He who is only wise lives a sad life. ~ Voltaire
Chapter 9
'Welcome back.' Severus said stiffly. He opened the gates at the edges of the Hogwarts grounds, away from the Dark Forest and stood aside. He heard the faint splatter of mud as a figure walked through.
'Hello. Is there anyone else around?' Adela spoke from under the Invisibility Cloak.
'No one, as far as I can detect.' Severus looked down to find the tips of her shoes protruding out. He grimaced and said irritably, 'Here.' He cast an Invisibility spell on her. 'You can take off that thing now.'
'Thank you.' Adela shed the cloak, leaving her visible only to Severus as he was the caster. 'It was getting cumbersome. I'll have to return it to Harry.'
If Severus were not agitated, he would try to surmise why his emotions appeared to be reflected in her entire countenance as well. That, and she was not looking up at him, although, reflexively, he was doing his utmost to avoid meeting her in the eye too. As it was, he registered the fact, but not the implication.
They crossed the fields in meditative silence, their heads bowed to shield their faces from the slight drizzle that pitter-pattered down rhythmically. This was soon to turn to snow as genial autumn yielded to freezing winter. Severus wondered if the silence was mutual. What was it that Albus described as the sound of silence between two people? Familiarity.
Except, that even in his limited experience, Severus understood companionship to be comfortable, involving a certain amount of loosening of facial muscles and releasing of tight grips of fists. Sometimes casual banter. One could slice through the building tension between them. It had to be tangible now. If he reached out toward his right side, he believed he could touch a wall.
It was probably his flight of fancy due to overwrought sensory systems. *That was it,* he thought, *Sentimental claptrap. Nothing but chemicals reacting in the body.* It was the first time he felt nervous in her presence and he was not enjoying it. Why the hell was she not chattering like mad?
He could cope with silence, he could live with it, but this suspense was insufferable.
Severus broke it.
'How was the weekend? Did your relatives ask you too many difficult questions?'
Out of the corner of his retina, he saw her jump a little. She could not restrain herself and blurted out, 'Did you just make small talk to me?'
Severus swore under his breath, 'I need to confirm that your family's not suspicious.'
'Sometimes, friends are more perceptive than relatives.' Adela sighed and told him about her two university students who had unexpectedly swooped down on her at her home.
'In a way,' she mused, 'It was nice to have them there. Don't think this negatively please, but it was an absolute rush of relief to know that they know, and that they are. . . always there.'
Severus decided against lashing out at her for her indiscretion. Her attempts to resist her friend's plea of telling them more were admirable. It would have been easy to make a slip. Furthermore, he thought of Albus when she mentioned the value of trust and support. Well, it explained why she was quiet. She was afraid her friends would be swallowed into this charade as she was.
'We will leave it, unless events conspire to thwart our best intentions.'
The intensity of joy directed at him was disconcerting. He valiantly suppressed the urge to draw her into his tight grasp when she relaxed into a tentative smile.
They reached the steps heading toward the Gryffindor tower.
'I'll ask Hermione to do a Finite Incantantum on me when I see her. You have a leaf in your hair.' Adela informed matter-of-factly and proceeded to tiptoe and pluck it out. Severus caught the wisp of fresh rain and her recognisable scent of mint and evergreen when she stood closer to him. Like the hills and woods she grew in.
Adela sped up the stairs, leaving Severus to stare after her shadow.
***
Harry groaned against the pain flaring through his scar. Voldemort was angry.
The tingles he had felt during the summer holidays and the beginning of school were absent for a while now. In place was a series of pain shooting forth. Paradoxically, it calmed him. Pleasure was too alien a feeling coming from Voldemort. Pain, pain was excruciating, but well-trodden territory. Pain was good.
Since his Occlumency lessons were abruptly ended by Snape at the end of the fifth year, there was no discussion of them being continued. He wondered if he had the courage to ask Snape to resume them.
*Tell me why you are in Gryffindor.* Harry scorned at himself.
His connection with Voldemort was becoming not only undesirable, but also dangerous. He had learnt it the wretched way when he stubbornly refused to heed Snape's advice, dismissing everyone's persuasion as exaggeration. He did not want to believe he was the weak link within Hogwarts that could endanger Dumbledore and the Order. Put it bluntly, he had behaved an asshole.
His mind resolute, Harry boldly walked to Snape's office when everyone was resting in the Common room.
He was undaunted when he rapped the door loudly. He even greeted the Bloody Baron heartily, causing the ghost of Slytherin House to circle him furtively a couple of times before leaving him to be.
When Harry lingered outside for several seconds without hearing Snape's command to enter, his confidence still did not waver. Pushing the door to reveal a slit, he looked in to find the room empty. As there were no wards guarding the office, Harry assumed there was no article of importance inside. Thus, he stepped in and took a seat in a corner, waiting for Snape with composure.
When Snape came in, Harry was not that sure anymore.
The professor did not notice him initially. Snape, (Snape?), radiated the air of someone petrified, in a very repressed sort of way. Harry always thought Snape as alert, with malevolent eyes darting everywhere to watch for troublemakers, but possessing none of the attitude that one would describe as strained. The person before him was positively rigid. More terrifying, his whole being showed one to be completely lost. His eyes, which usually glittered with sharpness, were dazed. Harry was able to empathise with that, even if he may not know the reason behind Snape's manner. How many times had he felt the world spinning out of control during his last year, when he faced the wild accusations of press and public, and the loss of innocence?
Harry shook his head. Comrade-in-arms, with Snape? The sixth year was increasingly baffling. The Christmas holidays were going to be interesting, to say the least.
He stood up respectfully, knowing Snape would not excuse a student who appeared laid-back in a chair on top of what he considered as barging into his office without permission.
'Professor?'
Harry raised his eyebrows when it took another minute for his voice to penetrate Snape's ears. Astonishing. His presence almost always caused Snape to instantly trample him under his feet. He rubbed his scar at the uncharitable thought. Snape only did that when students were around to project the perfect image of a spiteful and loathsome person. Old impressions died hard. They interfered with his more in-depth understanding of Snape sometimes.
He snapped back to attention when Snape finally scowled uglily and faced his direction.
'What now Potter?'
Astonishing again. Snape did not lavish him with those flattering observations of him who disregarded authority and disturbing him unnecessarily.
It gave him more reluctance to state his purpose for being there than outright rejection.
'Er. . . well, it can wait. You look preoccupied at the moment.'
Harry halted himself from crossing his fingers in front of him when Snape looked affronted instead of dismissive. Or that deceptive silky calm of his that was more poisonous than rage bubbling on the surface.
Snape stared at him, still as a statue. Harry predicted that he would turn to stone soon.
'I don't know what you're talking about Potter,' Snape spoke in a hiss. 'But I know it cannot be nothing for you to come here reluctantly. Did someone send you?'
'No sir. Erm. . . Just my scar twigged again.'
'An understatement I'm sure. Headmaster Dumbledore has told us about the regularity of it.' Snape seemed more at ease, now that they were talking about something else. He took his seat. 'Explain.'
Harry wondered if he should stand where he was to talk. He felt like an inept first-year like this.
'Erm. . .'
'For crying out loud, sit down if you want to. You've wasted time as it is.' It was Snape and no mistake. Only he had the uncanny ability to read his mind.
Obeying him, Harry sat and ended minutes later with, 'So, I was ermm. . . hoping that you'd ah. . . give me lessons again. If it's not too much a bother.' He added hurriedly.
He blinked when Snape said, 'A praiseworthy attitude Potter.' Fortunately, Snape did not expect him to answer. He was tongue-tied for a while at the approval, coming from that source.
'I shall conduct the lessons twice a week. Shall we say, Tuesday and Friday afternoons? We start when the Christmas holidays begin to escape the prying eyes of students. Professor Dumbledore, naturally, will be notified.' At Harry's nod, Snape continued sternly, 'There is the condition that you do not poke your nose where it's unwanted. I will not have you immerse in the gaiety of my memories. Is that clear?'
Harry nodded quickly to prevent being caught in Snape's wrath.
'Do you still have dreams of the Dark Lord?'
Harry shook his head, 'I think, I mean the connection remains, but it feels like he's decided to cast me aside for now. Like he's not focussing on me as much as he did before.'
'Oh, don't feel neglected. Be thankful you have this respite.'
'You're just screwing me around, aren't you?'
Snape said in an air of distaste, 'Such language Potter. The refined beauty of English will be mangled by your generation. No, I'm merely telling you. The Dark Lord has other. . . considerations at present.'
'Like what?' Potter seized the opportunity to probe further.
'Eager to know everything Potter? How like your father.'
Harry opened his mouth and shut it again. He was seething with indignation as normal, whenever Snape ridiculed his father. After that incident of plunging into the pensieve and hence Snape's memory last year, he was careful not to aggravate Snape lest he brought the subject of James Potter up. Now, it was out in the open, and the ball was in his court, to speak figuratively. He weighed his options.
'You're not all goody-too-shoes yourself sir,' Harry looked down at his fingernails, so that he would not see Snape's expression and react to it. 'You meddled in my father's and his friends' affairs to see if you can get them disgraced and expelled. Oh hell, it's the same way around. My father did that to you too. And yes,' he added moanfully at an afterthought, 'He strutted.' He cast for a red herring to give time to frame his thoughts. 'If it's any comfort, I find similarities between your relationship with my father and the one I have with Malfoy.'
'Ah, you refer to Draco. Yes, he's a promising lad, from Salazar Slytherin's point of view. He'll follow his father's footsteps.'
'Why do you call him Draco? You don't call a lot of people by their first names.'
'True.'
'So, why. . .'
'Because.'
Harry frowned. 'That's not a reason.'
'I was dropping hints that you stop this line of questioning. Obviously, you did not pick them up.'
'Fine, I guess I can tell why. He's rather respected among the Slytherins.'
'He's a Malfoy. A rule a wizard sticks to is to not upset a member of that family.'
'But you don't like him, do you?'
Snape contemplated it. 'Not very much.' There was a tinge of regret.
Harry clasped his hands together, to prevent them from fidgeting. 'Me too. Although, unlike my father who had to watch out for you, I don't have to concentrate on Malfoy. To me, he's a nuisance. Granted, he's got the cunning and ambition, but no intelligence. And guts, come to think of it. Sheer bravado all the way.' He gave a short bark of laughter, 'Do you know about the first time he and I entered the Forbidden Forest as punishment in our first year? I bet he wet his pants. He thrives on admiration. And he's bully, a groomed version of it at that. My cousin Dudley's more of a brute. Bottom-line is, he's too much of a baby to amount to what Lucius Malfoy expects him to be.' He paused, 'I've seen how he treats Malfoy.'
'As have I.'
'It's not very good, and his mother spoils him rotten. What the heck! What do I know about parenting?' Harry slapped his forehead after failing to keep his hands firmly on his lap. He gave a rueful grin.
'But I suppose that Malfoy and I won't bother each other much with the cares of the world after we graduate, unless we meet in the war. It's just school, you know.' Harry went head-on. 'That's it. You and my father, that was in school for heaven's sake! Are you so incapable of letting go, or are you just plain unwilling to do so? This grudge of yours, it's ridiculous, it's just. . .' He tried to search for another appropriate word.
Snape supplied it for him.
'Juvenile.' The voice was soft, but replacing the usual malice that resonated under it, was admission.
Harry waved his hand in a form of protest, albeit the effort being futile. He had never wholly managed in deceiving Snape before.
Snape pushed his hair from his forehead. It was a gesture of nervousness for a stranger. In Snape, it presented a striking sense of tiredness.
'I told you about hate Potter. I hated your father. It's very easy to sink into that pit, when it's all that's left of you to feel.' Harry snapped his head up at the fatalistic tone. He remembered the glimpse of childhood Snape had during one Occlumency lesson. What was his life like even at that young age, to drive him into a corner that no sane person would even choose to approach? Harry had often thought Snape to be many things. It was only recently that he concluded that Snape was human, with all the flaws and gifts attached. It was Voldemort who was evil.
'No matter.' Snape said, 'It is over. Your parents are dead. Whilst the past cannot be forgotten, it can be buried. I have learnt that there are more pressing and more important things in life, frail as it is. I have overlooked your father's character to see you for what you are. No better, and no worse than any student I've taught, except for the celebrity status.'
Harry mused, 'Padfoot said that it's tiring to cling to hatred.'
Snape answered wryly, 'It consumes much energy.'
'And also eats at your soul.'
Snape shrugged a tad too unconcernedly. Harry was surprised he could read Snape's subtle ways of hiding emotion more and more accurately since the start of the year. He saw grim mirth flicker in Snape's eyes, the kind that showed that what the person was thinking of was not actually funny, then bleakness.
'Well, you're talking to a Death-Eater, boy.'
***
Severus submerged himself in his bath and held his breath in the water.
One thousand, two thousand, three. . .
He counted till a minute and a half elapsed and his lungs gave out. He pushed himself out of the water, and gasped for air. He swept his wet hair away from his face and held his head as though he could block out the internal pounding in his mind. When that failed, he hit his head against the wall beside him.
He yelled out in pain. When even that subsided, leaving behind the initial turbulence within him, he moaned.
He had been pleased to see Potter in his office. It had forced him out of his reverie, yet it had acted simply as a delay towards the inevitable. When Potter had walked out, he was left alone with the tirade of memories of his recent encounter with Adela.
He leant back and let the water swirl over him as shame filled him.
He was disgusting. To be desirous for a woman slightly over half his age. He had thought that it would be a simple task of accompanying Adela back to Hogwarts. Instead, what he had received was an unexpected and unwelcome impulse to envelop her in his arms and not release her. He corrected himself. Unexpected, yes, unwelcome. . .
'Stop. Stop!' he cried out to no one. Why was he feeling like this? Why was he condemning and nourishing the love he felt for her all at once?
Since his years as a servant of the Dark Lord ended the first time, he had vowed not to compromise on a female's decency. He had not enjoyed it, and they had suffered for it. When he joined him again after his resurrection, he somehow survived by providing the Dark Lord aid in his fields of expertise and avoided his displeasure when he did not attend sessions of torturing Muggles and Muggleborns, extracting information from the latter. How many nights had he spent deep in the night blaming himself for being unable of saving them? The numbers stacked as more victims fell prey and screamed down his conscience.
He was a wicked man, and a sinful bastard. His students were right.
His mind turned to another direction. To imagine Albus encouraging this! What was that madman thinking?
*It won't work,* he thought, *It can never.*
He lowered himself further into the bath and soaked himself until his skin became wrinkled. Still, he remained, as his tears trickled down into the cold water.
***
'That is unfortunate,' Adela said sympathetically after watching Hermione trounce Ron with a catapult of snowballs by surprise. It resulted in Ron sprawling on the grounds in an awkward angle, with his flaming red hair freckled with snow. He choked on his own scarf. Adela struggled to smother her laugh with her hands. She ended up coughing.
'That's foul play, that is!' roared Ron with wounded pride. Flicking his wand, he hurled an enormous snowball towards Hermione, and had it struck back at him.
Finally, he won the battle by simply throwing his body against Hermione till they tumbled onto the ground.
Adela wrapped her coat snugly round her as she took in the scenery. Endless stretches of pure, blinding white snow covered the castle and fields, spoilt only by track marks and footprints that showed the recent departure of most students. These actually enhanced and not marred the sublime beauty of the place. Instead of a lonely and grey spell that winter was believed to bring, Hogwarts appeared majestic as it stood out in the area. The decorations were strategically arranged to impose the untrained eye with grandeur that was not oppressive but inviting. Even the Forbidden Forest exuded a fairylike quality in this season of the year. There was a sense of enchantment in the air, and Adela was aware of the literal application of the description in this case.
She wondered that the lake was not frozen. Possibly magic was used.
'Adela! Come and join us!' During Adela's admiration of the grounds, Hermione had convinced Ron to build a snowman the Muggle style with her. When Adela walked closer to them, she heard Hermione instruct Ron on how to roll the snow till it became a large round body.
Ron grumbled, 'This is really slow.'
'This has a personal touch to it. You'll feel a splendid sense of achievement after that.'
Ron pointedly looked about, 'I hope no one sees us doing this.'
'Stop being a wimp,' said Hermione distractedly as she scooped up another handful of snow.
'I'll be a wimp if I continue doing this.' Ron went on mumbling darkly, but was caught up in the momentum as they persisted in structuring the snowman to their liking. Soon, he began humming Christmas songs. Adela found out wizarding songs were very different from Muggle ones. In fact, she checked her initial impulse to ask how they originated. It did not seem very nice to know why chestnuts and gnomes were connected. She had a sneaky suspicion it was something rude aimed at the unfriendly group.
She went to pick a bundle of twigs and brittle leaves to contribute to the snowman's features.
'Hagrid's big and bulky like a snowman, isn't he?' Ron chortled. He rushed off to Hagrid's hut to retrieve one of his fur coats and covered the snowman back. With a bolt of inspiration, he made another snow sculpture beside 'Hagrid' whilst Hermione and Adela added the eyes and nose. It turned out to be a copy of Fang. The droopy ears were highly distinct. Hermione then piled up more snow at the feet and Adela carved out the words, 'The Keeper of Keys' using a branch.
The three stepped back to admire their creation.
'Not bad.' Ron looked on smugly.
'We should get credit points for this.' Hermione joked.
'Oh, watch it.' Adela saw the real Hagrid walk out of his hut, trying to find out what Ron had done to his coat. When Hagrid spotted his snow counterpart, he bellowed with laughter.
'How did you do that?' Hagrid inquired. He circled the snowman and viewed it critically.
Ron winked at him, 'Magic.'
'It's shor'er than me.' Hagrid said.
'We aren't that tall.' Hermione complained.
Hagrid glanced at her and realised what she meant. He asked how long they had spent.
Hermione checked her watch, 'An hour.'
''ere, that ain't bad.'
'Just what I said,' Ron interjected. 'Only I said "not" rather than "ain't".'
'Pity Harry isn't here to enjoy the first day of the holidays.' Hermione tossed more snow into the air, 'Lovely.'
'Yes, well, you know it's important that he takes lessons from Professor Snape.' Adela gazed back at the castle, 'How cold do you think the dungeons are this time of year?'
'Never been, never tried.' Ron said. 'But Snape doesn't leave the fires burning. Bet he wallows in the cold.'
'Now don't ye be rude 'bout Professor Snape.'
'I'm not rude, I'm honest.'
Adela did not listen to the rest of the conversation. She stared intently at where she thought the dungeons were.
'He chooses the cold.'
***
Meanwhile, Severus had an inkling that Potter was wishing he did not choose the cold. The boy was shivering and stamping the floors hoping to get some feeling back to his feet.
'When you are done,' he said unimpressed at Potter's attempts to prove that people did not usually have the fireplaces empty during winter, 'You can draw your wand out and face me.' One learnt discipline in the cold.
Potter let free a string of dark oaths that he had to wonder where he had picked them. Possibly from that cousin of his. Severus did not recall Potter having this extended vocabulary the year before.
'All right, I'm fine.' Potter gritted his teeth, 'Next time, I'll install my own central heating here.'
Severus shrugged, knowing it would irritate Potter further. It did, to his amusement.
'Stop it sir.' Potter raised his wand and twirled it, 'I don't want to waste an afternoon doing nothing.'
'As I recall, you were the one who approached me.'
Potter's mouth made a downward turn, 'I know.' He did not retaliate.
The boy had grown up after all. Much faster than James at any rate.
Severus sighed. When was he going to stop comparing father and son? He always did, even though he tried not to. Admittedly, he did not exert much will into trying. When Potter and he met the first time, the resemblance struck him so forcibly he remembered every humiliation he suffered under James Potter and his cronies when he was a young student. He remembered the torment, he saw his nemesis jeer cruelly at him, and in that crack of time, he hated Harry Potter.
Events showed the boy to be different from his father, but old grudges rankled and Severus derived perverse pleasure from mocking and punishing him at every turn. It was a channel thorough which he exorcised his childhood demons, and gave him an all-encompassing sense of control. It was not James Potter who towered over him. It was he who basked in the sureness that Potter could not hurt him. It was not the students who were in casual power. It was he who made them cringe. As for their loathing him. Let them hate, so long as they fear.
Indeed, as he knew in his heart, he was nothing but an older bully, and he was repulsed at embodying the very thing he hated. Still he kept on ruining Potter's day, sometimes justifiably, all the while allowing his old hate run loose irrationally. And he thought himself mature.
Where did the six years of teaching and terrorising Potter lead him?
Severus watched Potter as the boy tested his wand before the lesson started.
*Let it go Severus. He's not James. He's Harry. Let it go for everyone. Treat him like a student, hmmm. . . Not much of a change over there. Let the hate go, for Albus, for Evans, for Hogwarts, for his family, for Ade. . .*
He caught himself.
'Sir, I'm ready.'
Severus nodded and drew out his wand.
Neither was lax during the training, each determined to gain the upper hand. Severus was by far the more experienced of the two, and managed to capture Potter in his weaker moments. Memories revisited in Potter's mind made the student more alert and focussed.
'Well done,' Severus said, when Potter deflected a spell. 'Your presence of mind has improved since the last time I taught you.'
Potter was panting at the recent effort, 'That's be. . . because I stop wishing you to just drop dead so I can leave.'
Severus overlooked the frankness, 'Whatever helps Mr. Potter,' he said lightly, 'will be valuable. Professor Dumbledore will be pleased when I report of this advancement. Needless to say he was disappointed with your behaviour last year.'
Potter wiped his eyebrow. Severus smirked as he observed Potter's dawning comprehension, and bewildered expression when he looked at his sweaty palms.
Potter glared at him, 'Central heating?'
Severus looked at the ceiling as a reply. A ball of fire hovered over them.
He said, 'Not exactly, but it holds the same purpose. I cast that spell when you were in one of your distracted moments. It provides light, warmth and,' he could not prevent himself smiling sardonically, 'gothic theatrics.'
'Yes, quite.' Potter stared at the brilliance. 'What's the spell?'
'Ignito ignivus.'
'I'll keep that in mind.' Potter looked at him and coughed, 'And now Professor. . .'
Severus knew what he would do and steadied himself for it.
'Impedimenta!' Potter cried.
Severus blocked it, but he was flung backwards when Potter simultaneously cast another. He felt his mind yawn open and his memories pour into Potter's to see. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a part of him thought, *The boy is good with his wand.*
Flashes of his past flew them by. He watched in a strange, undetached manner as the boy he once was played by himself under his favourite tree, far from the house and away from his domineering father and weak mother. He leant forward as if to reach out to that boy, who transformed into a twenty- year old man dressed in Death-Eater robes receiving his Dark Mark, to a broken man looking older than his age exploring the green plains, to a girl who was constantly fascinating and plaguing him. . .
Severus broke the thread. 'Enough!' Both of them staggered out of the haziness of snatches of memories.
What happened? He swore he had put all those involving Adela into the pensieve. How much did he see?
Potter was staring at him.
*He knows.*
Whatever Potter saw on his face, which Severus knew must be thunderous, caused the boy's complexion to pale several shades.
'The lesson ends for today,' he said curtly.
'Professor, I didn't mean to. . .'
'If you tell anyone. . .' Severus spat.
'I won't!' Potter's head jerked, 'You can obliviate me if you. . .'
'To obliviate someone because of this is an abomination,' Severus grounded out, 'Even if that someone is you.'
'She hates Memory Charms too.' Potter's words were a lightning, with more charge in it than an ordinary one.
'Go.'
Potter hesitated, but his innate character overrode his Gryffindor inquisitiveness and he walked to the door.
Severus's back turned so that he could not see the boy and hex him.
'You don't have to be so frightened you know.'
Severus whirled round in shock and consternation.
Potter had left the dungeon.
***
Severus kicked the snow in frustration. He had stalked out to pace the open grounds to allow his rage free rein.
*Sooner or later, sooner or later, everyone will know,* his mind wailed. *How long can I hide?*
'Damnation.' He kicked the snow vigorously again.
'The snow's not that bad. It didn't offend, did it?'
Severus kicked the snow in defiance, 'What do you want?'
Adela stood in front of him, 'I'm just strolling around. Harry's joined Hermione and Ron at Hagrid's. I thought you'd be in those dungeons.' There was an inflexion in her voice that suggested she did not approve of his recent cooping up in them.
Severus sniffed, 'I apologise for being a terrible host. I lack expertise.'
'I'm not that petty.' Adela scoffed.
For the first time since his visit to Lucius, Severus smiled, 'I know.' It was as though the problem had solved itself. There was none of the awkwardness felt as when she had returned. It was as if his despair and premonition that nothing would turn out right had dissipated as soon as he had set eyes on her. He could do this. He wanted to.
In silent agreement, they resumed their customary walk around the area, despite the change in weather and scenery, that made them trudge through the snow and slow down their pace.
Severus was always amazed by how she understood him. Despite him welcoming her company, he was in no mood for chatting. She kept to herself and walked beside him, admiring the scenery and was undemanding of his personal attention. He, in turn, was happy she was with him, deliriously so. He had been afraid she would be put off by his recent sullenness. The irony was not lost on him, he who warded people from invading his privacy and who also wanted her to be a part of his life.
Severus sighed. As if things were not complicated enough.
How long they had walked he had no idea, his mind wandering from her to the Dark Lord to Potter to the books, but he stopped when something icy and wet splattered onto the back of his head.
His hand reached to touch it and came back covered with snow. Knowing to whom he owed this, he glared at the culprit Adela.
She was looking sheepish. 'I thought we'd lose you to introspection.'
He understood her. How much had he shown on his face to make her worried?
'Well, you'll be pleased to know you brought me back to reality in a very stinging manner.' He bent down in pretense of arranging his robes.
Adela said, 'Whatever works.' Then he had the pleasure of watching those adored grey eyes widen when he straightened his body with a pile of snow in his hands.
She ducked swiftly when he hurled it to her.
Soon, they were engaged in a battle of snow attack, she whooping and he taunting at every opportunity.
Severus had never felt this liberating in his life.
***
High up the Gryffindor tower, back from a half-giant's home, three friends were betting who would win the fight.
Harry thought to himself as Ron and Hermione observed from the window in half-disbelief, half-hilarity, *Not the conventional method, but it's a start.*
Chapter 9
'Welcome back.' Severus said stiffly. He opened the gates at the edges of the Hogwarts grounds, away from the Dark Forest and stood aside. He heard the faint splatter of mud as a figure walked through.
'Hello. Is there anyone else around?' Adela spoke from under the Invisibility Cloak.
'No one, as far as I can detect.' Severus looked down to find the tips of her shoes protruding out. He grimaced and said irritably, 'Here.' He cast an Invisibility spell on her. 'You can take off that thing now.'
'Thank you.' Adela shed the cloak, leaving her visible only to Severus as he was the caster. 'It was getting cumbersome. I'll have to return it to Harry.'
If Severus were not agitated, he would try to surmise why his emotions appeared to be reflected in her entire countenance as well. That, and she was not looking up at him, although, reflexively, he was doing his utmost to avoid meeting her in the eye too. As it was, he registered the fact, but not the implication.
They crossed the fields in meditative silence, their heads bowed to shield their faces from the slight drizzle that pitter-pattered down rhythmically. This was soon to turn to snow as genial autumn yielded to freezing winter. Severus wondered if the silence was mutual. What was it that Albus described as the sound of silence between two people? Familiarity.
Except, that even in his limited experience, Severus understood companionship to be comfortable, involving a certain amount of loosening of facial muscles and releasing of tight grips of fists. Sometimes casual banter. One could slice through the building tension between them. It had to be tangible now. If he reached out toward his right side, he believed he could touch a wall.
It was probably his flight of fancy due to overwrought sensory systems. *That was it,* he thought, *Sentimental claptrap. Nothing but chemicals reacting in the body.* It was the first time he felt nervous in her presence and he was not enjoying it. Why the hell was she not chattering like mad?
He could cope with silence, he could live with it, but this suspense was insufferable.
Severus broke it.
'How was the weekend? Did your relatives ask you too many difficult questions?'
Out of the corner of his retina, he saw her jump a little. She could not restrain herself and blurted out, 'Did you just make small talk to me?'
Severus swore under his breath, 'I need to confirm that your family's not suspicious.'
'Sometimes, friends are more perceptive than relatives.' Adela sighed and told him about her two university students who had unexpectedly swooped down on her at her home.
'In a way,' she mused, 'It was nice to have them there. Don't think this negatively please, but it was an absolute rush of relief to know that they know, and that they are. . . always there.'
Severus decided against lashing out at her for her indiscretion. Her attempts to resist her friend's plea of telling them more were admirable. It would have been easy to make a slip. Furthermore, he thought of Albus when she mentioned the value of trust and support. Well, it explained why she was quiet. She was afraid her friends would be swallowed into this charade as she was.
'We will leave it, unless events conspire to thwart our best intentions.'
The intensity of joy directed at him was disconcerting. He valiantly suppressed the urge to draw her into his tight grasp when she relaxed into a tentative smile.
They reached the steps heading toward the Gryffindor tower.
'I'll ask Hermione to do a Finite Incantantum on me when I see her. You have a leaf in your hair.' Adela informed matter-of-factly and proceeded to tiptoe and pluck it out. Severus caught the wisp of fresh rain and her recognisable scent of mint and evergreen when she stood closer to him. Like the hills and woods she grew in.
Adela sped up the stairs, leaving Severus to stare after her shadow.
***
Harry groaned against the pain flaring through his scar. Voldemort was angry.
The tingles he had felt during the summer holidays and the beginning of school were absent for a while now. In place was a series of pain shooting forth. Paradoxically, it calmed him. Pleasure was too alien a feeling coming from Voldemort. Pain, pain was excruciating, but well-trodden territory. Pain was good.
Since his Occlumency lessons were abruptly ended by Snape at the end of the fifth year, there was no discussion of them being continued. He wondered if he had the courage to ask Snape to resume them.
*Tell me why you are in Gryffindor.* Harry scorned at himself.
His connection with Voldemort was becoming not only undesirable, but also dangerous. He had learnt it the wretched way when he stubbornly refused to heed Snape's advice, dismissing everyone's persuasion as exaggeration. He did not want to believe he was the weak link within Hogwarts that could endanger Dumbledore and the Order. Put it bluntly, he had behaved an asshole.
His mind resolute, Harry boldly walked to Snape's office when everyone was resting in the Common room.
He was undaunted when he rapped the door loudly. He even greeted the Bloody Baron heartily, causing the ghost of Slytherin House to circle him furtively a couple of times before leaving him to be.
When Harry lingered outside for several seconds without hearing Snape's command to enter, his confidence still did not waver. Pushing the door to reveal a slit, he looked in to find the room empty. As there were no wards guarding the office, Harry assumed there was no article of importance inside. Thus, he stepped in and took a seat in a corner, waiting for Snape with composure.
When Snape came in, Harry was not that sure anymore.
The professor did not notice him initially. Snape, (Snape?), radiated the air of someone petrified, in a very repressed sort of way. Harry always thought Snape as alert, with malevolent eyes darting everywhere to watch for troublemakers, but possessing none of the attitude that one would describe as strained. The person before him was positively rigid. More terrifying, his whole being showed one to be completely lost. His eyes, which usually glittered with sharpness, were dazed. Harry was able to empathise with that, even if he may not know the reason behind Snape's manner. How many times had he felt the world spinning out of control during his last year, when he faced the wild accusations of press and public, and the loss of innocence?
Harry shook his head. Comrade-in-arms, with Snape? The sixth year was increasingly baffling. The Christmas holidays were going to be interesting, to say the least.
He stood up respectfully, knowing Snape would not excuse a student who appeared laid-back in a chair on top of what he considered as barging into his office without permission.
'Professor?'
Harry raised his eyebrows when it took another minute for his voice to penetrate Snape's ears. Astonishing. His presence almost always caused Snape to instantly trample him under his feet. He rubbed his scar at the uncharitable thought. Snape only did that when students were around to project the perfect image of a spiteful and loathsome person. Old impressions died hard. They interfered with his more in-depth understanding of Snape sometimes.
He snapped back to attention when Snape finally scowled uglily and faced his direction.
'What now Potter?'
Astonishing again. Snape did not lavish him with those flattering observations of him who disregarded authority and disturbing him unnecessarily.
It gave him more reluctance to state his purpose for being there than outright rejection.
'Er. . . well, it can wait. You look preoccupied at the moment.'
Harry halted himself from crossing his fingers in front of him when Snape looked affronted instead of dismissive. Or that deceptive silky calm of his that was more poisonous than rage bubbling on the surface.
Snape stared at him, still as a statue. Harry predicted that he would turn to stone soon.
'I don't know what you're talking about Potter,' Snape spoke in a hiss. 'But I know it cannot be nothing for you to come here reluctantly. Did someone send you?'
'No sir. Erm. . . Just my scar twigged again.'
'An understatement I'm sure. Headmaster Dumbledore has told us about the regularity of it.' Snape seemed more at ease, now that they were talking about something else. He took his seat. 'Explain.'
Harry wondered if he should stand where he was to talk. He felt like an inept first-year like this.
'Erm. . .'
'For crying out loud, sit down if you want to. You've wasted time as it is.' It was Snape and no mistake. Only he had the uncanny ability to read his mind.
Obeying him, Harry sat and ended minutes later with, 'So, I was ermm. . . hoping that you'd ah. . . give me lessons again. If it's not too much a bother.' He added hurriedly.
He blinked when Snape said, 'A praiseworthy attitude Potter.' Fortunately, Snape did not expect him to answer. He was tongue-tied for a while at the approval, coming from that source.
'I shall conduct the lessons twice a week. Shall we say, Tuesday and Friday afternoons? We start when the Christmas holidays begin to escape the prying eyes of students. Professor Dumbledore, naturally, will be notified.' At Harry's nod, Snape continued sternly, 'There is the condition that you do not poke your nose where it's unwanted. I will not have you immerse in the gaiety of my memories. Is that clear?'
Harry nodded quickly to prevent being caught in Snape's wrath.
'Do you still have dreams of the Dark Lord?'
Harry shook his head, 'I think, I mean the connection remains, but it feels like he's decided to cast me aside for now. Like he's not focussing on me as much as he did before.'
'Oh, don't feel neglected. Be thankful you have this respite.'
'You're just screwing me around, aren't you?'
Snape said in an air of distaste, 'Such language Potter. The refined beauty of English will be mangled by your generation. No, I'm merely telling you. The Dark Lord has other. . . considerations at present.'
'Like what?' Potter seized the opportunity to probe further.
'Eager to know everything Potter? How like your father.'
Harry opened his mouth and shut it again. He was seething with indignation as normal, whenever Snape ridiculed his father. After that incident of plunging into the pensieve and hence Snape's memory last year, he was careful not to aggravate Snape lest he brought the subject of James Potter up. Now, it was out in the open, and the ball was in his court, to speak figuratively. He weighed his options.
'You're not all goody-too-shoes yourself sir,' Harry looked down at his fingernails, so that he would not see Snape's expression and react to it. 'You meddled in my father's and his friends' affairs to see if you can get them disgraced and expelled. Oh hell, it's the same way around. My father did that to you too. And yes,' he added moanfully at an afterthought, 'He strutted.' He cast for a red herring to give time to frame his thoughts. 'If it's any comfort, I find similarities between your relationship with my father and the one I have with Malfoy.'
'Ah, you refer to Draco. Yes, he's a promising lad, from Salazar Slytherin's point of view. He'll follow his father's footsteps.'
'Why do you call him Draco? You don't call a lot of people by their first names.'
'True.'
'So, why. . .'
'Because.'
Harry frowned. 'That's not a reason.'
'I was dropping hints that you stop this line of questioning. Obviously, you did not pick them up.'
'Fine, I guess I can tell why. He's rather respected among the Slytherins.'
'He's a Malfoy. A rule a wizard sticks to is to not upset a member of that family.'
'But you don't like him, do you?'
Snape contemplated it. 'Not very much.' There was a tinge of regret.
Harry clasped his hands together, to prevent them from fidgeting. 'Me too. Although, unlike my father who had to watch out for you, I don't have to concentrate on Malfoy. To me, he's a nuisance. Granted, he's got the cunning and ambition, but no intelligence. And guts, come to think of it. Sheer bravado all the way.' He gave a short bark of laughter, 'Do you know about the first time he and I entered the Forbidden Forest as punishment in our first year? I bet he wet his pants. He thrives on admiration. And he's bully, a groomed version of it at that. My cousin Dudley's more of a brute. Bottom-line is, he's too much of a baby to amount to what Lucius Malfoy expects him to be.' He paused, 'I've seen how he treats Malfoy.'
'As have I.'
'It's not very good, and his mother spoils him rotten. What the heck! What do I know about parenting?' Harry slapped his forehead after failing to keep his hands firmly on his lap. He gave a rueful grin.
'But I suppose that Malfoy and I won't bother each other much with the cares of the world after we graduate, unless we meet in the war. It's just school, you know.' Harry went head-on. 'That's it. You and my father, that was in school for heaven's sake! Are you so incapable of letting go, or are you just plain unwilling to do so? This grudge of yours, it's ridiculous, it's just. . .' He tried to search for another appropriate word.
Snape supplied it for him.
'Juvenile.' The voice was soft, but replacing the usual malice that resonated under it, was admission.
Harry waved his hand in a form of protest, albeit the effort being futile. He had never wholly managed in deceiving Snape before.
Snape pushed his hair from his forehead. It was a gesture of nervousness for a stranger. In Snape, it presented a striking sense of tiredness.
'I told you about hate Potter. I hated your father. It's very easy to sink into that pit, when it's all that's left of you to feel.' Harry snapped his head up at the fatalistic tone. He remembered the glimpse of childhood Snape had during one Occlumency lesson. What was his life like even at that young age, to drive him into a corner that no sane person would even choose to approach? Harry had often thought Snape to be many things. It was only recently that he concluded that Snape was human, with all the flaws and gifts attached. It was Voldemort who was evil.
'No matter.' Snape said, 'It is over. Your parents are dead. Whilst the past cannot be forgotten, it can be buried. I have learnt that there are more pressing and more important things in life, frail as it is. I have overlooked your father's character to see you for what you are. No better, and no worse than any student I've taught, except for the celebrity status.'
Harry mused, 'Padfoot said that it's tiring to cling to hatred.'
Snape answered wryly, 'It consumes much energy.'
'And also eats at your soul.'
Snape shrugged a tad too unconcernedly. Harry was surprised he could read Snape's subtle ways of hiding emotion more and more accurately since the start of the year. He saw grim mirth flicker in Snape's eyes, the kind that showed that what the person was thinking of was not actually funny, then bleakness.
'Well, you're talking to a Death-Eater, boy.'
***
Severus submerged himself in his bath and held his breath in the water.
One thousand, two thousand, three. . .
He counted till a minute and a half elapsed and his lungs gave out. He pushed himself out of the water, and gasped for air. He swept his wet hair away from his face and held his head as though he could block out the internal pounding in his mind. When that failed, he hit his head against the wall beside him.
He yelled out in pain. When even that subsided, leaving behind the initial turbulence within him, he moaned.
He had been pleased to see Potter in his office. It had forced him out of his reverie, yet it had acted simply as a delay towards the inevitable. When Potter had walked out, he was left alone with the tirade of memories of his recent encounter with Adela.
He leant back and let the water swirl over him as shame filled him.
He was disgusting. To be desirous for a woman slightly over half his age. He had thought that it would be a simple task of accompanying Adela back to Hogwarts. Instead, what he had received was an unexpected and unwelcome impulse to envelop her in his arms and not release her. He corrected himself. Unexpected, yes, unwelcome. . .
'Stop. Stop!' he cried out to no one. Why was he feeling like this? Why was he condemning and nourishing the love he felt for her all at once?
Since his years as a servant of the Dark Lord ended the first time, he had vowed not to compromise on a female's decency. He had not enjoyed it, and they had suffered for it. When he joined him again after his resurrection, he somehow survived by providing the Dark Lord aid in his fields of expertise and avoided his displeasure when he did not attend sessions of torturing Muggles and Muggleborns, extracting information from the latter. How many nights had he spent deep in the night blaming himself for being unable of saving them? The numbers stacked as more victims fell prey and screamed down his conscience.
He was a wicked man, and a sinful bastard. His students were right.
His mind turned to another direction. To imagine Albus encouraging this! What was that madman thinking?
*It won't work,* he thought, *It can never.*
He lowered himself further into the bath and soaked himself until his skin became wrinkled. Still, he remained, as his tears trickled down into the cold water.
***
'That is unfortunate,' Adela said sympathetically after watching Hermione trounce Ron with a catapult of snowballs by surprise. It resulted in Ron sprawling on the grounds in an awkward angle, with his flaming red hair freckled with snow. He choked on his own scarf. Adela struggled to smother her laugh with her hands. She ended up coughing.
'That's foul play, that is!' roared Ron with wounded pride. Flicking his wand, he hurled an enormous snowball towards Hermione, and had it struck back at him.
Finally, he won the battle by simply throwing his body against Hermione till they tumbled onto the ground.
Adela wrapped her coat snugly round her as she took in the scenery. Endless stretches of pure, blinding white snow covered the castle and fields, spoilt only by track marks and footprints that showed the recent departure of most students. These actually enhanced and not marred the sublime beauty of the place. Instead of a lonely and grey spell that winter was believed to bring, Hogwarts appeared majestic as it stood out in the area. The decorations were strategically arranged to impose the untrained eye with grandeur that was not oppressive but inviting. Even the Forbidden Forest exuded a fairylike quality in this season of the year. There was a sense of enchantment in the air, and Adela was aware of the literal application of the description in this case.
She wondered that the lake was not frozen. Possibly magic was used.
'Adela! Come and join us!' During Adela's admiration of the grounds, Hermione had convinced Ron to build a snowman the Muggle style with her. When Adela walked closer to them, she heard Hermione instruct Ron on how to roll the snow till it became a large round body.
Ron grumbled, 'This is really slow.'
'This has a personal touch to it. You'll feel a splendid sense of achievement after that.'
Ron pointedly looked about, 'I hope no one sees us doing this.'
'Stop being a wimp,' said Hermione distractedly as she scooped up another handful of snow.
'I'll be a wimp if I continue doing this.' Ron went on mumbling darkly, but was caught up in the momentum as they persisted in structuring the snowman to their liking. Soon, he began humming Christmas songs. Adela found out wizarding songs were very different from Muggle ones. In fact, she checked her initial impulse to ask how they originated. It did not seem very nice to know why chestnuts and gnomes were connected. She had a sneaky suspicion it was something rude aimed at the unfriendly group.
She went to pick a bundle of twigs and brittle leaves to contribute to the snowman's features.
'Hagrid's big and bulky like a snowman, isn't he?' Ron chortled. He rushed off to Hagrid's hut to retrieve one of his fur coats and covered the snowman back. With a bolt of inspiration, he made another snow sculpture beside 'Hagrid' whilst Hermione and Adela added the eyes and nose. It turned out to be a copy of Fang. The droopy ears were highly distinct. Hermione then piled up more snow at the feet and Adela carved out the words, 'The Keeper of Keys' using a branch.
The three stepped back to admire their creation.
'Not bad.' Ron looked on smugly.
'We should get credit points for this.' Hermione joked.
'Oh, watch it.' Adela saw the real Hagrid walk out of his hut, trying to find out what Ron had done to his coat. When Hagrid spotted his snow counterpart, he bellowed with laughter.
'How did you do that?' Hagrid inquired. He circled the snowman and viewed it critically.
Ron winked at him, 'Magic.'
'It's shor'er than me.' Hagrid said.
'We aren't that tall.' Hermione complained.
Hagrid glanced at her and realised what she meant. He asked how long they had spent.
Hermione checked her watch, 'An hour.'
''ere, that ain't bad.'
'Just what I said,' Ron interjected. 'Only I said "not" rather than "ain't".'
'Pity Harry isn't here to enjoy the first day of the holidays.' Hermione tossed more snow into the air, 'Lovely.'
'Yes, well, you know it's important that he takes lessons from Professor Snape.' Adela gazed back at the castle, 'How cold do you think the dungeons are this time of year?'
'Never been, never tried.' Ron said. 'But Snape doesn't leave the fires burning. Bet he wallows in the cold.'
'Now don't ye be rude 'bout Professor Snape.'
'I'm not rude, I'm honest.'
Adela did not listen to the rest of the conversation. She stared intently at where she thought the dungeons were.
'He chooses the cold.'
***
Meanwhile, Severus had an inkling that Potter was wishing he did not choose the cold. The boy was shivering and stamping the floors hoping to get some feeling back to his feet.
'When you are done,' he said unimpressed at Potter's attempts to prove that people did not usually have the fireplaces empty during winter, 'You can draw your wand out and face me.' One learnt discipline in the cold.
Potter let free a string of dark oaths that he had to wonder where he had picked them. Possibly from that cousin of his. Severus did not recall Potter having this extended vocabulary the year before.
'All right, I'm fine.' Potter gritted his teeth, 'Next time, I'll install my own central heating here.'
Severus shrugged, knowing it would irritate Potter further. It did, to his amusement.
'Stop it sir.' Potter raised his wand and twirled it, 'I don't want to waste an afternoon doing nothing.'
'As I recall, you were the one who approached me.'
Potter's mouth made a downward turn, 'I know.' He did not retaliate.
The boy had grown up after all. Much faster than James at any rate.
Severus sighed. When was he going to stop comparing father and son? He always did, even though he tried not to. Admittedly, he did not exert much will into trying. When Potter and he met the first time, the resemblance struck him so forcibly he remembered every humiliation he suffered under James Potter and his cronies when he was a young student. He remembered the torment, he saw his nemesis jeer cruelly at him, and in that crack of time, he hated Harry Potter.
Events showed the boy to be different from his father, but old grudges rankled and Severus derived perverse pleasure from mocking and punishing him at every turn. It was a channel thorough which he exorcised his childhood demons, and gave him an all-encompassing sense of control. It was not James Potter who towered over him. It was he who basked in the sureness that Potter could not hurt him. It was not the students who were in casual power. It was he who made them cringe. As for their loathing him. Let them hate, so long as they fear.
Indeed, as he knew in his heart, he was nothing but an older bully, and he was repulsed at embodying the very thing he hated. Still he kept on ruining Potter's day, sometimes justifiably, all the while allowing his old hate run loose irrationally. And he thought himself mature.
Where did the six years of teaching and terrorising Potter lead him?
Severus watched Potter as the boy tested his wand before the lesson started.
*Let it go Severus. He's not James. He's Harry. Let it go for everyone. Treat him like a student, hmmm. . . Not much of a change over there. Let the hate go, for Albus, for Evans, for Hogwarts, for his family, for Ade. . .*
He caught himself.
'Sir, I'm ready.'
Severus nodded and drew out his wand.
Neither was lax during the training, each determined to gain the upper hand. Severus was by far the more experienced of the two, and managed to capture Potter in his weaker moments. Memories revisited in Potter's mind made the student more alert and focussed.
'Well done,' Severus said, when Potter deflected a spell. 'Your presence of mind has improved since the last time I taught you.'
Potter was panting at the recent effort, 'That's be. . . because I stop wishing you to just drop dead so I can leave.'
Severus overlooked the frankness, 'Whatever helps Mr. Potter,' he said lightly, 'will be valuable. Professor Dumbledore will be pleased when I report of this advancement. Needless to say he was disappointed with your behaviour last year.'
Potter wiped his eyebrow. Severus smirked as he observed Potter's dawning comprehension, and bewildered expression when he looked at his sweaty palms.
Potter glared at him, 'Central heating?'
Severus looked at the ceiling as a reply. A ball of fire hovered over them.
He said, 'Not exactly, but it holds the same purpose. I cast that spell when you were in one of your distracted moments. It provides light, warmth and,' he could not prevent himself smiling sardonically, 'gothic theatrics.'
'Yes, quite.' Potter stared at the brilliance. 'What's the spell?'
'Ignito ignivus.'
'I'll keep that in mind.' Potter looked at him and coughed, 'And now Professor. . .'
Severus knew what he would do and steadied himself for it.
'Impedimenta!' Potter cried.
Severus blocked it, but he was flung backwards when Potter simultaneously cast another. He felt his mind yawn open and his memories pour into Potter's to see. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a part of him thought, *The boy is good with his wand.*
Flashes of his past flew them by. He watched in a strange, undetached manner as the boy he once was played by himself under his favourite tree, far from the house and away from his domineering father and weak mother. He leant forward as if to reach out to that boy, who transformed into a twenty- year old man dressed in Death-Eater robes receiving his Dark Mark, to a broken man looking older than his age exploring the green plains, to a girl who was constantly fascinating and plaguing him. . .
Severus broke the thread. 'Enough!' Both of them staggered out of the haziness of snatches of memories.
What happened? He swore he had put all those involving Adela into the pensieve. How much did he see?
Potter was staring at him.
*He knows.*
Whatever Potter saw on his face, which Severus knew must be thunderous, caused the boy's complexion to pale several shades.
'The lesson ends for today,' he said curtly.
'Professor, I didn't mean to. . .'
'If you tell anyone. . .' Severus spat.
'I won't!' Potter's head jerked, 'You can obliviate me if you. . .'
'To obliviate someone because of this is an abomination,' Severus grounded out, 'Even if that someone is you.'
'She hates Memory Charms too.' Potter's words were a lightning, with more charge in it than an ordinary one.
'Go.'
Potter hesitated, but his innate character overrode his Gryffindor inquisitiveness and he walked to the door.
Severus's back turned so that he could not see the boy and hex him.
'You don't have to be so frightened you know.'
Severus whirled round in shock and consternation.
Potter had left the dungeon.
***
Severus kicked the snow in frustration. He had stalked out to pace the open grounds to allow his rage free rein.
*Sooner or later, sooner or later, everyone will know,* his mind wailed. *How long can I hide?*
'Damnation.' He kicked the snow vigorously again.
'The snow's not that bad. It didn't offend, did it?'
Severus kicked the snow in defiance, 'What do you want?'
Adela stood in front of him, 'I'm just strolling around. Harry's joined Hermione and Ron at Hagrid's. I thought you'd be in those dungeons.' There was an inflexion in her voice that suggested she did not approve of his recent cooping up in them.
Severus sniffed, 'I apologise for being a terrible host. I lack expertise.'
'I'm not that petty.' Adela scoffed.
For the first time since his visit to Lucius, Severus smiled, 'I know.' It was as though the problem had solved itself. There was none of the awkwardness felt as when she had returned. It was as if his despair and premonition that nothing would turn out right had dissipated as soon as he had set eyes on her. He could do this. He wanted to.
In silent agreement, they resumed their customary walk around the area, despite the change in weather and scenery, that made them trudge through the snow and slow down their pace.
Severus was always amazed by how she understood him. Despite him welcoming her company, he was in no mood for chatting. She kept to herself and walked beside him, admiring the scenery and was undemanding of his personal attention. He, in turn, was happy she was with him, deliriously so. He had been afraid she would be put off by his recent sullenness. The irony was not lost on him, he who warded people from invading his privacy and who also wanted her to be a part of his life.
Severus sighed. As if things were not complicated enough.
How long they had walked he had no idea, his mind wandering from her to the Dark Lord to Potter to the books, but he stopped when something icy and wet splattered onto the back of his head.
His hand reached to touch it and came back covered with snow. Knowing to whom he owed this, he glared at the culprit Adela.
She was looking sheepish. 'I thought we'd lose you to introspection.'
He understood her. How much had he shown on his face to make her worried?
'Well, you'll be pleased to know you brought me back to reality in a very stinging manner.' He bent down in pretense of arranging his robes.
Adela said, 'Whatever works.' Then he had the pleasure of watching those adored grey eyes widen when he straightened his body with a pile of snow in his hands.
She ducked swiftly when he hurled it to her.
Soon, they were engaged in a battle of snow attack, she whooping and he taunting at every opportunity.
Severus had never felt this liberating in his life.
***
High up the Gryffindor tower, back from a half-giant's home, three friends were betting who would win the fight.
Harry thought to himself as Ron and Hermione observed from the window in half-disbelief, half-hilarity, *Not the conventional method, but it's a start.*