My trunks were loaded down with muggle clothing. Hand-me downs, mostly. There were some robes in there too, but I found I preferred the weird, chunky sweaters from the Weasley's and cheap skirts. I had worn the same robes the whole six months I was with Bellatrix. I never wanted to wear them again.

I sighed, walking into the brick wall after Severus Snape. I wasn't afraid or doubting. There was no element of impossibility to it, though I felt there should have been.

He looked impatient as I slipped through the other side, and hurried me down to the last compartment on the train. No one else was on the platform yet, though I couldn't imagine we were the only ones taking the expansive train. When we reach the last little room Snape ushered me in without a word. Then he shut the door, turned the lock, and lowered the blinds.

"The train," He sneered finally. "I can't believe I have to take you to Hogwarts on the train."

I said nothing. The more time I spent with Severus Snape, the more I...It was hard to describe. He wasn't easy to figure out. He wasn't exactly easy to spend large chucks of time with either. The more time he spent with me, it seemed, the more he was willing to be himself. He was an ex-deatheater, I had learned from the other teenagers in the house (I had also learned that I was nineteen). I could see it in him: the capacity for hate. He was gentle with me in the beginning, but slowly his comments became more biting, his eyes harder and less giving. Giving? Now I wondered if I had imagined it. I used to look forward to seeing him. Now he scared me, just little bit.

I talked around most people in Number Twelve by the time I left. I laughed with the easy-going Weasley family and Harry and Hermione. The adults treated me as though I was more fragile, but I grew to like them as well. Especially Tonks, who refused to leave the room until she had made me smile. I liked them all.

I had yet to say anything to Snape. Along with the bearded man who I had learned was called Dumbledore, he was least often in the actual house. I hardly saw him. Mostly he would come and leave late in the night. He pulled out a book and began to read, or make lesson plans or some such thing, and I was left to my own devices for entertainment. I stared out the window onto the platform, watching parents and students begin to arrive. At first there were only a few, but the stream steadily thickened until they were coming in droves. The magical brick column was constantly spitting out students and their families, running to get onto the train. I watched the goodbyes: the hugs and kisses and words I could not hear. I wondered if I had once been one of those students. If my parents had come to see me off the school with promises to write.

They, the people at the house, told me yes. They said I had once been a student there. I had been a Hufflepuff, which explained the yellow tie I had been holding onto, though not why I had had it with me two years after graduating. None of them had known me particularly well though. The Order was working on putting my history together.

That was all well and good, but to me it was scarcely more than a fantasy. If I couldn't remember it myself, who was to say it happened? I did want to know though, how it felt.

I had to work up my courage for several minutes before I was able to speak to Professor Snape (the other teenagers called him Professor).

"P-professor?" I managed finally. He looked up from his book, neither amused nor surprised to hear my voice.

"We're verbal now are we?" He asked me. I nodded. He sighed, closing his book, "Very well. What is it?"

"I was just…wondering…what it felt like."

"What what felt like?"

"Getting dropped off. Saying goodbye to the people who love you. I…" The closest I had come to that had been Bellatrix telling me to run off into the woods. Snape gave me a long and hateful glare.

"How would I know?"

"Didn't you go to Hogwarts?" I asked, embarrassed. Snape looked as though he was lamenting being stuck in a compartment with someone with far below average intelligence for the next several hours.

"Yes I did, but not all people say tearful farewells to loved ones. Some have to manage on their own." He looked as though he was about to make some other biting remark, but stopped himself short. There is was again! Maybe it was just the way the light hit his eyes, but I could swear I saw…

Nothing, I told myself, Don't start thinking about this. He certainly doesn't think about you. It was nothing.