I was deep in my own thoughts. I had been immersed in the bustlings of students, once again. It was dreary outside and it was, in a surprising way, comforting. The wind that was blowing through the open corridors whispered of thunder and smelled of rain. It wasn't a day to be wearing my dress, however. I was fucking freezing. I had my old, leather messenger bag slung over my right shoulder, filled with my books and journals I kept with me, almost at all times. Was I somewhere near the Owlery? I could hear the distinct hoots from the owls out here. I still found it strange that the preferred method of post here was an owl and not the postal system. Sure we had owls in the States to send mail, but we barely used them anymore. The students were starting to thin out because it had started to drizzle. I had no idea why I thought Fred would be out here. Only someone like me would find comfort in such gloomy weather. I did notice someone standing a bit ahead of me. How strange. He was wearing black robes. Who actually wore robes outside of class time? I walked a little bit forward, and I immediately recognized him as Professor Snape. I stopped suddenly, going rigid. I wasn't sure if I actually wanted to have a conversation with him. My mother had told me a little bit about him. Apparently they knew each other as children, along with Lily, before they even went to school together. They had been best friends for so long and she suddenly left after Lily and James' deaths and didn't give him any notice of her leaving. I doubt that settled well with him. He was forced to be here, alone, to cope with one of his friends dying and the other disappearing.I didn't want to know anything about my mother's past, afraid of the things that I might find out. Well, hopefully he just didn't notice me. My wish was, unfortunately, not granted.

"Miss Rossi," he drawled out to me, "Would you please come here." His voice was piercing. It made my very soul shiver. I begrudgingly walked to him, as slow as possible to stall the unwanted conversation. Why was I such a bitter human?

"Sir?" I asked.

"I have not had the pleasure of introducing myself to you as the head of your house," he said articulating every word in a very exaggerated way, "I am Professor Snape. I teach Potions. I see that you will be taking my class this year. Do you have the proper literature for it?" He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms across his chest, shuffling his robes.

"Yes, sir," I answered, looking down at my shoes. I didn't want to make eye contact with him. He made me feel uneasy.

"Is your mother well?" he asked me curiously. Was he really talking to me about my mother? So Professor Dumbledore had informed him who I was.

"As far as I know," I replied, "I haven't spoken to her since my arrival but when I left home she was just fine. Crazy as ever, but fine." He looked at me and then moved to the edge of the bridge, gripping the edge of it.

"I miss her, you know," he said solemnly, "I haven't seen her in so long. She was one of the kindest people I have ever met and one of the few that I trusted completely. I just wish I knew why she left. She never even said goodbye to me." I felt like he was prodding me for some unresolved closure, but I had none. And I had no fucking idea what to say. I barely even knew my mother. She was always gone when I was home for summers or holidays or I was always at school. We barely even corresponded with one another while I was gone. "When I saw you, I knew who you were immediately. You look so much like her that I, for a second, thought you were her." He turned around and looked at me. His eyes were so dark and had so much hidden in them. I was normally very good at reading people through their eyes, it was almost one of my magical talents, but this time I could not. It was almost as if I unconsciously did not want to. "She was always there for me, always helping me find my way, even when things got dark. Always at my side, defending what was right even when it was the unpopular thing to do." He sighed. "We will see if you are like her, both in character and in studies." He then abruptly strode away from me. Did he ever wash his hair? Was it wrong that that was all I was really thinking about after that conversation. He had acted like a pained lover who was missing the love of his life. Now I had unanswered questions. Had he and my mom been a thing? My mother was unbelievably beautiful. Would she, in fact, be with someone like him? And then another question popped up in my brain, suddenly and irrationally. My mom had never talked about my father to me. Every time that I tried to bring the subject up on the few occasions that I did get to see her, it was shot down immediately. Fuck. I didn't even know who my father was. I touched my long black hair, a trait that I had not inherited from her as hers was golden blonde. It was the only thing about me that I had not gotten from her genetically. More unanswered questions that I was not sure I wanted the answers to. I slumped up against the wall. Everything was, all of a sudden, a fucking mess inside of my brain. What was so painful about her past that made her leave? Surely there was more to the story other than her best friend dying?

"Oi, Sarah!"

I flipped around, suddenly ripped from my thought, and, to my relief, Fred was there waving at me. He jogged up to me. I had no idea what overcame me because I literally threw myself into his arms, hugging him as hard as I could. I needed him to be around right now to suck this unhappiness out of my soul. He laughed.

"You alright?" he asked me, looking at me concernedly.

"Yeah," I said brushing my hair behind my ears, "Just cold." He wrapped his arms around me and I welcomed the warmth whole heartedly. He made me feel so much better just by holding me.

"I've been looking for you all morning!" he exclaimed, "Where have you been hiding?"

"Oh," I began, "Just in the library getting my reading on." I laughed. We walked a bit, talking and laughing, and eventually found a spot and sat down. I leaned up against him to break the wind and we looked at the rain which was now cascading down like a waterfall.

"Tell me some things about yourself," he said putting his chin onto of my head. God, what was it about him that I found so inviting and comforting?

"Like what, Frederick?" I said. He laughed.

"Is that what you're calling me now? It's fucking awful," he said, laughing, "I don't know. What do you like? What don't you like? I just want to know you."

"Well," I began, "My favorite color is yellow. My soul is black. And my animagus is a lioness."

"Animagus?" he said looking at me, impressed, "That's some pretty skilled magic, especially for our age." It was actually pretty normal back at Ilvemory to learn how to turn yourself into an animal.

"You think that's skillful, watch this," I waved my hand and a dead leaf in front of us suddenly started to unit itself and regain it's color from when it was alive. I looked at it again and it started floating about, like the wind was carrying it. There it was. One of the things that distinguished me from every other witch and wizard in the magical community, what made me especially different.

I could do any and all magic without a wand.