A\N: I want to remind you, my lovely readers, that I put this fic in the Angst genre for a reason. Adorable, funny shower scenes will not be coming (though this fic isn't completely devoid of romance and humour); screaming, blood and emotional turmoil will. I hope you'll stick with this fic regardless and enjoy it.

Thank you to my brilliant beta, AdelaideArcher. Any mistakes are my own.

Chapter 5: Making Friends with Monsters

When I woke up the next morning, Snape was already gone. I stretched under my covers, enjoying the peace and quiet, hoping I would be able to speak with him later.

I'd had a surprising amount of fun teasing him the night before, but I wasn't sure it had won me any points with my ex-professor.

I wondered how Dumbledore managed to get Snape to trust him, but then realised that was a stupid question: it was Dumbledore—even Voldemort respected him.

So, no problem, just need to become the most powerful witch in the world.

I grinned at my own joke, then felt a little guilty for making it. Trapped in Snape's tower, knowing that Voldemort was dead in my old time, a lightness filled me that I hadn't felt in years.

But I knew that outside these walls, there was a still a war raging on. I'd have to remember that, when I spoke to Snape; the war was still very real for him, still very present.

I sighed. Perhaps I shouldn't have teased him quite so harshly last night.

No, he deserved it, I thought, rolling on to my stomach and stretching again, then pushing myself out of bed.

The floor was cold against my bare feet, and I peeked out the bedroom door to make sure I was really alone before heading up to the bathroom.

Arriving back into the sitting room after using the loo, I noticed a pile of things lying on one of the couches. I went over to inspect it and found everything on the list I'd given Snape the day before: three sets of clean black robes, pajamas, and the toiletries I'd asked for. The invisibility cloak was folded up beside them, along with my things I'd left in the bathroom. Bless them, the house elves certainly deserved more credit than they received; I wished I'd been around to thank them personally.

I grabbed everything and went back into the bedroom, wondering where I might keep it all. I could store a lot of things in my beaded bag, but it would be easier not to have to rummage through it every day. Deciding I'd allow myself to push into Snape's world a little more, I walked to the large wardrobe near the door. I took a look inside, half-expecting to find a boggart, but instead finding several identical sets of Snape's black robes, as well as a pair of dress robes. I fingered the soft fabric of the dress robes, wondering if he ever got a chance to wear them—he'd been wearing his teachers' robes at the Yule Ball, I remembered—and then carefully pushed everything aside just enough to make a small space for my new robes. Conjuring a few hangers and careful to leave a space so our things wouldn't touch, I hung my new robes inside, along with the dress I'd worn to Bill and Fleur's wedding, which seemed like a lifetime ago.

Then I went to the dresser next to Snape's bed, wondering if I might procure a drawer. I opened the bottom one to find several nightshirts, all the same as the ugly grey one Snape had given me to wear. The next drawer had socks and underwear (boxers, all black, I noted with slight surprise; I'd always figured Snape a tighty-whitey sort of guy); I giggled to myself at the craziness that was finding myself looking at Snape's underwear, and shut the drawer.

The top level had two smaller drawers. The first was filled with what looked like personal objects: letters, a torn photo of Lily, and odds and ends; I closed this one fairly certain Snape would hex me unconscious if he knew I'd looked inside. The other drawer was mercilessly empty, except for a small black spider, which I transfigured into a lavender-filled pouch and then magically enlarged the drawer before laying my underwear, socks, bras, jeans and tops, as well as the Invisibility Cloak, gently inside.

Then, with great glee, I took one of my new robes and my fresh toiletries up to the bathroom to bathe and get changed. When I was done, I looked at myself in the mirror: my hair was still frizzy, my robes plain, but I felt like a million quid. My teeth were clean, my clothes were washed, my hair was brushed, and I hadn't slept in a dungeon cell, a forest, a tent, or a run-down old house.

I blissfully twirled in front of the mirror, and then remembered about the war outside the walls again and felt guilty once more. Admonishing myself, I made my downstairs wondering what the Other Me was likely doing. I had left my time on May 2, which meant that today was September 3. I stopped halfway down the stairs, putting my hand on my chest to steady my heart. No wonder Snape had been called away yesterday: Harry, Ron, and I had broken into the Ministry on September 2, which meant we now had Slytherin's locket and were on the run. We'd be in the forest near where the Quidditch World Cup was held, Ron's shoulder still healing from his splinching, but would be leaving soon, scared to stay in one place too long. The Death Eaters were probably busy ransacking Grimmauld Place as I stood in Severus's rooms.

It brought the war back to me instantly: the uncertainty, the fear, the pain, the death. My heart pumped wildly beneath my hand. It's okay, I reassured myself, you survived.

I shook my head, forcing my mind back to my present: if I was going to be successful saving Snape, I was going to have to stop thinking about what was happening outside his rooms. No matter what I heard or how much I wanted to help, I'd just have to remind myself we'd win in the end. We won. We won!

Feeling sure enough to move, I continued down the steps, ignoring my breakfast and flopping myself on the couch when I reached the sitting room, thinking about how I might convince Snape to trust me and to want to live.

Who did he trust, other than Dumbledore? His colleagues? Even if he did, they more than likely didn't trust him anymore, thinking he was under Voldemort's command. Did he have any other friends? From Harry's description of his memories, other than Lily, his school friends had all been Death Eaters, and they certainly didn't count as trustworthy (or even very friendly). The Order members had only ever tolerated him because of Dumbledore, and now though him a traitor.

I looked around the room. There were no photos anywhere, no hints of family, friends, or even any pets. Severus Snape was completely alone.

He had chosen this life, but it still made me sad. I tried to imagine my own life without my friends, without loving parents, without Crookshanks, and found I couldn't: a life devoid of love and friendship was one not worth living.

I knew what I had to do then, how to get Severus to want to live: I needed to become his friend.

I suddenly understood why Dumbledore had given me eight months.

My relationship with Snape had always been cold and indifferent at best, antagonistic and cruel at worst. I had no trouble talking back to him now he was no longer my teacher, but I had no idea how to be friends with the man. Something told me he would not want to be friends with me; he saw me as an annoying know-it-all, one of Harry's friends, a student—and now a pain in his side.

Making friends wasn't really my forte, but I supposed I would just have to give it a shot. I couldn't lure a troll into the room (which was how I'd managed to become friends with Harry and Ron, after all), so I'd have to start with small talk. That's what others did, right?

I stood up and went to the bookshelf, deciding to read until Snape returned that evening. I scanned the shelves, looking for something interesting, when I spotted Making Friends with Monsters.

I picked it from the shelf, a terrifying looking manticore emblazoned on the cover, its scorpion tail poised in attack position. Reading it it certainly couldn't hurt, I thought, settling back down on the couch and reaching for a piece of toast. At the very least I could make friends with the troll.