Severus sat down at the head table and surreptitiously glanced at Esme out of the corner of his eye. She had her head propped up on one hand and was pushing her food around her plate with a fork. Picking up his napkin, he unrolled it and laid it on his lap.
"Sorry I'm late," he apologized. "I had to see that a certain group of students remembered the proper procedure for cleaning up their stations."
Esme smiled and stabbed a green bean on her plate. "No one could ever hope to clean up their station to your expectations."
Severus looked thoughtful for a moment. "That's not true. I seem to remember yours always being spotless."
She sat up and gave him an exasperated look. "Yes, because there would have been hell to pay if it hadn't been." She laid down her fork and imitated her father, "Esme, as my daughter, I expect a certain level of preparedness and ability. I shall expect more of you than other student, so don't let me down."
Severus laughed uncomfortably at her spot-on impersonation, feeling slightly remorseful. Perhaps he had been a little too hard on her. "Well, look where it got you," he said, eying the meal in front of him. Suddenly, his mouth felt dry and he was unsure that he could stomach the rich looking meal. "How did your first day go?" he asked, anxious to change the topic of conversation.
Taking a bite of the roast beef, she chewed slowly and considered his question. Swallowing, she shrugged. "It went as well as can be expected I suppose. Does it ever get any easier?"
"The first days are always a bit rough. The students are not quite used to being back in the classroom. You may have to be rather tough the first few weeks. An old professor once told me that you should never smile at the students until after winter break."
Esme choked on the forkful of green beans that she had been chewing. Her eyes began to water and her father slapped her on the back, attempting to dislodge the obstruction. Handing her a glass of water, Severus watched in concern as she took a drink, breathing heavily after she lowered the glass. Smiling gratefully at him, she placed the glass on the table and started laughing.
"What is so funny?" Snape asked a bit stiffly. He hated to be left out of a joke, unsure if it was ever about him.
Holding up a hand, Esme continued laughing, wiping away a few tears that may have been due to the laughter or the previous choking experience.
"Don't you think you are taking his advice a little too seriously, Dad?"
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Who's advice? What on earth are you talking about?"
"Your professor: the one who said not to smile until after winter break. He did mean that you were to eventually smile at the students at some point during the term," she said teasingly.
"Very funny," he muttered, turning his attention back to his plate. "That's the last time I offer you any advice."
"I'm sorry. It was just a joke." She placed her hand over his and gave him a small, apologetic smile.
Turning his hand over, he clasped hers tightly. Looking up into her eyes, he said softly, "No, I am sorry. I tend to take things too personally. Don't let your prickly old father push you away, alright?"
Esme felt her chest constrict, her eyes tearing up. "I won't, I promise."
Severus looked pointedly at her plate and released her hand. "You should eat before your dinner gets cold. You need to keep up your strength."
She tilted her head and rolled her eyes. "Yes, father," she said cheekily.
"Why don't you come by tonight after dinner? I think we are due for a chess rematch and I know Sidney would enjoy having us all in the same room again."
Esme froze. Her mind raced trying to figure out how to slip out of this without revealing the truth. "I would love that, Dad. I really would, but unfortunately, I already have plans."
His eyes narrowed, studying her. "Oh, really? With anyone we know?" he asked casually.
"I was going to help Poppy restock the storeroom with the potions we finished up. She's been really busy and has been unable to unpack the crates," Esme babbled as she felt a blush spread up her cheeks. 'God, Es,' she berated herself, 'at least try to tell a convincing lie.'
"With Potter back in the vicinity, I am sure that she has been too busy. I think that boy spent more time in the infirmary than anywhere else," Snape sneered, taking a bite of potatoes, grimacing as the slightly congealed gravy slid over his tongue. With a sigh, he laid down his fork and sat back. His eyes shifted to the end of the table, noticing the empty seat for the first time. Looking around the Great Hall, he wondered where the infuriating new professor was.
"Speaking of Potter, he seems to be missing from this evening's festivities. Perhaps he felt too good to eat dinner with the masses," Severus said condescendingly.
"Harry's not like that," Esme said quietly, wishing she had kept her mouth shut when she saw her father's eyes blaze.
"And exactly how would you know what Potter is like?" he asked, his voice low, a dangerous edge to it. "I thought that we agreed that you were going to stay away from him."
Esme took the napkin off her lap and laid it on her plate. "I don't know him. He just doesn't seem like the type to believe the hype that surrounds him."
"He certainly has you snowed, Esme. Don't fall for the humble act. It has been perfected over the years," he said quietly, the horror he felt reflected in his dark eyes.
She stood and looked down at him. "Thank you for the interesting discussion, but I must take my leave." She pushed her chair in and stopped, as though remembering something. "I will come by tomorrow night and we can have that chess rematch you mentioned earlier."
Snape watched as she walked slowly away, concerned at her desire to defend Harry. It appeared as though his earlier warning had not been heeded. Throwing his own napkin down on the table, he scooted his chair back and made his way to the dungeons. He would have to keep a closer eye on Esme and her interactions with Potter.
Harry entered his chambers, still reeling from his discussion with Anthony. Glancing at the clock, he realized that he had missed dinner. Feeling his stomach roll, he decided that was probably not such a bad thing. He knew there was no way he would be able to keep down anything he ate. Dropping his cloak on the floor, he walked over to his bookcase, moving aside a stack of books to reveal a crystal decanter. Pulling it off the shelf, he poured himself a glass, noticing that his hand was shaking slightly.
Taking a large gulp, he leaned against the bookcase, sliding to the floor as his legs finally gave out.
"Malfoy," he spit. He pulled his legs up, leaning one elbow on his knee, and covering his mouth with his hand. How could hearing one name, bring up so many forgotten memories and emotions? His mind flashed back to the last time he had seen Lucius Malfoy.
"Mr. Potter do you think this is wise?" the guard at the door asked him, gazing at him in sympathy. "Lucius Malfoy is a cold-blooded killer."
Harry swallowed. 'I know that better than anyone else,' he thought. Looking the guard in the eye he said confidently, "I know what I am doing. Just let me in."
The guard shook his head and placed his hand over the key pad and said a few words. The glass door swooshed as it lifted, a cold air sweeping over Harry. He shivered involuntarily.
"Malfoy is behind a reinforced glass window. He cannot possibly get come through it, no matter what he says. His magic has been bound. You have ten minutes and then I will come in and get you. Understood?" the guard said authoritatively.
Harry nodded and stepped in the hallway, glancing behind as the door slammed shut. Gathering his strength, he walked down the hallway toward the light shining at the end. He only had ten minutes and he had a lot to say.
Facing the window, he surveyed the room. Lucius Malfoy was lying on a cot reading a book that was resting on stomach. Lucius' looked up and a sly smile swept up his face. Swinging his legs over the edge, he closed the book, laying it on the cot and standing up.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the savior of the Wizarding World come to visit a lowly Death Eater." He stepped closer the window, his cold gray eyes narrowing. "To what to do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Not to say that I'm not flattered, but you'll have to forgive me." His lifted his hands. "I have nothing to offer you."
Harry's tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. Why couldn't he say anything? He was face to face with the man who had taken everything from him, and he was unable to open his damned mouth to say what he had been planning for days.
Lucius smiled evilly, looking behind Harry. "Where's the little redhead that's always glued to your side? I know she's a Weasley. What on earth is her name?" He spun his hand in the air, pretending to think. Snapping his fingers as though suddenly remembering, he stared at Harry. "Ginny. That was her name. I wish you would have brought her. She certainly knew how to 'dance'."
Harry slammed his hand against the glass, his rage overflowing at the mention of Ginny suffering at Lucius' hand. The lights began to flicker and Lucius' cot slid away from the wall, turning over completely dumping its contents onto the damp floor.
Lucius glanced at the cot, his gaze sliding back to Harry, giving him an appraising look. "That was an impressive display, Mr. Potter. But even first years know how to control their magic."
Harry seethed. "Go to hell, Malfoy. You have no right to talk about her. If it weren't for you, she would…" he stopped suddenly, feeling nauseous.
Lucius' eyes hardened. "Temper, Mr. Potter, temper. Didn't you ever wonder why she was there? Why didn't she stick to the plan? The plan you had made to keep her safe."
Harry's head whipped up in surprise. 'How the hell did he know that?' he thought wildly.
Lucius smiled smoothly as though reading his mind. "I know more than you might even imagine." He stepped closer to the glass, putting his mouth against the glass partition, his breath forming a fog on the glass. "Who sent her to find you? Who put her life in danger? The answer may be rather surprising." Lucius stepped back from the glass and looked at the cot on the floor. Glancing back at Harry, he said softly, "Not everything is as it seems, Mr. Potter. Not everyone is what they say."
Harry jumped as his trip down memory lane was interrupted by an insistent knock. His eyes flew to the mantel. "Dammit," he muttered. Looking down at his glass, he wondered briefly when he had finished the last of the liquid. He pushed himself up, stalked over to the door, and he opened it.
"Hello," Esme said cheerfully. Her smile slowly dissipated as she took in his white face, her gaze sliding down to the empty tumbler in his hand.
"Is this a bad time?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the empty glass. Harry watched a myriad of emotions flicker across her face. "Maybe I should come back later, when you're not… busy." She turned to leave, but Harry reached out and grabbed her arm.
"No, please stay. I was just having a drink to calm my nerves. I've had quite a day," he said with sheepish smile.
"I did hear about the fist fight," she said sympathetically. "That must have been the highlight of your day."
"Well, it certainly wasn't the low point," he muttered, his mind drawn back to Anthony's revelations.
Esme looked at him questioningly. "If that wasn't the low point, what was?"
"I am being a terrible host. Please come in and have a seat. The tea should be arriving shortly and you can tell me about your day," Harry said quickly, sidestepping the dangerous question.
Esme entered slowly, taking her seat from the previous evening. Harry walked over and put the tumbler back on the bookcase, his hand resting there for a moment as he wondered if he would be able to fake small talk tonight. Turning around, he gave her a bright smile and sat down. The smile was not returned as she studied his face, her green eyes squinting as though she knew there was something that he wasn't telling her. He idly wondered if he should be concerned with her reading his thoughts.
After a few moments of her scrutiny, he squirmed uncomfortably and asked, "Did your day go better than mine?"
She sat back, a contemplative look on her face, and answered, "I think every professor had a better day than you. Not many start their careers with a physical altercation breaking out in the middle of class. Although I have to admit that you have no where to go but up." She smiled at him and Harry was relieved that the tense situation seemed to have passed.
"That is true," he admitted ruefully. "Did the name thing work out?"
She laughed and shook her head. "Well, it did until they saw me. I think just hearing that you have 'Professor Snape' is a terrifying prospect, until you actually see that it's just his pushover daughter and not the man himself."
"I don't think you are a pushover. Your mother certainly wasn't, and you seem to be a lot like her." Harry bit the inside of his cheek, wondering why he had felt the need to bring up her mother.
Esme winced and looked into the fire that Harry couldn't remember starting. Looking down at the table, he saw the tea set that he had somehow missed before. Thank goodness for the excellent memories of house elves. Silently pouring two cups, he handed one to her and watched as she stared into the liquid, almost as though she expected to find the answer to some question lurking in the murky depths of the tea. Sighing, she set the saucer down, pulling her legs up under her. He suddenly realized how young and lost she looked.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I was just thinking about my mother," she replied, her eyes filling with tears. "Sometimes I just forget that she isn't down in the dungeons with my father or up in her classroom reading some new book she just found." She blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to dispel the tears. Her father would be absolutely horrified to know that she was crying. And worse she was crying in front of Harry Potter. "I'm sorry."
"There's no need to apologize. The loss is still fresh." Harry watched as she bit the edge of her thumbnail, struck by her vulnerable expression. "I've found that talking about it often helps," he added softly.
She dropped her hand and smirked. "That may be easier said than done. I can't talk to my father. He refuses to even say her name, and Sidney, ever since that day, will only talk to her headstone. The other staff members are always gives me these pitying looks, like they expect me at any moment to break down." She placed her elbow on the arm of the chair and propped her head on her hand.
"You can always talk to me," he said.
She stared at him for several moments, before lifting her head and shaking it. "I can't do that, Harry."
He shrugged. "Why not? I'm not too close to the situation and I certainly know what you are going through." His mind focused on Malfoy for a moment and he added silently, 'More than you could possibly know'.
"But talking about something like this is rather personal. And I don't do personal very well," she said wryly.
Harry smiled encouragingly. "No, I don't suppose you do. However, as your friend," he emphasized the word for her benefit, prompting a small smile to flitter across her face, "I am open to simply being here to listen to whatever you choose to tell me."
"I don't know…" she said hesitantly. Harry leaned forward and set his saucer down on the table, leaning his elbow on his knees and clasping his hands together in front of him.
"Why don't you tell me something about your mother?" he suggested.
Esme glanced off into the fire again, her mind searching for a memory. Smiling slightly, she said, "Shortly after Sidney was born, I was feeling a little put out. I had been the only child for several years and my parents' world. But after Sidney's birth, my father was pleased to have a son to carry on the Snape name and my mother was busy with," she looked at him and smiled, "well, with simply being a mother. As a child, I often would run off the Hagrid's hut to feel important to one person."
Harry nodded in agreement. "Hagrid is really good about that. He always made me feel special."
"Yes he did that well," she said softly. Gazing into the fire, she continued. "One day, feeling particularly ignored, I decided, like all children do at some point or another in their lives, to run away. So, I packed up a suitcase and told my parents that I was going to Hagrid's. Instead, I headed for the Forbidden Forest." At Harry's horrified look, she added, "I know, I know, not the wisest decision ever made, but I was a child after all. And I thought that all the time I had spent with Hagrid, I could 'live off the land' so to speak."
She smiled off into the distance and continued, "Anyway, I entered the forest and started walking looking for the best place to live. I kept walking and walking. It was growing darker." She shivered. "I can still remember the sounds in there."
"You don't forget things like that," Harry said quietly.
"No, you don't. I finally was so tired that I sat down and just started crying. That was when I heard my mother shouting my name." She gazed at him in amusement. "My whole name," she emphasized.
"Ouch," Harry said. He always felt a spark of worry when he heard Molly Weasley say his whole name.
"Thankfully my mother found me, and scolded me, rightfully so, for wandering off into the forest." Her eyes were shining with tears and she sniffled. "I will never forget what she said to me afterwards." She wiped her cheeks and swallowed.
"What did she say?" Harry asked after a few moments, wanting to hear what a mother would have to say after something like that.
"She sat down and pulled me onto her lap and held me so close that I could feel her heart racing. She told me that it didn't matter how many children she and my father had, her love for me would never change. That one day I would understand when I had children," she smiled uneasily. "That was a poor paraphrase of what she actually said, but you get the idea."
He nodded respectfully. "I think I understand." His brow furrowed. "Did you parents want more children?" he asked, uncomfortably drawn back to the last bit of conversation he'd had with Anthony.
Esme wiped her cheeks and looked at him questioningly. "The last few years, my mother talked about having another child. I think she was beginning to feel a little lost with Sidney and me growing up. My father was a little resistant to the idea and Sidney was downright hostile." She laughed lightly. "Although, I think that has more to do with the idea that he wouldn't be the baby any longer."
"What about you?" he asked. "What did you think?"
"To be honest, thinking about my parents conceiving another child was enough to turn me off the conversation completely," she said with a grin.
Harry grimaced at the thought of Snape and his wife…he shook his head to clear the disturbing image and smiled. "I can see your point."
The clock chimed and Esme sighed. "Well, time has slipped away once again." They both stood and Harry walked her to the door.
"Thank you for listening to me, Harry. It was very…," she looked into the air searching for the word, "cathartic."
"Whenever you feel like talking, my door is always open," he said. "I'm afraid that I need to see someone tomorrow, but perhaps we could arrange to meet the next evening."
She nodded. "That is fine; I already promised my father that I would visit with him and Sidney tomorrow night anyway."
"Good night," she said as she stepped out the door. He echoed the farewell, closing the door behind him. Making his way toward his bedroom, he knew that tomorrow night would definitely not be as pleasant. But then, visiting Dumbledore never was particularly pleasant.
A/N: Please let me know what you think!