Chapter 5

Two voices were talking, one masculine, one feminine. It was almost as though they were speaking in a hazy dream.

"Has anyone been to see her?" the male voice asked.

"No." Her voice sounded sympathetic, and almost sad. "The only person to come has been Severus. Obviously Pomona Sprout has been informed, since she's her head of house, but nobody has stopped by to give her cards or flowers. I'm not sure I've ever seen this…" her voice trailed off.

"Very sad, indeed," the masculine voice replied.

- - -

Snape sat by the bed in the hospital wing. Summer's red hair was splayed out on the pillow, but her face was clearly visible. Light lines marred her now-lighter face, giving her a much older appearance. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was soft and gentle. Snape had to resist the temptation to place a strand of hair back from her face.

He had never realized that he cared – at least not until she was almost gone. And he damned himself for caring. She was a student, and would be leaving in a few months to start her own life. Or what's left of it, he morosely thought. He still couldn't imagine what had led to her to use the spell he had invented in his seventh year. Shuddering at the thought, he sat upright in his chair.

He shook his head at himself. It was his fault. Again, that someone had been hurt. But there wasn't much he could do for her. At least he had been able to stop the bleeding quickly, and bring her to Madame Pomfrey. That day in the snow would haunt his dreams for quite some time.

Snape still wasn't quite sure why the sight of her green, sparkling eyes melted a little bit of the snow that had surrounded his heart, or why her smile made him want to smile back at her. There was just something about her that was different from all other women who had come into his life before, which wasn't many to say the least. Maybe it was because she really did understand him slightly, or because Summer wasn't afraid of him. Whatever it was, he didn't want to undo it.

- - -

When Summer awoke, it was late afternoon, the day after her suicide attempt. She felt weak. Extremely weak.

"Well good afternoon Miss Sundale!" a cheery voice greeted her. She opened her eyes and looked to her right, where Albus Dumbledore was sitting in the chair next to her bedside. Summer shook her head and tried to sit up. "Ah ah ah!" Dumbledore chided her. "I'm not sure you have the strength yet to sit up." He lightly placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping her lying down.

She merely looked at him, with a little contempt. She didn't want to speak with him, or with anyone for that matter. She didn't want to be here.

"Oh dear Summer!" he started with a small smile and his eyes twinkling. "Things must have been very bad for you," he said sympathetically. "I'm not sure exactly what led you to use extreme measures, but please remember that everyone is here to help you." His bright blue eyes look inquisitively at her. Summer avoided his gaze by looking at the beds across from hers which were all empty and neatly made. They sat in silence for a few moments.

"I realize perhaps that an old fogy such as myself may not be the best person to confide in, but others, on occasion, have found the experience rather enlightening." He smiled sweetly at her, and she felt a little sick for it but refused to give in.

"Perhaps it is not me you wish to speak with, but Severus." Dumbledore spoke softly in a way which implied that he knew even more than she did. Summer couldn't help but let her eyes flicker over towards him at the mention of Snape. Her heart still ached along with the cuts along her body. "Ah, I thought perhaps it might be as such. I certainly hope that you won't let everything tear you to pieces again, and if not me, I hope that you speak with someone." He sat still for another moment before adding, "Well, I shall leave you now." Dumbledore got up, his light robes rustling slightly. The scent of lemon reached Summer, most likely from all the lemon-drops he carried in his pockets.

Without another word, Dumbledore left her alone. She really didn't care anymore. She was numb, and all she wanted to do was stare into nowhere, since she couldn't fall back asleep. Her stomach was the only thing that reminded her she was still alive. Sharp pains shot up through her stomach, almost making her queasy. She gritted her teeth against it, determined to at least control this.

Pretending she was all right had done nothing to help her. It had always been her most effective defense against the world; shoving all of her pain and past into the deep recesses of her mind. Summer had thought that she had succeeded, and would finally be able to make a new start of things after the sadness back home. But after the previous day, everything was rushing back to her worse than ever.

All she had wanted was acceptance and love, and perhaps some semblance of a family. While perhaps the other Hufflepuffs had attempted to give her a little of it, and on occasion Summer had allowed them this indulgence, it was nothing meaningful. She knew that they only invited her out of pity, despite the small, witty comments she had attempted to make at the start of term. It had all come to naught, and when Christmas break had started, she had thought to have found a small solace in brewing potions. That had quickly turned into a quiet happiness at being around Professor Snape.

The air was still and all Summer could hear was her breathing. Her thoughts insinuated their way into her mind, despite her efforts to contain them. But all that she could picture was Snape on the astronomy tower, his cold remarks like an arrow straight into her heart. Disgustedly, she realized the irony that the wounds on her body were caused by his cruel words, each one giving her a lashing.

But still she couldn't help but want to see his face, to hear his droning voice tell her how to cut mandrake root properly, or comparing her to other teenagers and seeing his light surprise when she proved to him that she really was abnormal, although she didn't appear so.

Summer didn't know how long she lay doing this. All she knew was that the room was slowly starting to get dark, and that Poppy had brought dinner in. She was trying to get Summer to eat, but she refused. The smell of food made her want to vomit. After perhaps ten minutes of Poppy trying to convince Summer to eat, the Mediwitch left again, leaving the tray of potatoes and chicken behind.

She had sat up after Dumbledore left, and was trying not to think about anything at all. Inspecting herself, she only saw light scars everywhere. Someone had done a nice job of healing her.

The door to the infirmary opened with a slight sound. Summer didn't look. She thought it would be Dumbledore again; perhaps Poppy had told him that she wasn't eating. But the clicking of heels quickly told her that it wasn't anyone she would have expected. It was Snape. She sighed inwardly and closed her eyes against the anxiety that was filling her. Madam Pomfrey had told her that it was Snape who had rescued her, and Summer didn't want to think about it.

His lank form sat down next to her. He seemed to take a deep breath, almost as if steadying himself.

"I certainly hope that situations like this will not arise again," he said somewhat coldly. Summer didn't say anything. He grunted in exasperation. "Be thankful that I was nearby. At least all you'll have are faint scars, and not deep mars." She glanced over at him, but his dark eyes weren't looking at her, but rather over her limp body.

"You didn't have to do anything," she lightly whispered. Her voice was hoarse, and she was starting to feel lightheaded.

"As if I was given a choice."

"Did it ever occur to you that I didn't want to be bothered?" she asked angrily. "Someone like you seems to know that feeling a little too well."

He sat silently brooding for a few minutes. "I do know that feeling, and thank you for being the astute student we both know you are," he said in a silky but low voice. "But sometimes it is for the best to be bothered when in states such as that."

"And how would you know that?" she spit at him. "Nobody ever seems to bother you when you need it most. You don't let them." It didn't matter who saw her angry or depressed. Especially Snape.

He didn't respond. Summer couldn't help but wonder at his change in attitude from the previous days. Almost always he had a scathing remark for her, but for once, he seemed dumbstruck.

"Just leave," she said softly, looking away from him. If he spoke to her any longer she wouldn't be able to handle it.

"I will not let a student order me about," he growled. Summer glared at him with pain, and it almost seemed as though he started to reach out to grasp her hand. Quickly standing up, Summer walked over to the other side of the room and stared out the windows. The night gown she was dressed in swirled around her ankles, making her shudder. She shouldn't have stood up – it felt as though she was ready to faint. He didn't save me soon enough, as it appears I've lost a lot of blood, she angrily thought. Her arms were clutched around her stomach, trying to soothe it as well as keep her balance.

Snape sighed in exasperation. He had come to stand behind her. "What is it you want?" he asked in a voice which indicated that he had given up with the niceties. He was definitely at a loss for words.

Summer whirled around at him, brushing stray strands of hair away from her face. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and she reached out to the windowsill to steady herself.

"Why should it matter to you? Yesterday you couldn't seem to anger me enough, and today you want to know what I want? You're such a hypocrite!"

"I did nothing of the sort. I simply stated the obvious, from my perspective, although it appears that you cannot see past that."

"What do I want. Do you honestly wish to know what I want, what I've wanted for three weeks?" she asked him. He glared at her, but nodded. "Fine then. I'll show you what I want!"

After she had said that, she walked up to him and grabbed his upper arms with her weak hands. She tilted her head up and stood on her tiptoes, bringing her lips to his. Summer kissed him for a moment. Standing there stunned, Snape didn't move a muscle. When she broke away, she immediately turned around and went to stand at the windowsill again, tears streaming down her face. He wanted to know, damn him, she thought to herself.

Summer could feel everything that had held her up the past few months crumbling. Despite everything that should have been otherwise, she loved the Potions Master. She expected him to rail at her for being so stupid, or to leave the room swiftly. The last thing she expected was a gentle hand to grasp her shoulder and turn her around softly.

Snape's dark eyes were staring down at her, his face almost expressionless. A hint of surprise still mingled with his otherwise drab looks. Summer shook her head at him, trying not to sob. Why was it that he was the only one who could ever provoke emotion out of her?

She was looking to the floor, one of her hands wiping tears away. He grabbed her hand away from her face, and his thumb gently stroked her cheek, taking away the drops. She shivered, daring to look up at him. His hands were so soft, notwithstanding the amount of work he did with them.

He leaned down and kissed her back.

Summer never knew such sweet reverie could exist in one simple moment. He was holding her close to him, his lips soft and tasting like coffee. She could feel his pulse racing as he wrapped his arms around her waist, and she wrapped her own around his neck. It was a gentle kiss, not necessarily a passionate one. While Summer wasn't inexperienced, she could never remember a simple kiss being something that made her want to faint and scream and cry all in one instant. It was the first time someone she loved had kissed her.

It lasted but a few seconds, and when he released her, Summer felt elated. She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at the famed Potions Master. His hands were still limply draped at the small of her back, and she watched his face turn from a beautiful and kind one that she had often dreamt of, back into the infamous one he wore around the school. The gentle fingers that were on her back quickly retreated as Snape realized what had happened.

A scowl appeared on his face amidst the smile that Summer could see wanted to linger on his slightly-pink lips. His cheeks were flushed a bit, as well. The only indication of a farewell that he gave before stalking away from her, was a slight nod as he had pressed his lips into a thin line.

Summer collapsed back onto her bed, unsure of whether she was supposed to cry her heart out, or leap for joy. She had kissed him. He had kissed her. Was happiness supposed to feel this depressing? She wasn't sure, and didn't want ask anyone's opinion on this matter. Laughing lightly to herself, she knew how crazy it would sound in the common room if she asked someone about what just transpired. So her sweet but sad reverie was kept quiet, and Summer finally took a few bites of the now-cold dinner that lay next to her bed.

- - -

Author's Note: Hey everyone! Yaaay. I do apologize that this chapter is a little shorter than the others, but I think the contents make it worth it, don't you? Hehe. Yay for kisses.

There aren't many comments I can tack on down here, so all I will say is: Thank you for the reviews, and for reading! It is much appreciated