Author's Note: FINally! Had a creative hump to get over. Moving along!
Awakening
Severus awoke to the warm feeling of Petunia's head on his arm as he embraced her. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was regular and faint; she was still asleep. Her blonde hair fell across her face and naked shoulders. He stroked it, gazing at her with a sort of terrified wonder.
He had almost lost her.
It had taken everything in his power to fight the urge to spring away from her, howling with horror, when he'd seen that vision of Lily standing in the doorway and watching them with her dead, milky eyes. He had been unable to recover after that, and had led Petunia to believe that his sudden reticence to have sex was because of nerves…after all, it would be his first time. She said she understood, but he could see the disappointment in her eyes.
He knew she felt rejected. She had the good graces to try to hide it, though, and he felt she wanted to be understanding and patient, in spite of herself. She had eventually talked about getting up to leave, at which point he'd coaxed her into staying overnight by having her show him how to touch her until she shrieked with pleasure.
He had seen the relief on her face then, and felt he'd won…at least for a little while. He had bought more time until he could figure out what the hell was going on and why he had seen Lily in his mind's eye. He knew it wasn't real; had known it from the very moment it happened, but that did not prevent it from being shocking all the same. In fact, it was worse; it meant something was happening to his mind, and he didn't know what it was. He had no control, and that was unacceptable. From that moment on, he could not shake the unsettling feeling of being watched by something…not Lily, and something not totally apart from him, either. He chewed his lip thoughtfully as he traced her shoulder with his fingertips.
Petunia stirred and her eyes slowly fluttered open. She saw him and smiled.
"Good morning," she said huskily.
He smiled back and kissed her, pulling her more tightly into his embrace. He felt her body against his, her hips and thighs and legs entwining with his own, pressing against him, and felt a thrill of happiness, and again, terror. It was incredible that this was happening; surreal. He felt that if he were to move too fast or too soon, he would break the spell of waking up with a lover in his bed for the very first time in his life. He could not go back to the way he was before, not now. He did not know what was to come next, or how to ensure they would succeed as a couple, but cowardice was not an option now. They'd gotten this far.
He slipped his hand down between her thighs and started to stroke her, and his fingertips quickly felt wet. She moaned as she kissed him and her hand took his and held it as if to push him away. He stopped.
"Careful," she murmured. "You're going to get me all hot and bothered again."
"I fail to see a downside," he answered.
She laughed and looked embarrassed, and a little, he thought, reticent.
So she had not gotten over last night. He wanted to say something, but could not think of what to say. So he simply continued to gaze at her, tensing and waiting for the moment she might pull away from him and leave the spot next to him cool and empty again.
"Are you all right?" she said, to his surprise, however, and she looked genuinely concerned as she searched his face.
"I'm all right," he answered, not knowing what else there was to say.
"Only you seemed a little…upset, last night, when we were…" she trailed off.
He signed and closed his eyes, turning from her onto his back and rubbing his face. When he pulled his hands away from his face he stared at the faded, flaking ceiling, as he had done for more nights than he could count, waiting for the right words to come.
"I…I had thought I was ready for…that. I'm sorry," he said, slowly. It was a repeat almost word for word of what he'd said last night. She nodded knowingly, looking considerably less hurt than she had at the time.
"There's no rush, Severus. We don't have to do anything either of us is not ready to do," she said.
"Oh?" He turned to look at her again. "Don't we?" She drew back and her eyebrows creased, puzzled.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I just mean…oh, I don't know what I mean," he grumbled, closing his eyes and rubbing his face again, embarrassed. He wanted to hide from her. Just go back to being asleep, won't you? He thought desperately. "I feel like I've disappointed you," he said finally, and it was probably the most honest thing he'd ever said to anyone in his life. And it felt terrible. He thought he would be sick.
"Disappointed?" Petunia gave an incredulous laugh. "Severus, you don't owe me anything. This only works if we're both comfortable with each other and whatever is going on. There's no law or anything saying we have to shag by X number of dates or something like that."
He smirked, in spite of himself, at her choice of language.
"I just want to make sure you know it's not anything about you," he said meaningfully, brushing her hair back from her face. "I want…so much…to make you happy," he whispered, and he felt the dangerous prick of tears at the corner of his eyes - but he held them back.
"Severus," she breathed, and seemed moved by his words. She stroked his face now with her own small hands, brushing his hair with her fingers. No one had ever done that before. When he was very young, he had liked the raven black of his hair, thinking it made him look dark and mysterious.
But as he'd grown into manhood, most of the time whenever anyone commented on his hair, they sounded disgusted, and he'd come to be extremely sensitive about it. The sensation was so new, and he was suddenly so hungry for it, he grasped her hand and kissed her palm, holding it to his lips with a sense of deep gratitude. He was melting; she was breaking him. He was so afraid. He loved her. And then he remembered that this was the very thing he had been desperate to convey to her not long ago, when they started sharing their minds. He looked at her and wondered if she understood now.
"You do make me happy," she said, and her own eyes seemed bright with possible tears. He let out a deep breath he had been holding, and felt the tiniest bit of relief. She understood. Now the question was…is it enough?
But before they could continue the conversation, they both jumped at the sound of something smacking repeatedly against the window. Petunia sat up and looked over, and gasped.
"It's an owl!"
He watched with mild interest as she went over and opened it to let the wildly flapping creature in. The owl was enormous. Its feathers were a range of black, grey and white, and it stood almost a foot tall as it stepped onto the windowsill. Like all owls, of course, it had the usual sharp eyes and beak, and the rather stern eyebrows, but still, Severus thought this owl looked particularly judgemental. He didn't recognize it, and was intrigued.
"Who's it for?" he asked, leaning on his elbows to see as she took the rolled parchment from its claw.
"Looks like it's for you," she said, closing the window part of the way and coming back to the bed. She clambered onto it and handed it to him. "It's addressed to 'Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'"
"Good lord," he said, taking the parchment and opening it. Who was writing to him with such a formal tone, and addressing it to his personal residence?! It was highly unusual for him to get an owl at his home on Spinner's End; they almost always came to the school.
As he unrolled the parchment, Petunia leaned over to look over his shoulder, her hair adorably tickling his face. He looked down to see the signature before reading the actual message, and groaned, falling back onto his back. At almost the same time, Petunia gasped again, and then looked at him, giving a sort of half-frightened, half-hysterical giggle.
"No…no…no…no…no…no…no…no…no! Not him. Merlin's beard, not him…not now!" He closed his eyes tight this time and willed the words to be different, the name to be any other name when he might see it again, than Harry Potter. Then he sprang up out of bed, summoned his night robe angrily, and began stalking around the room.
"Why? Why now?! Why can't he just leave me alone?" he growled.
"Well…he is my nephew, after all. He was bound to come by eventually. Plus all his friends are here," Petunia put in. Severus was pretty certain she wasn't terribly excited at the thought of seeing Harry so soon herself, but she did not seem to feel the loathing as keenly as he did.
"Your nephew," he spat, glaring at her, "has the worst timing of any wizard I've ever met. Insufferable." And he grumbled off into a slew of oaths and curses that made Petunia's eyebrows rise almost to the crown of her head.
"Wow, he really got under your skin," she marveled, watching his agitated pacing. "And I thought I had it rough, having him at my home for 17 years."
"I don't know how you did it," Severus blustered, as he came over to sit next to her on the bed. He felt defeated more than angry, but that just made him angrier. "You have a heart of iron, woman, to deal with that…that…" He realized if he finished this sentence the way he wanted to, it was possible he might offend her, even if she wasn't too fond of her nephew herself.
"He'd probably agree with that," Petunia said a little sadly, more to herself, it seemed, than to him. "Oh!" She jumped up herself. "Dudley!" She began running around the room picking up bits of her clothes and summoning them from the stairs where she'd left them. In spite of himself, Severus was momentarily amused. At least now he wasn't the only one flustered over something.
"What's wrong with Dudley?" he asked, curious.
"Oh, nothing…I mean nothing that I know of," Petunia explained hastily. "Only I wrote to him some days ago and he wrote back saying he'd be on break and could meet up. I'm supposed to see him this afternoon for lunch. Do you know I haven't seen my only son for almost an entire year, since his father died?" She asked him incredulously, looking as if she wanted him to agree with her that this was appalling behavior. "What kind of a mother am I?"
"The kind who has enough of her own troubles to take care of, and a son who is grown up and able to take care of himself," Severus replied. But he knew it was no good; it was obvious she was riddled with guilt and would not be able to think about anything else until she had Dudley's reply.
"I've got to get going, love," she said frantically, and ran over to kiss him quickly before heading for the door. The word "love" gave him a little thrill, but he had little time to discern her use of it. "I'm so sorry to be leaving so abruptly," she said, giving him a very apologetic look over her shoulder as she ran down the stairs.
"It's all right, my dear," he said, watching her disappear in the corridor. "I'll see you this afternoon?"
"Yes!" she called from downstairs, and then she was gone.
Though he missed her immediately, Severus was glad to be alone with his thoughts again. He had been visited by the ghost of Lily, and he knew he had to get to the bottom of why he had seen her like that. He was not going to let anything get in the way of his new relationship with a woman who seemed to return his feelings, who understood him as Petunia did, not without a fight.
"Pull yourself together, Severus," he said harshly to the empty room. "We've got to figure this out and nip it in the bud, whatever it is."
Then an angry chirrup from the window ledge made him jump for the second time, and he looked over to see the black, smokey owl staring at him with deep disapproval. He instantly shared this owl's mutual dislike, especially now that he knew who had sent it.
"Well let yourself out, then. You know the way," he told it. It glared at him as if shocked by the sheer rudeness, before it turned its body and took flight, his head turning away only after he'd left the windowsill.
"Beastly bird," Severus muttered, and went down to make himself some tea.
Okay, she was a little disappointed, she admitted to herself when she had left Severus's house and was hastily showering and dressing in her room. She had been bitterly disappointed, in fact. Severus had gotten her all riled up, and then he had just…stopped. And the look he gave her…she shuddered. Something was wrong with that look. But she didn't have time to think about it right now. It had still been lovely to wake up in his arms, and his tenderness in the morning made last night seem recede into the background of her musings. I want so much to make you happy, he'd said. And in those words, she heard him say the other thing he'd said weeks ago: I love you.
Every bit of dating Severus had been laden with the most beautiful moments of romance. It had been nearly perfect. If she'd been asked, she might very well have said she was in love. But she had not been prepared to think about the kind of love he was talking about - not yet. It was too soon; she was still reeling and reveling in the new relationship, in the excitement of having a new love interest after more than 20 years of marriage, and she was not ready…did she love him?
Petunia felt horribly guilty to even ask this question, but she knew she could not put off answering it for much longer. In less than a year, her entire world had been turned upside down to the point that she was not even sure who she was anymore.
By the time Petunia got back to her room in the dungeons, the students were leaving breakfast and milling about the halls, on their way to classes or common rooms. Petunia had stepped into the side hall to hastily fling her robe on, and attempted to walk casually to the dungeons, hoping no one had noticed - no kids, anyway - that she had perhaps not been on school grounds until just now.
When she got into her suite, her eyes fell immediately upon her writing desk, and there she saw what she had been looking for; a small pile of scrolls and a few envelopes had been placed on it by a house elf, an arrangement that was much preferable to going all the way up to the feather-covered Owlery.
Petunia quietly closed the door and hurried over to the desk. She shuffled quickly through the mail until she found one of the envelopes, which was indeed from her son, and flopped into her chair to read it. It was not very long, and had been written on a computer and printed. She frowned as she read it. As far as how he was doing and what he thought of all she had told him, it seemed vague and cryptic. However, he had proposed a time and day to meet up with her for lunch, and she reread that line over and over again hungrily.
At the end of the message, under his name, he had questioned why she did not simply use email like everyone else. She scoffed and tossed the letter onto her desk. Of course he would think he knew best. Boys will be boys. And now that he was in school, she reminded herself that she probably had more cheeky behavior to look forward to. That was all right. At least she was going to get to see him very soon!
It seemed like it might be a good idea to take a little time before answering his letter, so she decided to take a shower and freshen up before returning to her desk in a soft, fluffy green robe and slippers to examine the rest of her mail. There were a few letters from prominent names in the wizarding world who were interested in Severus's "great experiment." She would save those for him to look at later. But there was one odd piece of parchment that had simply been folded, not rolled up and bound, and it was not cold to the touch like the others that had obviously traveled outdoors. When she picked it up, after a moment she realized why; it was signed 'Argus Filch, caretaker, Hogwarts.'
"Internal mail," she mused. She knew who Mr. Filch was, at least on sight, but knew next to nothing about him except that he never appeared to do any magic and he really did not like children. He was old and sour, but mostly very quiet. He had never been anything but polite to her on the rare occasion that they met each other in the halls, but for the most part, she had been under the impression that each was mostly invisible to the other. Apparently not, for this was clearly a personally scratched note, and it had some strange, seemingly fresh liquid splotches in the ink, that suggested it had somehow gotten wet.
She opened it.
To the most illustrious and gracious Mizzus Petunia Dursley:
You don't know me, but I am Argus Filch, and though we've never yet spoken, I wanted you to know how much I admire your bravery in learning magic after being a muggle for so long. I myself have never really been able to perform magic. I don't know if you know this but they call me a Squib…that means i should be able to but I can't.
All my life I have felt lesser than because i can't be like other wizards, and I thought myself very unlucky, because knowing magic would make my life easier, or so I thought. But watching you, I have been so inspired. And it made me think, is my worth only decided by the fact that I am a Squib? NO! That is what you taught me, Miss Petunia, if I may be so bold as to say.
You do magic now, but you didn't wait for it to have a full life, did you? You believed you could and you didn't let anyone tell you otherwise. I always thought there might be people like us, that maybe if we'd just been given a proper chance, we could do it. But after nearly 65 years of age, I realize I don't care about it anymore. Maybe I could have learned once, like you, when I really wanted to, if someone helped me. But seeing you succeed, I felt like as if it were me, were all of us, all us Squibs and muggles and such.
So I just want to thank you for giving me hope, not that I can learn magic, because that doesn't matter. But you have given me hope that my life can still mean something, if I decide I want it to. I will forever be your biggest fan, and I hope you are not offended if I say so. Thank you so much, Miss Petunia!
Yours truly,
Argus Filch
P.s. If I can ever do anything for you at all, just ask!
By the time Petunia had finished reading these words, drops of her own tears had fallen onto the letter to add to the ones left by Filch, as she was now certain these fresh splotches must be. A few significant words like "Squib" and "hope" were particularly blurred. Feeling a little silly, because she did not know why this letter had touched her so much, she placed it lovingly onto the desk, put her head in her hands, and cried until she could not cry anymore.
She hiccuped as the sobs receded, wiping her red eyes on the fringe of her robe, and took several deep, shuddering breaths. She knew that letter was going to stay with her for a while. She would have to think of how to reply, or perhaps give Mr. Filch some kind of gift. It had never occurred to her that someone like him might be watching at Hogwarts, and that what she had done would be meaningful - even life-changing, to them. She felt very humbled, for the first time since she had arrived at Hogwarts and begun this journey. Before, it had been completely about her and what she wanted to prove. But now, she realized, it might mean so much more to someone else, magical or not.
Petunia wrote back to Dudley saying she would meet him for lunch, and this time, she sent an owl. She also chose to ignore his little passive aggressive suggestion about email. After she had gone down to the kitchens to get an early lunch, she went back to her room, and she pulled down from her library several books on Slytherin. She had work still to do, and others were counting on her. She decided she had a responsibility not only to herself, anymore, to learn everything she could about the nature of magical ability in human beings. Allowing Severus to fade for a little while into the back of her mind, she bent her head over the books and got down to work.
Severus could not get the image of Lily out of his mind, and could think of little else but how he needed to purge this remnant of her from it somehow. All day his thoughts had been uncharacteristically confused, unformed, and fragmented.
Usually he could sit down and focus on a problem, even something that stirred his emotions, putting them aside and looking at it with cold, merciless objectivity. This time, the flurry of confused and powerful feelings about Petunia and his future with her seemed all mixed in with his thoughts, so that he could not seem to focus only on the problem, but instead kept returning obsessively to preoccupations with how he could keep her.
Severus pretty much stayed out of sight for the day; it was Sunday, after all, and he had few obligations that involved his presence outside of his office. That feeling of someone watching him was still nagging at him and he was unable to shake it. He decided this is what bothered him most of all. Some power must be interfering with his mind, and it could very well be an intelligent one. He must swiftly identify it and remove its influence, even destroy it if he could.
Severus had exhausted all of his books on the dark arts in both his home library and his office in the dungeon, and he had long retained familiarity with the resources of the Hogwarts collection. However, one thing he had not done in some time was visit the restricted section of the library, as he had rarely needed its sparse offerings, believing he had internalized most of the information he'd ever found there and that it probably had nothing new.
But it occurred to him now it was perhaps time for a visit. He could not even remember the last time he had really spent time exploring the stacks. It was 6 pm; most classes were done and the dinner block was beginning. Wishing to avoid as many students as possible, he headed for the library, stopping to exchange a little bit of polite small talk with Madam Pince before proceeding to the restricted section.
The library was quiet and there appeared not to be a single student in it until Severus turned a corner of the restricted section and saw to his dismay Hermione Granger. She was tracing her finger along some titles just above her head and moving her lips as if reading them, and seemed completely absorbed. For a moment he thought he might have a chance to leave without her noticing and return later, though the thought of yielding to a student, and Miss Granger at that, with whom he now had a long and complicated enough history, was exceedingly annoying. Of course, it was just at the moment he had begun to turn on his heel that she noticed him.
"Oh," she said a little breathlessly, her eyes round and fearful like a timid cat who is not sure of their immediate safety. "Prof - Headmaster, good evening. I was just - "
He waved at her lazily.
"No need to explain. I am aware of your privileges." He strode into the aisle and pretended to look at the first shelf in front of him, attempting to hide the fact that she'd caught him by surprise and he'd just been trying to escape. He felt her staring at him and ignored her, trying to regain his concentration. But it was not much use; he did not feel he could explore freely while someone was there, especially someone who had the talent for extreme meddling that Granger did. Fortunately, and unfortunately, she spoke.
"Headmaster, I wonder - "
"Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked, sounding bored and refusing to look at her, staring instead at Beheaded: The Book of Magical Inquisitions. When she remained silent, however, he felt compelled to finally look at her. "You were saying?"
"I - I'm sorry, it was nothing," she stammered, looking pale, and seemed to wrestle with something. Severus looked her up and down and then turned back to the stack, hoping against hope she would feel uncomfortable enough to leave. Being unfriendly with certain of the seventh years was an extremely hard habit to break, he'd found. He did his best to be civil, but he stopped short of anything that might be misconstrued as an invitation to conversation. The fact that seeing Granger had now reminded him that Harry Potter would be returning to Hogwarts imminently hardened his mood further.
To his relief, he heard the sound of soft footfalls as she retreated from the section. But then she must have changed her mind, because she suddenly spoke a little more loudly, her voice high and tremulous.
"I just wonder, Headmaster, if there's anything I can do…that I might…if you need…I mean, I can help…with?" she finished weakly, and as he turned to face her he saw the look on her face that said she was realizing how stupid she sounded.
"Help…me?" He asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. He was a little offended. He knew Granger's capabilities, and though he had never told her so, he believed her to be the most meticulous student he had ever instructed. But he was no ordinary wizard, was years older than her, and most of all, he was Severus Snape. "Whatever do you mean?" he continued, mocking her with false interest.
"I - I'm sorry, of course you don't need my help," Hermione Granger finally admitted in a low voice. "Or want it," she said even more quietly as she turned around, more to herself. "I'll just see myself out, sir."
As he watched her small, thin form walking slowly away from him, her stiff shoulders hunched the slightest bit, she reminded him suddenly of a dog leaving with its "tail between its legs." She could not have looked more pitiful. And he hated it, but he felt suddenly flooded with remorse in a way he never had with her before. A memory burst into his mind, seemingly out of nowhere and completely unbidden.
One year, when Draco Malfoy had jinxed her so that her famously large teeth had grown even larger, he had commented seeing "no change." She had run off sobbing. At the time he had barely felt more than a tinge of shame, which was all he ever really felt when he was purposefully being mean - he was so practiced at it.
But it was not this sudden remorse or the shame of the memory that was finally enough to move him to action. It was a cold, all knowing, extremely critical voice in his head that said really, you're going to waste a perfectly good human resource, at a time like this when you can't even keep your own thoughts straight? By all means, go ahead!
Ugh. He knew this was right. Hermione Granger, young as she was, was a very thorough researcher and a promising scholar. Whether he ever acknowledged it publicly or not, even he knew that if there was anyone who would find something once set on it, it would be her.
And why not? Why not use her? Had he not earned it, after all, after last year? Why should he not make his own life a little easier? Before he could actually attempt to swallow his pride, at which he would have absolutely failed, he forced himself to call her back.
"Wait - Miss Granger," he said, making his voice a little less sharp, trying to find some awkward balance between friendly and professionally reserved. "Perhaps…there is something you could do," he finished, and she stopped in her tracks.
Slowly she turned back around, a book clutched to her chest as if to protect herself, and looked at him with very obvious fear and suspicion. She was waiting for the inevitably cruel punchline which she knew he was capable of making - of course she had only the faintest idea how lowly he could stoop when he wanted to. But she raised her eyebrows and said, "Yes, Headmaster?" Polite as ever, and terrified.
Severus could not look her full in the face while at the same time trying not to treat her like a cockroach found on the bottom of his shoe, so he looked in her general direction, past her to the front of the library, narrowing his eyes as if he were seriously considering something. He was, in fact, searching carefully for words that would save face and yet be more than an empty nod to her desire to be helpful.
"I wonder if," he mused, "in your extensive forays into the annals of history, you have ever come across anything on…Egregores?" he finished, suddenly very reticent to tell her what he was really looking for. Still, perhaps she could be useful here. After all, he had given limited confidence to Draco, as well. He knew she could manage discretion.
"Egregores?" she repeated, her eyebrows rising even further, and he noted she was unable to keep the sudden interest out of her voice. Her eyes brightened. "Yes, sir, I have! I've read a lot about them, actually," she rambled. "I was interested in hauntings once and it led me down this rabbit hole…" she flushed and now looked uncertain. But he merely nodded.
"Interesting. Well, it so happens that it is of great interest to me right now, in my…er, work with Mrs. Dursley. I have been exhausting all my usual sources, and she has done a fair bit of research herself. I will, of course, uncover what I need eventually, but...if you are looking for something to do," he faltered just a little bit and looked at her directly now to gauge her reaction. He had no doubt she would be interested. What he wanted to know was if he could maintain fear and respect…while managing a "useful" relationship with her.
"I would love to, Professor! Uh, Headmaster," she quickly corrected herself.
"Hmm. Very good. I think it should be worth some additional credit as a special project. Perhaps a teacher's assistant," he said, the idea coming to him as a very acceptable bit of inspiration. She would not be anything special. Just doing something to further her own studies, not really to help him in any significant way. He could live with that bit of farce, he thought. He might even consider getting used to it, especially if it turned out to his advantage.
Hermione looked elated. She flushed again, but now with excitement. He could tell she was trying her hardest to restrain herself and keep from gushing.
"I would be honored, Headmaster! Oh, that would…I'll get on it right away!"
"Excellent. And while you're at it, why don't you draft a proposal for your position? We'll review it and make it a formal arrangement."
In spite of himself, Severus almost wanted to smile, and a sort of lightness and warmth spread through him as she enthusiastically agreed and left the library, practically hovering while she walked with new purpose. When she was gone he did allow himself a smile, and stared after her for a long time, pondering the whole exchange and this new, light feeling. It was less awkward than he expected. He did not feel as if he'd compromised his authority. In fact, he felt a little proud of himself for trying a little innovation. The opportunity for teacher-student joint projects at Hogwarts would undoubtedly be considered both a draw and extra prestige. Not a bad idea, all in all, for the school, nevermind himself.
When Severus returned to his office with a couple of dusty tomes in his hands, he saw that the door was open a little wider than he left it, and Petunia was standing inside. His heart gave a little leap and he shivered, remembering the night before and their morning luxuriating in each other's arms. She was bent over looking at something on his desk, and he took the opportunity to admire her legs, which he loved to do. As he entered the room, she straightened and turned around, her pale eyes bright, and there was an inscrutable expression on her face that caused him to pause instead of going straight for an embrace and a kiss.
"What is it, my dear?" He said, looking down into her eyes as he gave her a modest kiss of greeting?
"I have this mail for you to look at," she started, and he remembered her concern about hearing from Dudley.
"Your son?" He looked at the pieces of parchment in her hands and took them, sorting through them with interest.
"Yes, he wrote back to me. We're going to meet for lunch."
He looked up.
"How wonderful! You're looking forward to it, I assume?"
"Mostly," she said with a kind of embarrassed smile. "It…will be good to see him."
The more they talked about Dudley, the more the warmth between them seemed to return, and the odd expression on her face that had seemed to be hiding something faded. Still, Severus felt something odd between them, and he could not put his finger on it. Although she was affectionate, it seemed obvious to him that for some reason she wanted to leave as quickly as possible. Deciding not to push, since perhaps this was all about their weirdness around sex at the moment, he let her depart with another kiss and turned back to his desk to put her mail and his books down.
It was then that he noticed something. A small, framed picture lay face down on the corner of his desk. He recognized it even without looking, but it was not supposed to be there. He kept that picture of Lily on one of the bookshelves on the opposite side of the room. Petunia must have seen it and been looking at it. Uh uh…that may need some tending, he thought, but he tried to shake the creeping anxiety away and focus on what he had found in the library. He had bigger things to worry about, and he when he saw her again, he would bring up the picture and quell any doubts it might have brought up in her.
