An Unrequited Love (S. Snape)

Chapter Eleven: A Detention with Memories

The Black Lake’s waters were shimmering beautifully with the setting sun, and as much as I wished to splash in them like the rest of the students, I knew I couldn’t. I knocked raptly on Professor Snape’s door, and waited impatiently when his confident footfalls followed. I could only imagine his smug expression, and when the door opened, I realized that my image of him was completely accurate.

A bit of a lift at the corner of his mouth, a tiny smirk formed as he lifted a single, slender brow towards me. His dark eyes danced with malice, but there was no denying that he was pleased that I had already managed to get myself into trouble.

“Come in, Ms Potter.”

He stepped aside, and allowed me to walk in. His office was gloomier than his Potions classroom, with jarred slimy things that looked revolting settled in potions of varying colors. His desk, sitting far in the back, had hundreds of forgotten pieces of parchment atop it, a beautiful eagle quill, and a jar of ink. I stared around in awe until I heard the unmistakable click of the door locking behind me.

I spun around quickly, expression turning livid as I witnessed his smirk growing. He neatly extracted his wand from within his robes, and eyed me with a sweeping gaze until he strode past me, only hearing the whisper of his cloak.

“Why did you lock the door?” I demanded gently. “You have no right to do that. Even in a detention.”

“You aren’t really that daft, are you?” he asked coldly. “This isn’t merely a detention. This is a lesson, as well.”

“I told you! I don’t want—“

“What you want and need are two entirely different things, Ms Potter,” he said, massaging the bridge of his nose in slight frustration. “It is in your best interest that you at least listen to me.”

With the snap of his fingers, a small, shallow basin was summoned, and settled neatly on his desk. Curiously, I eyed the new contraption, and when he gestured me forward, I did so only apprehensively.

He stood by silently when I peered into the stone bowl, noticing the small engravings and runes at the bottom of the basin. When he lifted his wand, and stirred the transparent liquid with the tip, a crease of confusion appeared between my brow.

“What is that, Professor?” I asked, mesmerized by the now silvery liquid within.

“Those are thoughts, Ms Potter,” he confessed softly. “My thoughts, to be more precise. There is a lot I think you should know — and I’ll start with this one,” he seemed to hesitate, but just as quickly his decision was made. “You can’t remember what happened when you were kidnapped?” I shook my head negatively. “Then I will show you. Step up to it — closer.”

I did so, once more hesitantly, but with his guiding hand on my shoulder, I hardly had time to protest when he forced my head into the silvery substance. Plunging into a familiar territory, I stepped backwards, hitting a door. A small sound was stuck in the back of my throat, but with no way to release it, I had to deal with these new surroundings in silence.

“Look familiar?”

I jumped. Professor Snape had landed quietly beside me, and though his demeanor was usually much more menacing, it seemed that he had temporarily loosened up a little. He eyed the room in disdain, but upon eyeing the scene in the room, his anger had dissipated into understanding.

“That is me,” I whispered, eyeing the crying toddler on the floor. She was huddled over her dead mother, who’s blank eyes stared unseeingly towards the ceiling. The child didn’t know her mother was dead, though watching the scene now it was only obvious.