December 28th.
At 10 a.m., Professor Severus Snape was working in the potions classroom, pickling assorted newt parts. It was the sort of chore he could have done in his sleep with one hand tied behind his back - which was a good thing, since he was in a lousy mood, and his mind kept straying off the task at hand.
Why had he decided to stay here during Christmas break? This time of year was the most depressing of the lot – first Christmas (he had about as much tolerance for the holiday as Ebenezer Scrooge before his change of heart), and then his birthday, which no one ever remembered. Except Dumbledore, of course, who never failed to send a card.
This morning had been no exemption – when he opened the envelope, the card had started singing "Happy Birthday to You" completely off key but extremely loud, and had then spewed confetti all over him.
He had had to take a couple of deep breaths and remind himself that it was the thought that counts.
Other than that, it was a day like every other. Now he sat here with a large pile of newts in front of him. He could have used some help – but that drat woman had decided to take off for a few days. She was supposed to have been back by now, but she must have decided to stay longer. Not that he could blame her.
His mind traveled back a few weeks...
She had wandered into the potions classroom after lesson hours. "What can I do for you?" he had asked with an air of long-suffering. He was annoyed. She was standing there with that deer-in-the-headlights look again. Did she really think he was going to bite her head off every time she strayed into his territory?
"I was wondering – is there anything I can do to help? I feel like I am not earning my keep...I have only a few classes, third years and up that are taking Ancient Runes as an elective. You, on the other hand, have every last student in the school coming through here every week. I have been helping Poppy Pomfrey off and on, but most of the time the hospital wing isn't that busy, either. Is there anything I can help you with? To keep me occupied?"
His first inclination had been to send her away – but from the looks of her, that was exactly what she was expecting. So just to confound her, he had agreed.
To his surprise, the arrangement had worked out well – for the most part, anyways. She would come in after classes were over, and do whatever he needed done. To test her, he had assigned her some of his least favorite tasks. She had completed them without complaining, and without giving him something to complain about. To his immense relief, she didn't seem to feel the need to prattle on. Quietly and efficiently, she would go about the menial work he gave her, leaving him to correct parchments and prepare lessons. Sometimes, he managed to upset her, and she would leave – but she would be back the next day, like nothing had happened.
Even more to his surprise, he had found that after a while, he started looking forward to her coming – it was... companionable, somehow nice, to have her there. It didn't seem possible, but there it was. Sometimes, they did talk – and, once she got past her initial shyness, he found her ... well, interesting. In many ways, she was a puzzle to him.
Again, his thoughts slipped back....
Shortly before Christmas, she had been mincing ginger root on one side of the room while he had been working on a rather complicated ointment Madam Pomfrey had requested on the other. Somehow, he had managed to touch the side of the cauldron filled with boiling grease. With a half suppressed curse at his own stupidity, he had pulled his hand away .
Quick as a flash, she had been there. "It's nothing. Absolutely nothing. Get back to what you are supposed to be doing," he had hissed sharply at her in his best Teacher Voice. Normally, that tone would have been enough to sent her scurrying off.
But she had switched into Healer Mode – he still found it surprising how she could change personality almost instantly– all of a sudden self assured, confident, totally ignoring his objections.
"Nonsense," she had said, "let me see." She had firmly but carefully grasped his hurt hand while he had mumbled protests. Gently, she had turned it over, to where a blister was already forming over an angry red burn. Her fingers ran softly over his skin. All of sudden, there had been this strange, tight feeling in his chest, like he couldn't breathe. Cradling his hand in one of hers, she had treated and bandaged the wound. "There, better?" she had asked, looking up at him, still holding his hand. Not trusting his voice, he had mutely nodded.
He still didn't know what to make of that.
A knock at the door interrupted his revelry. "Come in," he muttered. There stood Marya. "I am back! If I help you with those newts, do you think you could come on a walk with me? I want to show you something...." There was an air of excitement about her, like she was barely suppressing something about to bubble over.
"I suppose," he answered gruffly.
As they attacked the pile of newts together, he almost smiled. The day all of a sudden had started to look a whole lot better.
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