A War of Nerves

CHAPTER 12: Scare Tissue

Snape's Motion Detecting Charm went off. Groggily, he pulled back his covers and looked at the clock on the wall; it read past midnight. On further inspection, his charm told him that the person moving around was in the house, so it had to be Lily. He opened his door just in time to hear the front door open and close. He frowned, she wouldn't try escape, would she?

He walked down the stairs and opened the front door. Lily was sitting on the ledge of the stairs, looking out at the stars he presumed. She didn't turn around when he opened the door, so he assumed she wanted to be left alone. He obliged her by closing the door and going back to his room. She wouldn't leave, he knew she wasn't that stupid. But he would have to speak to her in the morning about their situation.

Snape fell back into bed. It was going to be a long however long it was.

Lily hadn't moved in three days. Well, she probably had moved, Snape just wasn't around to notice it. But nevertheless, she had sat on that porch for 72 hours straight. She didn't talk, she didn't move, she barely breathed. The best Snape could figure, she was deep, very deep, in thought. He had talked to Nory. Nory had told him that, "The miss eats the food Nory puts out, but Miss is not talking to Nory."

On the first day, he was sure she would come in and cry, or scream, or do something. But she sat on the steps of his house's porch and didn't come in. Though he suspected she did come in for necessities. It was very odd. He had heard of depression, it was common in Slytherin house, but this was ridiculous, if depression was what this was. But he didn't think so.

It did bother him though, greatly. He didn't know what to think of her, she was a complete mystery. He had even approached her the other day.

"Miss Merrins," he said calmly.

Nothing.

Snape decided to go a different approach. "Miss Potter."

Nothing.

And then, as a last resort, "Lily."

He thought he saw her flinch, but it could have been the wind blowing her coat.

Then he had yelled at her.

Nothing.

He stood directly in front of her.

Nothing. Her eyes were dead, seemingly staring at something, yet not seeing.

He had given up after that.

Snape waited patiently for Dumbledore to call. He wasn't sure what was going on, and was becoming more and more impatient and snappy. But he had found time to catch up with his reading, and some of his potions experiments. He did find Lily distracting though, even if she was just sitting out there, doing nothing, with dead and dull dark green eyes. He found that knowing she was there was almost as distracting as having her there in the first place.

As he lay there in his bed, knowing Lily was out in the cold and had been for almost 72 hours exactly, he thought. He thought about Lily, obviously. How had she survived? Who was she? He had come up with three possibilities: One, Lily was the sister of James Potter, which would explain the hair and skin, but not the eyes. It was the most likely of the three he thought. Two, Lily was Harry's sister...somehow. That would definitely explain the resemblance; even the gold streaks in her eyes, for James had had brown eyes. But it was so far fetched, it would have to been made a major secret, and Snape was sure he would know, Dumbledore would have told him that. Three, she wasn't a Potter at all, and was a servant of Voldemort, making this whole thing a big show distracting them from what Voldemort didn't want them to see. A little far fetched because she would have to fool Dumbledore, but a better possibility. Yet there was something nagging at the back of Snape's mind, something he thought was missing, though what he didn't know.

Snape rolled over in bed, deciding he would think on it.

As soon as he had gotten to sleep, his Motion Detecting Charms went off again. It was Lily, she was moving off the porch. He quickly got out of bed and ran down the stairs, wand in hand.

When he got out the door, he saw Lily standing in the grass. Everything was lit by the moon, which was full, and he saw her silhouette in the dark. She was sobbing loudly hands clenched at her sides.

"Damn you Voldemort! Ya think ya can ruin my life? Ya think ya can defeat me? Ya think ya can jus' come inta this world an' destroy everythin'? I won't let ya! My word ta Merlin I won't! Even if I have ta come an' kill ya with my bare hands, ya disgustin' bastard, I will! I'm a Potter an' I'll not be defeated! Damn you Voldemort!" she cried in anger into the night sky, seeming to talk to the moon, or scream as it were.

Whatever it was, it was encouraging to Snape that she had come back to the world of those with a pulse. She was on fire again, and Snape thought she was beautiful. He tried to tell himself it was just an obsession, it would pass. He had to cool his feelings.

So when in doubt, be rude, sarcastic, and insulting. He clapped his hands sarcastically when she finished. "Bravo, welcome to the land of the living."

She didn't turn around, not immediately at least. She seemed to be trying to stop her tears. After a few deep breaths she turned around slowly, green eyes alight with defiance. He could see the streaks where tears had streamed down her face and felt his hand flinch, itching to touch her. He clenched it at his side.

With no words whatsoever, she walked up the stairs and past him, bumping into his shoulder slightly when she passed. An electric shock felt like it had coursed through his body from where she had touched him. As he was about to say something, she stopped in the doorway, not facing him.

"I wanted ta thank ya. You were very brave. I 'spect you'll be wantin' ta question me, but let's wait fo' the mornin', I've not slept in a while," she said as she walked into the house and up the stairs to the guest room.

That hadn't gone the way Snape had wanted it to. He had wanted to get her angry enough to let some fact about who she was slip. He sighed and figured that he would have plenty of time to get everything out of her he needed.

As he had suspected, Lily was up (before even him) in the morning, looking cleaner, more refreshed, and better all around. She sat at the small table in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the Prophet. She glanced briefly at him before returning to the paper. There was an article on the front about action in the Orkneys.

"It's a complete fabrication o' guesses an' rumors," she said lightly when she saw him reading it.

He grunted. He was not a morning person, and with his luck, Lily was one of those cheery, up-with-the-sun-and-singing-with-the-birds type of person. He sat opposite her, trying to catch her eye, but she pointedly refused to meet his. She was in "agent of Salem's Academy" mode and he knew he'd get no information out of her like that.

"Are we unda' house 'rest (A/N: 'rest = arrest)?" she asked primly, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Essentially," he answered grumpily.

She brought her paper down and looked at him through her messier than normal hair, "Good-morning sunshine," she said with a sarcastic hint to it, a smirk on her lips.

He sneered at her and took his coffee into the other room.

Later, that evening, he found her sitting in his study, reading a thick volume of Archaic Wand Cores. On the desk next to her was Wand Making and You: The Idiots Guide to the Personalized Wand. She wanted to make her own wand? That was fine; she'd never find the ingredients in his house, this one at least. The only reason he had those books was because his mother had been an amateur wand maker.

"Mine is in the hands o' Vold'mort," she explained, not looking up. She scratched some notes on a scroll and went on.

After a few minutes she looked up and said, "Do ya plan on lookin' at me like that all day, I'm sure ya have a life."

"You will answer my questions first," he commanded.

Her eyes closed, apparently trying to keep her cool, and then she said, "Ask away."

"What is your name?"

"Lily Michelle Potter," she replied curtly.

That was too easy.

"Are you the sister of James Potter?"

"No."

"Are you the sister of Harry Potter?"

"No."

"Are you even related to them?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

She looked away, "I'm afraid ya aren't privilege ta that."

He clenched his teeth, Veritaserum was looking really good right now.

"Why are you here?"

She looked into his eyes and said with the up most sincerity, "Ta save the world."

He kept his temper in check, it would do no use to yell, yet at least. "Are you even from America?"

"I was born in England, I was raised in Joe-juh (A/N: I swear that is how they say Georgia, it is like, 'Joe' and 'juh.' I'm not making it up, my cousin visited me last summer and that is how she said it.) and I've lived my las' seven years in Massachusetts," she replied.

She was telling the truth so far, that much he could tell, though he was upset on how she had pointedly avoided his most prominent question.

"Who are your parents?"

"I can't say anythin' otha' than ya know 'em," she replied evasively.

Snape frowned. She was hanging it in front of him and she knew it. He felt his rage boil past melting point.

"Who are you?" he asked in his most dangerous voice.

Her calm face dissolved quickly into a steely one, her eyes flashing with warning. "Wouldn't you like ta know?"

He stood up quickly and so did she, "Ya can't scare me Sev'rus Snape," she hissed.

"I don't think you realize whom you are dealing with, girl," he snapped.

"GIRL!" she shrieked, "GIRL! That is all I am! Some GIRL who plays with her dolls an' occasionally battles Vold'mort an' gets the Cruciatus in her spare time! In that case BOY I suggest ya find anotha' play mate, I'll not participate in yo' mind games!"

"I think you overestimate yourself," he hissed between his teeth. "Maybe you should go back to your dolls."

Then she caught him with her right hook. Damn but it was a good right hook, good enough to break Draco's nose and certainly good enough to give him a solid shiner. He stumbled back a few steps and swore loudly.

He tested his eye gingerly and found it wasn't bleeding, thank Merlin she didn't wear heavy jewelry. She was standing rubbing her hand, "Fuck!" she said as she shook it, trying to lessen the pain.

He took his chance to tackle her to the ground. Catching her off guard with his speed and weight, he knocked the wind out of her and then held her hands pinned over her head.

"How typically Gryffindor of you," he snarled.

"Damn straight," she growled back.

"I think now is a good time for the Veritaserum," he practically cooed at her.

She shivered under him, and that was the time he realized the particular position he had her in. She was breathing hard into his chest, arms pinned above her, black hair spread about her like a halo.

And then he kissed her. It was a lot like their first kiss, hot and passion filled. He pressed down on her with bruising power as he forced his tongue into her sweet mouth. She moaned, and that noise alone did him in, there was no stopping now. Her breasts were pressing into his chest and he felt the heat rise within him. He bit at her lips savagely and like a feral dog attacked her neck and soft spot behind her ear. Her thick moans of pleasure were really all he needed to keep him going.

He finally let go of her hands, which immediately tangled themselves in his hair, so that he could run his down her body. Her legs clenched his waist and ground against his hips sinuously. He had to stifle a moan as she applied pressure to his already throbbing manhood. He ground against her harder and she made a high-pitched sigh he swore he would hear again before the night was over.

Snape felt warm hands creep under his shirt and bring it over his head quickly, and then fumble towards his belt. Then they dove into his boxers, stroking him with just the right amount of pressure. Then he let out a feral growl when he realized she was in control now. He grabbed the hem of her pink shirt and practically ripped it off her head, staring in amazement as he saw she wasn't wearing any bra. Her hands were going down again so he captured them then pinned them in one of his over her head as a thoroughly arousing whimper like sigh came out of her.

He bent down and circled her nipple with his tongue, his hand pinching the other lightly and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. She whimpered again and he bit on her nipple, not too hard, but hard enough for her to cry out again. She ground her hips against his again, making him bite harder.

He figured by the way she was squirming, she was more than ready for him, but just to make sure, he slid off her pants and knickers both and teased her a bit with his fingers. She was wetter, warmer, and tighter than he had ever felt. She let out that high-pitched sigh as he flicked her nub and he decided it was definitely time. He threw off his pants and positioned himself between her legs. Somehow she managed to escape his hands and she had her hands in his hair again. He leaned down to her lips and placed a searing kiss on them as he dove into her warmness. She immediately caught up with his rhythm and was rocking steadily with him, moaning. Her nails bit into his shoulders and he felt his skin break.

He was coming, and could feel she was close as well, his thrusts became deeper and more erratic, and he could hear himself calling her name over and over again. She soon joined his, calling out in her sweet accent, "Sev'rus..."

And then he came, bringing her with him to the highest heights and then down spiraling slowly to the ground again.

He fell heavily on her, breathing into her hair as her chest heaved against his. He rolled out of her and felt her absence, mentally and physically. There was no doubt about it, he would never get her out of his mind now, and he thought perhaps his heart as well. She definitely had perks...Who the hell was he kidding? He was fucking head-over-heals-want-to-fall-asleep-with-you-beside-me-wake-with-you-next-to-me-in-over-my-head-fuck-me-now-and-forever-hold-your-peace in love and there was nothing he could do about it, nor wanted to.

He looked over at her again and saw her eyes were half lidded. Not wanting to ruin the moment, he didn't say a word, just got up and picked her up, walking up to his room. Questions be damned, they were doing that again in approximately five minutes. He had a feeling she wouldn't complain.

Lily was warm and safe. She felt like she was sleeping in her own bit of heaven, and nothing was going to ruin it now. She woke slowly, savoring every inch into consciousness, recalling every sweet memory from the night and evening before. The light was still dull when she opened her eyes, she figured it was sometime around seven. She licked her lips and looked around. She sighed softly when she felt Snape's soft breath on her hair. Her head still resting on his chest, she peered up at him through her hair. He was sleeping soundly, looking younger, more at peace. Desperate not to ruin the moment of peace, she tried in vain to go back to sleep.

She became immediately aware that she was being watched. Snape had opened his eyes and was looking at her intently. She couldn't read his expression, but if she had to guess, it was somewhere between fear, longing, and relief. He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised her hand from his chest and put a finger on his lips. She shook her head as if to say, 'Later.' He nodded and let out a deep breath. She laid her head back on his chest and nuzzled closer to him. They stayed like that for a long while.

"You never told me who you were," Snape said after a while.

He felt Lily stiffen next to him, but didn't answer.

"There are ways of making you talk," he threatened softly.

"I know, an' I know ya know all o' them," she replied. "I want ya ta know that I'm not tellin' ya fo' a damn good reason. It isn't anythin' like I'm ashamed o' it, o' you'll be upset by it, 'cause ya will. I can't tell ya fo' a higher reason."

He scoffed. "A nineteen year old with a higher reason; how original."

She shrugged, "I only speak the truth; I don't reveal it."

Snape ran a hand through her all to familiar hair absently and sighed aloud. What was he going to do?

"I can tell ya it isn't likely you'll see me afta' this year, howeva'," she said almost forlornly.

This could be a hint he needed, "Why is that? Going back home?"

"Among otha' things," she answered evasively. "I'm not entirely sure what home will be like, o' if..."

"If?" he prompted. He had her at a moment of weakness, now to extort it.

"If I'll be-How do I say this?-welcome," she said with a taint of fear and concern in her voice. Snape wished desperately that he could see her face, but her hair was shadowing it harshly.

"Why is that?" he asked, trying to sound sensitive.

"I didn't leave on the best terms-"

"With your parents?" he asked.

She was silent for a while. Snape wondered if he had pressed the issue too far. But after a while she answered in a soft voice, full of emotion, "My fatha' died not long afta' I was born. But no, I didn't leave on good terms with my motha', o' aunt. They had doubts 'bout the mission."

"What doubts?" he was so close now.

"Mo' like worries. They knew I'd be goin' up 'gainst Voldemort. They knew what it was like, an' didn't want me hurt," she said quietly.

They knew what it was like?

Then she looked up at him, "You're tricky, ya know that. But no mo' out o' me. If ya can't figure it out, I can't help ya."

She sat up and looked him in the eye, "An' if ya get any ideas about Veritaserum, my mum taught me a mean uppa' hook as well. Just warnin' ya."

Then she went into his bathroom. He heard the water running and decided he may as well get up as well. He was semi-surprised how that had turned out. He had expected tension and uneasiness that morning. Hell, he'd expected a lot of things lately, and none of them had looked like this. He had just spent the night making love to a student, and morals be damned, he didn't feel shame. After all, she was nineteen, old enough to make her own decisions. And she really wasn't his student. That was just a cover for her 'mission,' another thing he'd have to look into. In the beginning of the year, Dumbledore had said she was going to catch the rat at Hogwarts. She had caught them, in an indirect way, so what was she still doing there? He knew she had another 'mission,' this was what he had been trying to ask her about. When he had been talking to her, it was almost like she had wanted him to find out, like she was tired. Tired of hiding, tired of hoping, tired of wanting. She had left a lot of clues about who she was, Snape just couldn't make the connection. She had said he knew her parents, but they were dead, well, her father at any rate. He knew a lot of families like that, just no Potters like that. Damn it! There is something I'm missing completely! She is fucking dangling it out in front of me like a carrot, he thought viciously.

Talk to her, you'll be able to get the truth out eventually, his subconscious said darkly.

I know, but I don't have that kind of time, he answered sourly.

The sooner you get going...

Shut up.

Well, what are you going to do with her? You could always shag her senseless every night. But you've got to face the facts, you're attached, mentally and physically, to her.

Shut up.

Like the lady said, I only speak the truth.

Snape growled and got out of bed to make some coffee.

Not too long afterwards, Lily came down, wearing one of his shirts again. He

raised an eyebrow and she shrugged. He didn't mind though, her long expanse of legs were easily visible under his black button down.

She sipped her coffee quietly, seemingly content with the comfortable silence.

"I have a question," she began. Without waiting for him to reply, she said, "How did you get that, or perhaps why is a better question."

She looked intently at his forearm.

Snape narrowed his eyes. This wasn't something he liked discussing, and she certainly didn't deserve the answers. He was just about to say something to the effect of "Fuck off," when his conscious cut in.

She told you everything.

Not everything.

Everything she was able. Quid quo pro.

We never established that.

Slytherins! If you look at it like that, then don't tell her. But why would you not. You're in love-

I'm not!

I thought we already established that you were in fact in love with her. As I was saying, she'll need answers. Maybe if you give her some answers, she'll give you some.

"Quid quo pro, Lily," he said.

She smiled and an expression he couldn't read crossed her face. "What do you want to know?"

"I'll tell you my past if you tell me yours."

She looked skeptical for a moment, then nodded her head.

"Well..." he prompted.

Lily closed her eyes, thinking, he assumed, where to begin. She opened her eyes, but looked at the table rather than at him.

"I was born in Ballycastle, my fatha' played Quidditch fo' the Bats there. Afta' he died unda' circumstances no one knows, my motha' an' I moved to Savanna, Joe-juh when I was 'bout two. She raised me with my aunt an' uncle, my uncle being her brotha'. I was also constantly 'round my motha's family, she'd six olda' brotha's afta' all. I guess ya could say my early life was happy, I didn't have many friends. My education began far 'fore my schooling, my aunt taught me a lot. She had gone ta Hogwarts too with my motha' and fatha'. She was top o' her class, named the smartest woman in the world by "Witch Magazine," too.

"American schools start one year earlier an' go one year longa' than British schools, so when I was ten, comin' on 'leven, I was sent ta Salem's 'cademy o' Witchcraft an' Wizardry. Yer prob'ly wonderin' why I didn't go ta Hogwarts, am I right? My motha' didn't want me leavin' the country, she an' my aunt, both o' which wore the pants in our odd little family, decided it would be safa' fo' me ta stay in 'merica. I was sorted inta Etha', much ta the surprise o' my aunt an' motha', who, along with every otha' memba' o' my family, were Gryffindo's. I was the only Etha' in my year, which was nothin' unusual. I was fortunate 'nough ta have a purple-eyed boy fo' years 'head o' me, his name was Steven, we were very close. Not long afta' that, he was sent 'way, I wan't tol' where.

"I made a few friends, nothing serious, there were only three otha' Etha's by my fifth year, all o' them younga' than me. But in my fifth year, my real education began. Trouble was stirrin', word o' Vold'mort comin' from Europe. There was a lot o' fear, an' it was my aunt who found a way to fix things. She went ta Dumbledore in secret an' they devised a plan, sendin' me. She took ova' my education an' took me from Salem's, she who I 'tribute every idea in my head, every piece o' knowledge I have attained to. Ya know her I believe.

"In what would be my seventh year, I was sent back ta Salem's, an' I finally made some friends, though then I referred ta them as contacts. But with out support from my family, who I'd...who'd moved inta hidin', they soon became my surrogate family. Funny story, we met at a night club, I'll assume ya know what that is, an' they were performin', an' Brigid, the tall blonde one, beat up their lead singer, some lovers quarrel I thought. They recognized me from school an' invited me ta replace their lead. My aunt had taught me how ta play the guitar, she was Muggle-born. We became close friends afta' that.

"By this time, the threat o' Vold'mort had reached Salem's, an' Cherry, Woodsrow, the headmaster, sent me here ta finish my mission. An' the rest you know."

He could tell she was censoring her story a bit. Her timeline was so similar to that of his, it was scary. She had to be from the past...but it didn't make sense! It was like when he grew up, even the years were identical. If she was from the same time as him, she had been born in the same year as he. But it didn't make sense...did James' father play for the Bats? Was it possible that she was James' cousin, not sister? It was hard to tell because she censored all the names.

"Now," she began again, "Quid quo pro, Sev'rus. I want to hear everything."

He frowned at her and cleared his throat. "I was born in London to Myra and Astron Snape. We were historically a Ravenclaw family, and I was raised as one. My parents made sure I was very well educated long before I began school, as a result, I knew more curses, charms, and potions than most in seventh year. I learned quickly, like any good Ravenclaw, I wanted to impress my father especially I think. Though ultimately, it lead to my downfall.

"The sorting hat put me in Slytherin. All my life I had been told, 'Slytherin is where the bad, evil wizards go. Hufflepuff is where the nice ones go, but you don't want to be there, they are stupid. Gryffindor is where the brave ones go, but they are show offs, you don't want to be in that house. You should be a Ravenclaw, they are sharp of whit, strong of mind, the best house by far.' You can imagine how devastated and scared I was, only eleven and without the love of a family. I was the first Slytherin in my family in over a hundred years and my father wasn't happy. That is where my mother came in. I suppose you could say she dotted on me, and when my father decided to disown me, she withered away, she was frail to begin with.

"I stayed at Hogwarts during summers, special favor of Dumbledore, who at the time, wasn't headmaster, but could throw his weight around. For reasons I couldn't comprehend, he was always there, looking after me, more of a father than my own. Due to problems in my fifth year, the rising of Voldemort mainly, I was forced to move back with my father. He abused me, mentally more than physically, about my mother. He blamed me constantly for her death. He told me he hated me, and nothing I could do would make him love me again. I was already at the point of breaking because of my house members. They extorted the fact that my family had disowned me, told me Voldemort would accept me, I would find unconditional love from him. I was blinded by hate, and hope perhaps, and then my father found a way to break me completely. He told me that near the end, my mother had cursed my name, that she wished she never gave birth to me, that she hated me. It was the last straw. When I came back to school for my sixth year, I became a Death Eater, a loyal servant of Voldemort. I was so blind! Every day Dumbledore would talk to me. He was more of a father than anyone, and he trusted me explicitly. I was a prefect, a trusted member of the school, and I through it away in the summer before my sixth year. My father had been very hard on me when I came back, he had seen the Dark Mark and tormented me with memories of my mother. But he had beat me for the last time that summer. I killed him, did a burning curse and watched him burn in his sleep. Dumbledore called it self defense, I called it murder with a cause, but the Ministry called it cold blooded homicide. I was a minor still, so I was sent to Mungo's for the rest of the summer, rehabilitation they called it.

"In my sixth year, Dumbledore became headmaster. Surprisingly, Dumbledore let me come back to school, he always did like to believe the best in people. But then, I was deep inside the inner circle and I stayed so until my first year out of Hogwarts. It was the year James and Lily were killed. Funny, everyone always though it was Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pittigrew that turned me to the dark side. While their pranks did make me hate them, they were an annoyance, and that is it. But they were the people who made me reconsider things. After Potter and Evans were killed, I went to Dumbledore, intending to say I was reformed, I'd seen the wrongness of my ways after I'd heard about Potter and Evans. The real reason I'd gone was to convince him that I was on his side, to be a double agent to Voldemort, give Voldemort information. On my third meeting with Dumbledore, I was so sick with myself, I confessed. I confessed everything. I was so sick with myself, you don't understand, I'd lied to Dumbledore, Dumbledore! I fully expected death, or a Dementor's Kiss. But he asked me to play the double agent again, this time for him. I accepted willingly, of course. That is what I've been doing ever since Monday."

Lily sat and absorbed that for a while. It was on track with what the demon had said. She shivered a bit, he was definitely darker than anyone she had ever met, and with good reason. If her father had done that, she'd be dark and depressed too, and probably a Slytherin now instead of a Gryffindor.

As she was about to say something but the head of Albus Dumbledore popped in the fire. "Good morning!" he said cheerily.

"Mornin', Albus," she said with a nod.

"Dumbledore," Snape said questioningly.

"I wanted to tell you both that we almost have things under control, it is almost time for you to come back. Almost. You'll be there another week, we are taking care of a few loose ends, a few Sytherins to round up before you come back. All of your friends say Happy Christmas, Miss Lily, and send their presents," as he said this, a large pile of presents were thrown out of the fire, "and their love. Happy Christmas Severus, I'll contact you through Floo next Thrusday or Friday. Don't forget, Wednesday is Christmas, don't have any wild parties," he said with a chuckle.

"Merry Chris'mas, Albus," Lily said kindly. (A/N: Americans say 'Merry' instead of 'Happy.')

"Thank you Dumbledore," Snape said calmly, "We wait for your message."

"Goodbye and good day Miss Lily and Severus," he said with a smile, his head fading from sight.

Lily shifted silently in her seat. Now they had a whole week, including Christmas. He would surely find her secret by then, she knew he was smart enough to figure it out.

"What are you thinking?" he asked her.

She paused before speaking, "I'm thinkin' that things are worse off than Albus wants us ta know."

She got up and collected her presents. Snape had to stifle a groan when she bent over.

I'd say she has more extra curricular activities planned. She is wearing green knickers...green!

Shut up, I have to focus.

She put the boxes in the corner and walked back, sliding gracefully into her seat.

I really think-

Shut up. You have a one track mind anyway.

Hey, my mind is your mind.

It was going to be a long week.