To Find Where We Belong

"You wrote her and encouraged her, didn't you?" Severus' voice was cold.

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, I did. Admit it, Severus, you enjoy her company, you enjoy speaking with her and writing to her. You don't have much of a social life, Severus, and I get the impression this poor young woman doesn't either. Up until that last trip to London you were almost nice to people."

Severus' upper lip curled into a sneer as he snatched the letter from Dumbledore. "You are an interfering old man," he snapped.

"Yes," agreed Dumbledore, "I am. And I will continue to be until, quite frankly, you stop being a fool and realize that you are a human being that can make mistakes and can be a friend and interesting companion. You punish yourself too much for your past and your mother's past. Everyone else, for the most part, has gotten over your doings with Voldemort and see you as a valuable member of Hogwarts' staff. You are a brilliant potions master, can be quite the corrosive wit, pardon my pun, when you set your mind to it. Obviously the young lady finds nothing objectionable about you."

Severus' lips pressed together and thinned, as if he were stopping himself from saying something overly offensive.

Dumbledore continued ruthlessly. "Perhaps Miss MacKenzie is right, disappointing though the thought might be. Perhaps you are so shallow and squeamish as to let a little thing like her physical impairment to get between you and a possibly good thing. I must say, I never once thought you the cowardly sort, quite the opposite in fact. Most disheartening to see this emerge now." Dumbledore looked down and busied himself with some paperwork while Severus stewed and fumed in silence for a few moments.

Trying not to smile, Dumbledore added, "I am alarmed at her description of her new boss. He sounds remarkably like a certain dark wizard we know, Mr. Lucius Malfoy. Could it be that he has discovered that you and she have struck up a friendship and is now thinking of using her against us? Or rather, you?"

Severus' black eyes narrowed, telling Dumbledore that he too had thought of the same thing but his stubborn pride was unwilling to get him further involved.

"I see," observed Dumbledore, finally staring Severus directly in the face. He let his disappointment show, causing the other man to flinch and look away. "I am very disappointed in you."

The door slammed behind Snape rather harshly but Dumbledore knew where Severus was going.

Severus stomped down to his quarters and slammed his door behind him, Clara's letter still clutched in hand. Frustration and fear warred with concern and consternation, giving him both a headache and an upset stomach. Since he'd received Clara's letter a week ago, he'd been one mass of emotion.

He didn't like the sensation all that much. In fact, he liked it not at all.

He didn't feel in control of himself or the situation, yet he knew that the fact that Clara was working for someone who admittedly sounded just like Lucius Malfoy was enough to make Severus want to scream. The fact that Malfoy was in close proximity to Clara made Severus' skin crawl. It was too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence.

Somehow the dark wizards who followed Voldemort had discovered Severus' relations with Clara. That gave him further reason to stay away from her. The only problem with the plan is what would happen next? Would they conclude she was expendable and do something drastic? Use her chemistry talents for some unknown purpose and then get rid of her? What the devil was Malfoy doing involved in a Muggle business to begin with?

Severus frowned. Or was it even Malfoy?

He flopped down in his large leather chair and stared broodingly into the cold fire grate. His brain roared with scenarios, none of them good, and then came up with one plan after another, each being rejected as either unrealistic or implausible. It took almost an hour but he finally reached two inescapable conclusions.

One. He liked Clara more than was healthy.

Two. Something was going to have be done about it.

Make that three conclusions.

Three. He was going to have to go back to London at his earliest opportunity.