The New Professor

Chapter Two

(Severus's POV:)

She fled from the room the moment I finished speaking. I could feel the anger radiating through my body, but it wasn't aimed at her. She was a sweet girl, and obviously very smart. But thinking of what she said only dug up more memories.

It had been almost a month ago when she was killed. I was still drowning in emotions, but I couldn't let it show. Nobody knew how much I had loved her; nobody knew how hard it was to watch her marry the stupid Potter boy, or to find her body the night of her death. Lily was gone, and only Miss Williams had noticed my pain.

I recalled how frequently, from the corner of my eye, I would catch her looking at me. Along with her gaze, her face was always slightly red. It was plain to see she fancied me. What I didn't understand is what she saw in me. Lily had known me for years, knew every one of my secrets, and had found no love for me in her heart. If my best friend couldn't love me, why should a shy sixteen-year-old?

Besides, I was nothing special anyway. Potter had made sure I knew that. And I was her teacher. It would be wrong.

But the fluttering in my gut when I caught her eye didn't care. The idea of someone tolerating my presence, let alone loving me, intrigued me. I sat down with a sigh, placing my face in my hands, suddenly regretting my outburst.

~***~

(Guinevere's POV:)

Tuesday disappeared in a blur, and when I tuned back into life, I was standing at the dungeon staircase on my way to Potions. My mind had been blank since Monday. I had pulled myself along only at the insistence of Clara. Life isn't fair, but it must go on, she said.

I took a deep breath, ignored Clara's concerned glance, and together we descended to what was sure to be torture for me.

I took my place at our table, focusing only on my folded hands in my lap. All emotion was wiped cleanly off my face, so he wouldn't suspect the fact that I hadn't forgotten. I rushed through the assignment, catching myself before I made a mistake, but still finished before the rest of the class. When I brought the vial up to him, I set it on his desk rather than handing it to him.

My heart was screaming for me to at least look at him, but I forced the thought out and returned to my seat. I stared at a chip in the table until the bell sounded the end of class and start of lunch.

"Gwen, you must eat," Clara urged three days later. "I know you don't want to, but you must. People are already wondering what happened, and if you don't at least start acting okay, they'll start asking questions. And I'm sure, in your case, you don't want that."

I sighed, slumping at the table and grabbing a banana. After shoving away the slight nausea, I peeled the fruit and took a bite.

"There you go, much better. I'm sorry you aren't feeling better," she said.

Shrugging off her pity, I grabbed my bag and left the Great Hall. I found a secluded corner in the library, pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, and began to write.

Far away on a distant hill
Among the banks of snow I lay
My mind is blind to the chill
As I think of that awful day
The day you turned my love away
And as I fled into the night
I heard the stars softly convey
The winter moon will hold me tight

I know inside I'm feeling ill
I've lost the urge to run and play
I watch snow fall on the window sill
And in the breeze the bare trees sway
My heart's a leaf in cold decay
As I shy away from your sweet light
But I know through the icy spray
The winter moon will hold me tight

Even now my mind is still
As wishful thinking turns to gray
These words flow freely from my quill
Although I do not think today
Somehow the ink knows what to say
And while I cannot bear your sight
I hold out hope to find a way
As the winter moon holds me tight