Chapter Seven: Being The Responsible Adult Again The next morning I woke earlier than usual and was greeted by a nagging, insistent feeling that something was wrong. I lay there for a few moments, motionless, trying to remember the reason for the feeling being there. It took a few seconds, but my conversation with Callidus from the night before quickly came back to me. I tensed.
This was becoming far too confusing for my liking and I was getting the impression that I was rapidly sinking into chaos. I couldn’t take it anymore, but I didn’t really have anyone here that I could talk to. Snape was most definitely out, especially after the way I had treated him yesterday. Lavender may have been a friend, but she wasn’t a particularly close one and the thought of talking to her about my problems made me feel extremely uncomfortable. McGonagall was out for much the same reasons. The rest of the staff were merely acquaintances, not people I could really talk to.
And Dumbledore... well, the feeling that I had troubled him enough as a student was still there. That was also the reason I had postponed my visit to him repeatedly, or was part of it. I was afraid that if I told him anything I wasn’t really sure I wanted to tell him, it would seem like I was running to him with my problems. I didn’t want that. I was an adult now, not a student; it was time I acted like one.
Of course, I still felt stupid for even thinking like this. It didn’t seem like adult thinking to me; it seemed childish. Really, really foolish, in fact.
There was also the fact that I wasn’t going to get over my reluctance to talk to anyone soon. Or at least, I didn’t think so. There was no one here to talk to... so there was only one thing to do. My decision made, I pressed my lips to a thin line and reached for my robes.
Fully dressed, I went out of my chambers and entered my office. Seating myself at my desk, I pulled out a fresh roll of parchment and dipped my quill into scarlet ink. Calming myself, I neatly wrote Ron and Hermione on the top of the parchment and paused. While Dumbledore had helped me for the past few years, he hadn’t been my closest friend, not like they had been to me. They had been the ones who had stuck by me for so long, had kept me sane when the threat of Voldemort had sank me into depression and had generally been there for me, as I had for them. It seemed almost logical that I would turn to them for help. While we were all ‘adults’ now, some things never changed.
The letter started off fairly normal; I did the introduction, asked the usual questions one was supposed to ask and made casual small talk. But eventually the letter deepened. I didn’t mention much about Snape, apart from the fact that we were being reasonably civil to each other, which would satisfy Ron. I didn’t mention the fact that we weren't sure whether we wanted more than that or not, though there were so many problems still between us. For obvious reasons. Instead, I talked about Callidus. I knew Hermione would try and find out as much as she could about him after reading my letter, so I didn’t ask that. I talked about him in general, everyone’s suspicions about him, what he seemed to be like and what I thought of him. I finished off by apologising for taking so long and explaining that the letter was little more than me getting all this off my chest. Hmm... perhaps I needed to start keeping a journal or something. It would certainly stop Ron and Hermione getting a rant from me every month.
I reread the letter, rewrote it because there were too many mistakes and ink blots in the first one, burnt the old one and sent it on one of the school owls because I didn’t want to send off Hedwig just yet. No, it was not paranoia, I assure you. Of course, at the time I couldn’t even imagine what would happen because of that letter.
* * *
Since my uncomfortable meeting with Snape, I had been avoiding him like the plague, making true to my promise of never, ever finding myself in that situation again. Likewise, Snape avoided me as much as he could, but I often felt his eyes on me at meals and when we were in the same hall. I never met his gaze, however, viciously reminding myself of what had happened before. Our antics were, of course, noticed by the other staff, but they came to their own conclusions. Apparently, Snape and I had come to a grudging truce (according to them) and we were simply abiding by it. We let them think that, if it was what they wished to believe.
But I did notice that Lavender was keeping a rather close eye on me and seemed anxious and concerned about something. But, then, I couldn’t blame her; the tension between Snape and myself practically crackled in the air. If things had been bad between us before, now they were worse. Even the students had started to pick up on it and collectively held their breath every time we passed each other in the halls.
The days began to pass quickly now and it was near the start of October that I had another uncomfortable encounter with Callidus, or rather, concerning him.
Two days before, I had been supervising Gryffindors and Slytherins together and the differences between Callidus and Jonathan had been painfully obvious. While Jonathan had joked and talked with his friends as they had done their homework, Callidus had worked in stony silence, but had done twice the amount of work as everyone else. While that had been impressive, I had been far more concerned about his lack of social skills and unwillingness to trust. It seemed like he didn’t want to act normal in front if everyone else as he had done with me, instead preferring to keep up all his walls. It was very, very frustrating and more than once I either wanted to shake sense into him or simply bash my head against the wall. Neither seemed like good options.
Basilisks had been the current subject with the Slytherins and the topic had been something of a sore spot with me, as it brought back all the unpleasant memories of my second year. If it hadn’t been an important topic, I would have skipped it altogether. The students picked up on my change of mood and became quite confused, but didn’t say anything about it. I worked steadily through the chapter with most of the years, until in my First Year class, one of the students put up their hand. When I saw who it was alarm bells began to ring in my head, but I kept my voice calm as I said, “Yes?”
Dolus Malfoy was a boy I didn’t particularly like, but as he didn’t do anything disruptive, I couldn’t do anything about him. The cocky smirk on his face set me at unease and I soon learned why. “Sir, wasn’t the basilisk the creature in the Chamber of Secrets?” Horrified silence filled the room, as everyone turned to stare at Draco’s cousin. Callidus looked more confused than anything else, but there was a calculating expression on his face that told me to keep a careful eye on him.
I stared down at Dolus for several moments before I answered, my eyes hard. “Yes,” I replied at last. “It was.” What else could I say?
Dolus’ smirk broadened and a strange ringing began in my ears; a warning. “Sir,” he continued, his face a careful mask of innocence. “Wasn’t the Heir of Slytherin the only person that could open the chamber?” I nodded tensely. The rest of the class were holding their breath by now. “And the Heir of Slytherin was Voldemort, wasn’t he?” I nodded again and then understood what was going on, when Dolus’ winter-grey eyes flickered to the suspicious Callidus. Ah.
“I’d suggest the chamber be destroyed then,” Dolus added, his eyes filled with anger and resentment; I knew then that he was afraid of Callidus. “Before the new heir decides to open it and unleash the horror on us all!” His eyes burning, the Malfoy glared heatedly at Callidus, who returned it with just as much venom. The other students were muttering nervously and casting uneasy glances at Callidus, who looked humiliated and furious at the same time. This was rapidly getting out of hand.
“Silence!” I snapped and the room instantly went quiet. My hands clenched into tight fists and feeling angry beyond belief, I strode down to Dolus’ desk. The students near him shrank away, for they had never seen me this furious before. I was grimly pleased to see a brief, nervous flash in his eyes at my incensed expression. Obviously, he hadn’t expected this reaction. I stopped before him and crossed my arms, giving him a glare that I was later told was an astoundingly good imitation of Snape’s. Dolus gulped.
“Well, Mr. Malfoy,” I said icily, distinctly not pleased. “Where, pray tell, did you learn all of this? Who decided to inform you?” My voice was cool, like a north wind filled with ice, snow and coldness. Dolus shivered and looked away. Silence filled the room; not even unsteady breathing could be heard. “Well? I'm waiting.”
“Someone,” he muttered at last, still not looking at me. My eyes narrowed, but I didn’t demand a better answer from him. There was no point; it could have been any of his family. They firmly believed in ingraining their beliefs into every member. My suspicion was Draco, of course, but there was no way in proving it. Yet.
“Well, let me correct you,” I snapped angrily. “Look at me!” His eyes rose upwards, full of fury and resentment. I gave as good as I was given. “I hardly think Mr. Riddle is going to be overly concerned with ‘unleashing the horror’, as you so tactfully put it. Another point, Mr. Malfoy, is that the horror in the chamber has already been destroyed -- which your informer should have told you.”
He didn’t like that. “By who?” he challenged. I knew then that he really hadn’t been properly informed, for if he had, he wouldn’t have been so foolish as to ask that question for the embarrassment was going to be astronomical.
I looked down at him coldly and met his eyes directly. My voice was icy and clear. “Me.”
You could have heard a pin drop in the astonished silence that followed.
Dolus’ jaw dropped. He stared at me, his eyes wide and round. It would have almost been funny if it hadn’t concerned the chamber, Voldemort and Callidus. I glared at him, truly unable to belief a boy could have been so stupid! At the time I didn’t know that the other students were watching the scene with eyes as wide as Dolus’. They hadn’t seen me so angry in my short time here and some of them wished they never had. It was from that day they realised they could push me only so far and they respected that boundary from then on.
Dolus swallowed, obviously fearful of what I would do. “Fifty points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy,” I said frostily, as he turned pale, “and detention.” My anger increased when I saw his expression relax slightly. He thought he was going to get off with only a simply detention... but I wasn’t finished. “A month with Mr. Flich,” I continued calmly, and his face fell. “Two weeks with Madam Pince,” I went on and his eyes widened even further, if it was possible. “And two weeks with Rubeus Hagrid,” I finished and his face fell. “Including weekends.” He uttered a strangled sound. It was, after all, two months of detention. “I will be speaking to Professor Snape also,” I told him coldly, still looking at him as if he was the most useless thing I had ever seen. He hadn’t only accused Callidus of a very dangerous thing; he had also turned it personal by including myself.
He held his breath, hardly able to wonder what I was going to say next, but I was finished. Whirling on my heel, I stormed back up to the top of the room and started cleaning the blackboard with vicious swipes of the duster, which I was, unfortunately, taking my anger out on. I knew that class wasn’t yet finished, but I now had something extremely important to do. “Class dismissed,” I said through gritted teeth. No one moved, obviously wondering why I was dismissing them twenty minutes early. I turned around to them, my face white with fury. “You can make it up next lesson with a project!” I snapped, my patience finally gone. “You’re dismissed!” There was a mad rush to get the hell out of the room before the teacher decided to hex them. “Except you, Callidus,” I added. There was a momentary pause in the rush, but they remembered the foul mood I was in and it only lasted a bare moment before they all rushed towards the door at the same time, not wishing to push their luck.
I finished the board as the last of them hurried out and shut the door, almost breaking the duster in my anger. Slamming it down, I sank into my chair and racked my hands through my hair. It was making it worse than usual, but I didn’t really care. Glancing up, I saw Callidus hovering nervously near me. Apparently my sudden outburst had unnerved even him. Without immediately realising it, I started laughing almost hysterically. Callidus blinked and stared at me, probably wondering if I’d finally lost it. “Sit down,” I sighed after getting myself back under control. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to roar at you or anything.”
The boy sat, but from his tense posture I could see that he was still wary. “Sir...” he began, but he trailed off when I held up a hand for his silence, looking at me. His eyes were frozen once more. It seemed that it was in extreme situations that Callidus let his real feelings show. For everything else, he was impeccably calm. I reminded myself to contact Mad-Eye Moody and ask him about the boy’s chance as an Auror. If Moody would even consider him after learning about his supposed ‘link’ to Voldemort.
“Let me talk first,” I muttered, beginning to feel drained after my outburst. God, I needed a drink, preferably an alcoholic one. And very strong. To hell with the hangover. I leaned back in my chair with a groan. “Firstly, Dolus Malfoy is an idiot. An extremely stupid one. Understood?” Callidus nodded, though his expression showed that he plainly thought I shouldn’t be telling him things like this. “God, he’s almost as bad as his cousin was, maybe even more...” Admittedly, Draco hadn’t really accused me of wanting to unleash the chamber’s horror when everyone had thought me to be the heir. Or, at least, if he had I couldn’t remember it. Dolus seemed even worse. “Has he done anything else?”
Callidus shrugged. “He’s just been annoying, really. Making stupid remarks and such, deliberately leaving me out of things.” I raised an eyebrow; that explained Callidus’ reluctance to make friends, if Dolus was in the thick of it. “Although,” he added, “not many people seem to really like him, they just follow him because he’s a Malfoy.” Ah.
“I’m afraid even his surname isn’t going to be much good soon. His uncle was tried three years ago for being a Death Eater and was later executed. Dolus’ father is rumoured to be next. The family is falling apart, so even being a Malfoy won’t be much good to him soon, if the trial goes ahead.” I was glad in a way. Though I knew killing was wrong, the Malfoys had tried to do so much damage and installed so much fear that it was hard to hope that they would ever change. I hadn’t seen Draco since the war, but I had the uneasy feeling that he hadn’t changed since.
“But I’m in Slytherin,” Callidus said, apparently only half-listening to what I was saying. He glanced at me quickly. “Why would he dislike me so much?” I tried to hide the snort that was threatening to come out. ‘Dislike’ was a large understatement -- Dolus loathed him, it seemed. “I mean, I could understand it if I was in Gryffindor because of the traditional rivalry, but...” He stopped, apparently remembering that I had been in Gryffindor, or something to that effect. I was beginning to wonder if there was anything he didn’t read up on. Hermione would love him.
“The traditional rivalry is basically gone,” I reminded him. “If Dolus expects Hogwarts to still be like it was in the past, he’s in for a nasty shock.” Callidus nodded, but still looked unhappy and dissatisfied. “What else?” I asked him quietly.
He shifted uneasily, but replied all the same, keeping his eyes on the desk in front of him. “I know why everyone was stunned about the Chamber of Secrets,” he muttered quietly, still avoiding my gaze. “I read about it.” I was expecting that. Honestly. “But... there’s something I don’t understand.” I stared at him. Looking up, he caught my stunned expression and the corners of his mouth jerked up slightly, but it wasn’t a happy smile. “I don’t know everything, you know.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to remember that,” I replied, watching him. “What don’t you understand?”
“The link between the heir and the basilisk. How did the heir control the serpent?” he asked and I grimaced. The boy had a knack for asking all the awkward questions, whether he realised they were awkward or not. I sighed and absently rubbed my temples. I was getting headaches a lot more frequently since coming here. Perhaps it was a hint.
“You better make sure you’re sitting properly,” I told him slowly, rubbing the back of my neck which was tense as hell. “I don’t think you’ll like this.” He didn’t look happy about that, not that I could blame him. My words hadn’t sounded very encouraging.
I sighed (yet again) and wondered exactly how I was going to explain this. I had no guarantee on how he would react and I didn’t like that. If he reacted wrong... things were going to get awkward. I met Callidus’ eyes steadily, emerald clashing with sapphire. “Voldemort was a Parselmouth,” I told him bluntly. “You know what that is, do you?” Callidus shook his head, much to my surprise, but as he’d said, he didn’t know everything. “Salazar Slytherin’s talent was Parselmouth, the ability to converse with snakes, hence the fact that Slytherin’s symbol is a serpent.” Callidus listened carefully, paying fierce attention to my words. It was almost unnerving. “Voldemort was the last living descendant of Slytherin and had his talent. That was how he controlled the basilisk.” I kept my eyes on him, wondering if he’d see the full meaning of my explanation.
He did. “People think that I’m somehow related to Voldemort and would then assume me to be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. So I’d be the heir of Slytherin... and would be able to control the chamber.” I nodded, not liking the expression in Callidus’ eyes. I don’t think he had expected any of this when he had come here -- the boy had been an orphan, after all, and hadn’t had any idea of where he had come from -- and probably wasn’t dealing with any of this as well as he would have liked.
“Callidus --” I began, but he interrupted me, his eyes hard and unyielding. His lips were pressed into a thin line. I watched him warily, my instincts telling me to handle this very carefully.
“The thing is,” he said with a disturbing smile ghosting across his lips, “I’ve never spoken to a snake in my life and I certainly have never heard a snake talk to me!” I was extremely alert at this point, remembering when Callidus tended to show emotion. He looked ready to defy me until he was blue in the face. I didn’t doubt that he actually would.
I remembered my first experience with snakes: when I had set that Boa Constrictor free at the zoo and later, that disastrous snake incident at the Duelling Club. And the basilisk, of course. “It doesn’t automatically begin when you’re young,” I said slowly. “It can happen at any time, really. You have to be near a snake though, obviously.” Callidus gave me a look that clearly said, You don’t say? I knew then that I had to change the subject -- fast.
“So, are you looking forward to your first Quidditch match?” I asked, changing the subject as calmly as I could. While I knew it was quite disturbing to change from Voldemort to Quidditch like it was nothing, I didn’t want to get any deeper into talk about Voldemort, for my sake as well as Callidus’. From his face, the boy was clearly thinking along similar lines, but was too polite to comment on it.
He nodded. “I can’t wait, though my chances of being a good Seeker are doubtful with the ancient broom I have.” He wasn’t a boy to complain, that much I knew from simply teaching him, but Quidditch was obviously important to him if he was making this point. I could understand where he was coming from, however, as the school brooms had become even worse than what they had been in my time. Callidus was right; his chances were extremely limited with a school broom. And that was what got me thinking.
“Of course,” Callidus continued bitterly, though he tried to not let it show, “my chances of getting my own broom are slim to non-existent, even if First Years were allowed have their own brooms. Who’d buy me one?” I blinked at him, realising that for all of his intelligence, the boy could be quite dense about certain things. I chewed my lip, thinking. McGonagall had given me my own broom when I had been in First Year. But Snape was Callidus’ Head and the chances of him buying one of his students, even a Slytherin, a broom were slim.
But then, Callidus didn’t know that I was Snape’s ex-lover and during our time together, had realised that I had a certain knack of arguing Snape into what I wanted him to do. Hopefully, I still had that knack. Well, I’d soon see.
It was then I realised class had been over for nearly ten minutes now and that Callidus was late to his next one. “You’d best go,” I groaned, rubbing my forehead. “Whoever you have next, explain that I kept you behind.”
Callidus blinked. “Will Professor Snape believe me?” He had Snape next. Charming. Someone up there had a really bad idea of fun.
I nodded quickly. “Trust me, when he’s told it’s me he’ll definitely believe you. Apparently, I do these things to him on purpose.” Callidus looked briefly amused at this, to which I was glad. The boy needed to smile a bit more. He was the oldest ten year old I’d ever met.
He was at the door when he seemed to remember something and turned back. “Sir,” he said hesitantly, “are you really going to tell Professor Snape about Dolus?”
I nodded grimly. “Yes, Callidus. He shouldn’t be allowed get away with that, although after the amount of detention I’ve given him, I don’t think he’ll try that again.” Callidus didn’t laugh at that, but then, I hadn’t expected him to. “Besides,” I added, “I have to talk to Snape about something anyway.”
* * *
I stared at the candle burning at my desk without really seeing it, my eyes boring into the dancing golden flame that wavered unsteadily on the wick. I didn’t even realise that my eyes were unaffected from staring right at it. My thoughts were on other matters.
Ever since my conversation with Callidus and having to explain things that I hadn’t particularly wanted to explain, I had been unable to get it out of my mind. Along with Snape and the mess that came with him, what Callidus said to me kept returning to my thoughts. And my plan was still growing. The only hard part was convincing my head to go along with it.
The first Quidditch match of the season was fast approaching and I knew -- from watching all four teams practise -- that Callidus really did need a new broom. His telling me had been the push for me to finally do something about it. The school brooms, although they were good for beginning flying lessons, were alarmingly useless for Quidditch. It was blatantly obvious that he needed his own broom, rather than having to rely on a dodgy school one. The rule about First Years not being allowed own their own brooms had been bent for me -- why not for Callidus?
I was also uncomfortably aware that the similarities between Callidus and myself were becoming more numerous as time went on, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. But I also knew that this wasn’t the time or place to follow that thought and if I did -- consequently remembering everything about the war and Voldemort -- the chances of my going mad or having a nervous breakdown were extremely high. Even I knew when to leave well enough alone. Instead, I went back to thinking about the situation of Callidus and his current lack of a broom.
It took me several minutes to get myself to firmly act upon my idea and several more to assure myself it wasn’t a suicide act and that it was the only thing to do. With this realisation hitting me, I let out a resigned sigh and stood up at last. After a nervous moment of smoothening my robes, I took a deep breath and walked out into the hall.
The journey through Hogwarts took only a matter of minutes, but I profoundly wished that it could have taken longer; I really, really didn’t want to do this. But I had no choice, not really. Vowing that I wouldn’t take such an interest in a student ever again, I reached my destination. And came to an abrupt halt. I found myself clenching my hands to deal with nerves , looking at the cold, ominous door before me.
What was I doing? Really, I must be genuinely mad to think I could do this. He’d never let me inside after what I’d done to him, never mind even talk to him! And the worst thing was that I could completely understand why. Sometimes I wondered if I was forgetting I used to be a Gryffindor.
I could turn back. I really could and no one except myself would know. No one would ever call me a coward, for they would never know I had turned back. For a moment, I truly considered it and even took a step back... and stopped.
If I didn’t do this I was letting Callidus down and letting myself down as well. In a way, I was letting Snape win by turning and running, if the man ever took an interest in these things -- and if there was one thing I would never be because of him, it was a coward. I was a Gryffindor and God knew I’d had more than enough courage when I had been a student. Now I’d know if I had it as a teacher. My mind steeled with determination, I pressed my lips to a thin line, took a deep breath and knocked briskly on the door.
There was no answer for several minutes and I was about to admit defeat and leave, when the door hurled open and Snape glared at me. I almost smirked, for I could deal with him like this just fine, but stopped myself. I didn’t want him any angrier than this if I could help it. Time to use some of that adult common sense, if I possessed any. He blinked, apparently realising it was indeed me standing there. His eyes widened fractionally. “Potter.”
“Lovely to see you too,” I answered mildly, hoping my apparent self-confidence hide the insecurity that filled me. “Can I come in?” I was definitely mad to be doing this, absolutely mad.
Snape’s glare intensified if it was possible. I was now sure that there were cold fires blazing in the dark depths of his eyes. I resisted the urge to gulp, reminding myself that I was a Gryffindor and well able for anything he would throw at me. Actually, the fact that I was his ex-lover made me more nervous. Consider our history and there was quite a lot he could throw at me. The moments trickled by and yet neither of us moved. I was about to do something to break the unbearable silence when Snape’s eyes narrowed and he went back inside, letting the door open after him. His way of telling me I was allowed in. He never had been very vocal. Well, depending on the situation.
His office hadn’t changed since I had been there last. Still dark, gloomy and cold. Grimacing, I rubbed my arms and immediately walked towards the fireplace, unable to ignore the fact that my breath was rising in white mist before my face. Bending down, I nudged at the coals in the grate with a poker before pointing my wand at them. Flames flared and crackled noisily, another attempt to defeat the deepening silence.
Hopefully the last of my shivers would hide the fact that I was beginning to remember why I had been avoiding Snape in the first place. I wasn’t only shivering from the cold. Memories were also a cause and the more bigger one. You could banish the cold, eventually. Memories and the fear that came with them were harder.
Turning back to him, I dusted my hands off my robes, pleased with the fact that I wouldn’t freeze to death at least. Now if only I could stop remembering...
He was glaring at me -- again. “I didn’t want a fire.”
“I did,” I told him flatly, plunging my hands into my pockets and telling myself not to fidget. I always felt stupid when I fidgeted, like I was weak or something. But I was beginning to regret doing it anyway. At least I could have blamed the cold if I shivered from a sudden memory resurfacing. “You may be used to the below zero temperatures here, Snape, but I’m not.” The moment the words left my lips, I knew the trap I had fallen into. Closing my eyes, I sighed, already hearing his words in my head.
“But there was a time you were used to them very well.” He crossed his arms and watched me, daring me to deny what he had said. I couldn’t, of course, for it was true.
I opened my eyes and they fell on a small, insignificant door opposite from where I was standing. It looked to be merely a storage door, something that didn’t matter. The few visitors that ever came down here probably wouldn’t see it at first glance. But I knew different. That was the door to his chambers. Without realising it, I felt my jaw tense as I deliberately looked away. I had been in those rooms a lot, had known them well, as Snape never tired of telling me in a low voice. And it would seem that I would never forget, either.
“Whatever you say,” I sighed quietly, rubbing my temples to try and avoid the immediate arrival of a rather painful headache. “I’m saying nothing anymore as we’ll just argue. Again.” Snape stared at me, watching me more intently than I liked, then he uttered a strangled sound before turning away. To say he was frustrated was a vast understatement.
Realising that if I wanted to get anywhere with this talk I would have to get this resentment momentarily out of the way, I took a deep breath and snapped, “As it happens, I didn’t come to talk about us. That can wait. I know you’re furious with me and I don’t blame you. Quite frankly, if you’d run from me --” Snape’s eyes flashed dangerously as he whipped around to face me. “-- no, I’m not saying you would,” I growled irritably, losing my patience. “But if you had, I would have been just as anger as you are now.” It took a lot not to remember what I had been afraid to think about, and I barely restrained myself from shrieking, Why did you do it to me?! Why did you hurt me so badly and so personally when I thought you loved me?!?!? I realised then that I had fantastic amounts of self-control. Thank God.
Snape raised an eyebrow. “So good of you to tell me. If I ever have the urge to run from you, I’ll remind myself of this conversation.” I glared at him, which he immediately returned.
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” I muttered, running my hands repeatedly through my hair, making it even messier than usual. My words screamed duh!
“How did you manage to come to that conclusion? By actually using that mind of yours?” he asked sarcastically and I bristled. Perhaps it was the fact that, somehow, he didn’t seem to like arguing with me like he used to, or perhaps he simply couldn’t stick this anymore, either way he flung up his hands like the entire situation was a lost cause. Actually, that wasn’t far off the mark. “What did you come here to tell me then, Potter?” His voice sounded tired and when I looked at him, I realised he was tired. I had never really thought of Snape as old, not really. He was the same age as Sirius and Lupin and I’d never considered them old.
Suddenly thoughtful and subdued, I looked away briefly, feeling somewhat guilty. I shouldn’t have run from him. I knew I shouldn’t have. It was stupid of me, as well as cowardly, something I hated to be. But in my defence, Snape didn’t have my memories, he didn’t have any idea what effect his actions had had on me. Of course, I hadn’t told him either, so how could he know? Damn this guilt. I had to get it together somehow.
“Look,” I murmured quietly, still looking away from him. “Concerning us, can we just forget about it for tonight? Can we have a truce, just this once?” I heard the faint note of pleading in my voice and I hated myself for it. I was sick of constantly being weak around Snape.
He didn’t reply immediately, but I waited. I wouldn’t look at him. I couldn’t, because I was afraid of what I would see. Then he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “All right. A truce, for now. Will you tell me why you really came?”
I took a deep breath, once, twice, three times. “It’s about Callidus.” I didn’t know what Snape thought of the boy, so I wasn’t exactly sure how a conversation regarding him would go. Particularly a conversation with me.
