*Event horizon - a theoretical boundary around a black hole beyond which no light or other radiation can escape.

It was suddenly Friday. Where had my week gone? I thought to how disappointed McGonnagal had been with my work and how Flitwick had mentioned my lack of enthusiasm.

I've never been a disappointment.

Where am I? Oh.

Suddenly I was before the gaping maw that was the dungeon: my own personal hell, individually tailored just for me, each stone and bone precisely for me. Others groaned as they passed by, joking and laughing about how they were going to fail, how they hadn't done the paper...

The paper? Shit...

What did I care, knowing what I had in store? Somehow, I had dropped to mediocre, one that could hardly brew Polyjuice let alone anything difficult. I had floated down the steps and was now before the classroom. Despite my three layers of clothing including, but not limited to, thermals, two pairs of thick, woolen socks and a scarf, I shivered. He looked up, locked eyes with me and, as if they were black holes, his eyes pulled me in past the event horizon*. I sat down, shaking and not knowing why, knowing but of his constant smirk and nothing else. Heat rose up in my face, despite the impending chill upon it. Above all else I looked him in the eye and did not break contact. I was not weak, though I was afraid. Luckily, my fear saved me from an even worse fate.

"Piroska Oliver, your paper?"

"I-I was not aware of the assignment, Professor."

"Oh? You mean you weren't listening in class. 20 points from Ravenclaw. A pity. How about a month of detentions, every Saturday, for the next month? Very good. Your paper, Mr. Torrence?"

I sat and stared at my hands, fingers curled up above my palms, resting on my thighs. There was nothing I either wanted or could do. For the first time I realized Dumbledore knew, but hadn't stopped it from happening. My mother was less than likely to believe me, being that she already thought I lied about most of my life to get attention. Even if it became a scandal, what was the likelihood of anyone believing one student in their seventh year against the word of the headmaster?

Piroska, you twat. You've dug your hole, now live with it.

That stupid inner bitch was back, grinning and bringing thoughts of hot passion before my eyes. My inner friend cried weakly for me to still confront Dumbledore, Bill, Flitwick, anyone, but her voice was made of whispers and shadows.

"Piroska!"

The room was empty and Severus towered over me, cold, marble hands grasping the edge of the desk. My resolve acted before I had the chance to second guess myself. I stood with ferocity, grabbed his face and pressed my lips against his. His lips curled upward, but he did not kiss back.

"You like it." The deep rumble pervaded the room.

Shaking with vehement fury, I pulled back, disgusted by his contented sound and then spat onto the ground, where it likely froze upon contact. He lifted one, nimble finger and I flinched ever so slightly. Rather than strike me, he lifted one strand of hair and tucked it behind my ear. I rather think he liked the painful suspense I waited in. The playful passion we'd had but two weeks earlier had become ice cold. His finger brushed my bottom lip. Then, there was a squeak. A wide-eyed child's face peered around the door. Severus whipped out his wand, to stun the child or worse, but I pulled his arm back.

"GO." I shouted at the first-year.

Snape whipped around, wand digging cruelly at my ribs, even through layers upon layers of clothing. The anger bubbled behind his sleek curtain of hair and I could feel it, both hot as molten magma and as deeply chilling as the touch of steel. At least there was still emotion behind his childish cruelty. My heart raced. Was the pain going to be worth it? Did a child's momentary pain compare with the agonizing and endless torment that was to be my remaining time with Severus? He pushed me off and bade me leave. His voice was small, hollow. I grabbed my bag and left.

"Where'd you get that mark?" Bill inquired as he entered the boy's dormitory. I had gone there to change and he'd found me stuck in a sweater, half on and half off. My purplish ribs were showing quite plainly. I pulled the sweater, with much ado, the rest of the way down.

"Fell off my bed doing homework. Want to know why? Some creep had gotten into the girl's room and left our panties out last night. Found out not a minute earlier. I'm staying here tonight. Gives me the willies thinking about it."

Bill eyed me suspiciously. I was not a bad liar, but I was bad at hiding when I was nervous. Severus and pop quizzes were the only things that made me as nervous as I then was. He put his things down in his trunk and seemed to be mulling something over. He was not a stupid boy, but I rather think he chose to ignore things too heinous to speak of. I don't think he knew, per say, but I do believe he knew something more than he let on. Instead of going after my conspicuous attitude and 'potential' lie, (or perhaps he did) he said;

"...are you in love with me?"

I laughed, slapped a hand or two over my mouth, turned strawberry red and could not find my voice to contradict his statement. By the pained look I saw through my tears of joy, I realized I had offended him. It was not the first time I had slept in his room, but we'd never been more than close friends. I see in retrospect that he wanted more, but I did not.

"I-I'm sorry, Bill..." I trailed off, wiping the tears from my eyes with the sleeves of a sweater his very mother had made for me. "I didn't mean it in a mean way. I just wasn't expecting it, you know..." A bit of the pain abated in those words. "I'm your friend. Friends don't sleep with...ok, friends don't have sexual relations with each other." His eyebrows furrowed. "You're hot. You could do a lot better than me. I'm not trying to slow you down, man. If this is starting rumors, I don't want to be a burden on your game."

He shook his head and sat down on his bed. My bag and robes from the day were already piled onto it and he pushed them to the foot. I went and sat down next to him, still crying a little bit.

"No, it's nothing like that. You've just been acting weird lately. I thought maybe...maybe it was a boy...or me...something's changed in your life. You won't tell me. It was the only thing I could think of."

"You haven't done anything wrong. I've been a little off because of graduation and all that. I don't know where I want to go-"

"You wanted to do portraits, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I need something to do to make money in the mean time and I haven't figured out where to go yet."

"Have you spoken to Snape? He probably knows something. You're brilliant at Potions."

"I...he hasn't been much help, unfortunately. Now if you don't mind, today's been a rough day and I'd like to get some sleep."

And with that, I kicked him off of the bed, rolled over, and fell into the soundest sleep known to man. He shook his head and watched me, warm gaze like a cozy fire at my back until I had drifted away.