Snape's New Flower

Student

Eager to get back to Snape and try the spell out with my newfound memory, I frantically packed my school bag for the weekend I'd be spending at his house.

What did I need? Two pairs of clothes, some toiletries, maybe a book and some money, just in case? I never went on vacation before, or even to a sleepover. My parents would not allow it during the summer, but that wasn't such a big deal, seeing as I spent the rest of the year sharing a room with my friends.

Now, however, I'm starting to think it left me lacking in experience. Not just in knowing what to pack, but feeling comfortable staying in a different bed. I had no idea what to expect tonight.

After triple checking the contents of my bags to ensure I had everything I needed, I went to breakfast with my friends, hoping to see a Professor to tell them I would be leaving. I thought of a cover story while I ate my porridge, and even came up with a name for the fake muggle friend I claimed to be staying with, Diane Mackenzie. But none of that was needed in the end, and I was dismissed after saying I'd be gone for the weekend. I guess being of legal age came with its perks. If I had needed parental permission, I'd be unpacking my bags.

I left for the Quidditch Pitch, anxiety growing in my stomach the farther I went from the school. Did Severus expect me to sleep with him in his bed, or would he take the couch like he did the other night? Would I be spending all my time with him? We would get bored with each other, or worse, irritated by one another's presence.

My hand rose to the door knocker to let him know I was here, but I could just as easily turn to leave. This was more than I bargained for, I was sure of it. I wasn't ready to take this step.

I closed my eyes, knocked, and listened as the footsteps approached on the other side of the door. Oh well, I thought. It was too late now.

Severus and I would be spending the night together.

He welcomes me formally, as usual. I declined tea, wanting to try my hand at the Patronus Charm as soon as possible, and he seemed to catch on because I was leaving his house as fast as I had entered it.

"All right," he said when we arrived at our abandoned practice spot, "did you think of a better memory?"

I nodded, "I believe so."

"And you remember the wand movements?"

"Yes sir," I said, and then blushed embarrassingly at my slip up.

But he only smirked and stepped out of my way, "give it a try then."

I took a step forward and closed my eyes, focusing on the memory. I could see my dad sitting in front of a steering wheel, making faces and tilting his whole body as he turned his virtual car around a tight corner. I could see my mom cheering him on while she stood behind him with her hands gripping the back of his seat tightly, anxious for him to win. I could see us walking out of the arcade, me struggling to carry a massive teddy bear, and my dad wrapping his arm around my mom's shoulder.

When I opened my eyes, I pulled the want from my waistband and lifted it confidently. I felt the happiness bottled inside of me, and knew the only way to get it out would be to say the words, "expecto patronum."

The emotions left my body through my hand, my wand channeling them, turning them into a white shimmering mist. It exploded in all directions at first, then began to calm down, falling into formation, and leaving a thick swirling barrier of the mist between where I stood, and Snape's home town. It didn't last long, and the shield became smaller and weaker before dying entirely, but I had done it. I cast the Patronus Charm.

I turned towards Severus, and he clapped his hands. A smile spread across my face, and I ran towards him, jumping in his arms. He caught me and held me in the air, "you did very well."

I let go and landed swiftly on my feet, but my smile didn't falter, "I had a good teacher."

He told me my success was to my credit, but I insisted he helped. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have found my strength to do it. I always doubted myself, and I would have found and excuse and given up like I always do, if it weren't for him.

We didn't stay as long today, but by the end of it I was able to consistently cast the spell in its shield form., and I did have trouble concentrating some of the times, but he told me I was a fast learner.

On the walk back to his place, after the high from today's triumph wore off, I began thinking about our relationship when he was my professor. Did he think I was a fast learner then?

"Severus... what did you think of me when I was, you know... your student?"

He smirked playfully, "You were always quiet and obedient, the two things I like most in a student."

I nudged him in the ribs, knowing he was just poking fun, but wanting to hear the real answer.

"You grew on me over the years," he said, looking thoughtful now as he stroked his chin, "and by your seventh year, I could see you were mature. Strong."

I fit my hand into his and listened as he went on, "at first I thought you were a bad student, always daydreaming and slacking off in class, never listening to a word I said. You surprised me when, in your seven years at Hogwarts, you never once handed in your assignments late. You scored well on every test, and you proved in your work that you understood the subject." He squeezed my hand, turning to face me, "I started to study you. Your intelligence amazed me, but it wasn't just that. I'd catch you staring out the window smiling, biting your lip at the blackboard, or gazing at an empty parchment as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. I was intrigued. I wanted to know what was going on in your mind."

I thought back to school, and he was right, I was always off in my own world. I worked when I had to work, but any second I could spare, I would fantasize about a better world, a better life.

"But don't tell me, I want to find out on my own," he said, nudging me in the ribs this time.

I told him when he had an answer, he should let me know. It mind was just as big a mystery to me. But there was another question I wanted to ask him, "that night in the Hospital Wing, why did you talk to me?"

He stopped in place, though we were no more than ten metres from his house. "I couldn't bear to hear you cry."

I turned to see his head hanging, facing the road beneath us, and I wondered briefly if it was okay to hug him here, in public, before decided I didn't care. I wrapped my arms around him, saying, "thank you, for comforting me."

He rubbed my back, an unspoken 'you're welcome' in the air, and kissed the top of my head before we took the last few steps towards the safety of his home.