Some Days I Wish I Were in Slytherin

Ch 10: A Semblance of Normalcy

Ginny sat in deep meditation on the jute mat in Snape's room. Her legs were curved in the lotus position and the backs of her hands rested limply on her knees. Her breathing filled her, replenished her; she felt her thoughts spinning up from the pool of her mind, and one by one she would acknowledge them and set them free. She was aware of Ying to her right and Professor Snape to her left. She didn't know how long the three of them had been sitting there, meditating, but the cramps in her back had long ago ceased to bother her, and she felt herself grounded through the floor into the very earth below.

She'd spent the week busy at the conference and in her evening lessons with Snape. Their previous conversation had changed something about their interactions together. He was still arrogant and cold, but he seemed to have become more patient and more willing to listen and explain. At the same time she'd found herself more willing to apply herself to learn. The majority of the week had been spent on hexes and charms, including memory charms. Tonight, Ying had come to guide her in her meditation, for tomorrow they were starting Occulumency.

In contrast to last week, Snape had stayed for this lesson. For some reason, his presence made relaxing easier, helped her focus. There was a vague awareness of the soft sound of his breath leaving in little huffs. She let out her own breath, recognized her thoughts of him, and sent them spinning off into the ether. She felt a haze of pleasant emptiness pervade her being, felt herself floating, focusing on each minute cell and fiber of her being.

The smell of Ying's lavender incense filled the air, relaxing her further. She could feel lights and sensations a thousand miles away, hear the grass growing in the forbidden forest; smell her mother's steak and kidney pie back at the burrow. Finally she opened her eyes and looked across from her. It took her eyes a moment to adjust in the darkened room, but then the moon came from behind the clouds and illuminated Snape. He was waiting patiently, his hands resting in his lap, still sitting on the floor, his gaze focused on her.

Ginny looked around and asked, "Where's Ying?"

"She had to leave. She said you'd reached a deep plane of meditation and that I should just wait for you to depart it."

She arched her back and stretched out her arms overhead. "How long was I like that?"

"A few hours. It's after ten." He paused. "We can resume the lesson tomorrow if you wish."

"It's ok, I'm not tired. Unless you are that is."

"I don't sleep much," he commented. "Would you like some tea first?"

Ginny looked at him suspiciously. Besides their conversation on Sunday, they had stayed strictly on the topics of her studies and the speech he was giving at the conference. "Sure," she said.

He rose gracefully to his feet and went over to a small trolley. While he busied himself producing a tea set and heating the kettle with his wand, she stood up and began to walk around the room, rubbing her arms and twisting her neck to get out any kinks. She paused by the window and looked out into the inn's moonlit garden, where the shadows of the trees were like black velvet against the night air. Her forehead rested against the cool glass for a moment and then she turned around to see him watching her, his face expressionless, two teacups balanced on saucers in his hands.

"Did you want any sugar?" he asked.

"No, I take mine plain," she said, crossing the room and sinking into one of the low chairs.

His fingers brushed hers as he handed her the cup and sat down. He blew on his tea and took a sip of it. They sat awkwardly for a few moments, then finally he set his teacup down with a clatter and stared at her.

"How did you know I enjoyed it?" he asked abruptly.

Ginny took a sip of her tea and looked pensive. "Your eyes," she said. "The way you looked at me while it was happening, the way you looked at me in the morning. I've seen that look before."

He made a face. "I somehow doubt that, Weasley."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you still see me as an innocent girl, Professor? I would think you of all people would know better."

He drew in a sharp breath and wisely remained silent, instead draining his tea cup and staring at the leaves with interest.

Ginny reached across the table and took the teacup from his hand. His fingers jerked back as if burned, but she merely stood and carried the dishes over to the tea trolley. She cleaned them with a wave of her wand and went back to her seat.

"So," she said. "What kind of spell are we working on tonight?"

"I thought perhaps glamour charms. They come in handy if you ever need to disguise yourself, and, of course, you can use the more advanced ones to help you charm people."

Ginny nodded her assent, pushed up the sleeves of her robe, and pulled out her wand. Snape lit a lantern with a muttered spell, then focused on her intently.

"Now, watch me carefully, you want to picture in your mind the change you want in your appearance, then wave your wand in a circle in front of your self and say, Cara Encanto."

His face blurred in front of her for a moment, and suddenly she found herself face to face with Julian Malfoy. "See," he said. His voice still sounded like Snape. She stretched out her hand and touched the side of his head; she could still feel his long, lank hair, but it looked like Julian's, short and silver.

"How come they don't teach us that one in school?" she asked.

Snape waved his wand, and was suddenly himself again. "Let's just say it's not on the approved curriculum. After all, the minister doesn't want the masses to know about something like this."

"Is it dark magic?"

"Yes and no. Really there is no such thing as dark and good magic. There is only magic, and those who use it. If your intent in using it is evil, then so is the magic. Even a spell classified as a "good" spell could be used for nefarious reasons. If you mean would the ministry consider it dark magic, then yes, it is." His eyes half closed as he regarded her. "Then again, many of the spells I'm teaching you are like that. You have to recognize the potential for the darkness in yourself, and use it to your advantage. That doesn't mean it has to control you, however." He gestured to her. "Now you try it. Simple at first, like your hair color."

Ginny closed her eyes and concentrated. She imagined deep raven hair like Parvati Patil's, fixed the image in her mind, then swept her wand in a circle in before her face and spoke the incantation.

A faint tingling built up along her scalp, and she felt as if her head had been drenched in warm, sticky pudding. She opened her eyes and looked at her teacher expectantly.

He was staring at her, his eyes as wide and round as hubcaps. His lips twitched and his chin quivered. He began making a horrible choking sound that sounded like a rusty key being turned in a broken lock. Ginny thought he looked as if he was having some kind of a mad fit.

Then he did something totally unexpected. He laughed, a thin howl that came out in short, gargled bursts. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and rocked back and forth for a moment. Every time he would look at Ginny, she'd scowl, which only made him laugh harder.

Finally he calmed down and managed to spit out, "Tell me Weasley, did you intend to look like a crow? Or was it just incompetence on your part?" He conjured a hand mirror and gave it to her.

She stared bemusedly at her reflection and cracked a smile. "Well, it does make a statement doesn't it?"

Snape just shook his head and with a wave of his wand, ended the enchantment. "Now let's try this again shall we? And this time, please try to keep yourself from looking like a member of the animal kingdom."

After that first attempt, Ginny applied herself diligently to the spell, and it was several hours later that she finally mastered all the difficult permutations and could change any part of her appearance at will.

"Now remember," Snape said, "an important component of this spell is mental focus. If you become distracted or emotional it will not work, and then you'll find yourself in a difficult situation." He flinched as if remembering something painful and added, "That's when the memory charms we worked on yesterday become useful."

He stood up, stretched, walked over to the teapot, and poured a cup of the cold brew. "Now, as a final test, I want you to visualize turning into an entirely different person, all the parts, how you'd like to look in an ideal world perhaps." He squeezed a wedge of lemon into his tea and looked at her expectantly.

Once again, Ginny closed her eyes, but this time she thought about how she'd really like to look. She pictured her facial features a little sharper and her figure a little fuller and shorter, but she left her hair red. Images of Hermione's creamy, freckle free complexion swam into mind, and to top it off, she added the loveliest pair of eyes she knew. She stood up and slowly raised her wand. "Cara Encanto."

For a moment it felt like nothing happened, then her whole body felt as if it were dipped in treacle. Just as quickly, the feeling faded and she was left with only a strange itchy sensation flowing through her veins.

The shatter of breaking porcelain startled her and her eyes popped open. She looked over at Professor Snape, who was kneeling on the floor cleaning up the remains of his broken cup.

"What happened?" she asked, her own voice sounding strange coming out of this body. She stretched out her hand and looked at the fingers, smaller and more delicate then her own. She picked up the hand mirror expecting to see another hideous deformation, but only a pair of puzzled green eyes looked back at her. Her glance went back to Snape. His eyes were strangely bright, and he was avoiding looking at her, instead focusing on the remains of the tea tray.

"Professor? Are you all right?" She crossed the room and stood beside him.

Snape turned his head away, his expression stunned and at the same time, fearful. Finally he cleared his throat and spoke, the words forming with difficulty. "Good job Weasley, you seem to have a good sense of the spell." He straightened his shoulders and turned around to face her. "May I ask how you chose to look like that?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Why?"

Snape's lips twisted into a funny little smile. "Nothing really, you just remind me of someone I used to know."

"Oh," Ginny said, her eyes narrowing with comprehension. She quickly muttered the counter spell and blinked as the tingling stopped. They stared at each other for a moment. She wondered who could have made that range of emotions pass over his face. "Was it someone you liked?" she asked.

"No, actually. It was someone I hated." His face had a lost, distant expression on it, but after a moment his dark eyes returned to hers. "Well I think that's enough for today. It's getting late and I'm feeling rather tired. We will resume our lessons tomorrow." He walked her to the door, and closed it without a further word.

Ginny stared blankly at the closed door for a moment, as if she expected it to give her some answers. Finally she turned away. "That was strange," she whispered under her breath.

She wandered down the corridor of the inn, pausing at the foot of the stairs. Her hand grasped the railing as she pondered going back to her room. The prospect of tossing and turning in her bed was limiting in its appeal, and she knew there was no way she was going to sleep anytime soon. She began to meander slowly around the hotel, and finally found herself in the central courtyard. The lush gardens were tranquil at this time of night; the only sounds were a small waterfall flowing into the pond and the vague, drowsy hum of cicadas. She ensconced herself in a bamboo settee with worn soft cushions, tucking her feet under her and looking up at the stars. The night was still; the warm humid air stirred only by the faintest of breezes. A lone light on the second floor remained lit and she wondered briefly if it was his, if he was sitting up alone, awake as she was, haunted by whatever demons had been exhumed from his past.

A lone owl fluttered through the courtyard and then all was silent again. She knew exactly how Snape felt, how the memories of the past could come out at night, could sit on your chest unbending, and slowly suffocate you with their oppressive bitter poison. How the emptiness, and isolation, and the sense of despair, could make a hole in your heart, in your very being. She'd tried to fill the emptiness, tried to fill it with the sweet words and promises of warm bodies in the night. But it was never more than a game to her, only a way to pass the time, to try and stay the tide of remembrance. She closed her eyes, her lashes fluttering gently against her cheeks, and allowed herself for the first time in a long while to think of Tom.

Her cheeks flushed warm and she felt the familiar sick stirring in her gut. He had been so kind at the start, so understanding, her only friend in a strange new world. At first she just wrote to him, but then he told her that if she wanted, she could come into the diary and meet him, that he had designed a special place just for them to be alone. It was only last year that she'd realized it was the room of requirement and that somehow, when she joined him there, the room provided them with a space where the lines between the world of the diary and the real world blurred.

It had started out so sweetly. He was like an older brother to her; he told her stories and listened to her problems. One night he asked her to let him brush her hair. He ran a silver-backed brush through her tangled strands and told her how special she was, how much she meant to him. That was when the touching started, and after that, the other things, things no twelve-year-old girl should experience. At first she felt oddly flattered and grown up. In a sick and twisted way she liked it and sought his approval, mistaking his attentions for genuine caring. "You're my only friend," she would say to him at night. "You're the only one who understands me." He would nod, and whisper poisonous thoughts to her, and make her feel things she somehow knew were not right. But he'd liked it, and she'd been so desperate for his affection.

Thinking back, she wondered how her brothers hadn't noticed. She'd been so fragile, so broken, and they hadn't even seen. They didn't notice the livid purple marks under her eyes from the sleepless nights. They didn't notice how quiet she'd become when she'd always talked too much before.

Inside she was dying. She didn't realize it, but day by day he was sucking more life from her, becoming the stronger one, becoming the human one, while she became the ghost, the shade. When he finally took her to the Chamber of Secrets, it was a relief to sink slowly into that cold sleep from which she thought she would never wake. The only thing she remembered was the cold, and then Harry. Harry who was brave and true and strong and who had almost died to save her. She should have fallen in love with him. Instead she could only thank him, knowing that he would never be the one. He was too light, too good. He had no idea of the stains on her, the darkness within her. He would never understand it. None of them would.

So she had pretended to be all right, to be Ginny again. At first it was just to stop her mother's tears, although eventually she managed a semblance of normalcy. But the next year she started seeking out the boys that reminded her of him, the smart ones, the arrogant ones, the handsome ones. She wanted to take comfort in their warmth, and then make them hurt like she did, leaving them confused and sad and wondering what they'd done wrong. At first they laughed at her, an awkward thirteen-year-old; but Tom had trained her well, and soon they were begging her, helpless in her grasp. It had been a game; it was a game, one she knew too well. One she was getting tired of playing.

Ginny blinked in the night air and shook her hair out of her face. It was too much thinking, too much water under the bridge. She forced her memories back into the narrow confines she allowed them, feeling the iron bands of control sliding back into place. Things were different now; she was different now. It was hard for her to imagine that silly little girl she'd once been. It was difficult to remember what it was to not feel this darkness. But now things were changing so fast. Now she'd found someone who had the same core of darkness. It was all they'd ever have.

She'd never told anyone what happened in the chamber. Ron had guessed, but even he never really knew the full truth. He had become kinder though, and they regained their banter, their easy quiet moments, and the times they would both laugh until they cried. She'd never told anyone until she told Snape. Her thoughts went back to the Potions Master and slowly her eyes closed; she leaned back on the bench and drifted into a light sleep.

Later, she awoke at the feel of strong arms lifting her. He whispered quiet soothing words and she fell back asleep as he carried her up the stairs.

The next morning, Ginny woke up to daylight, the sun filtering through the shades and casting amorphous shadows on her skin. She snuggled deeper under the covers, grateful today's sessions didn't start until noon. She remembered being in the garden, remembered being carried upstairs. It was strange how she could feel so safe with Snape, as if she knew he would protect her. It was a feeling she couldn't remember having had in years.

*****************

Snape sat across from her, eating rice out of a blue willow-patterned porcelain bowl. He'd insisted on getting an early start on Occulumency, and had dinner delivered to his room mid-lesson. They'd already been mediating and practicing Occulumency for several hours. The continual flash of memories had depleted not only her energy, but also her appetite. She poked idly at the piece of bok choy in her soup bowl with a wide mouthed porcelain spoon and sneaked a glance at him. Somehow, Snape managed to convey extreme irritation and disgust even when doing something as elementary as eating. Right now, his lips were twisted in an odd grimace as he searched through the grains of rice --looking for insects no doubt. She stifled a laugh by taking a large mouthful of soup, but choked as the laugh threatened to bubble up inside of her. Snape looked at her with concern

She swallowed her soup and half mouthed, half moaned, "Hot," trying to make it look as if she had just suffered a grievous burn to her tongue.

"Wait for it to cool then, Weasley. Honestly, I thought you had the intelligence to realize that hot things burn." He turned back to his food with a scowl, and she hid her face in her napkin until she could school her lips into a more serious expression.

She took the moments in between bites to study her teacher. He was such a strange man. She'd never seen someone who had such strong control over his emotions. At the same time, they were seething at the surface for anyone to see, the obvious ones at least: hate, anger, scorn. She slowly chewed a dumpling as thoughts spun around in her brain. She was finding through her daily meditation was that it was becoming easier to recognize patterns, to organize her ideas. The thought of Snape had been teasing at the edges of her consciousness all day. She still couldn't decipher exactly what had happened last night.

"Is something wrong Miss Weasley? You've been staring at me for the last five minutes."

Ginny jerked out of her reverie. "Sorry, Professor," she murmured apologetically. "I was wool gathering."

His black eyes narrowed as he waved a wand and cleared away the dinner plates, including her half full soup bowl. "Well, you'll have to concentrate if you want to do better than earlier. I expected you to have learned enough by this time to make a reasonably skilled attempt at Occlumency." He stood and began to pace around the room. "Begin your meditation. Clear your mind of all thoughts and concerns. Remember, you must use your mind to repel me, to steer me away from certain memories, to restrict my access to them. Is that clear?"

Ginny nodded, and he waited until her breathing was calm and steady. Control. Control. She opened her eyes and he raised his wand pointing it at her head.

"Brace yourself," he said. "Leglimens!" His dark eyes filled her field of vision, then swam out of focus as the room disappeared. She was screaming, terrified as George turned her favorite doll into a skeleton...She was in the chamber, sitting up gingerly, her red hair dripping black ink...She was knocking over the butter dish with her elbow...She was catching the golden snitch, holding the frantically beating wings tightly in her hand....She was kissing Draco, his hands were... No. Snape couldn't see that. Her mind went blank for a moment and another memory presented itself. Tom, his hands, her skirt pushed up to her waist, his body heavy over hers...No!

The room snapped back into focus, and there was Snape, looking at her intently, his expression arrogant, as if he could see through her. His lips twisted in a smirk, and a cold fury flew unfettered through her brain. How could he stand there and smile, how could he choose to look into that memory, he had no right, he had no right. His black eyes glittered and she could see her pale face reflected in them, reminding her of that scared little girl. The rage boiled up, and before she could think, her wand was in her hand and she was pointing it at him.

"Leglimens!" she hissed.

In seconds, foreign memories flooded her brain... A scrawny naked teenager cowered in a grimy shower stall, while other boys pelted him with bars of soap... A dark skull burning, searing on a pale white arm... A girl with red hair, her green eyes filled with disgust.... As quickly as they appeared, the images were gone. A flash of light exploded in her brain, and bright searing colors coursed past her eyes. Her knees buckled and gave out and the sharp crack of her head hitting the hard floor of his room reverberated through the cavern-like reaches of her mind. She opened her eyes, saw Snape looking at her in panic from across the room, and tried to get up, but stumbled. She felt as if her bones were freezing and icy crystals were forming in her veins, the blood flow becoming sluggish. Her chest was tight, and she struggled to breathe as the room began spinning violently. Snape crossed the room in slow motion, his movements flickering and erratic.

She remembered him falling on his knees and telling her to breathe and then... Nothing.

There was only blackness and the sensation of crawling from something dark and unknown, and then slowly she became aware of suffocating heat and a pounding in her head. "Ginny...Ginny...Wake up." Someone was holding her head, gently shaking her shoulders. If only the pounding would stop.

Her tongue felt thick and unnatural in her mouth. "Make it stop," she groaned.

"I can't make it stop until you wake up," said a worried voice.

"I'm awake," Ginny said, opening her eyes. She closed them instantly as the room spun. "Why is the room spinning?"

"Because you cast a spell, do you remember?"

"Yes." She opened her eyes again and this time the face above her swam into blurry focus. Professor Snape. She wondered why she was laying with her head in his lap while he was bent over her with a concerned expression.

"Was it the Bok Choy?" she asked.

A smile flickered across his lips. "Well, if you've regained your idiotic sense of humor, I assume that means you're going to live. I would hate to explain to your parents that you died while using advanced dark magic. I think your mother would skewer my entrails with her knitting needles."

"Probably." Ginny licked her lips as she tried to focus through her confusion. "Can I have a drink of water?"

Snape summoned a glass from the nearby table and she tilted her head to take a sip. Her throat was dry, and she could feel her hair damp and sticky against her neck. She struggled up and tugged off her robe, leaving nothing but her underclothes. "Too hot in here," she explained, sagging back against his lap as he gave her a strange look.

He felt her forehead. "No wonder, you're burning up with fever. I think I'll have to call a healer."

"No." She clutched his sleeve. "No healers, they can't know what we're doing. You help me." She squeezed his hand and looked at him with pleading eyes.

He raised his eyebrow and gave her a sardonic smile. "You trust me?"

Ginny only nodded, and then moaned as she shut her eyes again. "I keep seeing lights."

"And well you should," he said. "I expected more than such rash, reckless behavior from you, Ginny. I know it's difficult, but you must overcome your foolish Gryffindor instincts." He looked at her severely. "You could have died."

He rose and began to rummage through his wardrobe. "I can't imagine what led you to try to use a spell of that level. You only saw as much as you did because you took me by surprise, and because our mental bond was still so strong. If something had happened to you...." He broke off and pulled a vial from a shelf. He helped prop her into a sitting position and held it to her lips. "Drink this."

She shrank back, then placed her fingers gently upon his wrist to steady the bottle. She took a large swallow and turned away with a disgusted face.

"The whole thing," he said, glaring at her. Obediently she swallowed and felt a burning in her chest and stomach. The pain faded to a dull ache and her vision cleared somewhat.

"Things are still blurry," she murmured.

"And will be for a while. You're fortunate it's no worse."

His voice scared her. "What could have happened?"

"Insanity, Blindness, Death...What possessed you?"

"I don't know. It was like I couldn't think straight. The memories... Having someone see that." She shivered and hugged herself.

"Just a moment," Snape said, retrieving a blanket from his bed. "Here." He wrapped it around her shoulders and started to withdraw.

"No," Ginny said through her chattering teeth. She was starting to shake, and now that her headache was gone, the memory kept coming back. She remembered clearly how it felt, the hard stone floor, the pain. All the years of control, of repression, had done nothing but contain it. "Stay with me until it stops."

She closed her eyes and tried to focus, tried to acknowledge the thoughts, release them, control them. But the flashes kept coming. Her knee sock pushed down... Her hair tangled in his hands... She whimpered and tried to breathe. She felt Snape sit down next to her and tentatively touch her shoulder with his fingertips.

She continued to breathe, the sound loud in her ears. "Talk to me about something," she said finally when the vision began to fade.

His voice was dry. "When did you kiss Malfoy?"

"Which time?" she asked, trying to smile.

"There was more then once?"

"I told you I know what I'm doing. Don't worry, I can handle it."

"Don't underestimate him."

"I'm not. But you shouldn't underestimate me." She raised her head and looked at him seriously. "I won't make any mistakes."

"What if he wants to take it further?"

"Then I do what I have to do," she said. Their eyes met and he nodded once.

They sat there until her shivering stopped. She looked at the flickering lantern and asked, "Was that her?"

"It's none of your concern Weasley," he said in a cold voice. He stood up and went out onto the balcony.

Ginny watched his back for a while. The unyielding black of his robes spoke more clearly than he ever could. Leave me alone. Don't ask me. Don't try to understand me. She slowly rose and padded over on unsteady feet. From here she could clearly see the bench she'd fallen asleep on last night.

"Mars is bright tonight," she said in a low voice, looking up at the sky.

He choked for a moment and then looked at her with an amused expression. "I knew Dumbledore shouldn't have hired that centaur."

"I don't even take divination." Ginny gave him an exasperated look and pointed to a bright planet near the full moon. "If you squint it becomes more of an orange color." She narrowed her eyes and looked at it thoughtfully for a moment, then pursed her lips and asked, "Who was she?"

"Honestly Weasley, you're like a terrier with a rat. Can we please drop this subject? I am not going to talk about it."

"You look at me and you think of her." He took a sharp, quick breath, and his eyes flickered quickly to her face and then back to the moon.

They both stared at the quiet night sky. Ginny drew the blanket around her a little tighter and leaned on the railing, wisely remaining silent.
"You remind me of her," he said finally. "The way you speak, your foolish bravery. She was like that."

"Why did you hate her?"

"Because she was the worst thing that ever happened to me. And also the best." He hesitated and she continued to stare at the stars as if she was only casually listening.

He seized her chin with his hand and forcefully turned her face so he could look at it more closely in the moonlight. "She used to hold her head just like that, like she could take on the world; so determined to do the right thing. You Gryffindors and your damned pride." His hand dropped down to his side and he looked away as if aware he'd said too much.

Ginny narrowed her eyes, as the memory of a photo album rose, unbidden, Harry showing her photos of his family. Harry's mother...

"Why did you hate her? Because she didn't want you?" Ginny tried to make the harsh question as gentle as possible, but Snape didn't seem to notice.

"No," he said, after thinking for a moment. "Because I hated what she was, hated everything she believed in, hated the fact that she was the only one who ever stood up for me. The only one who would even talk to me. She never understood the animosity between the purebloods and the muggle borns. She pitied me." His voice sounded bitter. "I never could understand why she would continually go out of her way to defend me when I was only vicious in return. One day she finally got the point. Her eyes grew cold and she never spoke to me again. She married that arrogant bastard and then..." He broke off and turned towards her, his expression blank.

"She died," Ginny finished.

"She died," he agreed.

Ginny looked up at him, really looked. The years had not been good to him; she could barely recognize the boy he'd been in the memory. His jowls were saggy and his nose was too big. His lank hair was thick and dull black as a cauldron bottom. Faint acne scars were visible under his sallow skin, and deep frown lines hovered around his mouth. Her eyes dropped to his hands, they were scrubbed clean; she'd never noticed that before. The nails so clean, the skin around them was a raw red half moon, as if they had been scourgified, or scoured with her mother's harsh floor scrubbing soap. She remembered the boys in his memory pelting him with soap, and his dirty bedraggled appearance. Lily Potter had seen something in him, and maybe because of her, eventually so had he. Ginny flinched as she thought of how her classmates mocked Snape, made fun of him. Her eyes were opening to the fact that he was a person, a person like her. He had started out to be one thing, and chosen to be another. She thought again how lonely his life must be, how lonely it had always been and knew now why he had no scent, wanted no memory, even olfactory, of his boyhood. She looked up at him through veiled eyes and wondered if anyone else had ever noticed it before.

"I won't tell anyone."

His black eyes were unfathomable pools of ink. "I know."