Chapter 12
Those familiar butterflies in the pit of her stomach, which had become her close friends upon arriving at Hogwarts, had made a return visit and seemed to excite themselves each time Narnia would think about Saturday's meeting of the Order. With one day from her weekend tied up, she knew she would have to spread out her workload over the weekdays, or spend the following week in chaos, catching up. Instead of returning to her rooms each night after dinner, she would make her way back to her office, somewhat thankful for the distraction, as thoughts of Saturday's gathering were delayed for awhile. She had also started her individual consultations with her students, in order to discuss their progress in developing the lessons they would soon be teaching to their classmates. Due to the amount of students that were in her classroom, day in and day out, she left this privilege of peer instruction to the fifth years and above. It had been no one's surprise that Hermione Granger had signed up to go first among the sixth year Gryffindors. Since she had inflicted this assignment on her pupils, Narnia felt it only fair to allow them the freedom to make their presentations when they felt confident to do so. She was somewhat hesitant for Hermione to be the pace setter, due to the standard she would undoubtedly set, but Narnia decided in the end it would challenge the other students accordingly. She had set up a meeting with Miss Granger for mid- week, after the evening meal. She sat listening intently to the sixth year, making mental notes, when a knock at her door derailed her train of thought. Hermione stopped speaking and looked up at her, then followed Narnia's gaze towards her office door.
"Come in," Narnia called, realizing her voice had sounded a bit aggravated, which had not been her intention.
Opening the door, Professor Snape stepped in, swift in manner and eyes lingering about the room. His gaze fell upon the young Gryffindor, willing her to turn her attentions away from his presence. When she obliged, he slowly raised his stare to Narnia. Narnia was reminded of the last time he had appeared at her door and how she had desired his closeness. Shifting nervously in her seat, tucking the memory away, she cleared her throat.
"Is there something I can do for you, Professor?" The words came casual and Narnia was glad they had not betrayed her sudden discomfort at his being there.
"Our appointment for this Friday will have to be postponed. I will have other matters in need of my attention." He awaited her acknowledgement. When she had replied with, "very well," he made to leave the office. She watched him move across the room, in complete ease. Grasping the door handle, he exited the room as dramatically as he had entered it. Her attentions remained on the place that he had just filled and remembering the conversation he had just interrupted, she turned her eyes to her student.
Looking back at Hermione, she was not ignorant of the question in her expression. Hermione looked down at her parchment, scrambling for distraction. Allowing the situation to pass without explanation would only permit the Gryffindor to derive her own conclusions, ones she was already forming.
"I would expect that what I am about to tell you to remain between you and I, Miss Granger." She waited for Hermione to meet her stare. Hermione nodded her head in consent, looking as if Christmas had come early, and Professor Fairling continued. "I am abysmal at Potions making, though making improvements with the aid of Professor Snape. It was not a course in my studies growing up and I feel it a professional obligation to improve myself in that area. I hope I have made myself clear on my appointments with my colleague." She lifted her brows in question, and only relaxed them when Hermione accepted her explanation.
"Quite, Professor," she stated, a mixture of embarrassment and guilt in her tone, a slight show of disappointment on her face. What Hermione had expected to hear, Narnia could only guess, but the topic was now closed and there were more important things to discuss.
"No matter, Miss Granger. Now, may we continue with your lesson?" As Hermione resumed to detail her lecture, her words seemed to fade away as Narnia's repeated themselves in her mind. She was sure that Hermione had accepted this reasoning for her meetings with Professor Snape, yet Narnia wondered if the explanation hadn't been more of an effort to convince her own logic.
* * * *
With her Friday evening session with Snape cancelled, Narnia had some time to relax before Saturday. She was grateful for the break, yet found herself restless and wearing a path in the floor of her rooms. Snape's reasons for canceling left no intricate explanations and she was curious if it pertained to tomorrow's meeting. Due to the delicate nature of the circumstances, it was understandable that he had not given further details in front of a student, but she had wondered if he would have obliged her even if Miss Granger had not been in her office that evening. Thinking of the time spent with Severus Snape, she felt confident that she had formed both a professional relationship and friendship with the Potions Master. Therefore, she resigned herself to believe that if it had been necessary he would have informed her of the reasoning behind the postponement. She stopped her pacing, only to plop down in the oversized chair residing by the fireplace.
He had not been in attendance for dinner this evening.
Perhaps he was arriving early at headquarters in preparation for the meeting.
Perhaps not.
Sitting up, thumbs on her cheekbones, massaging her forehead with her index fingers, all the while staring at the floor, she tried to stifle her mental ramblings. "You've just resolved to trust him, and yet you follow this decision with suspicion," she mumbled to herself.
She was not about to solely take blame for feeling this way when he was partially at fault. Secrecy and mystery cloaked him, almost a being unto themselves, and he allowed for it, encouraged it. He was consistently inconsistent in his behaviors, always keeping everyone a bit anxious around him. His only directness came when he meant to inflict with his words.
His masquerade was tiring, at times, but she had noticed calmness in him during their sessions, a subtle flicker. He was in his element at those times, exercising his vast knowledge of herbs and techniques and probably unaware of this deeper side he was revealing.
Aware of how she was coming to feel about him, Narnia couldn't help but feel that it had been a mistake to continue studying with him. She had shrugged her emotions off as simply a reaction to a desire to befriend him, but she knew it was only a weak justification for spending more time in his presence. Friendship with Snape took on a slightly different meaning than with most others, but she was confident that they had reached some sort of understanding. Despite this development, she longed for more and increased time spent with him found her struggling to keep guarded those places that if touched, could destroy her.
Narnia knew the reasons for her reservations. Her haunting past coupled with this enigma of a man. Why was he so closed and guarded? Dropping her hands to her lap, Narnia wondered how many layers covered what truly lay at the soul of Severus Snape and if anyone were to ever peel them all back, what would they find there? Enticing, as it would be to try, the risk to her heart would be too great.
Those familiar butterflies in the pit of her stomach, which had become her close friends upon arriving at Hogwarts, had made a return visit and seemed to excite themselves each time Narnia would think about Saturday's meeting of the Order. With one day from her weekend tied up, she knew she would have to spread out her workload over the weekdays, or spend the following week in chaos, catching up. Instead of returning to her rooms each night after dinner, she would make her way back to her office, somewhat thankful for the distraction, as thoughts of Saturday's gathering were delayed for awhile. She had also started her individual consultations with her students, in order to discuss their progress in developing the lessons they would soon be teaching to their classmates. Due to the amount of students that were in her classroom, day in and day out, she left this privilege of peer instruction to the fifth years and above. It had been no one's surprise that Hermione Granger had signed up to go first among the sixth year Gryffindors. Since she had inflicted this assignment on her pupils, Narnia felt it only fair to allow them the freedom to make their presentations when they felt confident to do so. She was somewhat hesitant for Hermione to be the pace setter, due to the standard she would undoubtedly set, but Narnia decided in the end it would challenge the other students accordingly. She had set up a meeting with Miss Granger for mid- week, after the evening meal. She sat listening intently to the sixth year, making mental notes, when a knock at her door derailed her train of thought. Hermione stopped speaking and looked up at her, then followed Narnia's gaze towards her office door.
"Come in," Narnia called, realizing her voice had sounded a bit aggravated, which had not been her intention.
Opening the door, Professor Snape stepped in, swift in manner and eyes lingering about the room. His gaze fell upon the young Gryffindor, willing her to turn her attentions away from his presence. When she obliged, he slowly raised his stare to Narnia. Narnia was reminded of the last time he had appeared at her door and how she had desired his closeness. Shifting nervously in her seat, tucking the memory away, she cleared her throat.
"Is there something I can do for you, Professor?" The words came casual and Narnia was glad they had not betrayed her sudden discomfort at his being there.
"Our appointment for this Friday will have to be postponed. I will have other matters in need of my attention." He awaited her acknowledgement. When she had replied with, "very well," he made to leave the office. She watched him move across the room, in complete ease. Grasping the door handle, he exited the room as dramatically as he had entered it. Her attentions remained on the place that he had just filled and remembering the conversation he had just interrupted, she turned her eyes to her student.
Looking back at Hermione, she was not ignorant of the question in her expression. Hermione looked down at her parchment, scrambling for distraction. Allowing the situation to pass without explanation would only permit the Gryffindor to derive her own conclusions, ones she was already forming.
"I would expect that what I am about to tell you to remain between you and I, Miss Granger." She waited for Hermione to meet her stare. Hermione nodded her head in consent, looking as if Christmas had come early, and Professor Fairling continued. "I am abysmal at Potions making, though making improvements with the aid of Professor Snape. It was not a course in my studies growing up and I feel it a professional obligation to improve myself in that area. I hope I have made myself clear on my appointments with my colleague." She lifted her brows in question, and only relaxed them when Hermione accepted her explanation.
"Quite, Professor," she stated, a mixture of embarrassment and guilt in her tone, a slight show of disappointment on her face. What Hermione had expected to hear, Narnia could only guess, but the topic was now closed and there were more important things to discuss.
"No matter, Miss Granger. Now, may we continue with your lesson?" As Hermione resumed to detail her lecture, her words seemed to fade away as Narnia's repeated themselves in her mind. She was sure that Hermione had accepted this reasoning for her meetings with Professor Snape, yet Narnia wondered if the explanation hadn't been more of an effort to convince her own logic.
* * * *
With her Friday evening session with Snape cancelled, Narnia had some time to relax before Saturday. She was grateful for the break, yet found herself restless and wearing a path in the floor of her rooms. Snape's reasons for canceling left no intricate explanations and she was curious if it pertained to tomorrow's meeting. Due to the delicate nature of the circumstances, it was understandable that he had not given further details in front of a student, but she had wondered if he would have obliged her even if Miss Granger had not been in her office that evening. Thinking of the time spent with Severus Snape, she felt confident that she had formed both a professional relationship and friendship with the Potions Master. Therefore, she resigned herself to believe that if it had been necessary he would have informed her of the reasoning behind the postponement. She stopped her pacing, only to plop down in the oversized chair residing by the fireplace.
He had not been in attendance for dinner this evening.
Perhaps he was arriving early at headquarters in preparation for the meeting.
Perhaps not.
Sitting up, thumbs on her cheekbones, massaging her forehead with her index fingers, all the while staring at the floor, she tried to stifle her mental ramblings. "You've just resolved to trust him, and yet you follow this decision with suspicion," she mumbled to herself.
She was not about to solely take blame for feeling this way when he was partially at fault. Secrecy and mystery cloaked him, almost a being unto themselves, and he allowed for it, encouraged it. He was consistently inconsistent in his behaviors, always keeping everyone a bit anxious around him. His only directness came when he meant to inflict with his words.
His masquerade was tiring, at times, but she had noticed calmness in him during their sessions, a subtle flicker. He was in his element at those times, exercising his vast knowledge of herbs and techniques and probably unaware of this deeper side he was revealing.
Aware of how she was coming to feel about him, Narnia couldn't help but feel that it had been a mistake to continue studying with him. She had shrugged her emotions off as simply a reaction to a desire to befriend him, but she knew it was only a weak justification for spending more time in his presence. Friendship with Snape took on a slightly different meaning than with most others, but she was confident that they had reached some sort of understanding. Despite this development, she longed for more and increased time spent with him found her struggling to keep guarded those places that if touched, could destroy her.
Narnia knew the reasons for her reservations. Her haunting past coupled with this enigma of a man. Why was he so closed and guarded? Dropping her hands to her lap, Narnia wondered how many layers covered what truly lay at the soul of Severus Snape and if anyone were to ever peel them all back, what would they find there? Enticing, as it would be to try, the risk to her heart would be too great.