Author's Note: Sorry it took so long. I've had practice every day, and my concert is tomorrow, so this chapter may be short and bad. Reviews are appreciated. And thanks again to Mrs. SRE Snape for reviewing. I do not own anything Harry Potter, these characters belong to J. K. Rowling. Thanks.

He could not believe he was doing this. Just sitting here, drinking tea, on the roof. It was hard enough to believe that he was doing it at all, but add in the fact that he was sitting next to an extremely pretty woman with eyes exactly like his dead childhood friend, and it goes completely insane. And what was the point of staying up here anymore? It was fairly obvious that Quirrell was not on the roof, but Charity Burbage had decided to wait up here for him, just incase. She had said that Snape didn't have to stay, that he could go and look elsewhere if he really wanted, but here he was, still on the roof.

Snape pursed his lips and stared off towards the distant forest. Maybe I am sick. He mused. Maybe I am so sick that my mind is processing sitting here as enjoyable. Or maybe I am just losing it. He paused, mulling over the idea. Dramatic emotional suffering is known to cause insanity. But doesn't the insanity occur directly after the event? Surely it would not take 10 years for the symptoms to crop up. He sighed and rubbed his fingers along his temple, trying to push away the headache that had formed due to the frustration he had been fighting all night. Quirrell was turning out to be a very elusive sick man, and Snape was growing tired of looking for him.

Snape made to grab his tea cup from next to him, but misjudged the distance, and accidentally sent it toppling off the roof and down onto the ground below. He froze and just stared at the place where the cup had disappeared, anger and embarrassment filling his mind. Really, what are the chances of that happening? I look like an even bigger idiot than before. He thought, while at the same time wishing he had a time turner. He looked over at the other professor and frowned. She was shaking with silent laughter, hands grabbing her abdomen, literally rolling back and forth. Her eyes were shut tight, tears streaming down her cheeks, but instead of feeling angry or embarrassed, Snape suddenly felt himself wanting to laugh along with her.

He almost smiled, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly, when movement caught his eye. He reached over and grabbed Charity's arm, trying to quiet down her now not-so-silent laughter. The noise stopped immediately, and Snape pointed toward the base of the Forbidden Forest, where a cloaked figure had just emerged.

…...

One minute she had been laughing hysterically at the look of incredulity, anger, and what seemed to be embarrassment that had been on his face; and the next she felt a hand on her upper arm. She was so shocked that she forgot to continue laughing, and when she looked over at him, she could have sworn that there was a ghost of a smile on Snape's lips.

After taking this in, Charitly realized that Severus was pointing at something, eyes focused on the distance. When she turned to look, she saw a hooded man walking away from the forest, a hood over his overly large and lumpy head.

"That has to be Quirrell." She whispered softly. "He's the only person I know of who has a head shaped like that." She looked over at Snape again, this time realizing that he still had not let go of her arm. She swallowed loudly, and suddenly began to find the night air unseasonably warm.

Snape did not take his eyes off of Quirrell, but whispered back, "Sick men do not usually walk into the Forbidden Forest for a midnight stroll." His black eyes flicked over to hers and he frowned, he lowered his hand and set it down next to him, clenched in a fist. "But… Charity," His mouth twitched slightly. "I believe you are correct. I know no other man who is crazy enough to wear a turban 24/7."

"Well, what was he doing in the Forbidden Forest if he is sick?" She asked, averting her eyes from his and staring at the approaching figure. "Actually, what would he be doing in the Forest if he isn't sick?"

"That," he said softly, "is an excellent question."