Bedtime Snack

    Severus Snape was sitting up in bed, emerald green woolen bedclothes tugged up to his neck. Though he didn’t know it, this gave him the look of a sad little schoolboy.

    The candlelight in his bedroom was still bright, the fire in the stone hearth still burning fiercely. Severus held an old Muggle book in his hand, and, with a sigh, closed Shakespeare’s Othello with an irritated snap.

    Love, he mused. I was in love, once. But now, so many years later, things like that were worthless to him. He needed power, not love, strength, not friendship. It was late, it occurred to him, gazing out of his small window into the blackness.

    He stood up, a brief wave of cold typical to the dungeons hitting him. He folded his arms for warmth, crossed the cool stone floor, and left the room.

~

    Down the proper hallway, he found the painting. Once, his hand might have jumped forward on instinct, but now the fruit merely brought back painful memories and sorrow. Oh, how many times Potter and Black must have sneaked down here, plotting pranks and mischief as they went. He sighed again, trying to forget, and reached forward.

    He stroked the apple. A small window, barely big enough to see through, appeared at eye-level. This, he grinned to himself, was something the Marauders had not known.

    “How can I help you tonight, sir?” The voice was squeaky, and Severus almost smiled.

    “Er…a ham sandwich, please.” He cleared his throat a bit. “Extra tomato and no mayonnaise, please.”

    “Of course, sir,” said the voice. “Right away, sir.”

    Severus leaned on the wall beside the painting. In a couple of minutes, he heard several equally shrill voices say, “We has your sandwich, sir!”

    About a dozen little hands pushed the plate towards him. The sandwich, as requested, sat in two halves upon a plain white plate, one of those square ones Dumbledore said the chic young Muggles were fond of.

    “Thank you,” he whispered at the painting, as the window closed again.

    He looked along the hallway, then, sure no one was around, sat down in the corridor, cross-legged, plate in his lap, back against the wall.

    He picked one of the halves up, closing his eyes as he tasted it. The seven-grain bread was strangely sweet to him, and the sandwich offered him a sort of comfort. He ate slowly, savoring each bite, and it was nearly one in the morning when he finished.

    He did not stand, but instead rested the plate in his lap again and leaned his head back on the wall behind him.

    “Out for a midnight stroll, Severus?”

    He jumped slightly as Dumbledore came into view. “I didn’t see you there, professor.”

    Dumbledore smiled down at him, eyes twinkling. Then, he did something Severus did not expect; squatted down beside him and studied him for a second.

    “Are you thinking about Lily?”

    Severus looked up at Albus, surprised. “How did you-”

    “Ah,” said Dumbledore, smiling again. “That is one of those things I think it better to keep to myself.”

    Something dark flickered in Snape’s eyes. “Of course, Albus. And yes - I was thinking about her.”

    One of Dumbledore’s knees popped, but he took no notice. “I know you miss her,” he said slowly, carefully. “I do myself, sometimes. It’s hard not to; they were wonderful people.” He considered Severus for a moment.

    “Yes,” said Snape with yet another sigh. He looked down at the plate in his lap. “She was a great person.”

    "Yes," said Dumbledore. "Severus - it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all." Snape looked away, uncomforted.

    Dumbledore smiled again, tilting his head. Severus seemed awkwardly embarrassed, silent, more inhibited than usual.

    “What kind of sandwich did you have?”

    Snape looked up, surprised at the question. “Ham.”

    “Ah,” said Dumbledore again. “No mayonnaise, extra tomato?”

    “How did you-”

    Albus laughed to himself. “I like to help out in the kitchens sometimes when I cannot sleep.” He grinned inwardly again. “My dear Severus, only two teachers are ever out this late at Hogwarts, and I am allergic to tomatoes and have a particular fondness for mayonnaise.”

    Severus laughed, the first time that night. “How do you think of these things, Professor?”

    “I surprise myself sometimes,” said Albus. “Now I suggest you be getting to bed, Severus. I’ll take care of this,” he added, taking the empty plate out of Snape’s lap and helping him to his feet. “I think I’ll go and make myself a sandwich, too. Dobby likes to invent new ones with me, sometimes.” He smiled yet again, and Severus took that as the hint that it was time to leave.

    At the end of the corridor, he turned. He was quite sure he saw a certain old man scramble past the painting with an agility that of a twenty-year old.

~

    Back in his room, Severus undressed quickly, pulling on a set of thick cotton pajamas. He shivered slightly, moving over to stand before his full-length mirror. As usual, he did not like what he saw. He looked away.

    Back in his bed, he stared at the words on the pages of Othello but did not see them. In his mind danced a beautiful red-haired goddess, green eyes sparkling. She smiled at him, and for a while he was warm. Then it faded, as quickly as it had come, and he was left alone, shivering in the little-furnished stone room.

    He smiled to himself, a small smile that held an era of memories and sweet remembrance. The green-eyed lady was enveloped in a poisonous, satiny jade light, and as the thought left his mind, a single tear slid down his face, spattering across the words of Shakespeare.