Sanctuary

"Can anyone give me a sign that identifies a werewolf?"

The class was dead silent. Not a soul stirred for a few seconds. But then he heard a few Gryffindors cough and there was a sound like the attempted stifling of laughter. However, no one responded to the question.

"This question is on your O.W.L.S! You all should know this...!" the teacher pressed, obviously annoyed at the class' ignorance.

A thin, pallid hand shot into the air. The professor's eyes fixed upon the owner of the hand and lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes?" he inquired, acknowledging the student.

"Dilated pupils," replied the boy shortly.

"Correct, Severus! Ten points to Slytherin... anyone else?"

Snape's eyes darted toward the other side of the room, peering through his thin curtain of hair, where most of the Gryffindors were clustered. They glowered at him, but he only smirked, which seemed to sizzle their bacon even more.

A few more hands were raised and more details on werewolves were named. However, no other points were awarded, Severus noted. This made him happier than ever.

"Alright, class, we shall have a quiz on this next time I see you... study, study! I'll not feel any remorse for giving you 'T'," the professor announced as a grave warning. There was a dull drone of exasperated whispers and the shuffling of feet out the doors. Severus aimed to hang back as long as humanly possible, all happiness having withered and died within the dank, inert confines of his emotions. His black eyes immediately lost its joyful glint and it was replaced with his usual combative malice.

Slowly, he gathered his books and stored them in his sack. The teacher merely stared at him, awaiting his exit; so, Severus swept out of the classroom without further ado.

The weather outside was soggy like a piece of bread left out in the rain. The sky hung low and suffocated the earth with humidity and dryness at the same time. And the mist was so thick, that Severus stumbled on several roots and smacked his head on a few overhanging branches before he found his way to his secret hiding place.

Ducking under and around some hanging moss, he came upon a small pond surrounded by massive trees that hung limply around, the breeze fluttering through the vines and leaves. The grass was unkempt and matted, "Much like Potter's hair," he'd thought when he'd first happened on the area. There were little to no flowers nearby, and the ones that were there were most likely poisonous. There was a small swing positioned looking away from the pond, suggesting that the pond may have, at one time, been on the other side of the swing. The little alcove seemed like it would have been a romantic hiding place where two lovers kissed in secret, but was long forgotten after they were gone.

Severus felt much the same... forgotten. Sadly, he placed his bag next to the creaking swing and sat in the grass, just enjoying the peace for a while.

Sanctuary. That was what this place was for him. An escape from the stress, the people... the horrors of living. He had often considered just ending it all, leaving his self worth behind and going on blindly in the dark. His father had given him a dagger long ago. He'd wondered at the time why he would be given such a gift, and why his father had looked so grave when he had bestowed it upon his son. There are two reasons to give your son a weapon, and both of them had to do with death.

Potter and his merry band of fools were not helping matters either. Severus had been desperately inventing new spells to thwart Potter, but to no avail. Whenever he would expose the spell, they would use it themselves, stealing his ideas, his pride, and... his clothing, for that matter. The endless torment made him bent on revenge, and if it weren't for his father's unique, terrifying method of persuasion, all he would do in school is plot against Pinhead Potter.

Severus sighed, calm washing over him as it hadn't done in weeks. He used his sanctuary sparingly, not wanting to be discovered. In desperate times of need, he mostly only needed to remember past times here, and he would feel somewhat better. He reached to his bag and opened it, extracting his Herbology homework. Raising himself and sitting on the swing, he started reading over what he had already written.

Suddenly, he frowned, trying to read a particular couple of words he'd written earlier. There were tiny letters in the top left corner of the paper, which he had undoubtedly scribbled down himself, that read, "Lily Evans" in beautiful script. He smiled, despite himself. His little crush had lasted a lot longer then normal... and would continue to last. She'd defended him many times and for a while he had formed a little fantasy that she did it because it was him. Severus laughed at himself, having abandoned that notion long ago. The sound of his voice rang through and reverberated off the dense wall of trees. He brushed his fingers over the calligraphic letters in her name and he rolled his eyes at himself, smiling freely. 'Fat chance,' he thought blandly.

A man can dream, though, can't he?