Chapter 13: In Which We Have Dessert

Snape sat on Hermione's couch and watched her think. She had forgotten to, or didn't see the need to, hide her thoughts, so he was prepared for the question she was working up the courage to ask. While he watched images of himself from her Hogwarts days flash though her mind, her heard Lily's voice, "…you'd better tell her, or she'll never be rid the image of you as the man who used to torment her for fun."

Tell the whole truth? No, not if you can help it. You can let her know more later, as you get to know each other better. If it looks like she can keep the secret.

Finally she spoke, "This has been a wonderful evening, and I don't think I've enjoyed a conversation more than the one we've been having in a very long time, but I've got to know; what happened to the Snape the Greasy Git, Bat of the Dungeons, Evil Sodding Bastard, whose only joy in life was taking points from Gryffindors?

Humour? "Well, the Greasy Git was one part the anti-glamour I told you about earlier, one part bad ventilation in the potions lab, and one part atrocious water pressure in the dungeons. You'd think that a magical castle would be able to get a decent shower in place, but no…" He smiled and saw that was exactly the wrong technique. Her body language had stiffened, and she was no longer smiling.

"I've had every male member of the Hogwarts staff ask me to marry him in the last two days, as well as three students who remember Headmaster Snape," she said quickly; her voice was hard. "All of them are out to rescue me from what they think is a fate worse than death. I am immensely enjoying this new you, but I want to know what happened to the old one, and which one of you is real."

Humour isn't going to do it. Resignation? He sighed. "We're both real. Part of the Snape you remember was based on the fact that no one could have any memory of me ever being kind to Potter or his friends. My role was 'Barely Underground Death Eater, Loyal Servant of the Dark Lord,' and as long as I was convincing in that role, I could continue feeding information to Dumbledore. Likewise, I could continue feeding Voldemort whatever information Dumbledore wanted him to have. One part frustration: it's not much of a secret, but I really do not enjoy teaching. Most of my skills were going to waste trying to keep students from turning delicate ingredients into muck. Do something you loathe every day for sixteen years and you'll not be a ray of sunshine either. And one part stress: every single move I made was being watched. Any slip up, seen by anyone could have been my downfall. I may not have been happy those years, but I certainly did not want to die because I made a mistake in front of some nameless Hufflepuff who was then captured by the Dark Lord.

"The new me, well I'm not under that kind of pressure anymore. I'm doing work I like. I don't live in a dungeon anymore for God's sake! Annoying little brats aren't yipping at me with questions. Albus Bleeding Dumbledore isn't constantly coming up with new and interesting ways to make my life even less pleasant. Voldemort isn't looking over my shoulder. I'm alive. I'm free. And I've gotten to a point where I'm at peace with the world.

"I've always admired your mind. You know you were the only person I got to teach in those five years who had any grasp of potions. And if you think about it, you know who was also in your class, all of those years, who kept me from ever showing the slightest appreciation for those skills."

She looked at him, judging his words, almost tasting them. He could feel her come to her conclusion; she could tell what he was saying was true, and that it wasn't the whole story. Finally she said, "You were horrible to me even when we were alone."

"Do you know how Legilimency works?"

"Yes, it allows you to…"

"I'm sorry. I know you know how the spell works. I mean have you ever done the spell? Do you know first-hand how it works?"

"No."

"Cast it on me, and you'll see why no one, not even you, could have any memory of me doing something counter to Death Eater philosophy."

She looked into his eyes, concentrated, and cast the spell silently. Images tumbled through her mind: Snape putting a CD in his player. Snape getting ingredients out of his pantry. Snape mixing the dough. Snape talking to a redhead while spooning the filling into the crust. Snape staring longingly at a closet filled with black clothes before turning around and grabbing a green sweater. Snape at her door. Snape looking around her living room for the first time. She pulled back when she heard his voice again.

"You're not trained in Legilimency, but even you can see the danger. Voldemort was, he was the best that ever lived, and if he wanted to examine an image closer he could. He was also evil and paranoid. If he had run into any image that showed me acting in a manner he found unacceptable, he'd have plunged into my mind and dissected it and probably me." He noticed that Hermione wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying.

"Who was your friend?"

Snape looked puzzled. "Friend?"

"The redhead who was helping you cook."

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! How do I explain that? At least, she doesn't recognize Lily. "Well, this would be exactly the kind of trouble I was talking about. I didn't know you could see her, or I would have left that memory out. She's not real."

Hermione was rapidly going from curious to disbelieving. He began to speak quickly, "Wait. She's… I've been living alone for a long time, and had no one to confide in for an even longer time. I talked to myself for a long time, and eventually she started to answer back. She's the voice in my head that keeps me honest with myself. She's the better part of me. She's…"

"Your Jiminy Cricket?"

"Huh?' His mind whirled and landed upon an asinine Disney flick. "I guess you could say that."

"So you developed a random redhead to talk to?"

Say no and you tell her too much. Say yes and sound like a moron, an insane moron. "No, she was a dear friend who was killed many years ago. When she was alive, she always had good advice for me, so she became my image of good advice later on." Nice save.

Hermione looked at him closely, and for a moment he thought she might once more attempt Legilimency on him. Then he realised she was doing something much more dangerous. She was thinking analytically. She was putting facts together and coming up with a conclusion. He almost sighed out loud when that conclusion was 'leave it alone.'

He decided that his best chance now was a quick exit. Dessert was done, and it was legitimately getting late. He stood up. "I should probably be going."

She looked a bit confused at his rapid change of plans, but then she glanced at the clock. "Yes, I've got class in the morning. Wandless magic bright and early."

"I'd like to sit in on one of those classes if I could."

"I don't see why not." Good she's still friendly.

"Do you want to floo or apparate?" she asked. He looked around and didn't see anything even remotely approaching a fireplace.

"It's in my bedroom," she said as he looked around.

"Floo then, quite a bit more comfortable." He followed her through the kitchen, past the loo, to a staircase that led to a large loft. Along the far wall stood her bed. Not too many pillows, good! To the right he could see two doors. Bath and closet, most likely. To the left: a fireplace flanked by bookshelves and a large cushy chair. All of which were muted shades of cream and blue.

"Lovely room. It gets good light during the day?"

"Yes it does. Not that I'm here much during the day… but on those rare occasions…"

They walked to the fireplace. She was standing in front of him, looking up. He didn't need legilimency to read her thought. Kiss me! It was written all over her posture and expression. He was quick to move on it. Severus laid a hand against her cheek, and her eyes closed. He drew his fingers down and let his thumb trace her bottom lip. She moved closer to him, and put her arms around him, while his hand curled around the back of her neck. He leaned down to kiss her. His lips lightly brushed hers, and then pressed more firmly. She tightened her hold on him, bringing more of her body against his. He ran his tongue over her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth for him. His tongue stroked hers while she moved one of her hands into his hair. One minute, two? Finally she broke the kiss.

Out of breath, a pleasant flush on her cheeks, "Well, goodnight then."

Head spinning from more than the floo, Severus landed in his home thinking, Damn, that girl can kiss!