Chapter 3

Sitting in the armchair, the fire crackling happily, Summer couldn't remember a time when she felt more at peace with herself. She slightly laughed a little inside, realizing that she was in Snape's sitting room, with him a mere four feet away from her. The only other times when she felt this secure, or some semblance of it, were when she was outside, all alone. It was very ironic, in her opinion, that she could be sitting so comfortably with a person so sarcastic and cold and not feel any anxiety. She huddled closer to her knees, closing her eyes and reveling in the warmth that wasn't entirely from the fire.

The silence stilled the air while the two of them continued to drink their coffee. Before long, though, a yawn escaped Summer and she struggled to reach a hand up in time, in attempts to dissuade it. Unsuccessfully, the sound broke the stillness and she saw Snape glare at her, his dark eyes uninviting.

"Knocking aside, you still have not revealed the reasons for your early invasion of the sanctity I call peace," he remarked, after noticing her yawn. "It certainly appears as though you would prefer to be in bed, like most abhorrent teenagers."

Summer shrugged, a trait she realized she did slightly too often.

Her voice was soft and gentle, despite his insinuations that he did not want her there. "I couldn't sleep." It was a blatant answer, and a half-truth. She usually avoided lying at all costs.

Snape sighed in exasperation. "That much would be obvious. It is also equally obvious that you need sleep. It would be a shame if your potions went bad due to a lack of attention."

"Why Professor Snape – I didn't realize you cared!" she burst out loud, laughing afterwards. She really did have too much fun teasing the potions master, especially since it appeared as though no one else had the gall to; most likely from fear of detracting from their grade. Her laughter died down into a small case of the giggles as she watched his reaction. Snape's face had gone taut, his lips pressed in a thin line and eyebrows furrowed. He casually reached up to place a strand of black hair back into its lock, before biting back at her.

"Were I not your teacher, that remark may have deserved a hex. One of a painful kind."

But Summer knew better than to believe him. His insults never actually amounted to anything. The more time she spent in his presence, the more she learned of his sense of humor, which mostly consisted of sarcasm. So rather than taking this personally, she merely smiled at him.

"Might I suggest the Twitchy Ears Hex?" she offered helpfully, still giggling. She was baiting him, desiring to see his reaction. It was fun to put people on edge – at least when they usually evinced no sense of humor.

This earned her a glare, which only made her laugh harder. Snape placed his coffee mug on the table without taking his eyes off her. Summer's laughter subsided into a grin and she finally released her legs from their position against her chest. Tilting her head at him, her auburn hair gently falling to one side, she looked imploringly back.

"As I am sure you already realize, the Twitchy Ears Hex is not painful as I suggested." Ever the one to state the obvious, Snape delicately enunciated each word, as if to make sure his meaning was clear. Summer merely shook her head.

"I do apologize to be ending this lovely conversation, but my task awaits me," she said matter-of-factly before getting up out of the chair, smoothing out her pants. She did a slight curtsey while grinning and then turned to walk into the lab. She could feel Snape's face of confusion as she passed out of his line of sight, and she couldn't help but feel merry. Her birthday was in a few days. She should try to feel merry anyway.

- - -

And so the next week passed in much the same manner as that morning did. The pair seemed to realize that if they were to work in the same space, they would require some semblance of order and concentration. Usually speaking, that required an almost friendly atmosphere. Thus, Summer would pick at him in an almost too friendly manner, and Snape would retort back scathingly, although Summer knew he didn't mean it. Perhaps to other students he did, but she had never done anything which would require his loathsome behaviour.

As such, when Summer turned 18 a few days before Christmas, she didn't have an entirely unpleasant day, since she had long since forgone the hope of being treated special, like most children were on their birthdays. Unhappy thoughts were slowly bogging her down as the true holidays drew nearer, and her birthday merely served as a reminder that days which were once happy ones, were only filled with memories she wished to forget. Potions made her withdraw into an alternate universe, for her, and she reveled in the time she was able to spend in the dungeons.

Christmas day arrived, and this was not unlike the others before it.

- - -

For once, the other students got up early. The only reason they did so was to open up their gifts. Summer could hear them rustling around and then the other seventh year girls laughing and talking to each other. She inwardly sighed and turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling. It's Christmas. Again, she thought. Shaking her head at herself, she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It was only when the other girls had gone running downstairs to the common room that Summer peeked out of her curtains to verify that she was alone.

She solemnly got dressed in her most muggle clothes – a black t-shirt with a dragon on it, a teal zippered hoodie, and jeans. Every Christmas for the past four years she had been wearing this outfit, and she wasn't about to change her private tradition for Hogwarts, even though the shirt and hoodie were in ratty condition. They used to be her mother's and it was her private way of remembering her mother and including her on Christmas.

Summer shook her head at her thoughts, trying not to dwell on them. Instead, she snuck as quietly as she could through the common room. It wasn't very difficult to go unnoticed, due to the fact that the remaining students were enraptured by the gifts they had received from parents and loved ones. Scoffing at herself, Summer exited the Hufflepuff dormitories and walked across the hallway towards the Great Hall, and then down a flight of stairs into the dungeons. She had no appetite this morning, and didn't particularly wish to be around other people. The best place to do that, in her opinion, was the dungeons. So she wound her way through the familiar passageways, hoping that perhaps this Christmas she could escape from her thoughts.

When she approached the door, a small smile crept into her features, and she reached a hand up and knocked lightly. While it was somewhat early (perhaps 8 in the morning), Summer knew that Snape would be awake. He was like her, in that respect.

The door opened after a moment to reveal a rather unhappy looking Snape. When he saw her, his face shimmered in half-surprise for a split second, before resuming his usual glare.

"What are you doing here?" he gruffly asked. Summer looked to the stones on the floor, then back up to his dark eyes.

"I wanted to do some more work," she stated in a small voice. Please just let me. I need it, she thought, almost voicing the thought aloud. Her hands came together to start playing with the fingernails, her eyes trailing after them.

Snape raised an eyebrow at her through his glare, as if disbelieving her. "Perhaps it has not been brought to your attention," he started evenly, "but this is the 25th of December, usually known as Christmas Day."

"Yes, I realize that. And I was hoping to do some work, regardless of what day it is," Summer retorted. "I thought that perhaps someone in your position would understand that no matter the day, work is still able to be done." Because you really are a Scrooge. Snape merely continued to stare at her, and she determinedly stared back, a scowl forming. He snorted and finally opened the door, almost grudgingly. Breathing a sigh of relief, Summer walked in and he closed the door behind her.

As always, the warmth of the rooms was welcome after the chill of the dungeons. Summer watched as Professor Snape sat down on the couch and poured himself a cup of coffee. She breathed another sigh of relief, knowing that he would not expect her to partake in Christmas activities or cheer. A brief glance to her left did, however, reveal a slight stack of gifts sitting upon one of the already-cluttered desks – most of them from the other professors, she assumed. Except for one, Summer knew, which she herself had sent.

The scowl slightly formed again as she went to sit in the armchair. This was a regular morning occurrence, but evidently one which Snape had not planned on this particular day, as there was only his mug of coffee. He had taken to actually setting out a cup for her as well, after that first morning.

Twirling his wand, another cup appeared, as well as cream and sugar, which he never touched. Summer picked up the cup and poured her own mug of coffee, adding what she considered necessities to it. As she sipped on it, she saw Snape staring into the fire. Well, at least I'm not the only one who loathes this day, she grimly thought to herself. The two sat in silence for quite some time, until Snape grunted, apparently coming out of his reverie.

He turned to look at her, dark hair falling across his shoulders. He cradled his cup in both hands, the fingers neatly wrapped around the cylinder as if from years of experience. Appearing at ease, he had leaned fully back into the couch, almost slouching, his black robes splayed out to either side, revealing that his usual black slacks and shirt hadn't been placed on underneath the robes, rather he was still wearing his silken green pajamas. This showed even more that he had not expected any visitors.

"It appears as though no work is getting done, Miss Sundale," he began sinuously. She merely looked at him, then stared back at the fire. He followed her gaze, then looking back at her, continued, "If I am not mistaken, that was your original intent, was it not?" She nodded in reply, still not looking at him. "Or might I infer that perhaps you merely wished to escape from the festivities that more often than not are bound to occur today?" At that statement, she looked at him and sighed.

"Both of your statements are true," she replied finally, not elaborating but rather taking another sip of coffee.

"Ah, I see. What I still do not understand, is why you are not upstairs and opening your gifts, as it is apparent that you just recently got up. Surely you were expecting gifts like every other student." At that, Summer laughed lightly in a cold manner.

"Oh yes. Gifts." She placed her mug down on the small table and turned to look at Snape, her green eyes dark with pain then shook her head, looking back down. "Gifts generally require friends and family." At Snape's curious look, she continued. "My father is virtually non existent, which is why I stayed over the holidays. Last Christmas he gave me a card. No, it wasn't even a card. It was note which merely said, 'I'm sorry for not giving you what you want.' And any friends that I had made while back in school in America simply never cared enough for me to buy me gifts – either for my birthday or the holidays, despite how many I showered upon them. My sister is a muggle, and while we were once close, we drifted apart when she got married and started her own life and family." Her gaze fluttered up to Snape, a cold smile plastered on her face. "And lastly, the only person who I feel ever loved me unconditionally, my mother, passed away when I was in my third year." She paused, taking a deep breath. "So no, Professor Snape. I suppose I was not expecting any gifts." Her gaze returned to the fire, satisfied that she had satiated his curiosity about her life. It's all his fault for reminding me, she thought.

- - -

Snape merely gawked at the girl. This was hardly the response he had expected, especially because under normal circumstances she appeared to be a happy person, if not happy-go-lucky. He shook his head at himself, and finally understood her comment from the previous week. "I believe I will understand you better than anyone else in this building," was what she had said. Indeed, he sneered to himself, even now knowing her story; or at least the broad aspects that she had so willingly divulged. Perhaps she would understand him slightly better than other students, but it was still presumptuous of her to assume such things. Regardless, Snape had seen a small packet from her in the few gifts even he had received, and couldn't understand her kindness after apparently being treated so cruelly from people she had once loved and trusted.

He stared at her, not knowing what to say for once in his life. Watching as she softly shook her head, red hair lightly flying out to the sides, he couldn't help but wonder at the strength such a person must possess to stay happy after all that had occurred.

Summer stood from the chair and hugged her hoodie close to her body. "I ought to leave," she quietly said, then walked to the door. Snape sighed inwardly, and realized that Dumbledore would have his head if he didn't do something to make the girl feel better. It was Christmas, after all.

He pointed his wand towards one of the bookshelves. "Wingardium Leviosa." One of the books rose from the shelf, and Snape directed it towards Summer, whose back was now turned towards him, hand paused at the door handle. Flying over her head, the book hovered directly in front of her face, the title clear to her view. Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms. He figured it would be something she might enjoy, as she was a muggle-born and therefore not exposed to things such as family-charms.

Her hand still paused at the doorknob, she finally reached up to grab the book and stare at it. From his venue, Snape could see her hands shaking slightly. She simply stood there for a moment, and Snape wondered idly if perhaps she was going to stand there all day. But as soon as he thought it, she turned around a little and fell to the ground. He immediately stood up and took a few steps towards her, hoping she hadn't fainted. Unfortunately, she had not done that, but something, in his opinion, far worse. She was huddling to herself – crying.

He didn't know what to do with that. He would take her stubbornness and happy remarks over crying any day. Watching her, he tried to think of something to do other than stare. In a frenzy, he tried to remember where he kept his handkerchiefs. He hardly ever required them, except perhaps when he had accidentally cut himself with a knife, but that hadn't happened for quite some time.

Snape ran over to one of his desks and opened the drawers, finding one on his third attempt. Grabbing it, he walked over to Summer and crouched down to where she was sobbing and handed it to her. She didn't appear to notice him, and it took a little cajoling on his part for her to take it. When she finally did, her soft hand brushed against his, damp with tears. Snape shuddered slightly and tried to shrug the feeling away. No one had touched him, even in the briefest of ways such as this, since he had received the Dark Mark.

Shaking himself of emotion, he watched her sternly for a moment as she used the kerchief to wipe her eyes and face.

"If you are quite finished, let us hope that the salinity has not damaged the book in any way," he said to her when she stopped. Surprisingly, she weakly smiled back, staring at her hands and the book they still held.

"Thank you." It was a whisper, and as close as Snape was to her, he could barely hear her voice. He stood up and walked back over to the couch, satisfied that he had done what was required of him. He could hear her shuffle slightly as she uneasily stood up, as well as a rather long sigh.

Almost snorting to himself, he asked, "Are you going to finish your coffee, or shall I be forced to pour it down your throat so it doesn't go to waste?" Sarcasm always solved his issues with people. And on top of that, he was still trying to gather his wits about him. She always found some idiotic way to put him on edge.

She chuckled a little and sat back down in the armchair. He carefully watched her as she brushed her hair out of her face and picked up the cooling mug, bringing it to her flushed face. As he watched her take a sip, he turned his cool gaze to the fire. At least that ordeal is over with, he thought.

- - -

Author's Note: Well, another chapter said and done smiles Yay! I really tried to keep Snape in character, but I do apologize if he does seem a little too caring. I'm not used to controlling such an angry, bitter character. If anyone has suggestions for keeping him in better character, while still trying to develop a relationship, I would be most welcome to them!

If you couldn't tell, with my updates, I'm definitely having too much fun writing this, and completely procrastinating with my schoolwork. Well, I have all weekend I suppose. Oh well. Harry Potter comes first, in my opinion