Chapter 4
DISCLAIMER - None of these delightful characters are mine, all belong to JK Rowling.
"And your houseguest, Severus? How has she settled in?" the warm gaze of Professor Dumbledore twinkled at him but Snape scowled as though he has tasted something sour.
He was seated in his customary place at the staff table in the Great Hall, the evening meal just concluding. As the conversation around them dwindled, the Headmaster had turned and directed his question softly to the Potions Master.
"I have not poisoned her or fed her to the giant squid," Snape returned and Dumbledore chuckled good naturedly.
"I am sure it is an adjustment for both of you," he said.
Snape pursed his lips.
"And of her father, Severus? Have you heard anything that might shed some light on his whereabouts?"
"I can assure you that if I had, I would already be there," Snape was fervent.
"But there is not even a whisper, nothing to suggest a sinister motive. Which would seem to point to his disappearance being a voluntary one. Except…," the wizard's voice tapered as his thoughts circled once more to the earnest eyes of his young ward pleading with him to find her father.
Her certainty plagued him, slowly eroding his confidence that Xenophillus had simply fallen into one of his own fantasies.
Dumbledore regarded him silently, waiting for him to find expression for his thoughts.
"Luna is absolute that her father would not leave her of his own volition. She is unshakeable on that," Snape finished quietly.
He had been gently probing old contacts in the past day or so, careful not to appear too interested in the fate of Xenophillus Lovegood but found contemptuous mirth was the prevailing attitude when the subject came up.
Snape had also dipped into other, less overt ways to probe the mystery but these avenues also were proving frustratingly devoid of answers. What he did know was that the missing man had exercised no magic since he was last seen and his meagre account at Gringotts had not been touched.
"How is she coping, Severus?"
"I already told you Headmaster that I would not be holding her hand and having heart to hearts over warm milk," a muscle in Snape's jaw twitched.
"If what she needs is someone to blubber her every thought to, then she is at the wrong address. She has a roof over her head and she is more than amply fed. Anything more than that and I am not the one to provide it," the Head of Slytherin clipped out his words.
In fact, over the past two days, he had seen little enough of his young guest. His days were spent in his office in the dungeons correcting end of term parchments. It was an excellent vent for the exasperation he felt at having to open his home to a child he did not know and the complete lack of progress in the search for her father. The numbers of those failing Potions this year were climbing in direct proportion to the number of days the imposition endured.
When he returned to his quarters in the evening, Luna was usually in her room and he did not seek her out. His only concession to his unwelcome living arrangement was to take breakfast in his quarters, which he did now every morning. He left instructions for one of the castle's house elves to prepare the meal, fearing a repeat of Luna's excesses of the first day.
The Headmaster's questions made Snape a little uncomfortable. It was true that he had allowed Luna into his home, provided for her basic care but had extended himself little towards her otherwise. So he cleared his throat and rose to his feet now, before Dumbledore could ask if he had repainted the girl's room in shades of pink and bought her a pony.
"Being alone is a seldom a choice for us, Severus," the older wizard's words were almost lost in the noise of feet hurrying from the hall, the cheerful exchanges between the exiting students.
The twinge of discomfort sharpened. Another man might have believed it was guilt. Snape dismissed the idea with a shake of his head. What had he to feel guilty about? Afterall, it was he who had shouldered the burden of putting up the girl. How was it that Dumbledore could manage to make him
feel like the villain in the piece?
He stalked along the corridor, mood blackening at the exchange in the Great Hall. Was it not enough that he had given up his privacy, the comfort of his own home for a child that was not his responsibility? His robes whipped about his shoes and clusters of students scattered before him, recognising when the Head of Slytherin was in boiling temper and best avoided.
He swept into his quarters like an arctic gale and was brought up short by the sight of a fire crackling merrily in the hearth and the girl sitting cross legged before his bookshelves.
He scowled and dark anger churned in his gut. His eyes flashed and in two seconds he had crossed the floor to take hold of her arm and yank her to her feet.
"How dare you touch my things!" he snarled through clenched teeth.
The girl blinked at him showing no hint of fear or shock at the roughness of his address.
He shook her, taking grim satisfaction in the exertion of this small show of power.
"I do not wish to have the boogeyman in my shelving exorcised or the heebeejeebies in my books categorised! Whatever foolish, half witted phantom magic you are dabbling in stops now. Get your head out of the clouds and your hands out of my belongings!"
He thrust her away from him, in the vague direction of her room but Luna stood her ground and looked up at him, unflinching in the face of his displeasure.
"I forget myself, Severus. Dad always sort of liked it when I did a little spring cleaning," she said.
"Well I am not him!" he glowered at her, his eyes lit with a malicious fury.
"And we can tell the difference by the fact that I am here, rather unlike your precious, vanishing father!"
He spat the words and the second they were out of his mouth, he would have traded his wand to call them back.
The already pale child before him seemed to deflate. The little colour in her face drained, the light in her eyes dimmed.
Still, no tears came and she did not respond with a show of anger of her own.
"Yes."
That was all she said. Her composure was as unruffled as always and her tone was quiet and without defiance.
But she turned and walked from him as though retreating from the sight of unspeakable carnage.
Snape stood alone in the living room, his feelings of spite souring in his stomach. He turned on his heel, paced across the faded rug before the hearth. He told himself the ugly scene was not his fault. Curse Dumbledore and his schemes and his pestering demands. It was he who had thrown him in at the deep end. Hadn't he been perfectly clear that parenting was not his thing?
Snape closed his eyes. He could deceive anyone he'd ever met. With one exception. Himself.
He resumed his pacing and as he crossed the room, his eyes lit on his shelves, where row upon row of books rose to the ceiling. His steps stilled as his eyes took in what they were looking at.
The titles were perfectly aligned, each in its rightful place, the spines neatly facing outward, the shelves glistening like new wood. To arrange the collection so perfectly, to shine every inch of surface would have taken hours.
He frowned deeply, the rancid feeling within himself intensifying. He glanced over his shoulder to the corridor leading to the girl's bedroom. There was silence around him except for the sound of his own breathing. And even that sounded like a condemnation to him.
Snape turned once more and made for the door, closing it quietly behind him as he went once more back into the dark recesses of the castle.
Luna heard the soft thunk of the outer door as it closed and knew the Professor had left. Still she stayed in her room. She lay on the narrow bed, atop the duvet, making no move to climb under it. She wasn't sleepy, she simply sank into the silence. Afterall, there was nowhere else to turn.
And that's where she was when a quiet knock sounded on her door. She knew that some time had passed, how much, she was not sure.
She guessed that the Professor had come to apologise and she knew that the polite thing to do was to rise and accept graciously. Yet for all of that, Luna could not move a single muscle.
The door opened and his footsteps sounded on the rug.
"Luna? Are you asleep?"
Now his voice was low, he was speaking in that cultured way that reminded her of lost worlds where princes rode shining steeds and lived in gilded towers.
"No."
"I should not have said what I did. It was needlessly cruel and I apologise," Snape was sincere, she heard it in his words.
Still, she did not turn around. She simply could not face the sight of those black eyes mocking and uncaring.
"I hurt you."
The declaration was honest and to this, Luna responded. She sat up and looked at him, here gaze travelling upwards to find his face.
"Yes."
Her reply carried an equal measure of honesty and Snape heard it.
"I am sorry for that. I allowed my temper to get the better of me. I cannot promise you that it won't happen again. Luna, I am used to my solitude and I like it. I am well aware that I am churlish and a bully when it suits. But I give you my word that I will try to afford you the courtesy you have so far shown to me."
He paused and gave her a long look.
"I saw the books. You did an excellent job. And I thank you."
It was the longest speech she had ever heard him make. And she wasn't tempted for even a heartbeat to play upon his apology.
"Okay then. Well, you are welcome," she nodded at him and gifted him with that dreamy little shadow smile.
It made Snape feel as though he had been called back into the light after a long winter. He set something she could not see on top of the locker by her bed and turned to take his leave.
She looked down and saw a shining spool of thread, woven from glinting, silvery and very fine spider's web. Luna smiled a real smile this time, feeling stupidly happy at the sight.
"Sylvan thread! Thank you Severus," she. beamed at him.
Snape stopped and gave her a bemused glance. Was there any way to unravel what went on in that head of hers? He had ranted at her, flung thoughtless barbs at her and here she was grinning gratefully because he had given her thread?
He stopped at her door and crooked a finger at her. When she was standing in front of him, he dropped his head so his eyes met hers.
"If I see so much as a sign of a hire track.."
"Frytack"
"Anywhere outside of your room and that thread is going into the bin!" he fixed a stern look on his face.
Her smile widened.
"Okay then."
And just like that Snape felt lighter, felt the unwieldy burden of guilt dissipate.
He would have to watch his step. This imp like child would have him wrapped around her finger if he did not keep a good eye on her.