Mist and Vapors

The next morning Severus Snape exuded such an air of malevolence that he might as well have been followed around by his own personal storm cloud. The staff, veterans of the Potions master's moods, knew better than to offer even a courteous good morning. Minerva McGonagall, watching him spear a sausage link with a vicious stab of the fork, just rolled her eyes. He finished breakfast in record time, drained a cup of coffee, got up, cast a venom-filled look in the direction of the Composition mistress, and stalked out of the Great Hall. The eyes of those students unlucky enough to have Potions on their schedule for the day followed him in trepidation.

Hannah, at the other end of the High Table, had seen the look the Potions master had sent her way only too well. "Goodness. I wonder what got him all riled up," she said, looking down at Filius Flitwick with raised eyebrows.

He just shrugged. "He gets like that every once in a while. It'll blow over in a day or two."

"I saw him talking to McGonagall last night before heading up for bed. He seemed all right then."

Filius shrugged again. "Could be anything. Your guess is as good as mine."

Hannah looked on thoughtfully as the last folds of black cloth disappeared around the corner. He had been fine last night. She corrected herself - he had not been that different from his usual self. So what had happened?

All of a sudden, a thought hit her like a ton of bricks, causing a sudden rush of blood to her head. "Oh no," she whispered. Filius eyed her questioningly.

She looked at the clock - there was still almost half an hour before classes started. She got up and put the napkin down on her plate. "Excuse me, please, there is something I have to do right away."

Filius looked after her. "I hope she isn't going where I think she is going," he muttered to himself while buttering a nice piece of toast. He shook his head slowly, and there was a twinkle in his eyes. "But then, on the other hand..."

.-.-.

She hurried down to the dungeon, hoping she could catch him before the first of the students arrived. She peeked through the doorway of the Potions dungeon. He wasn't there. In his office, then? She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before knocking on the door.

"Enter," a sharp voice called from the other side.

She closed her eyes briefly, and then opened the door. He stood by the open supply cupboard, obviously in the middle of last-minute lesson preparation. If there was a flash of anger, it lasted only a moment, after which he quickly schooled his face back into the usual unreadable mask with its perpetual scowl.

"I'm afraid I am quite busy," he snarled,

"Severus, I need to talk to you."

"Is that so? As I told you, this is not a good time. Good day." He turned away from her in obvious dismissal and started taking jars off the shelves.

Her shoulders drooped. "You can't ever make things easy for me, can you?" she said with a sigh.

He looked back at her over his shoulder. "If you are looking for Mr. Congeniality, I suggest you go up to the first floor and try the Defense Against the Dark Arts office," he said with a sneer.

"I want to talk to you."

"Go ahead, then, if you must." He turned back towards the cupboard again and started measuring a small amount of greenish powder into a brown paper envelope.

"All right." She stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts.

"Well?" he said impatiently, his back still towards her. "I haven't got all day."

She was just starting to open her mouth when he wheeled around, accusation on his face.

"You might want to start with why your father, whom you supposedly have no contact with, is all of a sudden coming out of your rooms in the middle of the night."

Hannah sighed, her suspicions confirmed. "Well, that is what I was coming to talk to you about," she explained patiently.

"You were, were you?" The sneer accompanying the words made it clear that he very much doubted the veracity of her words.

"Yes, I was." There was a note of exasperation in her voice. "And I certainly didn't expect to see my father here. The visit was a complete surprise to me."

She looked in his eyes, those black eyes that glittered icy-cold and fathomless right now, sending shivers down her spine. "I wanted to tell you that you were right. Last night, he did ask me to pass any information I might have concerning you on to him. Just like what you had expected him to do had he known that I met you on holiday..."

"So, daddy's little spy after all?" There was a bitter smirk on his face.

She smiled a lop-sided smile at him. "Severus, do you really think if I had agreed to his proposition I would come here and tell you about it?"

"Listen, Miss Hannigan. Your father hates me. The feeling is completely reciprocated. He has been trying to get me into Azkaban for twenty years. For all I know, it was he who set up our meeting in St. Comgan and who got you to apply for a job at Hogwarts. Tell me again why I should trust a single thing you say or do? "

When Hannah opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off. "Just stay away from me. Mind your own business, and stay out of mine - and for the record, I believe that if you thought that I was aware that your father had visited, you might do exactly what you are doing right now to try and cover your tracks."

She looked at him quietly. "I did have an idea that you had seen him last night. But I would have come to you anyways."

"So you say." His voice was as bitter as dragon tears.

At that moment, they heard the door of the Potions dungeon open as the sixth-year N.E.W.T students started to arrive.

"Severus, promise me you will come up to my quarters after your last lesson so we can talk about this." She looked at him with pleading eyes.

"I don't see what good that would do."

"Promise me. Please." She swallowed hard. "Maybe there is a way to settle this."

He looked at her through narrowed eyes. "If I tell you I will think about it, will that be enough to get you to leave now?"

A small smile played in the corner of her mouth. "It'll do for now."

.-.-.-.

When the last student left the dungeon deserted after the final lesson of the day, Severus found that he was quite busy still. He put away the ingredients used. He checked the cauldrons for any residue the students might have left. He rinsed out an empty phial, held it against the light, and rinsed it again. He polished the brass scale. It was when he found himself scrubbing at a barely visible spot on one of the students' desks that he realized that he was just trying to put off the time when he was finally done.

With a grimace, he banished the rag laced with cleaning potion to the sink. This was idiotic behavior. It was not like he needed an excuse. He owed her nothing. He wouldn't go. There. He had made up his mind.

He locked the classroom, and went into his office to start marking that day's assignments. Twelve inches of parchment on the uses of Fwooper feathers in silencing potions from the fourth-years, and three feet on the preparation and uses of a reduction of Sniggle-Eel stock from the sixth-years. Should make for fascinating reading. He snorted.

Halfway through the first essay he realized that he had read the first five or six paragraphs and not really seen a single word. He stuck his quill back in the inkpot and drummed his fingers on the desk in a gesture of annoyance.

Why was it that she was sticking like a burr to the back of his mind? He got up and paced the room, back and forth. What happened last night should have come as no surprise. It was what he had expected, really. So why was it that seeing the evidence of her deceitfulness had stung like that?

And why was he pacing right now instead of sitting peacefully, marking essays? It should have been nothing. He hadn't promised. There was no obligation. Yet he knew that she was waiting for him; that right now, in her quarters, she would be watching the clock and hoping he would come. And in the middle of a line of thought that included 'serves her right' and 'wasted enough of my time already' he suddenly stood stock-still - and realized that at least a part of him wanted to go.

He sank down in his chair, and ran his hand over his eyes. Why? What could possibly be gained from going? What could she possibly say that could convince him? What could make the suspicion that was ever-present in the back of his mind - questioning her motives, distrusting each word out of her mouth - go away? The anger he felt every time he heard her last name, or even just looked at her?

And then he saw her before him - "maybe there is a way to settle the matter." There had been a stab of fear in her eyes as she had said that.

And he found himself, almost against his will, getting out of his chair and warding the door behind him as he left the office. Because no matter how much he felt that it was an exercise in futility, that there wasn't a thing she could say to make him believe her - he suddenly realized that he wanted her to try.