(A/N: Hi all! Wow! How many times have you watched HP7part2? And how did you like that sound track? I wants it! Ok, so, before people bite my head off, I am going to apologise profusely for not having updated sooner - I do have a good excuse: I was in Canada! It was awesome! But now I'm back and writing again and raring to go! Enjoy the new chapter! Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off)

In the Head of the Snake

Chapter 20: Tingling Sensations

Snape sat silently in Dumbledore's office, staring intently forwards, not daring to blink. Directly opposite him, perched on one leg on Dumbledore's dark wooden table top, his head tilted slightly to the side, was Fawkes, his one beady eye focused only on Snape. Snape began to growl quietly as he felt the bottom of his eyes begin to burn, but still he did not blink. Fawkes cooed in apparent amusement at the Potions Master and tilted his head even further to the side.

"I know why you are doing that, bird!" growled Snape deep in his throat. "You tilt your head to allow the air a different point of contact on your eye, thus elongating your apparent stamina. But all that proves to me is that I am winning!"

The door to the office opened. Still Snape was staring intently at the bird who had now tilted his head further around so that he was almost looking at Snape upside down.

The person at the door sighed and closed the door behind with a soft click. They then made their way to the space between the desk and the chair that Snape was sitting in.

"Severus, you do know that you are having a staring competition with a bird...again."

"And you, Albus, should know that I do not take lightly to being beaten, even by a bird. And, on that point," Snape shifted on his chair slightly and allowed the smallest of sneers to grace his features as the bird tried to rotate his head another inch round, "this bird probably has more intelligence than half of my first years put together." Fawkes, obviously indignant at such a small notice of his intellectual abilities, tried to tilt his head one tiny bit more – one tiny bit too much more. His head now firmly upside down, he teetered for a moment on his single raised leg, spread his wings suddenly but not soon enough before he had to touch down his second leg and blink. Fawkes blinked again. And then again.

"Aha!" cried Snape, jumping to his feet. "And, as the victor, I take my prize." He pulled from his pocket a tiny vile that he put to the bird's still blinking eye. The absence of blinks had dried the black eye, and with every blink, a large tear drop was forming on the bottom lid. Crooning, as if in a sigh of acceptance, Fawkes gave a hard blink and the tear fell into the open vile.

"So what did Fawkes get from you when he beat you the first time?" asked Dumbledore who had watched the staring contest in much amusement, but was now seated in his large headmaster's chair with his fingers tented and staring at Snape with blue shimmering eyes.

"That would be between the bird and I," said Snape whilst pocketing the single Phoenix tear.

"Severus," began Dumbledore in a warning tone.

"He chose, not me. What he does with it, I'll never know," Severus actually rolled his eyes and caught himself just before his mouth began to pout. Pouting wasn't something he had done for almost thirty years and just because his father wasn't around to beat it out of him anymore didn't mean that he would start now.

"What he does with what?"

"A lock of my hair."

"Ah, I see. Yes."

Fawkes gave a soft coo and fluttered to his perch where he settled down for a nap. Snape, frowning, looked from the Phoenix to Dumbledore and back again.

"What do you know that I don't?" he asked Dumbledore, although his gaze was still on the Phoenix.

"I would suppose I know quite a lot that you don't, Severus, but I seldom brag about my knowledge."

"That's not what I – oh never mind. I daresay I'll learn sooner than I like."

"Now, why the visit at such an interesting hour, Severus? I'm sure, as entertaining as a good staring contest may be, it was not the reason that brought you to my office?"

"I have been given a new mission," Snape said slowly, all of a sudden his face blank of emotion and his black eyes only for Dumbledore. Dumbledore merely nodded his head for Snape to proceed. "I informed you, a few weeks ago now, that I was summoned to the Garden of Freedom. The Dark Lord, I suppose after the incident where he could not breach my mind in terms of Miss Weasley, is giving him and I a bit of reasonable space. But that does not mean he is giving me a break; my new mission begins this Friday." Still, Dumbledore merely nodded his head for Snape to proceed. "While in the Garden of Freedom, I met first with Avery and then with Rookwood. I advised Avery to have his position moved so as to clean his reputation. He appealed to Malfoy. Malfoy has accepted him into his Action Ranks."

Now Dumbledore raised a finger in question, "And does Voldemort" Snape suppressed a shudder at the name, "know about this change in position?"

"Yes," said Snape simply. "He must also know that it was I who suggested it, so he cannot be that mad – or angry rather, the man is simply and purely insane in general – with me if he is prepared to listen to ideas put forth by others which he knows are mine."

"Alright. That is Avery. What of Rookwood?"

"Rookwood met me directly after Avery left and informed me of a plan. I have to gain entry to, and then proceed to map out, the Department of Mysteries," Snape said this in a rush of whispered breath, trying to hide his beating heart from his own ears.

"So you will be gone the whole weekend, I take it?" asked Dumbledore, still as serene as ever.

"And the weekend after if the process takes that long."

"Has Voldemort informed you," and now Dumbledore's tone changed to something a bit more serious than before, "of what you will be looking out for while you are in the Department?"

"Not yet," admitted Snape, "Although Rookwood says that we will be briefed shortly before we enter the Department."

"Then," and now, much to Snape's alarm although he hardly showed it, Dumbledore's voice was sombre and very, very serious. Even his eyes had grown harder and the shimmer in them had all but disappeared. "Then I think that I need to tell you now, so that you will not have to learn it first time from him. I dare say that you would not be able to hide your emotion when he tells you, so it be best that you get it over and done with now."

"I do not understand," Snape blinked a few times and allowed a frown to crease his forehead.

"You do not know why we guard the way to the Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore said simply. "You do not know what Lord Voldemort wants inside of the Department. Before I tell you, know only this; I hid this from you to protect you as much as the boy."

The boy. Dumbledore had mentioned Harry Potter. That could only mean one thing; Lily. Whatever was in the Department of Mysteries that Voldemort wanted so badly, it had something to do with Lily. Snape found that his breath had stuck in his throat and he couldn't remember whether he was breathing in or breathing out. His hands clenched automatically by his side as they lined with sudden sweat. And still his mask was in place. Still his face was featureless.

"I will say this as fast as possible," explained Dumbledore in a very slow way that was opposite to his words, "as one would do when pulling off a band aid to show to the world their wound." Snape's lip twitched in annoyance. "Inside the Department of Mysteries is a room called the Hall of Prophecies. In there lies the Prophecy made by Sybil Trelawney about sixteen years ago. The contents of which refers to Lord Voldemort as well as to Harry Potter."

"The Prophecy," spoke Snape in barely a whisper, "of which only the beginning was reported to the Dark Lord. The Prophecy that was told to the Dark Lord in its incompletion, and which spurred the Dark Lord into action against a family that had evaded him three times as well as had a son born at the end of July."

"Yes, that Prophecy."

There was silence. The portraits on the wall were staring intently at the scene playing before them, one even had his hand in his mouth in fear as he watched Snape's face turn pale and his hands clench the arms of the chair so hard that his knuckles turned white. There was a loud crunch as the two arms on either side of the chair splintered within Snape's clutch.

He stared at his hands, broken pieces of wood still between his fingers but no longer connected to the chair. Slowly he opened his fingers, and watched as the pieces of wood fell to the floor with a soft clatter. He turned his hands to himself, blood beading along the small incisions the splinters had made on his palms.

"The Prophecy that sent Lily Evans and her family to the grave."

"Severus..." but Dumbledore's tone was enough to set Snape over the edge.

Snape, in one fluid motion, stood up and threw the already broken chair into the wall, as if propelled there by magical strength. He fell to his knees as hard as he could, wishing that the ground would hit him back, and keeled, his hands supporting him as uncontrollable shakes racked his body. A sound like a plug pulling at water filled the room. What a horrible noise, Snape thought, and then realised that it was him. He was sobbing. Crying so hard that he could only gasp for air.

"Will this torture never leave me!" he yelled to the ground, his fist slamming down in an effort to cause himself pain – anything to take his mind off of the actions that he had done in the past. He raised his hand one more time, intending to bring it down again, but it was yanked upwards suddenly.

He looked upwards through his bedraggled curtain of black hair to see Dumbledore standing over him, his hand firmly holding Snape's in place.

"You hurt yourself enough, Severus. Don't you think?"

"Not enough. It will never be enough."

He lifted himself from the floor where two red hand prints were left gleaming up at him. His hands were bloodied. He would never be able to wipe them clean.

Dumbledore turned to his demolished chair.

"Severus, I really did like that one. Perhaps next time you could vent your emotions onto my cupboard instead? I could use a larger one so an excuse would be well appreciated."

"I'll remember that the next time I happen to find out I have to relive my past. Which happens to be quite more often these days."

"I am sorry, Severus. I truly am."

Severus sniffed, still angry at himself for his outburst, but feeling slightly lighter despite himself.

"You were right, Headmaster. Better now than later," he did not wait for Dumbledore's reply. "Now I see why he chose me for the job. He sees this as an opportunity for me to fix my past mistakes. He will undoubtedly expect me to be grateful. I must play my part."

"As you always do, my friend."

"Anything else I should know about?" asked Severus, straightening his robes and not caring that splinters still in his hands caught on his fabric and sent twinges of pain shooting through his palms.

"Actually, I think so, but not quite yet."

Severus, not really bothered by Dumbledore's answer, nodded his head and turned to leave.

"Oh, Severus," added Dumbledore suddenly, "while you are in the Department, don't touch anything." Fawkes cooed his agreement

Snape smirked, not knowing if it was more because of the warmth that he felt at Fawkes's chirp or from the real concern in Dumbledore's voice, before leaving the office and heading to his dark dungeons.

. . .

He had to pack. Dumbledore's words still rung in his ears and he could not sleep. So instead of sleeping, he would pack. Anything to keep his hands busy and his mind away from the impending weekend. He had a few classes the next day and then he had to leave immediately afterwards in any case, so packing now was the logical thing to do. Wait, he also had Miss Weasley the next morning. Seeing her every morning for lessons was, maybe, a little bit over the top. He had said to her that their next lesson would be a practical one. Perhaps he should give her more time to prepare herself. Yes. He would do that. He saw Potter only once a week in any case, and it was more important for the boy to know Occlumence than Ginny. So once a week for her too. No, he knew her, she would complain and it was not as if he could use Potter as an example – to the world Potter was merely taking Remedial Potions on Monday evenings. So twice a week for Miss Weasley. She wouldn't complain too severely about that.

So he sat down at his writing desk and pulled a long green quill towards him as well as some spare parchment.

Miss Weasley, he began before allowing his pen to hover above the page. How to continue?

As our lessons will begin to take a new turn, I find that our frequent meetings must be staggered so as to allow you enough time to practice as well as to recover.

That sounded good so far. Why was this so difficult to write? Why was he explaining himself to her? Surely he should just blurt it out in three lines and be done with it? But Severus Snape ignored his own thoughts and plunged on with his half written letter.

I have already informed you that my evenings are often full; therefore lessons will continue to be in the early mornings and at the normal meeting place. The new meeting days will be Tuesdays and Thursdays.

He slept in on Mondays, often too tired to do anything else after his hectic weekends away working on other matters. He had missed those lazy mornings just lately because of the classes he had been giving Miss Weasley. He would be grateful to get them back. And on a Thursday he had a free period before his teaching began, so that would allow him enough time to recover before facing the brats.

He paused before contemplating the end of his message. He grabbed another scrap of parchment and wrote, Looking forward to seeing you, and stared hard at the words. He liked how they looked and how they sounded, but he did not like what they implied. Keep well, was what he wrote next. These words just didn't fit with Snape's hand writing, his slanted harsh letters opposing the soft words. Be prepared. Now that looked, sounded and felt right.

So he copied the last two words down onto the end of his letter and signed it S. S.

Then he tapped the page and it neatly rolled itself up, sealing with a black wax seal that had a delicate snake in the shape of an S embedded in it.

"Eyeri," he said, and immediately handed the scroll in his hands to the house elf that had just appeared, "please give this to Miss Ginny Weasley first thing when she awakes tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," Eyeri bobbed her head and put the scroll under one arm for safe keeping. "Anything else Eyeri can do for sir?"

"Yes, actually," said Snape as he swished his wand and some clothes and a few books laid themselves out onto his dark bed. "Now that I think of it. I am going away this weekend on business. But I may need some assistance. If I should need you at all, can I rely on you to answer my call?"

Eyeri's eyes shimmered with happy tears and her face was plastered with a grin too big for her face. If it was any human giving such a reaction, Snape would assume they were humouring him, or making fun of him, but he knew that Eyeri's only wish in life was to make things easier for Snape.

"Of course sir! Eyeri will do anything for sir! Eyeri will be listening for sir!" and her ears perked up high to prove her words.

"Thank you Eyeri," Snape nodded his head, "although I must warn you that where I am going there could be possibilities of danger."

"That is why Eyeri is your elf, sir!" squeaked Eyeri indignantly. "Eyeri listens for sir and answers sir no matter where or what. Eyeri is a good elf!"

Snape chuckled deep in his throat.

"Yes, Eyeri, you are a good elf. I hardly ever have to make you punish yourself."

"Just the one time...when Eyeri touched sir's chessboard by accident. Eyeri didn't think the chess men would try to attack. Eyeri is still sorry. Eyeri just wanted to clean the table."

"That is all in the past, Eyeri. Thank you. I must pack now."

Eyeri bowed deeply and pop, was gone.

Snape surveyed his bed, now strewn with various items that he might need. Then, with a long stare in mid air, Severus eventually sighed. He waved his wand and a lever appeared where before there was nothing. He pulled the lever and, as if it was there the whole time, a safe fell slowly to his eye level. On the side of the safe was another eye that looked at him suspiciously. The handle along the side of the safe moved and a voice demanded, "Show me your pain!"

Severus dutifully held out his left arm where the serpent and skull tattoo of the Dark Mark crawled clearly over his skin.

"This is my eternal pain," he replied to the safe, whose eye blinked before closing. The door to the safe opened soundlessly.

Severus looked at the items inside the safe carefully, counting each object to make sure no one had broken into it. He wasn't sure if that was possible, but he was not taking any chances. Happy that all was where it should be, he pulled out a large drawstring bag and opened it. Inside were a number of wands. Severus thought he could feel their anger at being kept away from their masters, but he ignored it. Instead he put his hand inside the bag and brought from it a long wand with a crooked tilt at the end. Rookwood's wand.

He did not know what awaited him in the Department of Mysteries, but he was not about to take any chances. He flicked his wand and watched as his clothes, a notepad and automatic-ink quill, a few potions and random ingredients, as well as a bottle of firewhiskey folded up and placed themselves into a small satchel. He added the long wand with the crooked tilt at the end, careful not to touch it for too long; it left his hand feeling as though it were just coming out of pins-and-needles.

To take his mind off of the sensation, Snape stared hard around him, thinking of anything else that he might need. Really, with his wand, he hardly needed anything. The potions were merely a backup plan. He looked around the room, spotting a long quill lying on his desk. He thought of Miss Weasley, waking up and receiving his note. She would not be happy. Thankfully he only had the fourth years much later that day – perhaps her fury would have abated by then.

. . .

As it turns out, Ginny Weasley's temper had only risen throughout the day. She had received the letter and promptly tore it up in her anger. To further her fury, she had seen Cho running up to Harry that day, slipping her hand into his and whispering in his ear something that made him smile a great deal. This had only helped to make her lose her appetite and to miss breakfast. In Transfiguration, the ink pot she was supposed to be transforming into a badger had exploded, leaving ink stains all around Professor McGonagall's classroom. She was forced to stay after class to clean up, thus forcing her to miss yet another meal. And now she was in Potions, glaring at Professor Snape as if she wanted nothing more than to gouge his eyes out with the long wooden spoon in her hands.

"Miss Weasley," drawled Snape, although his sharp eyes had obviously noticed her hostile body language, "you use a spoon to stir with. Although if you are so determined to break the tables in my classroom then do not stop – I very much doubt I will be replacing anything if your choice of implement is a wooden spoon."

This only made Ginny grit her teeth harder, a red blush creeping up her neck and dappling her cheeks in angry spots. She clenched her hand around the spoon all the tighter, trying hard not to throw any insults back at Snape, never mind throw the spoon.

"Miss Weasley! Ten points from Griffindor!"

"Wh-what for?" she demanded. Had she said some of the things in her head aloud?

"Five for not doing your work, and another five for turning half of my wooden spoon to steel!"

Ginny looked down at the spoon, her hand dropping it quickly. It clattered on the table top. Clattered. It was no longer all wooden; the handle was a shiny silver. She had done that?

"Well?" demanded Professor Snape. "Do I have to wait till Merlin's rebirth for an apology?"

"You're right, Professor," snapped Ginny. "I'm so sorry, Spoon, for turning you silver."

"Miss Weasley!"

"Professor Snape!"

"I will see you after class!"

She was about to yell again. To give another quick remark. But before she could respond there was a loud popping noise from the other side of the classroom from one of the other student's cauldrons. Snape, his eyes gleaming with anger, gave Ginny one last dirty look before turning and striding to the next culprit.

Snape had taken fifty points from Griffindor before the class was through.

"Class is finished!" he yelled after the last student had handed in their corked potions. "Get out!"

Ginny was heading for the door before, "Not you Miss Weasley." She turned resolutely and looked hard at the floor, determined not to meet Professor Snape's gaze. The last of her classmates left the room and the heavy door swung shut. She was alone with him.

"Come here."

She looked up at him, anger burning through her every fibre, scared that to make a move would unleash her hardly controlled emotions.

"Miss Weasley, I told you to come here!"

She forced a leg to move. She took a step. She hadn't exploded yet. She took another step. Still she hadn't exploded but she could feel it building, could feel her anger bubbling just beneath the surface. Another step. Another. She was right in front of him now. She could not hold it in a second longer. She was going to shout. She was going to. He could not stop her. He could not do anything.

She opened her mouth ready to let loose her fury when...but that wasn't fair.

It was just a finger. Not even. It was the tip of his finger. He had simply lifted it and placed it on her forehead. And her anger had disappeared. She felt the nothing that she usually longed for. The wonderful nothing that left her with her own thoughts. But this time she didn't want it. She wanted to yell and scream. She wanted to be angry, for her head to be bombarded from all sides with all of her thoughts, for the chaos inside of her to shine through.

But with him touching her...she could be none of those things she wanted. She could only be practical. And sensible. And mature.

"Are you ready to talk now?" he asked, amused at the struggle he could see behind her eyes. "Because I will not have shouting matches in my classroom."

She dipped her eyes to the ground as he gently lifted his finger off of her head.

"That's not fair. What you did to me. That isn't playing fair."

"Who said anything about fair? If only I could calm more students with barely a touch...although that would mean touching them which I am very much against doing."

"You touch me..." said Ginny softly.

"Yes, but only because we are...friends," he forced the last word out, biting back the sarcasm that belonged in the sentence.

"Who says we are?" demanded Ginny suddenly.

"Aren't we? The last I remember of this conversation, you asked if we were friends. I said if you wanted us to be then yes, we are friends. You nodded your head. A nod, as far as I am aware means 'yes'."

"Or it could merely be an acknowledgement of words. A nod of 'yes I heard you, I'll think about it'."

"Words often mean more than one thing. Seldom have I heard of double meanings on movements."

"So you admit that words can mean more than one thing?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Then what about what you said yesterday?"

"What I said? I say many things."

"In class!" her anger was beginning to rise again. "You let us in, snapped at us all – "

" – when don't I snap at blundering brats?"

"Gave us instructions that were opposite to the ones you had previously given us – "

" – alright I'll admit that is different to what I usually do."

"And then yelled at me when I tried to find out why."

"I don't recall yelling at you."

"How's about 'I know what I said, Miss Weasley. But people change their minds. I just did.' Ring a bell?"

Snape stared at her. Had she used those words in a different context? And then, those words combined with his letter this morning...it must seem as if he didn't want to be around her any more.

An emotion seized him. It gripped him tightly in his chest and made his heart beat faster. He didn't know the name of this emotion. He couldn't remember having felt it although he knew, sometime long ago, it had riddled his body before. He tried to place it, but all he could discern from it was that he did not want to lose Ginny Weasley. He did not want silly words to come between him and her. Their relationship, as different and as weird as it may be, must not be jeopardised just because, as per usual, Snape didn't know the true impact of his words.

"I..." but what could he say to her? He looked away. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I'm sorry!"

"For what?" he looked at her suddenly, not understanding.

"No!" Ginny gasped in annoyance. "You dim-witted fool! Not me! You! Just say that you're sorry!"

Snape hardly even noticed Ginny verbally abusing him. He was struck by her absolute simplicity. All that it took to get her forgiveness were the two words that had never worked for him. "I'm...I'm sorry?" he said, almost hoping that she were joking.

"Yes!" Ginny was completely serious.

"Then, Miss Weasley...I am sorry," and he felt as if he meant it.

"See? Three words. That's all it takes to fix things."

"In my experience, words mean little when compared to ones actions."

"Then whoever taught you that knows nothing."

Snape stared at her hard. This whole time, he had been thinking of her along the same lines that he had thought of Lily Evans. But now, looking at her with her hands on her hips in a very un-Lily like fashion, he felt his eyes open wider than they were before. Ginny Weasley, was not Lily. Ginny Weasley was her own person.

"Why do you say that?" he asked her, actually eager to have the image of Ginny that was forming in his mind to be completed.

"It's obvious isn't it? Saying something is an action in itself, and can have as much, if not more, effect on a person than an action could. For example, if you were to strap me up and beat me, trying to get information out of me, you probably wouldn't get a word. But if you were to sit me down and talk to me, then I'd most likely talk back, wouldn't I? So that means that words are stronger than actions."

"So much for actions speak louder than words," said Snape with a twinkle in his eye reminiscent of Dumbledore's.

"That's partly true though. If someone says something, then their actions need to back-up those words. The action is the proof of the words."

"So for me to just apologise, is that enough?"

Ginny looked at him for a moment before replying, "For me, yes."

"And why am I the exception?"

"Like I said; when someone talks, it's both words and action combined."

"And what of my...previous statements?" he quizzed, not quite wanting the conversation to end as yet.

"Well like you said, people change their minds. I've decided not to be angry at you about yesterday anymore."

"Oh?" Snape's brow rose in surprise. "To what do I owe the pardon?"

Ginny shrugged.

"You probably had a reason for what you said and what you did. You might be snappish and blunt, but you always have a reason for it. To make us think under pressure. To make us react faster. To make us reassess ourselves."

"That is a very persuasive argument you make, but don't you think it is a little bit selfish to assume that all of my actions – or words since the one represents the other – are solely for your improvement?"

"Either way your actions and words work at us whether it was intended for us or not."

"You keep on saying 'us'. Who are you referring to?"

"Me. And the rest of the students too. Although some of them are too daft to see it."

He let out a low growl-like chuckle. He very much doubted if the other students saw any reason behind his treatment of them. Perhaps they thought he was a bad-tempered man in general. In front of them, yes he definitely was. But, if he could talk, Fawkes would present another, very different, side of the Potions Master. Luckily Fawkes could not talk.

"So..." said Ginny, taking a tentative step towards Snape. He looked up, realising that he had been consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"So we are friends?"

"I would nod, but I wouldn't want you to assume the wrong meaning from it."

She gave a sideways smile.

"Then how about saying it?"

"Saying it?"

"Yes. If words are the beginning of an action, then say it. Say that we are friends."

He opened his mouth, fully intending to let the girl have her way, after all, hadn't he already said it? But something was not right because the words that escaped him were: "I can't."

"Excuse me, Professor?"

"Not today," he remedied quickly. Why had he said that? He knew the words were true though. He honestly couldn't bring himself to say 'I am your friend,' or any version thereof. He quickly searched himself, looking for the answer to his own insecurities. There it was – it was that same emotion as before. He didn't want to lose Miss Weasley. So...so if he didn't have her, he didn't have anything to lose. He was pushing her away. But there was more than that. This was not as selfish as he was making it out to be. He was not saying anything because he was merely scared of losing her; he was not saying anything because he was scared of how she would react when she lost him.

He would wait until after his upcoming mission. He would tell her then. If he survived the Department of Mysteries, then he would acknowledge their friendship in words.

"Then when?" asked Ginny.

"Sometime."

Ginny sighed in resignation.

"Well I suppose sometime is better than no time at all," she said and then glared at Professor Snape with much intensity. "Whatever it is you're up to...whatever it is you have to do...don't get killed."

Snape blinked in surprise. How did the girl know that he had a mission? Had Dumbledore done the same as last time and informed the girl in a letter? No, it did not look as if she were that well informed. Perhaps she had seen him last night as he rushed to Dumbledore's office with the news of his impending mission? No, he would have known if he was being followed or spied on. No. There was only one answer and he berated himself for admitting it; a woman's intuition. There could be no other answer. She was looking at him the same way that Molly Weasley glared at her twin sons, knowing that they were planning something but not knowing what...and knowing that she would deal with the results, whatever the results were.

"I won't promise not to get killed," said Snape eventually, "but I will promise that I'll try my very best not to."

"You better, otherwise I'll kill you myself."

Snape laughed at the intensity in her voice and Ginny, although surprised by the sudden outburst, smiled. She liked it when he laughed; all of the lines along his face shifted and his eyes came alive with a shimmer similar to that of Dumbledore's, all of which made him appear much younger.

They talked for a while more, Snape marvelling at how little of Ginny he knew despite how much more time he had spent with her than any of his other students, as well as how blind he could have been to have confused her with Lily. On the surface they had that same firm determination. That same fierce love of the world. But underneath...Lily was timid, and shy and uncertain. Ginny was boisterous, loud, and very much sure of herself. Perhaps the two girls would have been more alike if Lily was born into a wizarding family. Perhaps then she would have had the same, if not similar, confidence in herself from the beginning. Yes, she had been confident in the end, but when he had first met her...actually spoke to her...oh how shocked she had been, and uncertain of the truth, and unwilling to believe it. He imagined Ginny living in a muggle household and someone coming to her and telling her she was a witch. She would most likely respond with "of course I am," not like Lily's response of "that's not a very nice thing to say."

"Professor? Professor?" Ginny touched his arm and he shook his head quickly to remove the memories he was reliving. "Professor, what were you just thinking of?"

"Nothing in particular," he said a little too quickly. "But never you mind about that. I must be off now. Do not look for me this weekend. I am away on business. I will be back on Monday. Be prepared for our class on Tuesday morning."

"Oh...okay then..." and she shuffled her feet a little before meeting Snape's eyes and opening her mouth for one last word of warning. But Snape recognised what was coming and did not let her even start. He did not want her warning words. He placed his long finger over her lips.

"Do not tell me to be careful. I already am. Do not tell me to watch my back. I already do. Do not tell me to come back alive. I already plan to. Rather, believe in me. Wait for me. And be ready for my return."

Ginny brought her hands up to his and curled his fingers around hers, never letting the contact between his hand and her lips to falter. Carefully she kissed his fingers and held the hand close to her.

"You know, I think I'm the selfish one between us. I can't see a reason for you to want to be my friend. But I know that as long as you can make me feel so fabulously full of nothing, that I will always want you near me."

Snape smiled a sad smile and watched as the girl nuzzled his hand against her warm cheek. Ginny didn't know it, but she had just put a limit on their friendship; there would come a day, Snape knew, that she wouldn't need him anymore. He gently pulled his hand away from her grasp and she gave a long sigh. His hand tingled at the loss of her touch. What was this sensation? What were these emotions? Was his inner self, left alone for so long, mistaking this girl's need as want? For surely Ginny needed him; he gave her the opportunity to be herself. But want? When she did not need him, she would just leave, wouldn't she? And what would that inner part of him do then? It was a shapeless part of him, but it was growing and mutating the longer he spent around Ginny. The thought made his stomach hurt, so he quickly calmed his mind. Silly thoughts shouldn't be found in a mature man's head anyway.

"Can I walk you out the castle at least?" asked Ginny, looking at Snape with a hopeful sidelong glance.

Snape merely nodded.

(A/N: Thank you to the wonderful reviews I received! To the new-comers, welcome! To the originals, keep reading! I love you all, haha! Let me know what you want to happen in this story. I was originally planning on having it being a Mentor only fic, buuuut, I have an idea to that might bring Snape and Ginny together if that's what you want? I'm all ears! Wonderwhiterabbit hopping off)