I'll Stand Alone

Part 10: Half

Protecting someone is not easy to do, is it?
-"namida wa shitte iru" (tears know)

He was peering intently into the depths of a potion when she came to him.

A light step, then silence. Then, a softer sound, one another person might mistake for a small rodent scrabbling about but which he recognised as someone setting their foot down very carefully, toe first and then heel, trying to be as noiseless as possible. A smile crept to the corner of his mouth and he stirred the cauldron a little more briskly. How silly. Didn't she realise by now that he knew every corner, every sound and every scent of his dungeons? Snape took a deep breath, smiling widely. The scent of leech juice, of frog brains, of ragweed and of lavender perfume flowing off warm, bare skin. Which one didn't belong?

Very close, almost behind him now. Her scent grew stronger and he bit his lip, hiding his smile on the inside of his mouth as he pretended to be much more interested in his potion than the stealthy figure creeping behind him. Let her come to him, let her place the first hand, give the first kiss. He'd gladly play the game with his little pet and see which of them would prove the more patient.

I could have had you up against the wall by now, listening to you whimper in my ear. I'm sure you realise that.

Behind him at last. The rustle of a long skirt scraping the floor finally stopped as small arms wrapped around him, settling around his waist. She pressed her forehead into his back, lips moving restlessly. He didn't even twitch, calmly continuing to stir his potion.

"Severus.." she murmured, lifting her head to his shoulder. Warm lips just barely grazed his ear as she whispered to him. One of the hands on his waist slid lower, playing with the waistband of his trousers. "Come to bed?"

"Can't you see I'm in the middle of something?" he snapped, pulling away from her slightly. His fingers were beginning to shake. "I'm not interested at the moment."

She merely kissed his neck in response, sending a shudder through his body that he just barely managed to conceal. The hand on his waistband moved yet lower, and he slapped a hand down on hers before she could distract him any further.

"Go sit over there until I'm done and don't you dare try and do anything to draw my attention," he said, jerking his head towards a table at the far side of the room. "Especially anything that involves disrobing."

She stayed perfectly still for a moment, then pulled away with an angry, muttered sigh that held a curse somewhere within it and walked over to the table, stepping rather heavily as she went. Snape turned his head just enough to watch her go, making certain she did nothing more then sit at the table. She sat on the table, but it was close enough.

Three drops of toad juice and one rat brain later his potion was finished, a grand total of fifteen minutes he'd spent waiting while he could have been occupied with much more pleasant and absorbing things. The damn thing had taken simply forever to come to a boil. Snape moved off to the sink, taking time to wash and set everything carefully away in its proper place while he watched his pretty rook out of the corner of his eyes.

She was still on the table, swinging her feet back and forth absently, eyes on her shoes. The first few buttons of her dress had been undone, exposing a narrow swatch of pale skin; apparently she hadn't been able to completely comply with his demand to merely sit. How typical.

Once finished, he slipped up behind her and laid a hand on her slender shoulder, tracing the bony slope with a finger. She did not move.

"You're very quiet, my flower," he said, bending to her ear as he wrapped his arms more firmly around her. "Waiting so sweetly--perhaps we've finally developed some patience at last?"

Still no answer from her, not even a sigh. He ran his fingers through her loosened hair and pulled her against him, nipping the fleshy curve of her earlobe and cupping a breast firmly with his hand. Nothing, not even a squeak.

"Are you angry because I made you wait?" he snapped, filling rapidly with frustration. "Poor you. Gods, Lily, lift your head and look at me at least--if it's not too much trouble--"

Silence. A drop of crimson splattered against the tile file near his feet and was soon joined by another.

"Liliana?"

The strands of her hair were now sodden and his fingers were suddenly wet.

"...Lily?"

The front of her gown was entirely soaked, the blood indistinguishable from the dark fabric of her dress save for the small line of white skin bared by the open buttons. Her hands were limp on the table's edge.

"Lily!"

She turned to look at him, her large eyes lightless. Blood ran from under her hair, from her mouth, her ears. She was sitting in a great crimson lake and he was drowning in her blood. It streaked his palms and ran down the front of his robes.

"Lily!"

She was bleeding to death, laying there broken and crumpled whilst her blood soaked into the dirt and he couldn't help her...

Help me! I..I can't save her!

I can't...I won't let this happen again!

Please help me!

***

Snape shuddered awake with a yell, clutching his blankets in unfeeling fingers.

"It was a dream," he told himself hoarsely, wiping away the sweat from the back of his neck with a hand that was shaking very slightly. "Of course something would ruin what had been an otherwise agreeable fancy--"

Blood pooling in a great crimson lake beneath her.

"A dream! Nothing more! As if I've never had nightmares before."

Of course it was nothing but a dream. There was nothing to worry about. Just one of his usual, constant, familiar nightmares. In fact, he dreamed about people dripping in blood almost every night.

Blood soaking her long hair...

He found himself pulling his dressing gown off the bedpost, fumbling at the ties while he yanked his wand out from underneath his pillow. It always had to be something, didn't it?

"I can't believe I'm doing this--"

The door made a very loud smacking noise as it hit the wall, but what did he care if anyone heard?

"Over a dream--"

He strode out into the Slytherin corridors and walked quickly down the hallway. Heaven help any fools stupid enough to be up at this hour. He wanted no disturbances and no witnesses.

It took him three tries to get the passage to Ravenclaw to open for him.

"Over a foolish girl--"

He stalked up the steps two at a time.

"I'm a fool--"

More quietly, he opened the door that lead out to Ravenclaw Tower and her room, casting a cautious eye about before exiting the passage. He'd have a hard time explaining to Flitwick and Sinistra, or worse, that obnoxious upstart of a ghost, why exactly the Head of Slytherin was sneaking into Ravenclaw at this time of morning.

"There's nothing wrong," Snape muttered to himself as he crossed to her door and began to ease it open ever so gently lest she hear a creak and wake. "She'll be sleeping, and I'll have come all this way for nothing. She'll be sleeping, she'll be angry when I wake her up, she'll be fine--"

There was just enough of an opening for him to put a eye against the door and peer inside. As soon as his eyes adjusted enough for him to see what lay inside, he stopped breathing.

Her bed was neatly made up and quite empty, the blankets smooth. One of the casements windows had been opened ever so slightly and her curtains were bobbing in the breeze.

"Miss...my...Lil...Miss Woodville?" he stammered, his hands gone very cold. A horrible, sickening fright twisted his stomach. How could she...Where could she...

"Where are you?" he whispered, his mouth gone quite dry.

***

The sun was almost completely up by the time she returned to Hogwarts. Lilika banked sharply to avoid the protruding lower branches of the trees that ringed the castle and came to a bumping stop on the damp grass, nearly slipping off her broom. She stepped off, grumbling and batted a few pieces of vegetation off her skirt. Her knees hurt from having to keep them pressed tightly together lest she expose a bit too much; ordinary clothing was not really suited for riding on brooms.

Lilika shouldered her broom and began the trek back to the castle, taking very small, careful steps. It was bad enough that she had to practically get up at the crack of dawn in order to keep Snape from realising she was sneaking out without having to slide along wet grass while doing it. "My life is never simple. It's always going to be something--"

Quick, sharp footsteps were cracking the leaves behind her; she whipped her head around but not quickly enough. A hand clamped onto her arm, yanking her back and she screamed before she could stop it.

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!" Hands slammed down on top of her shoulders, knocking the breath out of her body. Snape's furious face was suddenly right against hers, eyes wild with anger and stubble darkening his cheeks."You'd better have a damned good explanation for your absence," he added, his voice dropping to a low, ugly whisper.

Lilika felt her mouth fall open and it refused to shut for several seconds. Damn. I knew sooner or later he would find out, but why is he so angry?

"Well? I'm waiting," he spat, giving her a little shake. "How could you run off like that? Don't you think?" Snape's eyes were bloodshot, crawling with thin red veins and his pupils were small and hard.

She was chilled, tired and frightened from his sudden appearance and rage spread swiftly through her body, searing her veins like a hot knife. Again. Always something.

"I was at church," she replied shortly, twisting out of his grip and walking away towards the castle. He followed, of course, black cloak swirling around his ankles. The slimy git hadn't even dressed; under his cloak he was wearing a faded grey nightshirt and a half-open black dressing gown that had frayed at the hem.

"Church?" he said slowly, lips shaping each syllable. "Church where?"

"London."

"You went to London?"

"Don't shriek like that; you sound like a hysterical old woman."

"How long--how long has this been going on?"

"Since I came, obviously."

"SINCE YOU CAME?"

She kicked at his ankles furiously. "I told you not to scream like that!"

"Church in London," he said, in a half dazed and almost amused sort of way. "All this for church in London."

She was growing quite tired of this and hungry besides.

"Yes. Church in London. While we're playing Twenty Questions, where's your explanation, Snape? You're wandering about half-dressed, in the middle of winter, with only slippers on your feet--quite ugly slippers they are and your feet aren't pretty either--and you're going about shaking me like a rag doll? Since when did you start checking up on me this early in the morning? Make it quick now, mind you."

His face changed slightly, from anger to confusion and back to anger in an eyeblink.

"You are not to be out on your own, not to be out alone, especially not to be away from Hogwarts and for something as frivolous as church in London," he spat. "There's a chapel in Hogsmeade you could go to much more easily." He stamped his foot impatiently as he finished and a shudder racked his thin frame; apparently it was becoming too cold even for him. "Come inside, Miss Woodville, breakfast is waiting. We can discuss this later." He grabbed her by the elbow and began leading her towards the castle with a slow, steady pull.

Lilika dug in her heels and resisted, tugging her elbow out of his grasp. "Since when were you the one making my decisions? You just don't understand anything, do you?" she ground out, feeling several veins pound new seams into her skin from anger. "I am not to be manhandled about like a child--and as for the chapel in Hogsmeade, I'm sure it's very nice, but I've been going to my church in London for ten years. I buried my father and sister in that church! I'm not about to change now on your say-so, and if you don't like it, then too damn bad!"

His face twisted into a sneer and with a swift twist, he grabbed her once more and brought her much too close to his body, his bony fingers clutching her upper arm.

"You don't seem to understand," he said quietly. "May I remind you that your safety is my responsibility? My duty? You could have died hundreds of times over without my knowledge and how do you think that makes me feel? Gadding off to London unnecessarily while I remained oblivious. That will not continue. Obviously, I will have to keep a closer watch on you--"

"You will not." Lilika stumbled in the wet grass. Snape pulled her onward, heedless.

"I will too," he said, the beginnings of a smug grin at the corners of his lips. "You, Miss Woodville, will only go out when I accompany you."

"Why don't you just come with me to London then, you smug git?" she yelled at the back of his head.

Snape gave her the patient, long suffering look of a parent once again correcting a child who was not very bright. "As I am not a church-goer, such a trip for me would be entirely wasted. And London is too far."

"Not a church-goer, I'm not surprised," she muttered bitterly, so angry she was swerving all over the place. "Something as tainted as you would probably burst into flames the minute you set foot on holy ground--"

Snape yanked away from her and she slipped backwards with a yelp, caught off balance by his sudden action. Lilika landed hard on her back and blinked up at the blue shimmer of the sky, stunned.

"So this is how you repay my fear and concerns," Snape said in a low, flat voice. "It frightened me when I discovered you gone. Are you pleased? I was afraid for you. Happy? And this is how you repay me. By calling me a thing and comparing me to a demon. Miss Woodville, I like to think I've come further then that."

He walked out of her line of sight, leaving her on her back in the grass as his feet crunched away towards the castle.

***

She managed to keep from crying until she was safely inside her room with the door shut fast behind her.

It wasn't fair, she thought, sniffling and gulping back her tears in noisy, painful swallows. He'd appeared out of nowhere and frightened her, yelled at her, pulled her about like a toy and here she was crying because she felt bad about one stupid little remark. The collar of her dress was soaked in tears and she tasted salt each time she swallowed.

Damn the bastard to hell, at least for a little while. She wasn't going to apologise though, no, not all. Not even a little bit. He had it coming to him. She'd apologise when he got down on his knees and groveled for all the wrongs he'd ever done her.

That made her smile, a little bit.

She still felt horrible though.

Lilika curled up in her blankets, resting one hand on her stomach. Her eyes felt swollen and hot from crying. Not only did she feel terrible, she was afraid--actually afraid--of having to face Snape again.

What a weak, stupid girl she'd become.

I can't even feel safe apologising--if I suddenly went 'soft', Snape would pounce on my weakness as gleefully as a cat on fish...

"Better just to avoid him for a while," she whispered to herself. "It's just easier that way."

***

Snape rapped sharply on the door to Miss Woodville's bedroom, making his knuckles sting.

"She's sleeping," the Grey Lady said shortly, biting off a transparent, silvery strand of thread. She was sitting--or more accurately hovering--directly across from Miss Woodville's bedroom, hands busy with some sort of fancy work.

"Is she now?" he sneered, very tempted to just throw the bedroom door open and look. This cat and mouse game Miss Woodville was currently leading him through was rapidly becoming more tiresome then pleasurable. Why was he bothering with her again?

The soft skin, the dry and somewhat musky scent of the lavender she used, the long black hair and small, round breasts...so she had physical charms. It didn't change the fact that she was acting like a bothersome little brat.

He became uncomfortably aware that he was staring off into space, eyes wide and vacant, and quickly shifted his expression back to his usual sneer. The ghost watched him with large, steady eyes for a moment, then her gaze fell back to the cloth she was embroidering, the needle moving slowly in and out of the grey fabric. "Don't bother her."

Don't bother her. The Grey Lady did persist in treating him as something Miss Woodville should be defended against. He snorted and rolled his eyes, though the ghost was pointedly not paying attention to him. "Sleeping at three o' clock in the afternoon?"

"Her last class was very tiring," the Grey Lady said, unruffled. One foot slowly swung back and forth under her skirt. "Many of the students are behind in their work."

If that woman wasn't incorporeal, he would be throttling her about now. Snape and the Grey Lady both knew perfectly well that Miss Woodville's last class happened to be the Slytherin third-years. Well, he'd ignore the slight for now; it wasn't as important as actually finding a way to see Miss Woodville face to face. He ground his teeth together for a moment, thinking. How to get past Miss Woodville's insufferable guardian? "I need to talk to her about a debt she owes me."

"It can wait until she awakens. Assuming, that is, that she will want to talk."

The damn ghost guarded Miss Woodville better then a dragon guarded its treasure and it was slowly but surely driving him insane. The Grey Lady seemed immune to intimidation, threats, and taunts and Snape was quickly running through his repertoire trying to find a way to outwit her. His lip twisted.
He would not give up so easily; the ghost-girl might have tenacity but he had endless patience, the prospect of a long-awaited prize sweetened by much frustration if he should succeed and nothing better to do except wait. So he stepped right in front of the ghost, folded his arms and darkened his scowl. Not even a twitch.

"Since when did you become her mother?" he hissed, winding his hands into his robes to keep from throwing himself on her and impaling himself on the chair in the process. The Grey Lady raised an eyebrow and half-smiled at her lap. "Someone has to watch out for her," she murmured delicately, making another stitch, "and I seem to be best at the job."

"Then you can watch as I talk to her." He stomped over and drew one of the chairs that lined the common room over to Miss Woodville's door, sat in it with a thump, and folded his hands in his lap. The ghost's smile faded slightly and she bent back over her work once more, lips curiously rigid. Snape took note of the change in her expression and a pleasant rush of gratification warmed his entire body. He had been right, of course; something was going on. Miss Woodville could not hide from him forever.

However, she'd been doing a damn good job of it these past few days, he thought sourly. It was the same story over again, worn thin by telling--she's resting, she's just stepped out, I'm afraid she's not here. The girl slipped through the hallways like her transparent watchdog, somehow managing to duck away and vanish without a trace even when he was no more then a few feet away. The rare times he had managed to keep pace with her he'd spent staring at the narrow line of her back, whilst the few words she'd bothered to throw him were cold, clipped, and oh-so-polite. Treating him like a stranger. Acting like she didn't care.

Obviously she was still angry at him, and while this bothered him intensely for a day or so, his anger quickly faded into heated annoyance when faced with the fact that Miss Woodville would not let go of her hurt feelings so easily. Arrogant, bothersome, wretched little...monster. He wound his hands more tightly together. How dare she be so pompous? She was the one completely in the wrong for sneaking out like that--and she'd been doing it for months! Snape always felt a creeping chill through his blood whenever he thought about how easily something could have happened to her and he would not have known. Damn her for doing this to him. She could have ended up the toy of Death Eaters, she could have ruined the Headmaster's trust in him, she could have been...

"London? Whyever would you want to go all the way to London?"

A soft laugh came from Sinistra's room. "Because that's where the shopping is," a familiar voice murmured happily and then laughed in turn. He whipped around and stared hard at the Astronomy Professor's door, then at the Grey Lady, who had the decency to blush deep silver. She was with Sinistra? Sinistra was considered a more suitable companion then him?

"Sleeping, eh?" he growled. "I sincerely hope you didn't mean she was sleeping over in Sinistra's room!"

The ghost stared at her lap, embroidery left to one side. "No, they're just playing chess," she muttered, quietly enough for him to have trouble hearing her.

"I truly hope so," he snapped, standing up and giving his chair a good kick to get it out of his way. Wood splintered under his foot. "Because if I find out anything is going on--"

A door creaked open down the corridor and Miss Woodville slipped out of Sinistra's room, smiling widely with her cheeks flushed rose pink with laughter. The instant she caught sight of him, standing with his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the laughter slipped from her face and her gaze went leaden and compressed.

How long they stood there watching each other, he had no idea. Snape wanted to speak first, to ask her what she had been doing with the Astronomy professor, to yell and snap and ask why she was avoiding him, why she was still angry, why he never saw that wide, gleeful smile.

Her blue eyes looked so impassive...

Sinistra stepped out in the hallway and shut the door, then came quietly forward after watching them for a few moments with an eyebrow raised crookedly.

"Miss Woodville," Snape said quite calmly, though a terrific weight had settled somewhere on his chest, making speech difficult, "I wish to speak to you."

"Speak then," she said quietly. Her lips were set in a prim, narrow line and she made no move to come any closer.

He was terribly aware of their audience and nearly certain that both the Grey Lady and the Astronomy Professor would like to see him as far away from Miss Woodville as possible. "I meant in private," he snapped, before he could stop himself. A smile pricked the corners of her mouth in response.

"Private?" she said, a dry laugh lurking somewhere in her voice. "What on earth could you possibly have to say to me that can't be said in front of the Grey Lady and Professor Sinistra?" Miss Woodville's entire face was covered in a dreadful mirth, but her eyes looked almost...frightened...

Bile rose in the back of his throat. This fear of hers was completely puzzling and not pleasing to him at all. Where did this girl come off being afraid of him? Acting as though he was yet another thing sent from the unknown to ruin her life? Let her manage, let her endure the many little things that had picked and torn and cracked him to pieces and now this, now her, now this horrible attraction that would not leave him in peace...

"Snape?" He put a hand to his forehead and looked down; Miss Woodville was peering up at him as if he was mad. She stepped forward at last, her face tight with uncertainty. "What's the matter?"

This was not going to go any further, or else he'd explode. "Inside," he said curtly, opening her bedroom door with one hand and beckoning her inside with the other. "Talk. Now. No excuses."

A twinge of anger settled over the fear on Miss Woodville's face and she looked almost normal for a second. "Well, since you put it *that* way," she muttered and swept inside, waiting until he had followed before she slipped behind him and shut the door.

Her room was dim and cool, the curtains pulled tight against the windows. "What is this all about?" she asked, voice harsh as she turned away from him to pace up and down the narrow strip of carpet by the bed. "Why were you standing there, making a scene like that?"

"What's the matter?" he asked mockingly, still in place by the door. Coming closer might make her too nervous. "Afraid of looking bad in front of Sinistra? You do know about the dear Astronomy Professor's unusual...tendencies, don't you?"

Miss Woodville stopped pacing and stared at him, eyebrows pulled in. "What are you talking about?"

Snape smirked and pretended to adjust his cuff, drawing a finger lazily along it. Her eyes followed the movement. "Sinistra has, shall I say, a predilection for young girls." He watched with great pleasure and not a little amusement the shock that greeted his little announcement; Miss Woodville was gaping at him, her body gone completely stiff, and her hand white-knuckled where it gripped the bedpost.

She remained silent and he could almost see her mind turning the information over and pulling it about, trying to see if there was a hidden trick somewhere. "You don't mean that Sinistra has a _thing_ for students, do you?" she asked, a bit tentatively, some minutes later.

A thing for the students? My, what a perverse mind you have, my dear. He smiled, then immediately adjusted his face into a look of resigned disgust and sighed. "Idiot. Don't you think Sinistra would have been sacked by now if that were the case? I meant, foolish girl, for young women such as yourself."

Her tiny fists clenched. "Well, maybe if you stopped calling me a girl..."

More anger, more temper, better and better. "Miss Woodville, as fascinating as this discussion is, I did not come all the way here to discuss the Astronomy Professor's love life. I need to ask you something." She flinched.

"What about?" she said, a nervous jump in her voice nearly blotting out the middle of her words. Miss Woodville was beginning to twitch again--not good--and this sudden show of nerves was irritating him to no end. "Well, it seems I've found another way for you to discharge some of the the debt you still owe me."

She was pacing again, skirts swishing crisply against the floor. "Did you now? I thought I took care of that in the Forbidden Forest." Her turns were sharper, her steps heavier and more agitated and her feet were wearing a tread in the carpet. Snape snorted in response.

"Oh please, you were practically useless in the Forbidden Forest," he sneered, leaning against her door. His back was beginning to ache and he wondered just how long this might take. "Not to mention how much extra debt you created for yourself when you pulled that little stunt with the Sleeping Potion..."

Miss Woodville bit down hard on her lip and glared at him, small face pinched red with anger. "If you don't think that you still hold an obligation to me, I'd be happy to take the matter to the Headmaster and let him decide for us," he added, and yawned.

The girl stopped her frenetic pacing at the nightstand, this time facing away from him, and folded her arms tightly around her body, her shoulders hunching up in response. "Fine," she said coolly, and turned back towards him, face composed and indifferent. "After all, I keep my promises--so, what do you want me to do?"

"I have a larger workload then usual and I want you to help me grade papers," he said, noting the slight twitch of relief that came into her eyes at his words. You really think the worst of me, don't you? "Will you come?"

"Tonight? I have my own work too--"

He raised an eyebrow and half-turned, placing one hand on the doorknob. "My work was interrupted because of you, mind." The girl's face was dark with a kind of angry resignation. "Will you come?"

A small shudder of hesitation went through her body, but she looked directly at him. "Yes."

***

She'd been too nervous to say anything as Snape led her down to his office. He'd beckoned her curtly inside, pointed at a chair, told her to sit and left the room for a minute, returning with an enormous stack of parchment, which he then dropped in front of her. "Start."

"Ahhh..." Just what did he expect from her anyway? He hadn't exactly been specific about what he wanted graded, the stack was over her head and well...to be perfectly honest...

Snape was impatiently twirling a quill between his long fingers, occasionally tearing at the brownish tip with a quick, savage tug. "What's the matter now?"

"I don't know--what I mean is that I was never taught--" For God's sake, she was very close to blushing and stammering, but as she was about to have the one weakness in her otherwise formidable education exposed, she felt perfectly justified in being more then a little jumpy. Potions had been her worst subject, to the point where if she had even looked at a cauldron the wrong way, something would explode.

Had she known then that the man who would become her biggest adversary would also happen to be one of the most gifted Potion brewers in the entire Wizarding world, she would have put a little more effort into the subject. Lilika rested her chin on her hand and sighed, blowing a stray hair off her face. Not only was Snape strongest where she was weak, he simply delighted in seizing upon any failing of hers and using it against her in any way he could. And, in a stroke of diabolical genius, he'd set her a task which would probably end up exposing her complete deficiency in that subject.

Snape will be thrilled, she thought bitterly. Best Christmas present he ever had.

"Anything about Undectable Poisons, do you?" Snape finished, with a very smug look of satisfaction all over his thin, greasy face. "I thought so. Therefore, Miss Woodville, you will just be checking for spelling and grammatical errors; I will grade the actual content. Now, begin."

He reached across his desk, dipped a quill in red ink and handed it to her, their fingers brushing slightly in passing. The area of contact on her hand promptly began to grow warm and itch, leaving Lilika rubbing at it furiously for several minutes whilst Snape stared at her as if she were a lunatic. Lovely. Evidently, her little problem hadn't gone anyway; she could already feel her heart beating faster against the wall of her ribs and her breath was coming much more quickly.

Besides her, Snape was picking up a few parchments and making small contemptuous noises to himself, already glorying in his pupils' mistakes. She chanced a look at him, just to see if he'd had any reaction to that slight brush, but he was squinting at a essay and seemed ignorant of anything remarkable happening.

I could just be allergic to him, she mused, picking up the first parchment. Making me itch like that--it's practically the same as hives, ne? It wouldn't be that odd, really--the man did use a lot of chemicals and strange things in his work and maybe she wasn't allergic to him really, but something he used...

"What are you staring off into space for? Get to work!"

Damnit, he was really lucky there wasn't anything large and heavy nearby. Her unease at being with him had mostly vanished, to be replaced with her more typical reaction of acute annoyance.

Yet she still felt a bit flushed and feverish. All the blood in her body seemed to have pooled in her cheeks and throat, giving the skin there a smouldering feeling and probably turning it pink as well. Bright pink. Pink so bright it would shine through the darkness. God, she hated him.

Lilika took up her quill with a sigh and decided with gloomy resignation that things couldn't possibly get any worse. That thought had barely passed before Snape hitched his chair right next to hers and sat down with a loud grumble and a thump. Now they were sitting nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, close enough for the stiff fabric of his robes to brush her arm every time he moved slightly. Panic sparked behind her eyes.

Why is he sitting practically on top of me? Oh, bad image, bad image...I can't concentrate with him sitting right here. I'll just have to sneak away quietly.

She took a deep breath, coughed, then quietly tried to move her chair aside, covering the movement with another cough.

"Miss Woodville, stop fidgeting."

Obviously that wasn't going to work. She picked up the parchment again, let out a series of whispered curses, and began making marks. After a little time passed and her stack of completed scrolls grew somewhat higher, she discovered why Snape had decided to sit so close; not because his motivations were less than pure, but so he could hang over her shoulder and hiss remarks in her ear.

"You missed that over there, how could you let that mistake go past? You're going to let him get away with that horrible sentence construction? Miss Woodville, do you really think this paper deserves no marks?" On and on. His narrow black eyes watched every little notation her quill made on the parchment and each mark was punctuated by some slur from him. Snape's sharp shoulder was digging into her side as he leaned over her, but he scarcely seemed to notice her discomfort.

"Pitiful. You are far too lenient. A paper like that should have been burned in the owner's face," he rasped, his warm breath tickling her ear with each word. Snape's scent was quite distinct this close; sharp like pepper and bitter as wormwood with an acrid twist mixed in with everything else, almost as if he'd been smoking himself in front of a large fire. It wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

"Honestly, why did I bother with you?"

Lilika was having a bit of trouble breathing and the entire right side of her body felt as if it was being slowly charred into bits. She gripped her quill as tightly as she could with shaking fingers, nearly snapping it in two as Snape brushed up against her and whispered another taunt. Her stomach clenched and her legs went shaky; what exactly was wrong with her? It felt rather like she had been drinking a large quantity of bad wine. Attracted to him? So she hadn't had a lover in years, that wasn't an excuse. Intolerable situation, impossible man. She stood up abruptly, accidently bumping Snape's chin with her elbow and skipped backward a few steps, hugging herself. Why did it have to be so cold down here?

Snape rose also, scowling. "Miss Woodville, what are you--"

"Leaving!" she snapped, striding away towards the door. "I can't take this. You say you need me, then you do nothing but insult me and I'm freezing to death and itchy just from sitting next to you and it's unbearable. I'm sick of it and I really don't feel like being around you; so, goodnight."

The Potions Master looked both confused and disgusted for a few minutes, his eyebrows up while his mouth remained in a sour sneer. "You're making no sense as usual," he said, crossing over to where she was standing and staring down at her. Lilika wanted to take another few steps back but she didn't want it to seem like she was frightened of him. Stay and look or step back and be weak--there really weren't any good alternatives, she decided grimly. So they stood and watched each other's faces for a time, until Snape grumbled something under his breath, reached for the grimy silver clasp of his cloak and began to unfasten it.

Oh. Her eyes popped open so wide they began to hurt. He had better not be doing what I think he might be doing... or else I'll have to use the Cruciatus Curse on him. She shut her eyes and counted to ten as something heavy and scratchy was draped over her shoulders, swallowing her whole. What did Snape think he was doing? Nothing more happened except for some tugging and twisting, so she opened her eyes and blinked, getting a good view of the part in Snape's oily hair as he struggled to fasten the material at her throat. "Is that better?"

The wool was coarse but warm and smelled exactly like him. She pulled the material more tightly around her and tried to puzzle out this gesture--was he up to something? Snape must expect a repayment for this favour. Well, she wasn't going to be so easily bent. "You've only corrected one part of the problem, try again."

Snape's lips went in, nearly disappearing off his face and a vein in his temple began to pound as his face twitched, smoothed out, then went rigid again. "I should have expected you to be ungrateful," he muttered. "And yet--Tell me plainly, Miss Woodville, are you still angry with me?"

"Bright boy," Lilika said acidly, shifting the folds of his cloak so they didn't pull so heavily at her back. If she toppled because of the weight of all this material she was going to kill him. "There's hope for you yet."

His shoulders jerked, but his voice came out as a silky whisper. "Still holding a grudge."

"Snape, you show up and rage at me unexpectedly one morning after church, making me completely paranoid about people coming up behind me for the next few days. Then you show up in Ravenclaw, threaten me, insinuate that I don't have a sense of honour, drag me down here and then proceed to taunt me and tell me I'm worthless."

"I never said you were worthless!" he said furiously.

She took another deep breath next to the folds of the cloak, finding his scent strangely enjoyable. "What other impression was I supposed to get from your words? I already know that you think everyone at Hogwarts is nowhere near as brilliant as the great Potions Master, but indulge me a bit. Do you have even the smallest bit of respect for me anywhere in that gaunt body? I know you don't like me and I don't like you, but if you think you can just dominate me without a protest--"

"Heaven forfend that Liliana Woodville should listen to any whims other then her own," Snape broke in, his face the colour of old candle wax. "Severus Snape is a selfish controlling bastard because he was doing his job, exactly as he was told, to protect Miss Liliana, who ran to Hogwarts for protection and then goes off to willingly exposed herself to danger time and time again, just because she wanted to."

Her eyes were burning. "Shut up."

Snape leaned forward and stared directly into her face, his black eyes gleaming. "And this girl--who is the most infuriating mixture of cold-hearted bitch and flighty airhead--doesn't even notice that Severus Snape has other things to worry about besides her foolish hide, like making sure Famous Harry Potter makes it through another year when Snape himself isn't even sure he'll make it through the year. Do you understand now?" His greasy face was stuck all over with self-righteous triumph.

She struggled to find words through a throat that was parched with outrage. "Do you think you're the only one who suffers, Snape? You don't think that I've had it just as hard as you, if not worse? You CHOSE to become a Death Eater, you chose to make your own problems. I was born into a family I wouldn't have touched with a twenty-foot pole otherwise and I had my problems thrust upon me. I came here to escape and you didn't make things any easier! Letting me know right from the start you wanted me gone, that you thought of me as an hindrance and evil besides. I'm sorry that you have such a difficult life but stop taking it out on me, for God's sake. Or at least hate me as an equal instead of treating me as one of your dimmer students."

Snape's thin face was twisted with malice as he stared at her, his eyes narrowed to such a point she was surprised he could still see. He wore an expression of undeniable hatred and a shiver shook her body before she could stop it.

"What do I have to do to make you understand that you are the one in the wrong here?" he whispered, one of his hands coiling slowly into a fist, then back out again. "You are the most arrogant, vindictive little wench that I have ever had the misfortune to meet! Your goddamn pride has nothing to do with this matter; the point is that you were WRONG to sneak out, WRONG in flouting the guidelines the Headmaster had set for you and you can't accept that! You fled here to escape yet you slip back into the world you ran from every damned week!"

A kind of buzz was constricting her throat, making speech completely impossible. Snape took her silence for disdain and slowly, the same horrible smile he had worn when her golem attacked spread across his face.

"Is that not enough to convince you, Lady Woodville?" he said in a low purr, but his eyes were beginning to look wild. "You stand there and stare at me--say something, damn you! I even apologised to you when I was wrong before, so WHY CAN'T YOU DO THE SAME FOR ME?" By his last words his face was entirely crimson and veins snaked prominently over his forehead.

She stood in a kind of dazed timidity and watched, mute, as the Potions Master stormed away, his footsteps clattering harshly on the old tile beneath. He was breathing very quickly and his next words came out on a kind of gasping rush.

"You'll never have any consideration for my feelings; never be grateful for what I do. If you didn't want my cloak, why didn't you refuse to take it? I trudged the grounds in the dead of winter in my nightclothes looking for you and all you can do is be angry at me." A bitter, choking laugh came from him. "I thought you were different, that you might just have a brain, but it seems you're just another Potter."

Go to him. Do something, apologise, take the blame, just do something. Her feet stayed as still as if she had been plastered into the floor.

You know he's right, he has a point, go to him. Say something, idiot.

Lilika took a deep hard breath. "Snape..."

He had been staring at one of his larger pickled animals; when she spoke, he let out a shaking sigh and his shoulders tensed. "Get out."

"What?"

Snape abruptly pulled away from where he had been standing and walked quickly across the room, his steps echoing briskly. "I said get out. Are you stupid?"

"Why? What about the essays--?"

He was at his desk, yanking his chair back so violently the wood made a long wailing screech as it scraped the floor. "I'm quite capable of handling it on my own. Now, leave Miss Woodville. I don't think I can deal with you at this moment."

So that was that; she had been dismissed. A strange feeling was flooding through her; it was a cold and murky kind of feeling, almost like she had been standing in the middle of thick fog. Dismissed. Sent away because she was stupid and loathsome, it seemed.

Or because he wanted to be a brat and pout and sulk on his own. Neither way appealed to her.

"I'm not leaving." Her voice seemed very small.

Snape was hunched over a parchment, slashing remarks on it so violently the ink flew off the paper and splattered thickly against the desk. He dipped his quill again. "You most certainly are."

"I'm not leaving until we settle this," she repeated quietly.

He threw his essay down and stared at the top of his desk for a moment, then lifted his head to glare at her. "Miss Woodville, if I have to throw you out bodily, I most certainly will," he sneered, voice dripping with greater venom then usual.

Lilika groaned, more out of disgusted familiarity then anything else. It always came back down to threats with him. "Snape, if I have to affix myself to the floor with a Binding Charm, I will. I am not leaving this room until we talk. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" She swallowed, then added, "See I can yell just as loud as you if needs be." The Potions Master fixed her with a stony look, drummed his fingers across the edge of his desk for a moment, then picked up a small knife and began to sharpen his quill.

"Fine. Talk," Snape said coldly, his thin, blue-veined hands busy with cutting and scraping, whilst he gave her a look that told she was about as welcome as a cauldron melting. "You won't mind if I don't listen, do you?"

She squinched her eyes shut until she saw a few orange bursts of light and some pale green lines and then slowly opened them again.

"You scream and rant and rave about how you want my heartfelt apology, but then you turn around and act like a three-year-old when I'm about to give you one," Lilika began, trying to keep from hurling something at his face. Screw his suffering, he liked being difficult. She was nearly certain of this.

She took a few steps closer to his desk, watching him carefully the whole time. He was industriously hacking away at his quill, but his head was tilted marginally to the side and Lilika could swear that his eyes flickered once or twice in her direction.

"Snape. You're bloody obnoxious at the best of times, but you're even worse when we fight. Please, look at me."

His gaze skipped lightly over her face and he bent down again, greasy hair forming a shield in front of his face. "That's not what I meant!"

He laid the quill aside--it had been cut down to a nub--and picked up another.

"You're cold and arrogant and claim all the world's suffering is on your shoulders."

Silence from across the desk.

"On the other hand, you are completely right about my behavior being out of line. I know you don't like me, but I don't want you thinking that I'm too stupid to see the folly of my ways when it's so bluntly pointed out to me."

The only sound was the soft rasp of metal against horn.

"Please forgive me."

Another quill was put aside and a fresh one picked up. His hands trembled imperceptibly.

"Snape, I was wrong."

The new quill was quickly dispatched into a small mound of feathery bits and cream-coloured shavings.

"I'm sorry. For sneaking out and especially for making that comment to you. I didn't want to hurt you that badly."

Nothing, just the flick of his fingers against the knife and a growing mass of fuzz drifting in the air.

Lilika felt her shoulders sag and puffed a short, weary sigh. She waited to see if he would have any reaction to her words, but he was still playing with his knife and his quills, acting as if she were invisible or an ordinary and unremarkable part of the room like a bottle. She had done her part and if he was going to be haughty and unmoved by it all, then better to let him sulk in peace. He could come to her and beg forgiveness for his nasty conduct on his own damn time. Quietly, she walked to the door and pulled it open.

"Miss Woodville, please wait."

Wasn't that unexpected. She paused, but placed one foot outside his office, shifting her weight to the outside foot. Snape was still whittling his quill, his eyes on the knife and his voice was calm and steady.

"I understand you wish to go to London."

"How'd you know?" she asked, sticking her head and upper body out the door to check for any hallway stragglers. There were none.

"When you were in Sinistra's room talking?"

"Un," she acknowledged with a nod and looked back over her shoulder. "What about it?"

He finally put the knife down and folded his hands together on the dark wood of the desk's top. "If you want to go, I will accompany you."

So, was that the matter Snape had been so busy pondering he couldn't answer her before? "I'll think about it."

"Please consider it, Miss Woodville." He hesitated for a moment, then added, in a much lower tone, "As my way of making amends for some of my behavior."

Apparently, you only received one outright apology per lifetime from him. "If you want to come with me, then you're welcome to."

"I need to do some Christmas shopping, after all," he muttered, as if to himself, then looked straight at her. His eyes were sunken and red-rimmed from the late hour and his hair hung even more limply around his face then usual.

Lilika slid her foot back inside the door and frowned. She had been seized with a sudden impulse to go to Snape, force him to get up and forget about the sodding papers, go to his room and go straight into bed. So he could sleep. He looked so tired after all and his eyes were smudged with dark blots that made it seem as if his eyes took up almost half his face. "I'll talk to you tomorrow and set the details. Meanwhile, you should go to sleep."

Snape smiled quickly; it looked more like a grimace. "If only everything were that simple." He gently laid a parchment aside and reached for another.

"You really don't look well. How much do you sleep, anyway? Am I going to have to come down here before we go to London to make sure you sleep? If you pass out on the streets of London from lack of rest, I'm going to leave you there."

"Goodnight, Miss Woodville."

"Goodnight."

***

She'd taken his damn cloak with her.

Finding Muggle clothing to wear had been a bother, leading to a deep and through search of his wardrobe. At the very back of his closets, balled up in a corner and covered with years of dust-bunny leavings, he'd finally found some trousers and an old shirt he'd had for some reason or other long ago. After washing them throughly, putting them on and staring at himself in amazed disgust for a long time---Miss Woodville is very fortunate I'm not vain about my looks---Snape had hastily shoved his normal robes on over the Muggle stuff and stalked up to her rooms.

Underneath his robes, his skin was itching from the unfamiliar fabric, not to mention that he felt like a stuffed pasty from wearing so many layers. It was necessary of course; he could just imagine what the students would say and snicker if they saw him wearing Muggle clothing. He mentally added another tick to the long list of favours she owed him. Miss Woodville needed to start her repayment soon, else she'd be doing it for the rest of her life.

He rapped sharply on her door; why wasn't she out here and ready yet? "Miss Woodville?"

"Yes?" she sang from somewhere inside and to the left.

"Are you ready?" he snapped, fighting the urge to shuck his robes in the middle of the hallway. It was becoming uncomfortably warm with all this material stuck to his body and he wanted to be outside, in the pleasantly cold air, and as far away from witnesses as possible. Damn the woman and damn himself. All because he'd felt a twinge of guilt for making her upset, when he'd had every right to make her upset in the first place, but she had apologised and looked almost pretty doing it...

The door opened silently and Miss Woodville stuck her head out, squinting at him, one small hand curled around the door's edge. Her hair was bound in a long braid down her back and her glasses were off--and was she still wearing her nightdress? Snape glanced down and saw bare feet, toenails painted violet and a white ruffle somewhere about her ankles. "You're not even dressed!"

"Oh, it takes me two seconds," she said mildly as she narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose; trying to get a better look at his face, he guessed. She must have not liked what she saw, for she gulped loudly and vanished back into her room, shutting the door with a clap. He chuckled.

A quick look around the common room revealed the chair he had used before to sit by her room, so he grabbed it, placed it to the side of the door and sat, trying to find a way to cross his legs so his Muggle clothing wouldn't be revealed if his robes hitched up. It was rather early for any of the students to be up, but he wanted to take no chance and that damned ghost never slept...

There was a muted crinkle and a light swishing sound from behind the door, as if cloth was being pulled over a dark head and thrown aside. Snape sat quite still, then slouched down in his chair, the soft sound somehow echoing very loudly in his ears. Why hadn't he realised before that he would be able to hear her undressing? Perhaps she was walking around undressed this minute, her white skin gleaming in the dim light, with only her long black hair to cover her--

The rustling abruptly stopped, and was followed by several short sounds of annoyance. Something thumped, something else was slammed shut and the door whipped open to display Miss Woodville, who was panting with a deep look of exasperation on her face. "Let's go."

Well, it wasn't the first time one of his fantasies had been shot to hell. Snape stood up slowly and pushed the chair aside, barely noting the way Miss Woodville was fidgeting in her eagerness to be away. The black sweater she was wearing didn't reveal anything he hadn't already seen--all her bodices were tight to begin with, and this sweater actually exposed less of her then the necklines of her dresses. The skirt was entirely different; it was made of some shimmering material and it fitted nicely to the contour of her lower body, when her regular dresses flared out from the waist and hid everything down to the floor. For the first time, he got a good look at her hips--narrow, but they curved decently and her legs were a bit on the thin side, but she had nice calves...

"Snape?" She prodded him with a finger. "Why are you wearing your robes?"

"Oh." He looked down at himself, then back up at her serious face. Miss Woodville's lips had been reddened with some Muggle product and her pale skin had a rosier look then usual. "Because you ran off with my cloak and I had no better way to conceal myself." He threw in a frown to cover the fact that he had just been gaping at her like an idiot.

Her face changed into a look of guilty embarrassment. "Right." Unexpectedly, she seized his hand and pulled him inside her bedroom, closing the door behind them. "I have it right here."

His cloak had been neatly folded and set aside on her dresser, and as he shook it out, Miss Woodville studied him with a appraising look in her eye, head tilted to one side. "Take off your robes so I can make sure you look decent," she ordered, and stepped back, arms folded and one foot tapping out a quick beat against the rug.

"Yes, Highness," he sneered and shed his robes, inconspicuously sighing as he felt cool air on his skin at last. What a pity he wasn't stripping for a more interesting reason, like waiting to join her in bed. No sooner had that thought passed then he found himself sincerely hoping that little notion couldn't be read from his face.

She walked around him, face still in concentration and pronounced him not bad once she had finished her little inspection. "Except for your hair--"

"What about it?" he snapped. She'd never had a problem with it before.

"It looks a bit strange with that clothing," she said, not looking at him. "Actually, it looks a bit strange ordinarily, but..."

Miss Woodville stepped closer and to his surprise, went behind him and pulled his hair back, yanking a piece here and there. "Maybe like this...perhaps that will hide it..."

"Hide what?" he snarled, getting very annoyed with her perfectionism, but enjoying the way she tugged on his hair.

"It's a bit long..."

"Cut it yourself then."

"And greasy..."

"Wash it yourself then." Snape pulled away from her hands with a growl and shook himself until he felt his hair resettle around his face, exactly as it should be. "Are we done discussing my hygiene so we can leave?"

Her eyes rolled. "Oh, fine," she snapped and grabbed a Muggle coat from a hook on the wall, shrugging it on whilst she watched him. "I guess you'll just have to wear your cloak."

"Fine with me."

They left her room and crept quietly down the stairs from Ravenclaw Tower, heading as swiftly as possible for the Great Hall and the way out. "We're flying in? It's a long way to go," he asked as they drew closer to the entrance hall.

"We'll have to fly a ways from the castle and then Apperate in jumps," she whispered, eyeing a small knot of ghosts that had just drifted in from behind the tapestries. "London's too far for me to do it all at once. It's the easiest way."

"Then I'll let you navigate since you have so much experience in the matter."

She kicked him. "Shut up and hurry, damn it! I want to leave before anyone else wakes up."

As quietly as possible, they tugged open the main doors and slipped out, walking quickly towards the broom shed, whilst Snape let out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. Easier then he'd thought and not a single person had spotted them inside the castle.

***

Two sets of eyes followed the pair as they made their way out of Hogwarts and two sets of eyes turned to glance at each other once they had moved out of sight.

"So they finally made up long enough to go to London," the older boy sneered. "I thought I'd go insane waiting."

The other boy stuffed his hands in the pockets of his robe and stared out the window at the rising sun. It could just be glimpsed in bits and pieces through the dark line of the trees. "How'd you find out they were going to London anyway?"

"I listen at doors," the first boy said casually. "It's really amazing what people let slip when they think there's no one around." His partner shrugged and continued to stare at the landscape.

"You go and alert the operatives in London," the first boy said, giving his companion a sharp tap on the arm. "And remember to specify that the brat is to be alive and unharmed. Our Lord's orders."

"Yeah," the other muttered. "What about Professor Snape?"

Boy One laughed out loud, slapping a hand against the windowsill. "That filthy traitor? Kill him if they can't bring him alive. I imagine the Dark Lord wants a chat with him." His eyes narrowed in thought. "Not only did he renounce the Dark Lord, he's got a thing for her. I can't believe anyone would be attracted to that putrid little slattern...but then again, Snape's not exactly the grand lover, is he?"

He laughed once more, as the other boy glanced sideways at his partner and hurried away, feet pounding up the ancient steps to the tower and as Boy Two left, Boy One started to whistle cheerfully.

Outside the window, an owl took flight.