Within a Forest Dark

Two

31 October 1982

"Well, I think that's enough for today," Dumbledore says. "Unless anyone has anything to add to the agenda?" He looks around the table. "No? Meeting adjourned, then. And I wish you all a lovely day."

Severus is up before any of the other staff, intent on making his escape while the rest of them lumber to their feet, exchanging the usual chitchat or helping themselves to one last cuppa before heading out to their blissfully Hogwarts-free evenings.

"Professor Snape, a word?"

Damn.

He's cornered. McGonagall stands between him and a quick exit. He glances at Dumbledore, wondering if she's doing the old man's bidding, but the Headmaster is deep in conversation with Professor Babbling. Or appears to be.

Why can't they leave me in peace?

Severus wants only to retreat to the chilly, subterranean rooms that were his reward for turning on the Dark Lord last year. Now that Slughorn has retired, Severus could have asked Dumbledore for Slughorn's old quarters, but he didn't, and the Headmaster didn't offer.

Severus tries not to look too longingly at the door.

"Professor McGonagall."

"Would you mind stopping by my office for a few minutes before dinner? I was hoping to speak with you now, but I have a meeting with my prefects that should have started five minutes ago," she says.

"Certainly, Professor. Will five-thirty do?"

"Fine. I'll see you then."

She hurries out, and Severus waits a minute, pretending to be going over the notes he didn't take during the meeting, to avoid following too closely on her heels.

At the appointed hour, he makes his way to McGonagall's office. He's only been in it once before, and at the time, he was hardly in any mental condition to take it in. It's a bit bigger than the closet they gave him, and the large window overlooks the east courtyard, now shrouded in the darkness of an autumn evening. Reflected flames from the fireplace dance in the leaded glass panes.

"Please, have a seat, Professor Snape."

She indicates a chair near the fireplace rather than the one in front of her desk and takes the one next to it.

There is nothing for it but to sit next to her, so he does. The room is warm, and he perspires under the multiple layers of wool he wears. He notices that she isn't wearing a teaching robe, and he curses himself for putting his on before coming to see her. It looks defensive.

"I've been meaning to check in with you on how you're getting on."

She's looking at him expectantly.

"Fine," he says. "Why, is there some problem?"

"Not at all. But you've taken on a great deal this term, and I want to be certain you know you can call on your colleagues should you find yourself in need of help or advice."

Dread wells up in him. Teaching the lower levels for the past year has been bad enough. He hated it, but he managed. Slughorn seemed pleased with him, anyway, but that might just have been the relief of having someone else take on the lion's—or snake's—share of his teaching duties.

Severus dreaded taking over the N.E.W.T. classes this term. Those students overlapped with his seventh year at Hogwarts, and he worried that they would remember him as "Snivellus." But, surprisingly, N.E.W.T. classes have been the one bright spot in his otherwise hideous life. The students, if they remember him at all, don't show it. The seven adolescents that make up the class seem to actually respect his knowledge of his subject, and one or two of them aren't complete dunderheads.