A/N: This is for the five drabbles challenge for the prompt "I wasn't actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity." ― F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Severus looked at Emmaline as they sat under one of the trees near the Black Lake.
She looked beautiful with a small bit of light catching her hair through the branches of the tree.
He didn't love her - Severus didn't even know if he was capable of that kind of love - but he did care for her.
"What are you staring at?" Emmaline asked, looking up from her book.
"You," he replied.
"Is there a reason why?" she enquired.
"Not particularly. I was just thinking how beautiful you looked in the streaks of sun. Almost like an angel," Severus commented.
"An angel?" she snorted, "Have you been drinking Firewhiskey already?"
He frowned.
"I'm only joking, Severus. I know you wouldn't drink at this time unless there was an actual reason," she said softly as she leant over and took his hand in hers.
The topic of his father was thankfully avoided as he didn't know if he would be able to deal with it. The subject was extremely sore for him still and would remain so until his mother left him, or his father died.
"You're wrong, you know? You look ethereal especially when you wear one of those sundresses and sit in the sun," he said, complimenting her.
"Thank you. No one else has ever said that to me," Emmaline confided.
Severus was glad that even if he didn't love her, he knew how to make her feel good and cared for.