𝗷𝗮𝗻𝗲, harry potter

˗ˋ 119

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEEN
✧
-: fifth year :-

── IN WHICH SNAPE
PAYS A VISIT

. . .

They hadn't spoken about it; Jane didn't want to, so they didn't have to. Instead, they decided to spend the remaining time in the Christmas holidays just enjoying themselves, days at Grimmauld Place punctuated by visits to St. Mungos to check that Mr Weasley - now that he wasn't experimenting with Muggle practises - was right on track with his recovery.

And whilst Jane's mood seemed to be lifted with each day passing since the fateful trip on Christmas day, Sirius's seemed to be diminishing. He had relished in having a full house for Christmas, yet now the date on which they were due back to Hogwarts came closer, he became prone to what Mrs Weasley called 'fits of the sullens,' in which he would become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak's room for hours at a time. His gloom seeped through the house, oozing under doorways like some noxious gas, so that all of them became infected by it.

Harry was becoming more and more aware of his own feelings on it. This time, he had some reason to stay back in London, because he didn't want to leave Sirius and Jane in the dull household and he certainly didn't want to return to the tyranny of Umbridge's reign over Hogwarts. The only thing he had to look forward to - and he was still slightly wary of it - was the meetings betweenthe students protesting against her and the Ministry's Defense Against the Dark Arts scheme.

The thoughts spilled into his conversations with Jane each and every evening, Ron more than happy to let him go to her (considering they dormed together at Hogwarts anyway), and although she constantly reassured him that herself and Sirius had a blast when left in the house - with Remus visiting all the time, the Weasleys there some of the time, Flora frequenting and the Order constantly using it as their meeting place, they were hardly lonely - he couldn't strike it from his mind.

On the day prior to the return, however, everything seemed to sour further.

He had been glued to Jane's side all day, and that afternoon was no different. In the drawing room, Harry, Jane, Ron, Ginny, Hermione and the twins had holed themselves up with various board games (including Wizard's Chess, which Jane seemed to excel at), and she and Ron had dragged over a table to the couch so as to accomodate him; his head remained leaning on Jane's lap as she played, fingers absentmindedly brushing the dust from destroyed pieces out of his hair.

And then, Mrs Weasley pushed the door open, and ruined it all. "Harry, dear," she began, and he sat up so as to see her, so quickly he almost knocked his head on the corner, "could you come down to the kitchen? Professor Snape wouldlike a word with you."

Harry stared at her, for a moment, the words not registering in his mind. "What did you say, Mrs Weasley?" He asked, just as Ron's rook destroyed one of Jane's pawns.

"Professor Snape, dear. In the kitchen. He'd like a word."

"Snape?" Harry repeated, jaw dropped and gut filling with absolute horror. "Snape... is here?"

"Professor Snape, dear," said Mrs. Weasley reprovingly."Now come on, quickly, he says he can't stay long." She eyed the painted nails halfway hanging off of his shoulder. "I suppose Jane may come as well, if you're that opposed to it."

"Merlin, you don't to subject her to that, do you?" Ron blinked, eyes just as wide as his best friend's as his mother left. "Besides, what does he want with you? You haven't done anything have you?"