AN: I know it's been a long time but I am having some trouble with these next chapters and am a bit disillusioned by the response. Not very many reviews, but the ones I'm getting are great so please keep it up, they help me a lot. I had to split this chapter up because it was getting long. From this chapter on there should be a bit more excitement. I also have a good bit more of the story written from here on out. Thanks for reading and please review.

Disclaimers: The title comes from a quote from Ambrose Bierce that I will borrow heavily from later but I will be sure to give proper credit as has been drilled into my head. Speaking of crediting people, I do not own any of the Harry Potter franchise; they come from the mind of J.K. Rowling as we all know.

REGION OF SOBS

Chapter 4 - Normality and Change

After a few days stuck in the house creating lesson plans and studying books on potion theory Snape became bored with the tedium that each day seemed to bring. He even brought himself so low as to explore the television that Beth Ann had pointed out. She had watched a show on it last night and invited him to join her but he had made an excuse and headed to his room.

Today, though, she wasn't there and he was bored stiff. He found it fairly easy to control by pushing the buttons below the screen and quickly became fascinated by the Muggle invention. On the screen a redheaded woman was railing at a man, fire leaping in her eyes, it seemed that the man had recently had an affair with another woman. Then the man explained to the woman, whose name he found to be Miranda that he could not be with her anymore because he was actually her half brother. Snape visibly recoiled at this, wondering at the lives of Muggles, how could she not have known this bit of information. It seems the lives of these people continued to spiral downward until a male voice cut in and announced that next time Tad would find out a secret that would almost break him and Cally would wake from her coma.

Slowly Snape realized that the few minutes that he had watched were fictional, a story that someone had written. He quickly punched buttons until the screen went black, that invention was definitely not worth his time, if he cared about that sort of thing he would listen to the pictures gossip at Hogwarts.

Life in the small townhouse soon fell into a routine. Beth Ann went to work at the bookstore, Snape spent his days reading and creating new lesson plans and potion theories. The two housemates soon became somewhat comfortable with each other and spent evenings reading in the den in relative ease.

Snape kept Dumbledore updated by floo conversations but found after two weeks that there was nothing to report, and learned that the Order had not heard much out of the Death Eaters either. They had not been summoned he knew, but the lack of activity on Voldemort's part unnerved him.

Snape entered the kitchen after one of his uneventful conversations with Dumbledore to find Beth Ann scurrying around, several pots boiling on the stove. She was muttering to herself and he heard what distinctly sounded like a curse in some other language as she dropped what looked like a potato. He felt a chuckle bubbling in his chest as he noticed her usually perfect hair was popping out of its loose bun and curling around her face. It looked like all it took to get this girl riled up was to set too many boiling pots on the stove.

He quickly pushed the threatening laughter down and composed his face into its mask of neutrality. "May I help?" He asked. With a startled squeak she spun around to face him, hair flying, brow glistening with a sheen of sweat, wielding a rather large knife.

"Please." She said sounding ridiculously harried for someone who was only cooking. "Oh catch that one it's about to boil over." She said gesturing with the knife as she noticed a pot on the stove. He took a quick step towards it and picked it up before the liquid boiled over onto the stove.

"What is all of this? You needn't bother yourself this much." He said scoffing slightly.

She smoothed her hair and moved to the stove beside him turning the heat down on the burners and stirring one of the pots. She finished and turned towards him, the ever present little smile playing on her lips, "It's not for you, goose*." He felt his eyebrows rise in a look of utter bewilderment. "You can put that back on the stove but be sure to stir it for me please." She moved back to cutting up the vegetables by the sink.

"What, then, is the occasion?" He said thoroughly unnerved by her strange choice of epithet.

"You thought I would do all this just for us? No, neither one of us is worth all this mess. Ms. Miroslav is coming for dinner." She said smiling at the lettuce that she had begun cutting for salad.

He wondered at her as he stirred the pot. He knew that she left every Sunday morning, presumably for church but she never bothered him about it or even mentioned that she went. She always wore gloves when she went out, along with a hat and she always wore dresses. Perhaps she was old fashioned; perhaps she enjoyed dressing as an old fashioned southern "lady."

As he watched her brush a long strand of strawberry hair out of her eyes he realized he had never seen her with her hair down and he couldn't remember ever seeing her in trousers. That had to be strange for someone her age. She acted like a woman much older than her twenty some odd years.

He was watching the liquid in the pot so intensely that he didn't hear her the first time she spoke.

"Mr. Snape?" She said again. He looked up from the pot to find her watching him.

"Yes." He said blandly.

"Are you alright?" She questioned, concern written on her features.

"Yes, fine thank you." He said turning back to the pot and mentally berating himself for getting lost in his thoughts. He rarely spent any amount of time with the girl but when he did he found that his mind always seemed to wander to her. In her presence he could think of nothing more than her, who she was, what she hid, and how she managed to maintain at least the pretense of happiness.

Beth Ann put the bowl of salad in the refrigerator and checked the pots on the stove. She lifted the pot of pasta from the stove and strained it into the sink before placing a cover on the pot and setting it aside.

"I need to run upstairs and change, do you mind stirring that for a bit?" She questioned as she cleaned up the cutting board.

He gave a little nod of assent; she smiled and leaned across the stove turning the burner down, "Thanks, just keep stirring so it doesn't burn." She said as she headed off up the stairs.

In the few minutes that she was gone he went over in his head what he knew of Ms. Miroslav. She was a little old lady, with a strong accent and long gray hair hidden by a scarf. When he had apparated to her house she told him that she had been living in the States for twenty years. She had moved from Russia where she had taught History of Magic at a small, elite magic school. She quit when the school did nothing in the fight against Voldemort and subsequently quit the magical world all together. He could not be sure how the old woman knew Beth Ann but that was unimportant.

He heard her coming down the stairs then and continued to stir as she set the table quickly. A knock at the door caused her to jump then scoff at herself before straightening her dress and heading towards the front of the house.

The night went very well. Mr. Snape was exceptionally courteous throughout the dinner, pulling out Ms. Miroslav's chair and refilling her glass. He treated her as his own grandmother. Ms. Miroslav seemed charmed by him, she chattered on about how sweet he was and how she wished her grandson was so good to her. It seemed that Mr. Snape was embarrassed by this for Beth Ann noticed a slight pink tint to his normally sallow skin.

He maintained his typically stoic expression though and remained mostly silent as Ms. Miroslav talked about Russia and the children she taught then began talking about the school that Mr. Snape taught at and how well she liked the headmaster. True, Ms. Miroslav was the one that kept the conversation alive and neither of the housemates was required to talk as she chattered but Mr. Snape was surprisingly polite and attentive.

When dinner was over Mr. Snape volunteered to walk Ms. Miroslav back across the street and she willingly obliged, taking his arm. On the walk back he asked her the question that had been playing on his mind the whole dinner.

"Do you know.....?" He paused, not knowing how to ask.

"No, dear, I only know what Dumbledore told me. Although I have known her for nearly five years and see her every week, she is still an unknown. We attend church together and I know that she speaks Russian very well, I believe at some time she probably lived there. That is all I can guess. She is a mystery to me also."

When Snape arrived back at the apartment Beth Ann was cleaning in the kitchen, humming a tuneless melody seeming very content. He cleared his throat as not to startle her and she looked up from her dishes.

"Thank you for walking her home." She said smiling at him. He nodded and picked up a dish towel and a plate from the drain. She quirked an eyebrow at him but didn't speak only shook her head and went back to the dishes with him drying beside her. When they were finished she closed the house up, locking doors and putting down blinds, while he watched then went into the den, tidying up, picking up stray books and shoes. Snape followed her and watched then slowly began up the stairs.

"Mr. Snape," she said quietly causing him to turn on the stairs, "you are an enigma, you know that right?"

She was smiling at him with a look of wonder in her pale eyes. He did not know how to respond for a moment but suddenly the words spilled out of his mouth, uncharacteristically unguarded, "As are you Miss....." he cleared his throat, "Beth." He said, whispering the name which sounded strange on his lips; he simply could not bring himself to call her Beth Ann.

She met his eyes and cocked her head and for a moment she held his gaze then blinked slowly and allowed a timid smile to spread over her face. He thought he saw her nod slightly before she said, "Goodnight."

He turned and walked up the stairs mildly cursing himself for letting his thoughts bubble so close to the surface and letting down his guard.

~~~~~

A few nights later she walked home from a movie through the quaint streets. She hummed in contentment as she strolled through the familiar squares. This was a beautiful city, perhaps her favorite city to live in, which was saying a lot. She walked along, cars slowly passing on the lighted streets, sight seeing or coming home from a long day of work. From behind her a police car sped around the square, sirens wailing and lights flashing. She was startled by the loud scream of the sirens breaking the peace of the warm night.

As she rounded the last corner and headed into the square that she called home she saw a gathering of flashing lights and many people. She stopped mid stride noticing four police cars, an ambulance, and a van marked with the police department logo. They all sat across the square from her own town home, in front of Ms. Miroslav's. She approached the police line that formed a perimeter around Ms. Miroslav's townhouse.

Oh please let her be ok, she thought, but she knew better, even as the thought entered her head she knew something terrible had happened. She glanced around, noticing the officers moving back and forth, the crowd that had gathered outside the police line and finally the ethereal green tinge that seemed to infuse the warm night air.

After failing to catch the attention of the passing officers she turned, confused and bewildered to the small crowd that had gathered outside the police line. She searched the faces there but quickly found that she knew no one else until her eyes fell upon the door to her home. There standing in the shadows she saw her houseguest leaning against the doorway and watching the scene unfold. She hurried across the square to her doorstep, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

He watched as she hurried towards him, confusion apparent on her face. She looked up at him, her eyes full of pleading, "Do you know?" She whispered as if her voice was caught within her throat.

"No." He said simply pushing himself away from the wall; she turned from him looking back at the surreal scene just a few paces from her house. He saw her shoulders give a heave as if she was taking a deep breath then begin to shake slightly as a stretcher was carried out of the house bearing a dark blue body bag. She backed up and sat on the stairs, not removing her eyes from the scene.

He stood above her not sure what to do, he had told the truth he did not know what had happened but from the green tinge to the sky he could venture a guess. He had not talked to Dumbledore yet but was waiting on confirmation of his suspicions. For the moment though he knew that she needed someone to be there, not only to protect her if the Death Eaters chose to attack again.

He moved silently down the stairs to stand beside the place where she sat, one glance revealed large tears silently rolling down her cheeks. He almost panicked, he did not know what to do with a crying woman, he had the juvenile urge to turn and run but that would do no good so he stayed. Without a word he sat next to her, closer than usual, so that there shoulders were brushing, lending her his silent support. He hoped this was enough, it felt entirely inadequate but he could not bring himself to do anymore, for fear of her reaction.

Beside him she was struggling with herself. She knew instinctually that Ms. Miroslav was dead and it had not been a natural death. Who would do something like this? She was a harmless old lady. Her mind was filled with dreadful thoughts of what had happened to her sweet old neighbor who had been a constant in her life. She leaned into the man beside her, unconsciously needing to be closer to something sturdy. Her world was so safe now; she was never supposed to be afraid like this again. But looking across the street she felt her world begin to spin wildly out of her control once more.

Snape felt her lean into him; just a slight pressure but it buoyed him. She needed him, he felt it in the way she lightly laid her head on his shoulder and he was heartened. Her breathing was ragged and he had the distinct impression that she was struggling to hold back a torrent of tears. He could feel her shaking then he heard her breath in deeply, a shaky breath accompanied by a small sob. Her breathing slowly became normal; she lightly swiped at her eyes but remained leaning against him.

~~~~~

* I knew an old lady that used this pet name for everyone. She referred to everyone as a silly goose but dropped the silly part for many people and called them goose. I thought it was cute so I put it in here. Plus I like the idea of someone calling Snape a funny name like goose.