A/N: Here is the chapter I promised. Warning: bitter Harry shows up in the second scene which is not good news for Dumbledore. Anyway, please read and review. Tell me what you think. It is appreciated!
Severus lay down the knife and glanced at the silent girl across the steam. She had been extremely quiet since entering the lab, saying no more than a few words and only when asked a direct question. He watched as she picked up a quill and started scratching on the label of a vial, only to pause and study the contents as though she had already forgotten what they contained. Biting her lip, she finished writing the name of the potion on the label, blowing gently on the ink to dry it. Setting it down, she picked up the next vial and he watched her repeat the process.
"Esme, is something wrong?" he asked. She glanced up in surprise, her eyes wide and her mouth dropping open. 'She forgot I was even here,' he thought ironically.
Turning her attention back to the vials, she shook her head. "No, I am just really tired. I didn't realize how much work needs to be accomplished before the beginning of a term." She smiled wanly at him. "No wonder you and mother were always exhausted."
His stomach dropped at the mention of Serena. Irritated, he wondered if it would ever get easier to hear her name, or if he would flinch with every allusion to her. Picking up the knife, he began cutting the gingerroot briskly.
"Not to mention the fact that you have been doing work for other professors," he said curtly.
"Don't start," she replied evenly. "I only helped him for a few hours. Why are you making it something more? Between you and Sidney you would think…"
His hand stilled and he felt his heart began to race. Oh, please don't say it. "Think what?" he asked, glad that his voice did not betray his distress. "And why do you assume that I am talking about Potter? Minerva and Sinestra told me that you had volunteered in their rooms as well."
Esme turned her head and cursed under her breath, realizing that she had just walked into a trap. Turning cool eyes on him, she merely smiled and replied, "I assumed, because Harry is the only one that you seem to mind that I assist."
"Contrary to popular belief, Esme, I don't despise Potter. I never did. He actually earned my respect after the war." He paused. "However, I also know him well enough to know that if you persist in forming a 'relationship' with him, friendly or otherwise; you will live to regret it."
Esme took the bottles that she had labeled and carefully placed them in a crate for the Infirmary. Closing the crate, she set it on the back table. Reaching under the table, she brought out the next empty crate, setting it on the table and prying off the lid. Without looking at her father, she asked quietly, "Regret it how?"
Snape felt a small measure of satisfaction that she had taken the bait. But he suddenly understood Sidney's unease. The fact that she cared enough to rise to the bait was certainly disconcerting.
Clearing his throat, he spoke so softly that Esme had to lean forward to catch his words.
"Death and misery follow Potter, Esme. Everyone that he has gotten close to has suffered. How many of his loved ones actually survived the war? And how many has he pushed away since then?"
"That is not his fault. He was drawn into the war against his will like so many others. He simply played his part."
Severus sighed. "Ah, that may be true, but it changes a person nonetheless. Especially when you cause the death of someone you love."
Esme blanched and leaned back on her heels. "Ginevra Weasley?" she asked quietly.
Snape's hand tightened on the knife hilt, wondering how far he was willing to take this. "Little Ginny. She was a bright one. I was sorry that of any of the Weasleys she was the one who had to die."
"Dad," Esme gasped, shocked at his callousness.
He inclined his head and continued as though she had not spoken. "She had a natural talent that many of the others in her family did not possess. And she had quite a bit of spunk too. It was easy to see why Potter loved her."
Esme took a step back, bumping into the table behind her. Reaching back, she gripped the edge tightly. She looked back up at her father, her face still pale and her eyes wide. Biting the inside of her cheek, she struggled to control her emotions as she had been taught. Finally, she opened her mouth and her voice came out clear and strong. She had learned from the best, after all.
"Do you suppose, had things been different, that they would have made a life together?"
Snape sneered. "I suppose if you believe in true love and all that nonsense, then yes, they would have. But life does not always give us what we want." Snape looked at her under his lashes. Her brow was furrowed and her mouth was drawn into a tight line. Maybe there wouldn't be a need for the other plan after all. Just a few more words and he would be able to end this nightmare.
"Albus believes that is why he pushed Granger and Weasley away. They were constant reminders of what he lost."
Snape stirred the potion still brewing in front of him, restraining himself from forcing the conversation. Let her think about his words.
Esme looked up, her eyes hard. "And you think that if I continue my friendship with Harry that I too will die?"
"There are worse things than death, Esme." He stepped back from the cauldron. "My fear is not that you would necessarily die, but that you would care for someone who could not love you the way you deserve. Once you find the love of your life, no one will ever be able to take their place. Trust me on this one. I know from firsthand experience."
"And Miss Weasley was the love of Harry's life?" she asked softly, a note of resignation in her voice.
Snape nodded. "From all indications, I would say 'yes'."
'Forgive me, Serena," he thought, 'for implying that Potter could ever hope to have a relationship like ours.'
Severus felt his eyes watering and rubbed them harshly, silently cursing the burning steam. He should have known better than to stand so close.
Feeling a sudden desire to end the conversation, he turned away. "Just promise me that you will think about what I said."
"I promise." The soft words hung in the air and Severus felt victorious. He just wished he understood why it felt so hollow.
Harry sat at the head table, watching the chattering students filling the Great Hall and catching up with friends they had not seen all summer. He remembered with an ache how he had always loved those first few days back after summer vacation, putting the memories of the Dursleys behind him and feeling the love and acceptance of his friends. His eyes swept over the other staff members who were taking their places at the table. The Sorting Ceremony was set to begin shortly and he was anxious to get things rolling. His gaze settled on the quiet, pale woman at the end of the table. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as Esme turned, caught his look, and quickly dropped her eyes to the table. The last few weeks he could have sworn that she was deliberately avoiding him, but he couldn't figure out why. After all her help, he assumed that they would continue to spend time together and get to know each other better, but it seemed like she had different ideas. Well, maybe it was for the best. He wasn't sure he could handle getting close to anyone else. Feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise, his gaze shifted to the man sitting at Esme's left. Snape was staring at him, his eyes hard and a small smirk playing around his mouth. Harry nodded at Severus. His smirk only deepened and he turned to Esme, saying something that brought a tight smile to her face, before she turned her attention to Dumbledore who was now standing before the assembled students.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts. I am so pleased to see everyone back safe and sound and ready to commence another year. Please find your seats and we will begin the Sorting Ceremony."
The students quickly found their seats and looked toward the doors waiting for the first years to be brought into the room to discover what their future held at Hogwarts. Harry wondered a bit bitterly if the students waiting nervously outside realized how they were willingly participating in Dumbledore's biased segregation. If the last few years had taught him anything, it was that House pride and affiliation meant nothing and that it only managed to instill baseless feelings of superiority and hatred. Many of the best agents in the Ministry had been members of Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and even a few Hufflepuffs, which Harry had quickly learned after putting aside years of pent-up hostility. Why the Headmaster continued the mockery was a mystery.
The doors opened and the first years marched in, their eyes widening as they took in the large cavernous room full of smiling classmates and professors. Well, mostly smiling. Harry looked down the table at Snape, who was glaring at the incoming students. Hiding a small smile, he was strangely thankful that some things never changed.
Dumbledore smiled down at the upturned faces and held out his arms. "Welcome to Hogwarts. This will be your home for the next seven years, and we want you to feel comfortable here. In a moment, Professor McGonagall will call your name and you will come up and be sorted into your respective houses. However, I ask you to remember that no matter what house you are in, we all belong to the same family. And not unlike family members, weoften have differing opinions and beliefs. But at the end of the day we care about and take care of each other." Dumbledore turned slightly and caught Harry's eye, winking at him. Harry's gaze hardened and his lips flattened. 'Keep your pretty words to yourself, old man. It is too late,' he thought.
Dumbledore's smile faltered and he turned, nodding at Minerva to begin the ceremony.
Professor McGonagall swept up and unfolded a scroll. Adjusting her glasses, she began to read the list of names in front of her. Harry watched as one by one, students sat on the stool, waiting for the Sorting Hat to determine which House they belonged to. Drumming his fingers on the table, he thought back to his own sorting. The Hat had debated whether or not to place him in Slytherin or Gryffindor. How accurate could this be if students could fit into more than one house? Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his bitterness aside. Sliding his gaze to the Headmaster, he was surprised to find him looking back. Harry thought he detected a hurt expression, before the patronizing smile returned. Feeling a momentary pang of guilt, he turned away and half listened to the rest of the sorting, counting the moments until he was free to return to his chambers.
Harry saw Esme walking down the hallway and he sprinted to catch up with her.
"Esme, wait up," he called. Her steps slowed and she turned toward Harry, a neutral expression covering her face.
"How are you doing, Professor Potter?" she asked. "Are you ready for the term?"
Harry's brow furrowed at her formal tone. "Well, I had better be ready for the term, seeing as it has begun. And I thought we had decided that you were going to call me Harry."
Esme lowered her eyes to the stone floor. "There are students around and it would be improper of me to be so familiar."
Harry laughed. "Familiar? I hardly think that calling me by my first name is grounds for familiarity. Besides, I thought we were friends."
She looked at him seriously. "I don't believe that we know each other well enough to be friends. And there are those who consider being friends with you a dangerous endeavor."
Harry stopped smiling. "This is about your father isn't it? That's why you've been avoiding me for the last few weeks." He paused and added softly, "He doesn't want us to spend time together."
She looked uncomfortable, her silence only confirming his suspicions.
"And here I thought the greasy bastard may have changed for the better," he muttered.
Her gaze hardened "That is my father you are talking about and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from making slanderous claims about him."
Harry's eyes blazed with anger. "Then tell me that I am wrong. Tell me that he did not convince you that spending time with me would be detrimental to your well-being. Do you allow him to make all your decisions for you? Or just ones about who you spend time with?"
Esme straightened, lifting her chin. "I make my own decisions," she ground out.
Harry took a step toward her. "Then prove it. Have tea with me this evening after dinner."
Her heart started pounding in her ears. Sliding her eyes to the right, she looked down the empty hallway, searching for any trace of her father or brother. Looking back up at Harry, she took a deep breath, feeling slightly dizzy at his nearness. When had he gotten so close?
"Fine," she answered breathlessly. "When and where?"
A corner of Harry's mouth lifted. "My chambers. 8:00 P.M. See you then." He stepped around her and started walking down the hallway, feeling curiously excited about this turn of events.
Esme lifted a hand to rub her forehead, a vast array of conflicting emotions running through her. On one hand, she had missed talking with Harry, on the other hand…"My father is going to kill me," she whispered.