Severus Snape awoke at 3:30 a.m. the next morning. He was used to nightmares – for as long as he could remember they had haunted his sleep. He could recount the worst ones by heart. There were those nightmares based in his past. Being half naked and humiliated at the hands of James Potter and his cronies. The face of a Muggle woman begging for mercy for her children, and finding none. Being locked in a basement with imagined horrors, while the true horror was making his mother scream above.

And those nightmares of things yet to come – over and over, the image of the Dark Lord discovering him a traitor. He had died at the hands of Lord Voldemort twenty different ways in his dreams.

This dream was different. For months now, it had been the same, over and over again, almost every night...

He was walking across a bleak, empty moor. The world was a monochrome study in grey- grey clouds covering the sky, and low grey bushes, heather, and grasses covering the desolate landscape. In this cold, dreary world he wandered on and on. Somehow, he knew that far ahead there was a light in a window, a roaring fire, a good meal, and a warm bed. But as he doggedly trudged on, it seemed to shift and slide further away, just beyond the horizon, forever out of reach. Yet he kept in blind hope chasing the mirage, walking, walking, walking...

And just when he finally saw a tiny twinkle of light in the distance, and quickened his step, the ground gave way, and there was a sensation of falling and falling, until he woke up with a start, with a sense of yearning that made his chest ache, and the cold of the moor still chilling him to the bone,

After months of this he thought that he would actually welcome it if James Potter and the Dark Lord somehow teamed up to torment him in his dreams. With a groan, he rose and pulled on a dressing gown. There was no way he could go back to sleep, so he might as well get some work done.

Later that day....

Marya took off her robe and put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was Friday, classes were over, and she was out of here. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful spring day, and she was longing to be somewhere familiar with someone who would not expect anything of her. She wanted to go home.

As Marya stepped out of the fireplace at her aunt's house at the agreed-upon time, the tiny, white-haired witch was already waiting for her. Swiftly, Marya was caught up in a bear hug, kissed on the cheek, and bustled over to a table on the veranda where a teapot hiding under a quilted pink cozy was already waiting for her.

Aunt Hannah planted herself in the chair across, and poured the tea, fixing it the way Marya liked it – sweetened, with lemon, no milk. Cradling the steaming cup in her hand, Marya found herself relaxing.

They made small-talk for a while, with Marya telling of her experiences at Hogwarts and recounting amusing anecdotes involving her students, and her aunt filling her in on all the latest happenings and all the gossip going around the village.

After tea, they walked around the garden, arm in arm. Many of the flowers were just starting to bloom. Aunt Hannah's garden was a kaleidoscope of colors, different shades and textures whirling in startling but strangely compatible patterns.

"Tell me what is wrong," Aunt Hannah finally said.

Marya looked up in astonishment. She had no idea how Aunt Hannah did it – as far as she knew, she had not given off any signals that anything was amiss. She sighed – she should have known better than to try and fool the elder witch.

Finally, she laughed, squeezing Aunt Hannah's waist. "Nothing much - I have managed to fall hopelessly in love with a man who doesn't want anything to do with me. That about sums it up. Not the end of the world, I am sure."

"Does he know?" Aunt Hannah asked quietly.

"I have tried all I can think of – every time things go wrong, I have tried to patch things up. I have tried showing him I care about him any way I can. I am plumb out of ideas."

Aunt Hannah was silent for a moment. "Have you tried simply telling him how you feel?" she finally asked.

"Oh Auntie, I couldn't. You don't know him – he can't stand me. He won't even talk to me. All he does is glower and sneer at me - that is when he deems me worthy of any notice at all, which isn't very often. It is hopeless, and I really don't want to talk about it. It's complicated."

"Hopeless, hm?"

Privately, Aunt Hannah was thinking that there was a lot of truth to the old adage that love and hate are closely related. And that this gentleman, whoever he was, seemed to be putting a little too much effort into letting her niece known that he 'couldn't stand her'.

Wrapping her arm around her niece's waist, she gave her a little squeeze and simply said "I don't think very many things are ever truly hopeless," and then wisely dropped the subject.

In a way, Marya was glad to have gotten this out of the way. Now there were two people who knew her secret – and it felt better, less lonely. And it allowed her to simply put it out of her mind for a few days. For the rest of the weekend, she just let Aunt Hannah love on her, soaking in the easy companionship, the good food, the laughter. It was a much refreshed Runes mistress who got ready to return to Hogwarts Sunday night.

They were standing in the kitchen, and Aunt Hannah was wrapping up some home-made ginger snaps and almond crescents for Marya to take along. As she handed the package to Marya, she hesitated, and then said, "Just feel free to ignore an old woman's advice – but if you get a chance, tell him how you feel. - You don't want to later regret that you never did," she ended with a bit of a sigh. As Marya threw the handful of Floo powder into the fireplace after a final hug, she wondered if there was a story there that she had never heard...

"Professor Morava's Room, Hogwarts" she said, and let out a long breath. Aunt Hannah's advice might be proper and feasible in any other situation, but she honestly didn't see how she would ever be able to follow it where a certain Potions master was concerned.