Disclaimer: Still the property of Ms. Rowling.
Holy… Over thirty reviews… I'm simply floored… I don't even know how to react. I just logged on to check my email, thinking that maybe I got a few reviews. There were thirty-one. Thank you all so much.
I'm in shock… I don't even know how to convey how happy that I am that people are enjoying this story, and saying so.
Chapter 2: Fascinations, or a Cold Exterior
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"Snape, can we talk?"
Severus turned to face the young lycanthrope, his breath catching in his throat. His pallid face became abnormally flushed momentarily, before he brought his cold exterior into place.
"I see no reason for us to speak, Lupin." Snape snarled.
"I swear that I had nothing to do with it." Remus sighed, running a hand through his amber hair. Snape studied the werewolf for a moment, taking in the tired look of his fellow pupil, the pale features, the dark lines under his eyes. "It was Sirius and, to a lesser extent, James. When I'm…transformed…I really have no control over myself. The wolf takes over…"
"You expect me to believe that?" Snape kept his voice low, dangerous. Remus couldn't help but compare his voice to that of a snake, a hissing sound.
"Yes, I do."
"What have you ever done to inspire such confidence?" Snape asked. "Why should I believe that you and your little Marauders wouldn't give just about anything to get rid of me, once and for all? To get rid of the thorn in your side? It would have been quite convenient, I guess. An accident. For me to 'accidentally' stumble across a fully transformed werewolf. To 'accidentally' get bitten, or worse.
"How very bloody convenient." Severus spun on his heel, walking away from Remus.
"Snape…" Remus was beginning to lose his temper, clenching his fists.
"Leave me be…" Snape turned back towards Lupin. "You freak."
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It's been nearly two months now since Sirius passed on. The Order's been meeting at fairly regular intervals since. Many members are demanding justice for Siri's murder, other are simply tired of fighting, using Padfoot as an example of why this war needs to end.
I just sit at the meetings, taking everything in. I watch Dumbledore. His warm blue eyes have cooled slightly. I watch Arthur and Molly Weasely. They seem so much more tired. Their son, Percy, is still being a right prat.
And I watch Snape.
He seems to be distant, snapping at everyone lately. For someone who claims to have not cared that Sirius died, he's certainly showing the signs of mourning. He looks, quite frankly, like the guilt is eating him alive.
There are very few outward signs. Snape's far too well put together for that. It's in his mannerisms. In his scowls.
In his eyes.
Those eyes. A girl in our class once said that she could get lost in those eyes. 'They're like deep, dark tunnels. I could look into them forever, and find new things that I love about them every day.'
Of course I told her that she was nutters and Sirius and James teased her for a week. I laugh out loud at the odd memory, getting odd glances from the people sitting around me.
I'm sitting in Dumbledore's office, across from Albus. Snape is sitting next to me, his fingers steepled on his lap. His eyes are cast to the floor. I risk a small look over towards him.
His hair seems to be more lank than usual. There are dark rings around his eyes. You can tell it all by the eyes. They're not as expressive as they were. They seem to be much less malicious. But then again, his entire demeanor seems to have calmed. Not that he was so expressive to begin with…
"You want us to what, Headmaster?" Snape asks, standing up. I shake my head, attempting to catch up on the conversation that I had been zoning out on. I turn to Dumbledore, trying to hide the fact that I hadn't been paying attention. "You've got to be kidding me, Albus.
"We've risked enough lately… Black is dead. More will die."
I try to contain my shock at Severus' speech. I've never seen him show such a lack of respect to authority. Well, I have, but not to Dumbledore. He's always drawn the line there. He can act as snarky as he pleases when it comes to McGonagall, but when it comes to Albus, he's always held a modicum of respect.
"We have no choice, Severus." Dumbledore's eyes seem to have lost a bit of their warmth. My eyes dart between the two wizards.
"Like hell we've got no choice. Black is dead, and more could die as well." Snape took a deep breath, pressing his fingers against his temples. Snape's voice turns to what seems to be his favorite tone: deep, dangerous. The tone that he speaks to his students when angered. Snape doesn't lash out. It seems the quieter he is, the more you should fear for your life. "Will you sacrifice us next?"
The breath catches in my lungs as he stands up, storming out of the office. I glance back and forth between the door and Dumbledore. I finally stand up, nodding curtly to Albus before following Severus.
I whistle to myself as I walk down the ancient stone hallway, on my way to speak to Severus.
-TBC-