Glancing back down, his dark eyes met her bright green ones. “Morning,” she yawned, pulling out of his arms and stretching.

Feeling a sudden chill, he stood, echoing her greeting. Looking at the ground, he said, “I need to go to my room to prepare for my classes.” He turned to leave, but Serena grabbed his arm.

“Wait, Severus. Thank you for staying with me last night. I just didn’t want to be alone.” She let go of his sleeve and dropped her eyes to the ground.

“I think you should thank Dumbledore. He’s the one who made me follow you.”

She gazed up at him, hurt. “I’ll do that then.” Turning her head away, she said, “Well, you should go get ready for your classes.”

Snape stood there for a moment, knowing he should say something but refusing to show any more emotion than he already had. Stalking down the stairs, he cursed himself for caring too much about her. He still felt her warmth on his chest and the way she felt in his arms. Her scent still clung to him and he tried to place it: lavender. She smelled like lavender. He scowled and made his way to the dungeons, slamming the door to his chambers. Making his way to the bathroom, he dropped the robe on the floor and leaned over the sink. Peering into the mirror, he took in his appearance. Greasy hair from hanging over cauldrons all day, a long hooked nose, small dark eyes, and a twisted mouth. Even if he cared about Serena, there was no way she could return his feelings. Sneering at his reflection, he echoed the words he had often heard from his father. “No woman could ever love you, Severus. You are an ugly, cruel man. Best get used to that now, before you go and get your heart broken.”

Severus stood up. He ran his fingers through his hair, flattening the few wild hairs. He straightened his shirt and smoothed his pants. Feeling a little more presentable, he made his way to Dumbledore’s office, intending to tell the man he was no longer willing to be Serena’s keeper.






Snape stalked into Dumbledore’s office and sat stiffly down in one of the chairs facing the desk. Dumbledore peered over the rims of his glasses and smiled at Severus.

“You’re up early this morning, Severus,” Dumbledore said cheerfully.

Oh, Merlin. He had forgotten that Albus was a morning person. Snape glared at him. “I’m worried about Ser… Professor Daniels.”

Albus gave him a knowing look. “Did you find her last night?”

“Yes,” he ground out. “She was up on the roof crying. What is wrong with her?”

Dumbledore sighed. “I’m afraid that it is not my place to share Serena’s troubles. Let’s just say that she went through something very traumatic a few years ago.”

Snape looked at him suspiciously. “Will she be okay?”

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and observed Snape. “I believe she will be. She needs to move out of the past and into the present. I think Hogwarts is the perfect place for that to happen.”

Snape nodded, a little confused how a place could help her forget her past. Feeling like he was getting nowhere with Albus, he stood and made his way to the door.

“Severus,” Dumbledore called. Snape looked back at the Headmaster.

“Serena is going to need a friend these next few months. Her nightmare is far from over.”

Snape just gave him a dark look and opened the door. Only after he was halfway back to the dungeons, did he remember he went there to tell Albus that he was no longer willing to be Serena’s guardian. He glowered, feeling duped by Dumbledore. True, he was no longer going to be her keeper; he was now supposed to be her friend. Why did Dumbledore keep insisting that they spend time together? He threw open the door to his classroom and marched towards the front, riffling through his lesson plans for the day, trying to push the French professor from his mind, but not succeeding.



Serena paced around her room, feeling restless. She glanced at the clock. How could it only be 10:30 A.M.? She sighed and plopped down in the chair by the fireplace. There was no way she was going to make it all day stuck in this room. Drawing her legs up under her, she stared into space, remembering the comfort she had felt last night. It had been the full moon and she hadn’t had the dreams, and she hadn’t taken the draught. She had felt safe and secure. Could it have been because Severus was there with her? She shook her head and snorted. Where had that crazy thought come from? Trying to come up with a plausible lie to tell herself, she decided that she must have just been too exhausted to have the dreams. Somehow, it didn’t make her feel any better.

Grabbing a book off the table, she looked at the cover: Potions for Defense Against the Dark Arts by Jacques Raulbia, the Potions master at Andréa’s. They had often discussed various potions for Defense and Jacques had even credited her with creating several of the potions in the book. She missed their discussions. He was the only one who hadn’t treated her as though she was going to break after Thomas’ death. Before she had left, he had given her the book and told her to find someone to share it with. Mentally, she went through the faculty trying to think of someone besides Snape. Professor Flitwick was out of the question. She was sure she would hear a joke about being punctual every time they met. Professor McGonagall seemed too standoffish. Albus would be a good candidate, if he weren’t so busy. Shaking her head, she realized there was only one person who would enjoy reading this book as much as she would. Making a decision, she took the book with her and made her way down to his classroom. She pushed the thought from her mind that she was just seeking a way to spend more time with the difficult professor.


Standing outside the classroom, she waited until the last student had left. Cautiously walking inside, she saw him at the front of the room putting some ingredients back on the shelf. Strolling up to his desk, she watched as he meticulously put every bottle back in its proper place, the labels facing front. Tentatively she said his name, “Severus?”

He dropped the bottle he was holding on the floor. She watched, horrified, as it shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. He grabbed his wand and waved it over the mess. Once it had been cleaned up, he turned to glare at her and growled, “What?”

“I’m sorry I startled you,” she began. He grimaced. She took a deep breath and plowed on.

“Back at Andréa’s the Potions Master and I would get together to read potions books and discuss them. Sort of like a magic book club,” she chuckled. Her laughter died when she saw the dark look on his face.

“And why would I care about this?” he asked dryly.

Serena felt a flash of anger. She was trying to reach out to him and he was pushing her away. She held out the book.

“I miss that. I thought perhaps you and I could read this book and discuss the potions in it. Raulbia was the Potions master at Andréa’s. He just published it, so I know it is not a book you would have.”

He took the book from her hand. “I am perfectly capable of reading books on my own. I don’t need anyone to explain it to me.”

Annoyance crossed her face. “The purpose is not to explain it to you. The purpose is to see someone else’s viewpoint. Sometimes, it just makes things clearer.”

“Why would I need to see another person’s viewpoint? Mine is the only one that matters,” he said silkily.

Serena crossed her arms, counting to ten. Smiling sweetly, she said, “Fine. Read it yourself and give it back to me when you finish.” She turned to leave the room.

“Wait,” Severus said. Turning back to face him, she smiled triumphantly, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

He glowered at her and held up the book. “This is written in French.”

She tried to look shocked. “It is? Well, then, this is your lucky day.”

“And why would that be?”

She leaned in, her eyes sparkling. “Because I am French.” Turning, she swept out of the room, calling over her shoulder, “See you at 8:00 P.M., Severus.”

Snape dropped the book on his desk, feeling duped again, first by Dumbledore and now by Serena. He shook his head, wondering why he wasn’t more upset about it.