream, or take points from Ravenclaw. The memory of his calm and composed manner made me feel even worse. But why did I seem to care so much about the feelings of a man I hated? Or thought I hated…

Finally, it was five. Detention. I walked slowly to the dungeons with the diary clasped in my hands. I was nervous, so nervous. I couldn't bear to face him. Perhaps I could throw the diary in the doorway and run, run as fast as my legs would take me. No, I decided. I made a mistake and it was time to correct it. I took a deep breath and tapped lightly on the door.

"Enter." A voice called. I opened the door and walked in. "Shut the door."

"Yes, sir," I mumbled and shut it. I couldn't stop looking down at my feet. I couldn't look up. I couldn't look at his face. If I did, I knew I would do something rash.

Professor Snape walked toward me and held out his hand. I placed the diary in it, keeping my head down. A few seconds passed in silence, then to my surprise, Snape opened the diary and began to read aloud.

" 'Dear Diary. I fear that today is the last day I will ever write to you.' "

"Professor, please. Please stop. I don't want to hear it."

"You wanted to hear it before, didn't you? You read as much as you could, all of the details… Well, you can't just read part of something. Every book must be finished."

He had such a determined look on his face that I was afraid to speak, but I couldn't bear to hear the last words of the young girl I had grown to know, to love.

"I'm sorry Professor!" I was desperate to make him stop. I took a few steps closer to him and pleaded again. "Please, I am sorry. I am so sorry that I stole your mother's diary and read it, and made such horrible assumptions about you. I am so sorry Professor. Please, please don't read the rest. I can't bear to hear it."

He simply stared at me, his face cold and lacking in emotion. After a moment he looked back down at the small book. He read again.

" 'I can not write any further. My husband, if I can call him that, is ruthless. He is cold and dark. I fear him more and more each minute. These are dark times, diary. I fear for my life, and for my son Severus' life. My poor, poor Severus, if you should ever read this, please understand why I have chosen to write no further. I do not want these words to pain you, and I fear that if I do not put an end to my writing, I will only fill your heart with sorrow. So I leave you now Severus,' " Snape paused for a second and swallowed. " 'I leave you now as myself. I know that you need me in the physical sense, but I feel I am leaving my body now. The mother you will know after I finish this entry will be an empty shell. I am so sorry Severus. I wish I were stronger. I wish I could do more for you.' "

He looked up from the book for a brief moment, then slammed the diary shut.

"So there you have it."

"I thought, I thought," I struggled to find the words. Snape was so close to me that he seemed to be hovering over me. I could feel my cheeks beginning to burn. Oh, stop, stop! I tried to tell myself. Calm down, don't work yourself into a tizzy. I set my jaw and looked up into his face.

"I thought that your mother was going to kill herself." I said as calmly as possible.

"Oh, no," he replied, in an almost sarcastic tone. "She never killed herself. She lived with him-that man," he said. An intense look of hatred swept over his face that I had never seen before. "My father." He finished.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence. These new thoughts were clouding my brain. Snape's mother deserted him, without ever physically leaving him. This was a new concept to me. She left him to fend for himself; she left him with his father…

"Father," I whispered, unconsciously.

"What?"

"My father… Well, your father and my father have a few things in common." I said quickly. Snape only looked at me. I couldn't read his expression. I went on, not truly knowing what I was doing. "My father drove my mother away. He treated her so badly that she, she left us." I paused and looked down at my feet. "And then… then she killed herself." I said, barely above a whisper. I heard a sharp intake of breath, but Snape said nothing. I didn't know why on earth I was telling him these personal things… I never spoke of my mother to anyone, but with him, it was somehow different. I continued on. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I read your mother's diary. At first I was just curious, but then, well, I felt like it was a sort of, window. A window into my own mother's feelings. She never told me anything because I was so young when she was still with me. I guess we have something in common." I finished, finally looking up.

I was surprised to see that instead of his usual angry sneer, Snape's features had softened. His eyebrows were not furrowed but relaxed. His mouth was not curled into its usual sneer, but partially open, as if he were about to say something. In his eyes was a look of compassion.

"Miss Cockerham," he began to say, but at the sound of his voice saying my name, I broke down.

The combination of exhaustion (I had not really slept in a week), and the stirring up of painful memories destroyed all of my defenses. I began to cry, something I vowed I would never do in front of anyone, especially not Professor Snape. I wanted to run and hide. I expected Snape to begin his rampage against me. He did not put up with any sniveling of any sort and he certainly didn't show weaklings any pity. I braced myself for an attack, but instead of shouting at me, I felt Snape put his hand on my shoulder, cautiously at first, but when I didn't pull away, he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me. I was confused, but I felt safe in his arms. I relaxed and he let me cry into his robes for quite some time.