Chapter III: Similarities

After having put his foot in it twice before either of them had finished their first cup of coffee, Severus decided to stick to more trivial topics like the weather, which proved to be an inexhaustible topic for two former inhabitants of Northern England.

'One thing that makes it very easy to adapt to the Icelandic weather,' he noted, 'is the fact that it only seems to rain horizontally. I have always appreciated this about the Scottish weather as well.'

Bone-dry. That was how he delivered his little comparison, his voice a monotonous drawl. For a moment, Cassandra just stared at him, and he quickly went over his statement once more in his mind, wondering if he had said something stupid. Then he saw the corners of her mouth twitch, and before he knew what was happening, she had burst into peals of laughter. And he was unable to do anything else than stare at her in sheer astonishment. He was used to the nurses' fake giggles when they didn't grasp the irony of his comments, but Cassandra's laughter was completely different: it was genuine, warm. It was the same kind of laughter that had made him notice her in the park, the most adorable sound he had heard in ages. It was infectious, and it crept right into his empty heart.

The hours ticked by, and when they made their way to the bus station, darkness had already fallen over the city. Neither of them had noticed how fast the time had passed.

'I'm at the café almost every day after four, waiting for the bus,' Cassandra said casually as she climbed into the bus. 'I'd love it if you came by to keep me company one day.'

And before Severus could find the words to tell her how much he had enjoyed her company and that he would very much like to spend more time with her, the bus doors had closed, and all he could do was return Cassandra's wave through the dirty window.

The bus rolled out of the station and into the evening traffic, up the road, past the first traffic light and then the second one, and Severus just kept staring after it, Cassandra's laughter still ringing in his ears.

He was soaked to the bones when he arrived at his flat. He had no idea how long he had been standing in the rain at the bus station, his thoughts far, far away and his eyes still looking after the bus that had disappeared from sight long ago.

He had actually enjoyed himself that afternoon. As a matter of fact, he could not remember when he last had had such a good time. Ever since he had come to Iceland, he had buried himself in his work, shielding himself off from the people around him. He had not had any desire whatsoever to make friends. He needed to make peace with himself and his past first, before he could let anybody else into his life. And socialising had – after all – never been one of his most favourite pastimes.

But that afternoon had been different. He had listened to Cassandra's stories, her laughter. And as he was standing in his hallway that evening, wet, cold, and alone, he realised that he – for some blissful hours – had not once thought about the times that had been, the life he had left behind.

What was it about Cassandra that made him feel that way, he wondered. At first, he had thought that the attraction he felt towards her was due to the fact that they both were British. Birds of a feather flock together, after all. But as the hours had gone by that afternoon, he had noticed that there was something more, something he could not quite put his finger on. It almost seemed to him as if he knew her, as if she had always been there, as if she was his oldest friend.

'Pull yourself together, Severus,' he murmured to himself as he pulled off his wet clothes and turned on the shower. 'You are living in a strange country and have consciously avoided any kind of company for the last five years. There is no need to get paranoid just because, all of a sudden, you have taken a liking to another human being.'

After a relaxing shower, he put on his dressing gown and made himself comfortable in his armchair by the window, with a glass of Scotch in one hand and today's mail in the other. Among bills and other unwanted junk, he found a postcard depicting the Jacobite Steam Train on the Glenfinnan viaduct. Of course, it was from Minerva. She had a knack for choosing motives that connected the Muggle and the Wizarding world.

Dear Severus,

The new term has started without any problems, and the students as well as the staff are settling in nicely. Some of the students have already proven to be a handful, and we will have to keep an eye on them. We could use somebody with your scowl to intimidate them. My offer still stands, you know. Should you ever decide to return, there will always be an open position for you.

I very much hope that you are doing alright. Dumbledore tells me not to worry about you. He says that you will make yourself heard, should you ever need any assistance. But please, indulge an old lady, Severus. Drop me a line, if only just to let me know that you are in good health.

Sincerely,
Minerva

PS. Poppy sends her warmest regards.

A smile played around Severus' lips as he turned the postcard around to look at the familiar viaduct once more. The day when he had boarded the train that had brought him to Hogwarts for the first time seemed so long ago. But still he remembered it as clearly as if it had been yesterday.

Putting down the postcard on the table, he rose from the armchair and made his way to his desk to fetch some paper and a pen. For once, he would answer Minerva right away, because this time he actually had something to tell his old friend.

The following week was just one long drag. Severus was working double shifts every second day, just as he always did. Ever since he had started working at the hospital in Reykjavik, he had voluntarily signed up for all double shifts available. The more he worked, the less time he had to brood. But that week, he did not want to be at the hospital. He wanted to be at the little café where he had spent some of the most peaceful hours in his life.

Finally Thursday arrived, the only day of the week when Severus' shift ended at two o'clock. He washed, changed and left the hospital before the clock had even reached a quarter past. He did not have to think about where he was going. His feet seemed to know the way.

When he walked down the cobblestone road that led to the café, he noticed a strange feeling in his stomach, an odd mixture of excitement and nervousness, and he unconsciously slowed down his pace. What if Cassandra was not at the café? Or even worse, what if her invitation had just been an act of politeness, and she did not really want to see him?

He paused at the corner of the café and cautiously peered through the window. There she was, sitting at the same table as the week before, with a big mug and a stack of paper in front of her. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, and she looked concentrated and just a tad annoyed. She was holding a dark green pen in her hand with which she was tapping the table when she wasn't scribbling notes.

Then suddenly, as if she had sensed him, she lifted her head and looked straight at Severus.

Bloody hell, he thought. Now she has seen me staring at her like a schoolboy. She must think that I am utterly pathetic!

But the smile that she gave him made all his anxiety fall from him at once. And as she waved at him, beckoning him to come inside and join her, he did not hesitate for one single moment.

As he approached the table, his eyes were immediately drawn to the stack of paper that was lying there. He noted different handwritings, names in the upper right corner. Those were undoubtedly school papers.

'Don't tell me you teach,' he said as he pulled up a chair, cocking an eyebrow at Cassandra.

'As a matter of fact, I do.'

Severus had a momentary flashback to his classroom at Hogwarts, filled with students who could not tell the difference between a cauldron and a frying pan. He suppressed a shudder and asked: 'And what do you teach?'

'Mostly dunderheads and nincompoops.'

Severus stared at her in utter disbelief. 'Dunderheads and nincompoops?' he repeated, not entirely sure that those really had been her words and not a reflection of his own memories. How often had he called his students by these exact words?

'I believe the correct terminology for them would be teenagers,' Cassandra replied, and this time Severus could not help but grin.

'Why would you?' He just had to ask. Why anyone would teach teenagers voluntarily was beyond his understanding.

'From the goodness of my heart?' For a moment the statement had actually sounded genuine, and Severus wondered if Cassandra was one of those people who firmly believed that there actually was hope for today's youth. But when her smile turned into a broad grin, he realised that she was messing with him. 'I love my subjects. That I am teaching teenagers is an inevitable side effect,' she stated dryly.

'I gather that you are not a big fan of teenagers.' He could sympathise.

'Oh, don't get me wrong,' she replied. The grin on her face had once more been replaced with a warm smile. 'I love the little buggers to death, but they don't need to know that.'

Severus frowned slightly at Cassandra's answer, but she elaborated.

'In my opinion, they are not in school to have fun but to learn. And that is not the most popular approach. Some of them actually hate my guts. They say that I am spoiling their fun by making them work.'

Severus nodded. He knew exactly how it was to be the unpopular teacher, the evil slave driver who demanded full attention and hard work. He had taught a dangerous subject, where even the tiniest slip could have had fatal consequences. Therefore, he had ruled his students with an iron hand and always demanded their full attention. They had trembled at the mere sight of him, and he had enjoyed seeing them tremble. But looking at Cassandra's kind face, he had a hard time imagining her intimidating a room full of teenagers.

'How do you do it?' he asked. 'In my experience, teenagers are a rather unruly species.'

She grinned at his choice of words and leaned over the table to whisper into his ear. 'They fear me. I am unpredictable. They never know where they have me. At one moment I let them roam free and in the next I am holding them on a short leash. The element of surprise is my biggest weapon.'

She leant back again with a wicked smirk on her face, and Severus suddenly felt as if he had found his female counterpart.

They had left the subject of teenagers rather quickly, and looking back on the afternoon, Severus could not remember what they had been talking about. But once again, it was already dark when he walked Cassandra to the bus station, and once again he was at a loss of words. How bloody hard could it be to admit that he had had a good time?

The bus door had already opened when Cassandra turned to look at him once more and then handed him a scrap of paper. For a moment, Severus just stared at it, not really taking in what was written on it. Then he felt her eyes on his brow and lifted his head to look at her.

'My address and phone number,' she explained. 'In case you should ever feel like a nice cup of Earl Grey.'

'Come on, Severus, don't be such a coward. You have stared the Dark Lord in the eyes for years without blinking. Making a phone call will not kill you,' he mumbled to himself as he – for the twenty-third time that Friday evening – put the little scrap of paper back onto the table in his living room.

Yes, honestly, how hard could it be? Cassandra had personally given him her phone number. She obviously wanted him to call her. So what was she going to do? Hang up on him? Certainly not.

Resolutely, Severus snatched up the phone and dialled the number. One signal, two. His courage was just about to leave him and his finger was already on the disconnect-button when he heard her voice.

'Hi, it's Cassandra.'

'This is Severus.'

'Well, hi. I was wondering when you would call. Are you off from work?'

'I just came home,' he said. And now what? What was he supposed to say now?

'Yearning for that cup of tea, are you?' she asked, and Severus could imagine the grin on you face. 'How about tomorrow afternoon? Are you free?'

'Yes, I am,' he replied. 'I work only every second weekend.'

'Then it's a date. Around five? You've got the address, right?'

'Yes, I have.'

'Don't bring flowers, alright?'

'I won't.'

'See you tomorrow then.'

When Severus put down the phone, he noticed that his hand was shaking.