Some Days I Wish I Were in Slytherin

Ch 14: Hardening the Heart

Ginny stumbled into the lobby early the next morning; she'd slipped out before Draco or Julian had awoken, leaving a note for them with the house elves. She had practically run the two kilometers to her inn, ignoring the painful stitch in her side, her only thought to put as much distance between herself and the Malfoys as possible. The horrors of the previous day were still fresh in her mind and although she had hidden the fear Draco had ignited in her, the control was slipping.

Early morning risers looked up from their tea cups in consternation as she made her way past them, her hair wind blown, a black cloak drawn over her dress, which though no longer ripped, was still marred by little flecks of blood. She went up the stairs to the second floor, trying to suppress the feeling of near hysteria that had been threatening to spill over since yesterday.

She stopped at Professor Snape's doorway, took a deep breath, and tapped softly on his door, hoping he was already awake. Within seconds, he opened the door. He was wearing his pajamas, a mug of tea in his hand. His dark eyes took in her appearance and without a word he pulled her inside, closed the door behind them, and cast the secrecy charm.

Her breath was rattling in her chest, and she dropped the cloak heedlessly to the floor as she walked unseeing into the room. She gripped the back of a chair tightly in her hands and looked at the remains of Snape's meager breakfast. Her breathing steadied as she forced herself to think about tea and toast, routine things, not violent, not painful. She was doing well until he spoke.

"What happened?" His hand came down on her shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"Professor," she murmured. She blinked back her tears and turned to face him. His face was somber and before she could stop herself she began to babble, all her fears, all her uncertainties about the previous day. She began with the conversation with Julian and progressed to the attack on the Muggles. She lingered longest over that, over her anxiety and the guilt she'd felt for the ones who died. Finally, she told him about Draco. He listened throughout, poured her a cup of tea, and settled her down in a chair, perching on an ottoman in front of her. He nodded thoughtfully at first, speaking reassuring words that she could have done nothing more to help the Muggles, but it wasn't until she spoke of Draco that he grew concerned. She saw his sharp eyes go from the blood on her dress to the still fresh bruise on her neck.

He pulled her hair back from her neck and then looked at her intently. "Did he hurt you?"

Ginny sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, pressing her fingers to her forehead. When she opened her eyes again he was still staring at her with the same strange expression. "He could have," she admitted. "I am capable of defending myself, and I think I talked him down. But he scared me." She felt herself beginning to calm down; the need for tears seemed to have passed. Blurting out all her worries and concerns to him had relegated them to surmountable obstacles instead of the terrors they had seemed when she'd awoken panic stricken in Draco's bed.

He offered her the plate of toast. She took a piece and nibbled on it quietly while he poured some more tea and then sat back down on the ottoman.

"He gets that from his father," Snape said. "Not much of that goes on in the old families anymore. Malfoy perhaps was the worst. At least in his generation." He looked pensive for a moment then directed his eyes back to her. "I have to say, I had hoped that Draco, at least, might learn to control his compulsions."

Ginny brushed toast crumbs off her fingers with a napkin, then threw it down on the table. "Physical violence I can handle. I wrestled enough with my brothers growing up. It was ..." her hand went up to the front of her dress. "For a minute I wasn't sure I would be able to get him to stop."

"You did though."

"Yes," Ginny said. She stood up and walked over to the window, placing her palms on the cool glass. There was a woman in the courtyard doing martial arts with a young boy in the eerie early morning light. The first rays of the sun were radiating though the mist, the rosy fingers gently touching the tile rooftops. She had wanted this, she thought. She had wanted to make a contribution to the fight against Voldemort.

"It's not too late," Snape said. "You could still go back." His voice wasn't sneering or gloating like she would have expected it to be, instead it almost felt like he cared about her, wanted to protect her.

Her whole life people had tried to protect her, to shield her, from all the silly childhood hurts, but when she'd really needed protection no one had noticed. She too had a stake in Voldemort's defeat - to finally put to rest the ghost of Tom Riddle. She turned to Snape, her jaw set.

"No. I don't want to quit. I want you to teach me how to deal with the fear, to ignore the pain."

His expression was unreadable. "Very well, then we shall begin in earnest."

They began that day. No longer did they hide behind the pretense of the conference lectures. They attended some of them, the important and useful ones, but the majority of their time was spent in other ways.

Ginny spent the next two weeks reading a complex treatise on the Dark Arts, as well as vast volumes of history that Professor Binns had never touched on. They were fascinating, albeit terrifying, especially the graphic depictions of war and torture, and seemed to be part of a different wizarding world than the one she knew.

They took field trips to Muggle slaughter houses, red light districts, and dark hidden alleys inhabited by mysterious individuals who covered their faces and had no names. She found herself watching the beating of a boy on the street, his high pitched screams piercing the night sky as his assailants laughed and stuck him. Snape pulled her face into his cloak and led her away before it got to the violent end they both knew was coming. The foul stench of death and inhumanity pursued her all the way home and seemed to permeate the air for days.

The slaughter house was a daily destination, and Ginny quickly learned not to avert her eyes when the soft eyed rabbits were killed and skinned or the screaming piglets set to bleed. She kept her expression cold and stony as the blood spattered the worn concrete and the animal's struggles finally ceased. It was difficult for a girl who had once been a soft hearted rescuer of baby mice, but Snape was a stalwart presence behind her, his grip tight on her shoulder. After the first week, she made the pilgrimage alone to gather the fresh blood for his potions with her own hands, her heart saddened, but stronger, more resilient for the lesson.

One night they went to a high class brothel with some of Julian's friends. She and Snape had sipped wine in the elaborate sitting room while the men danced or disappeared with their choices. She'd been appalled, haunted by the faces of the young children scattered amongst the half clad women, waiting for the men to have their pick. She had clutched Snape's hand tightly under the table when one of the men had taken a young girl upstairs. Snape had taken one look at her stricken face and muttered an excuse to the men, who had laughed and sent her knowing looks. After, alone in her room, she'd fallen into a fitful sleep, disturbed by terrifying dreams of the chamber and of Tom. She'd woken up sweaty and disoriented and had crept through the sleeping hotel to Snape's door, still shaking from the nightmare. He admitted her without a word into his room and held her till she fell asleep; his stiff arms a buffer which kept her safe and her dreams peaceful.

It was not all blood and terror. Her weekends were spent with Draco. He treated her with excessive courtesy and seemed almost afraid to touch her as if he thought she, like the delicate figurine, would break if he wasn't careful. They spent the time seeing the sights or enjoying dinner and the theater with Erasmus and Daisy. She found herself surprisingly at ease with them. Their barriers had fallen, and they were actually quite pleasant when they wanted to be.

Her favorite times though, were the evenings during the week she spent with Snape. As the days passed, he seemed to relax around her. His cold words and detached gaze could still stun her, yet immediately after, he would unexpectedly read aloud from his notes and ask her about a turn of phrase, or collapse on the bed (the only comfortable spot in the room) next to her, shoving her over to make room for his long legs, the two of them reading their respective research while a summer storm pounded overhead.

Some nights they stayed up late plotting, for he was less reticent now with his plans for her. As they were both insomniacs, it became only natural to stay up late into the evening, with her tossing out mad suggestions and him dressing them down with his usual acerbic comments, but listening nonetheless.

One such evening, the tiny sliver of moon was high in the sky and in a strange restless move he suggested a walk to clear their thoughts and maybe provide some inspiration. Ginny was eager to get out of the hotel, so midnight found the two of them slipping out into the darkness. There were few people out in the streets at this time of night, so they had the quiet paths of the park and the riverbank to themselves. They wandered in silence for a while, until they reached a small walled compound. Snape turned to her and gave her one of his rare smiles, then helped her over the low stone wall. She landed with a soft thump on the grass and he climbed over it a moment later. The garden was full of flowers and grasses. The splashing sounds of a small stream echoed from a distant corner and in the foreground was a miniature temple. He led her forward and they paused in front of the edifice. It was twice as tall, perhaps, as he was, its roof and walls composed of what would in daylight likely be tiles in brilliant shades of blue and green. In the moonlight it had a dark, mysterious effect that was nonetheless soothing. A small altar in front smoked with incense, and flowers were heaped on the ground around it.

The setting was peaceful, but Ginny looked over at Snape, puzzled as to why he'd brought her here. He gestured for silence and led her past the temple into a vast garden. At the front of the property was a small house, its arched beams reaching to the sky, its tile roof shining silver. Lights were on and Ginny could hear the sound of laughter. Snape started to walk forward, but she hung back.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. He turned to her with an exasperated look as the door of the house opened.

"Ah Severus! We were just speaking of you, what a pleasant coincidence you decided to take a walk in our garden."

Ying's graying head and sparkling dark eyes poked through the opening. She smiled widely when she saw Ginny. "And you've brought our pupil. Humphrey will be delighted my dear, we've told him so much about you." She disappeared inside, "Humphrey! We have guests."

"You could not have had the sense to remain silent for a moment longer?" Snape said, giving Ginny a glare. "Twenty years and they always know when I'm coming."

She laughed and walked past him into the house. "Maybe next time you'll clue me in on your plans before you toss me over the wall."

"Perhaps," he said. "Assuming there will be a next time." He swept majestically into the kitchen, which amused her, considering the Muggle clothing he was wearing.

Ginny was introduced to Humphrey and the Chinese equivalent to Butterbeer. They stayed late, talking with their hosts. Ginny was drawn to the old man and settled down on the floor next to his chair to answer his questions about Hogwarts and Dumbledore. She felt oddly at peace when speaking to him, all the troubles and worries of the past few weeks vanishing, if only for a few hours.

Snape made their excuses when Ying's eyes started to droop. Ginny hugged the tiny woman, and then went over to say good bye to Humphrey. She gave him a hug and promised to visit again before she left. He smiled at her and spoke softly, so she had to bend close to hear him.

"You are an old soul, Ginny, and a true friend. Always be there for him, he needs it more then you will ever know."

"As I need him," she said, giving the old man a kiss on the cheek and squeezing his hand.

He laughed under his breath. "You are wiser then he thinks child."

They walked slowly back towards the inn, following the twisting curve of the river. The moon was lower in the sky, and the night air was still. As they walked they passed a young couple entwined in each others arms on the river bank. Snape snorted and she had the distinct feeling he would have loved to pull out his wand and send them packing with a curse. She drew him to a stop a short way down the path and sank to a bench overlooking the water. Despite all the things they had been discussing recently, there was one topic she had been afraid to broach. The darkness seemed to shroud them both, and the open air seemed a more likely place then his bedroom to ask the question. She gave a quick look around her, cast the secrecy charm, and turned to him.

"Did you tell Julian we were lovers?"

He looked startled at the question but recovered quickly. "Not in so many words," he replied. "He assumed such, and I did not bother to correct him." His answer surprised her; she had expected him to deny it.

"And why is that?"

Snape looked at the water for a few moments and then back at her, his fingers compulsively shredding a flower he had picked along the way. "I would expect you remember our excursion to the brothel, Miss Weasley? The only reason people like Malfoy could conceive I would take any interest in you would be if we were having relations of a ... sexual nature. I didn't realize he had told you; I should have expected it though." He looked at her intently, but she kept her features calm. Evidently reassured she was not going to run off screaming, he continued. "The advantage is that by being associated with me in that manner, people have to draw one of two conclusions; either I am so charming I swept you off your feet, or you are much more manipulative then they originally thought." He gave her a dry look. "Which do you think they will believe?"

He tossed the pieces of flower to the ground and wiped his pollen stained fingers on his handkerchief. "I can assure you that every single one of them has come up with at least five motivations behind both of our actions, possibly many we have not even considered. If we neither confirm nor deny the rumors, the necessary conclusion is for them to speculate we are together for some nefarious reason and they'll give us a wide berth."

Ginny looked at him in bewilderment, despite the political texts she was studying, she was far out of her depth when it came to Slytherin intrigue. She thought over his words and slowly began to make some sense of the puzzle.

"So what you're saying, basically, is that they won't know what to think of me that I'm publicly seeing Malfoy and likely privately seeing a much older man with a checkered past, so they'll assume I'm plotting something dreadful and want to stay out of my way?"

Snape sneered a little." To put it very basically, yes. I do not expect you to understand the subtle nuances of the deception, but that is the gist."

"What happens if Draco finds out?"

"He won't," Snape said. "No one is ill bred enough to tell him. Also, they're afraid of what I might do to them." His black eyes glittered dangerously, and he gave her a grim little smile.

"Of course," he added. "I can understand that the thought of people thinking we're together must be distressing." He pulled her to her feet and began to walk away. Ginny didn't move, and after a few steps he stopped and glared back at her.

"It's not distressing," she said, jogging to catch up with him. She noticed that both of them were careful not to look at the other, keeping their eyes instead on the path. He offered her his help to get over a rocky portion ahead, and she didn't pull away when they passed the spot, instead she tucked her hand more firmly under his arm. It felt comforting in an odd way.

"That will be beneficial I suppose," he said finally. "If we ever need to convince people, I mean. An occasional touch or look in public should suffice. Julian's group is already abuzz with this latest piece of gossip." His voice dipped with disgust at the word. "We are seen together often, and you've been witnessed leaving my room late at night. Circumstantial evidence, I admit, yet damning in their eyes."

A mischievous thought crossed Ginny's mind at the uncomfortable look on his face. "Are you sure, Professor?" she asked, giving him a coy smile. "I can put on a much more convincing act if you'd like."

His arm stiffened. "That will not be necessary Miss Weasley."

"That's too bad," she said. The words brought her up short. Was she flirting with Snape?

Admittedly there had been that ill advised night she'd thrown herself at him, but since then they'd been nothing but circumspect with each other. The thought should have bothered her, but she realized suddenly it didn't. She liked Snape, really liked him as a person, evil glares and all. There was a wry sarcastic wit and quiet intelligence under the façade that appealed to her. She felt comfortable with him, could be herself. She tugged on his arm and stopped in the path giving him a bright flirtatious glance.

"Not even a kiss?" she asked.

For a second his face was stunned, and just as quickly his usual stern reserve was back. "No," he said, regarding her suspiciously. "Not even a kiss."

She tried unsuccessfully not to smile. Then she began to laugh. She laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. He scowled t her, but the more he did, the harder she laughed.

"Pray tell, Miss Weasley. What is so humorous about this situation?"

"You," she sputtered, wiping her eyes with her free hand, "terrified of me kissing you."

"I would hardly say that's the case, Miss Weasley. It's just ... inappropriate, I am your teacher."

She smiled at him, letting go of his arm and squeezing his hand. "Yes," she said. "But you're also my friend." He gave her an imperious look, but she noted he didn't release her hand until they reached the inn.

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The next night they took a short trip to Beijing's equivalent of Knockturn Alley for potions ingredients. Snape was working on a potion he hoped would prevent the drinker from being able to cast an Unforgivable Curse. The potion, which included Ginny's hard earned fresh pig's blood, was highly experimental and dangerous dark magic in its own right.

Ginny finished shredding a large quantity of pale, hairless skin, hoping fervently it wasn't human, and settled down with a historical account of espionage tactics used in Grindelwald's day. It was not particularly encouraging, as the current chapter had reached the point where the spy was captured by Muggles and executed.

A loud knock on the door disturbed the quiet of the room. Ginny looked up from her book, and Snape turned from his Cauldron, their eyes going first to the door and then to each other. Snape pulled his wand and muttered a quick spell. The words Avery and Goyle appeared on the door in flowing green script then disappeared. He jumped up from his cauldron and with a second wave of his wand, the cauldron, his materials, and Ginny's book were banished to the cupboard.

He handed her an open book, sat down on the bed, and leaned in to read over her shoulder. She felt his arm snake around her waist and the warm weight of his hand on her thigh.

"Enter," he said in a cold voice. He looked up from the book and waved his wand at the door, causing it to open instantly and revealing two men, one tall and meaty, the other with a slightly hunched back and sinister blue eyes.

"Avery, Goyle. To what do I owe the honor of your call?" he said in a smooth voice, the sneer on his lips barely discernible.

"Good evening Severus, I hope we're not interrupting something," Avery said.

Ginny looked up at him, and the undisguised contempt and hatred in his eyes made her wince. She felt her cheeks grow warm and averted her gaze, focusing on the book in her hands. It appeared to be a volume of poetry, but at the bottom a small line of print began to scroll across. 'Death Eaters. Play along and we'll be fine."

"Not at all, Avery," Snape said, sliding his hand down to her knee. "Have you met Virginia?"

Avery's eyebrow shot up. "Weasley?" He smiled at her, revealing sharp teeth, and said, "Not formally I believe." He turned to Snape. "So this is what's been keeping you so quiet Severus. Here I'd begun to think it was something else."

Snape tensed beside her, but he merely smirked. "Your concern is touching. Now, if you've business to discuss..." He brought his hand up possessively to the back of Ginny's neck and said to her, "Why don't you go run a bath, pet?"

Ginny could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she slowly untangled herself from Snape's arm. Play along, Snape had said. She ought to make it look authentic.

"Of course," she said. She stood up and gave Avery a slow smile, then turned back and kissed Snape. For an instant she felt his sharp intake of breath, then his hand was behind her head and his lips parted under hers. A strange thrill went through her, partly at the dangerous game they were playing but also at the feeling of his mouth under her own.

She pulled away and whispered loud enough for the other men to hear. "Don't be too long." She walked into the bathroom, the book of poetry under her arm, her back burning with the sensation of all three men's eyes following her.

Once inside, she closed the door and with a wave of her wand set the bathtub to filling. Under cover of the roaring water, she placed her ear against the door and tried to overhear the conversation.

"--daughter?" A laugh, followed by a low grunt she assumed to be Goyle.

"That is none of your concern, Avery. Now, what brings you here?"

"His Lordship is concerned he hasn't heard from you of late. He wants to know what you know of Dumbledore's plans."

"Little, as you know. Would you care for a drink?" She heard the sound of ice hitting a glass and drinks being poured, and then Snape spoke again. "After the idiocy at the Ministry last month, that fool Fudge insisted I be kept out of things as much as possible. Dumbledore, simpleton that he is, trusts me implicitly, but I felt it would be better to keep under cover here, rather than rouse their suspicions by poking into things too soon."

"But Potter -"

"Potter will keep. Dumbledore has never revealed where he is hidden during the summer, yet he always shows up for the school year. The boy isn't going anywhere."

"Does your girl know?"

"Of course not - She would tell me if she did. She has written her family, but even they don't know where he is. Dumbledore is keeping the boy under lock and key, but it is no matter, he shall be ours in the end."

"Will she help you?"

"Of course. Why do you think she is here? She will be a useful ally for us against the boy. He will never suspect one of his friends to be plotting against him. As for the matter of the council, I suspect she will be useful there too."

"What do you mean?" Goyle finally spoke. "Old Malfoy is in charge of the council."

"Precisely, Goyle. I see now where your son received his sharp wit. Yes, Malfoy is in charge of the council. He and his allies have been a thorn in the Dark Lord's side far too long. For years they have refused to show fealty to our master, and now Julian is threatening to take his grandson in the same direction. That is where Virginia comes in."

"I fail to see how," Avery said.

Ginny noticed that the bathwater was beginning to overflow the tub, and with a muttered curse she went to turn it off. Steam clouded the bathroom, and in the silence she could hear the men's next words.

"--with young Malfoy wrapped around her finger, we will have the future of the council where we want them. I have already spoken to his Lordship on this matter. He is very ... pleased, to have another ally and has entrusted me with her training." The cruelty in his voice sent a shiver down her spine.

"How do you know you can trust her? Last time we saw her, she was fighting beside Potter." Avery said.

"I have the matter firmly in hand, Avery. She is loyal to me and to our cause. You need not question that. I have found she is much more then she appears on the surface." Ginny felt the book grow warm in her hand and opened it. The words 'I need you to prove yourself to them. Wait for my call' flashed briefly and then disappeared.

Predictably, Avery rose to Snape's comment. "Don't you mean underneath the sheets, Severus? Tell me, are you enjoying having an impressionable young woman at your command again? Does she like it when you torture her? Or perhaps you've gone soft in the years since your last lover."

Ginny didn't need to see the cold anger in Snape's eyes to know it was there. The words 'Be ready' flickered on the page, and with a start she set the book down and transfigured her robe into a thin dressing gown.

"That is none of your concern Avery. Now I suggest you take your leave."

There was the thud of a glass hitting a table, and the sound of someone standing up. "No need to be upset, Severus, just an old friend asking a few questions. You know, she reminds me of that little Muggle girl Crabbe had a few years back. Now there was a girl who could ..."

"Crucio!" Snape said. Ginny dug her fingernails into her hand as the sound of Avery's screams echoed in the room. This was what dealing with Death Eaters brought you, she reminded herself, be strong, be cruel.

The room echoed with his cries for a moment and then Snape's cold, foreboding voice spoke. "Never speak of her that way. She is a pureblood witch and you will not compare her to Muggle filth. You will apologize to her." She heard him approach the door and knock softly. "Virginia, will you come out here for a moment."

She pulled the sheer robe more tightly around her nakedness and opened the door, setting her features into a look of disdain. She could feel Snape's stare on her when she emerged from the bathroom, but she instead looked at Avery who was a quivering ball of flesh on the floor.

"Severus, the bath water is getting cold," she said in a bored voice, bringing her eyes up to his face, bypassing Goyle who was gaping openly.

She could almost swear Snape wanted to smile, but instead he took her hand and pulled her forward. "Avery here has something to say to you, pet." He nudged Avery with his foot and the man pulled himself up to his knees. He scowled, but his eyes flickered to Snape's wand.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled through clenched teeth.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "For what exactly?"

"For saying you reminded me of a Muggle girl."

"Really?" Ginny said, her voice low. She glanced up at Snape. "I take it you punished him?" She let herself smile when he nodded, and then looked back at Avery. "Do it again."

Snape brought his wand down, and in a flash of red, Avery was writhing on the floor in agony, his limbs contorting, his screams making the hair stand up on her arms. Blood trickled from the sides of his mouth and his eyes were wide and pleading. Ginny felt bile rise in her throat, but at the same time her heart pounded and she felt the urge to laugh. She swallowed it forcefully and continued to stare coldly at Snape's victim, letting a little smile twitch the edges of her lips. At last he was silent, beyond an occasional whimper, and Ginny looked up to meet Goyle's wide eyed stare.

"I do so love to hear them scream," she turned to Snape. "Are you done yet?"

He slipped a hand underneath her robe and rubbed her shoulder like a cat, his fingers stroking the white skin, while considering the two men. "I don't know, Gentlemen, is our business finished?"

"Yes," stammered Goyle. He helped the weakened Avery to his feet, and the two of them made their way to the door. It had no more than shut behind them when Ginny tore herself from Snape and ran to the bathroom, vomiting her dinner into the toilet. She lay down on the floor and rested her forehead against the cool tile. Behind her, she heard Snape come in and run water into the sink.

"Here," he said, handing her a glass of water and a washcloth.

She lifted her head and took a long gulp of the water and wiped her face before she was able to look at him. "Does it get easier?" she asked.

"No," he said. "But you'll be able to handle it better. You did very well by the way." He hauled her to her feet and they went back out into the room. "The comment about the bath water was particularly enjoyable."

She sat on the bed and pulled her feet up under her, shivering a little. "Won't you get in trouble for using the curse on him?" she asked.

Snape shook his head and transfigured her robe into a warm flannel gown. "You're cold," he said, sitting down next to her and rubbing his hands together as if unsure how to answer her question. "You need to understand about men like Avery. Goyle is too stupid. He follows whoever is the strongest, but Avery, he'll bully anyone he thinks is afraid of him. He won't think you're weak now."

"But won't they tell the Dark Lord?" she asked.

"I hope so, after all that trouble," he said. "I'm certain that is why he sent them in the first place. Not to learn about Potter, but to check up on us. We've given them something good to tell him." She gave him a questioning look. "Believe me, he'll be pleased."

She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Do you think I'll ever understand them?"

"No. You are not like them. But, that doesn't mean you cannot learn their ways and be able to anticipate their actions." He raised his hand and began to stroke her hair, almost absently, she thought.

"It was strange," she admitted. "When you put the curse on Avery, I was sickened, but at the same time I felt this other feeling. I felt," she hesitated for a moment and lifted her head to look him in the eye. "Pleased."

He made a strange noise that was halfway between a sigh and a laugh. "Satisfying isn't it?" he asked. "Seeing your enemy writhing on the floor. Remember though, your first reaction was disgust. You have to make sure you never forget that. That you don't lose yourself in the hate."

"You have," she said.

He was quiet for a long time and stared straight ahead as if at something only he could see. "Yes," he said. "I'm a lost cause. But I refuse to let you be what I have become. No matter how real this appears, remember who you really are. Don't lose that part of you."

Ginny reached out her hand and lightly touched his arm. "I don't think you're a lost cause." It was true, she thought, she didn't. They sat in silence, the flickering light of the candelabra throwing dancing shadows upon the walls. The clock said it was almost midnight, but as on the previous nights, Ginny felt not the least bit tired. She traced little patterns on the blanket with her fingers and finally asked. "Does it bother you? Pretending that we're lovers?"

He pressed his lips together in a firm line and at first she thought he might not answer the question. "I don't like the fact that people think that of you, but I realize it is necessary to hide the truth. My lovers tend to have a certain ... reputation."

"Did you really torture them?"

"I cannot explain that to you," he said. "It was necessary to the part I was playing. It is the person the Death Eaters know. The cruel sadist is a part I've learned to play too well."

"I suppose. People expect it of you, I think, cruelty that is." She leaned forward a little, and saw a shadow briefly blot out the small strip of light under the door. "Do you think they're watching us?"

"Undoubtedly," Snape sighed. "It might be a long wait."

"It doesn't matter." Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "I've gotten rather used to spending my nights here." She stole a look at him. He was contemplating the door thoughtfully and appeared not to be listening to her. "I'm going to miss this when we leave," she said.

He turned as if startled, then sneered. "Miss staying the night?"

She shook her head. "Miss you, miss this, our talks. It won't be the same at Hogwarts. We'll go back to the way we were, and I'll be trying to convince everyone I'm not out of my mind for dating Malfoy."

"We need to be careful with him. He could be dangerous if you hurt him."

"I won't," she stood up facing the head of the bed, pulled the blanket down, and began to rearrange the pillows. She smoothed the sheet with trembling hands. "He thinks I'm in love with him."

"Are you?" he asked.

"It would be stupid to be wouldn't it? Dangerous."

"That wasn't an answer." She could feel his eyes boring into her back, and her heart gave a strange little thump.

"Does it matter?" she asked. "Do you care?" She slipped under the covers and turned to face him.

His black eyes regarded her somberly. "I want you to be cautious in your dealings with him. You cannot allow emotion to blind you. It could be deadly."

"Don't worry. It won't." They stared at each other for a moment, silent. Snape finally stood up and extinguished the candles with his wand. She could hear the sound of him changing into his nightclothes in the dark, both of them cognizant of the fact that she really hadn't answered his question. She felt the bed dip as he crawled in on the other side.

It was crazy, really, if she thought about it, that she was sharing a bed with him willingly, and not because she was sick, or too tired to leave the room. This was Snape. The potions professor everyone hated. Someone who was twice her age, maybe more. A man she had barely glanced at a few months before, and who suddenly felt closer to her then anyone. Ron would kill her, she thought. The thought brought a smile to her lips, and she laughed low under her breath.

"Does something amuse you, Virginia?" he asked, rolling over. She could see him scowl dimly in the darkness.

"I was thinking of my brothers," she said. "What they would say if they saw this."

"They would probably kill me, and then chain you in your room till you're thirty," he replied. "Which reminds me--" He sat up and looked at her sternly. "I thought I had made it clear there was to be no kissing."

"Funny," said Ginny, trying to keep a straight face. "You didn't seem to mind it at the time."

"I was acting Weasley, as were you."

"Mmm hmm," she replied. "You just keep telling yourself that." She rolled over so he wouldn't see her smile.

"Weasley," he growled, pulling her around to face him.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked innocently.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're an incorrigible brat?" With practiced ease he pinned her arms in front of her with one hand and brought his face close to hers. His eyelids were heavy and he gave her a languorous smile that made her stomach flutter a little.

"I've been told that before, yes," she replied. She swallowed hard as he ran his fingers down her cheek. He was so near she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck.

"Do you know what happens to brats?" he asked, his voice dangerous. She shook her head, her heart pounding. He brought his head down and his lips almost but not quite touched her skin.

"Absolutely nothing," he whispered. He released her and retreated to his side of the bed. "Tit for tat, Virginia. Don't play with things you don't understand. Just because I refused you one time, don't think you can flaunt yourself in front of me. You deserve better than that." He paused and his eyes were strangely haunted. "We deserve better than that. Do you understand me?"

She could feel hot color rising to her cheeks and a strange whirl of emotion inside her. She nodded again, unable to speak. Tears stung her eyes, from the feeling that she'd disappointed him, but also from a strange sorrowful longing she didn't understand.

"Professor?" she said finally. "Have you ever felt something for someone and not known why? As if there was this locked door inside you and only they could turn the key?"

He closed his eyes and then opened them again. "Every day," he replied.

His eyes were like a bottomless well into which she longed to throw herself. She covered her face with her hands and muttered into them, "Does it bother you that it's ... unattainable?"

The room was silent for a moment and then the sheets rustled and she felt him move closer. "No." he answered, his voice raw. "It's enough to know that it exists." He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. She let her hands drop and buried her face in his neck.

"I don't understand," she whispered. "Why?" Tears spilled from her eyes and dripped onto his skin.

"Someday you'll understand. And someday, if you still wish it ..." He stopped and pulled away. "I am old Ginny. You have your whole life before you. I am your teacher and your friend. That is all I can be."

"I understand," she said. She stretched her hand out hesitantly and placed it on his cheek, running her fingertips over his jaw and her thumb over his sharp cheek bone. "But promise me you won't forget. Promise me someday."

"I promise." He smiled into her palm and said in a rueful voice she didn't understand, "I always have."

A strange feeling stole over her and before she could stop herself she leaned forward and kissed him softly. He didn't pull back, and she felt the warmth and strength of him spill over into her very being. Finally, she broke away and lay down facing him. His eyes were closed and a look of peace had overtaken him. She watched him until his breathing slowed and she knew he was sleeping. She memorized his face. The harsh, angry features were gentle in sleep. An ache of profound sweetness tempered by despair filled her. He was right. It was enough to know it existed. That it was possible. Somewhere inside she knew that while her mind was hers alone, and her fickle heart belonged to Draco, the deepest, most inner part of her belonged with him. That part could wait. Forever, if need be. It was enough that it was there.