Amazingly Blue

         Severus Snape emerged from the dungeons and strode purposefully down the narrow hall towards the Entrance Hall. He was going for a stroll around the grounds. As a child, he had spent most of his time indoors. Now, as a professor, he liked to indulge himself in rare moments of peace outside. He heard the sound of running footsteps behind him. He thought nothing of it until he felt someone crash into him from behind. He whirled around to find himself almost toe-to-toe with Tamara Reynolds – a Gryffindor six year.

         “P – Professor!” She stammered. She put a hand to her chest, breathing heavily. “C – could you please move!”

         “Why?” he drawled.

         “You're in my way!” She panted. It was a very narrow hall and he, wiry though he was, was blocking most of it.

         “Obviously.”

         “Please! You gotta let me by!”

         “Why should I, Miss Reynolds?” Just then, there was a shout from an adjoining corridor.

         “She went this way!” someone called.

         “Professor!” she pleaded.

         “Miss Reynolds -” he started

         “Argh!” she interrupted him. “Too late!” she hissed. She then shocked the young professor by grabbing him hard on the wrist and hauling him after her in through a door in the hallway wall. It was a broom closet.
*********************

         Tamara didn't know what had possessed her to drag Professor Snape with her into the broom closet. She had acted out of desperation. And now, not thirty seconds later, she was regretting it. It was all those Slytherin boys' fault. She wished she could hex their annoyingly cocky little buts to some place that was a whole lot hotter; but McGonagall had already given her detention twice this week, and she didn't think that it would be smart to cross her any more. So she had been very un-Gryffindor-like and ran from them. They had followed. And that's how she had met up with the now broodingly angry presence leering at her side. He had quite a presence for being only a few years older than her. He had graduated at the end of her second year, but she had never forgotten him. And, against all odds, he was back at Hogwarts, his second year as a professor.

         “Miss Reynolds.” He started.

         “Shh!” she hissed, putting her ear to the door.

         “Do not shush me!” he exclaimed. She cringed. The last thing she needed right now was for someone, namely those Slytherin boys, to hear Professor Snape angrily shouting from a broom closet. Not good.
*******************

         Why was he here? Severus silently asked himself. This was not only ridiculous, it was humiliating. Here he was, the youngest and most dreaded Potions Master, and not to mention a Slytherin, in a broom closet with a sixteen year old Gryffindor. A sixteen year old Gryffindor girl.

         “Miss Reynolds,” he hissed again. “I will not stand for this blatant lack of respect for my dignity.” he informed her. “I am leaving.”

         “Oh no, you're not!” she hissed back, her ear still planted firmly against the door. He blinked at her in surprise. She had just told him no. In that moment, for the first time in quite some time, he was tempted to laugh. It was incredibly ridiculous – this situation. But he quickly got his emotions under firm check.
******************

         Tamara was surprised to find that he was suddenly very close to her. She jumped involuntarily. He shouldn't be allowed to move that quietly. It was unnerving. He leaned over. “And why aren't I leaving?” he hissed in her free ear.

         “Oh, gosh, Professor, please do not. Please!” she pleaded. It would be really, really bad if he left right then. Especially since she could hear the boys getting closer. She couldn't see his face in the dark of the closet, but she sensed his body returning to a more relaxed position. He moved ever so slightly away again.

         “Fine.” he hissed at her. “But you'd better start explaining. Muffliato.” he murmured. “There. Now whoever they are can't hear us. Don't worry. You can still hear them.” She took a deep breath. He was right. She could still hear them.

         “Lumos.” she whispered. If she was going to be sitting in a broom closet talking to this man, she wanted to at least be able to see him. He stubbornly crossed his arms across his chest. He was sprawled on an overturned bucket, his legs stretched out in front of him. She decided to keep standing. She leaned against the door, trying to look as dignified as was possible in that tiny broom closet.
*********************

         “Well?” Severus asked the girl. She audibly gulped. She was scared of him! He realized with a pang. Why was it that everyone seems to find me so intimidating, he wondered to himself. It didn't make any sense.

         “They were chasing me.”

         “Obviously. Why?” She shrugged in the feeble wand-light.

         “I'm a Gryffindor. They are Slytherins. They've been picking on me for the past year. I don't know why. It's not like I did anything to them. The lead moron just – just hexed me one day for the heck of it, and now all five of them are doing it. It's annoying. Generally, I just hex them back; but Professor McGonagall threatened to suspend me if I got into any more trouble. So, I'm trying. It's. Just. Hard.” she bit off those last three words and turned away.

         Severus wondered if she were crying. He hoped not. He didn't know what to do when people cried. It was all very awkward that way. “I - I think they might be gone.” she said in a strained sort of voice. He blinked in surprise. Her voice had cut through his wandering thoughts. He didn't like to admit it, but he was feeling pity and even a bit of grudging liking for this girl. He knew what it was like. He never dreamed, however, that he would ever encounter a Gryffindor suffering the same from a group of Slytherins.

         He felt a dragon wake in his chest. He got up quickly, his eyes flashing. It was as if some unknown sense of nobility had suddenly woken in him. He suddenly was tempted to act very much like a Gryffindor.

         “They'd better be.” he hissed. He whipped open the door. There stood the five Slytherin boys, rather astonished looks on their faces. They didn't recognize him as professor, apparently. For as soon as they recovered from their shock of the door opening in their faces, they sent hexes flying. Severus managed to deflect most of them. And even sent a few discreet ones their way as well. Soon, they had retreated. He looked around and saw, in dismay, Tamara Reynolds lying on the ground, eyes closed. That stunning spell he had deflected had apparently deflected onto her. And now she was unconscious. Great. Just perfect.
**********************

         Madam Pomphrey sighed audibly for the third time in the past half-hour, running a hand distractedly through her hair. The girl would be fine. A simple, deflected stunning spell was hardly life-threatening. Debilitating – maybe, depending on the type; but not life threatening. She would just need to look at her more closely. But she could not work, much less concentrate, when that young man kept pacing.

         “Severus!” she finally snapped. She was one of the very few whom he allowed to call him by his first name. He stopped pacing. “I told you. The girl will be fine. But I cannot work when you are pacing. Please just – just go do something.” She told him. He blinked twice, nodded, and left in a swirl of black cloaks. Madam Pomphrey just shook her head. In all the years that she had known the boy, she had never seen him act that worried about someone. She had interacted with him quite a bit. He was almost always in the hospital wing for some reason or another. He was a nice boy, he could have quite a mean streak to him, but he was mostly kind and respectful. Except for his rivals at school. But that was to be expected. They weren't exactly kind or respectful to him either.

         She turned to her charge. Tamara's light brown hair, glinting in the evening sunlight, was spread across the pillows – her eyes closed. She started to stir. Madam Pomphrey sighed, picked up the potion she had had Severus brew and walked to the girl. Well, at least having Severus hovering did have some advantages. Hopefully this potion would now work faster than usual...
**************

         Tamara blinked and groaned, putting a hand to her aching head. Where am I? She wondered. Then she remembered, and groaned again. It was all very odd. One minute, she was in the broom closet with Professor Snape, trying hard not to let him see her crying, and then, the next, the door was open, hexes were flying, and he was protecting her! One of the hexes had hit her. And now, she hurt all over. Madam Pomphrey saw her wake and bustled over with a potion in her hands.

         “Hear, dear. Drink all of this. I'm afraid it will taste quite disgusting, but it will help you get stronger faster.” she said and held out the steaming goblet. Tamara took the goblet and tasted the warm liquid tentatively. She blinked in surprise. She then gulped down the rest of the warm, rich, sweet potion and then sat back against the pillows once more with a sigh.

         “It – it tasted good.” she told the nurse. Madam Pomphrey blinked in surprise and inspected the goblet. She poked at it with her wand, a look of concentration on her face, viewing the ingredients of the potion. Then, a slight smile appeared on her worn face.

         “That boy.” she murmured, shaking her head.
*************

         Severus looked up from his parchment when there was a rap on his office door the next evening. “Enter.” he said. The door opened. A second year Hufflepuff boy was standing in his doorway. “Yes?” he asked the boy shortly. “This had better be important. I am working.” The boy, who looked scared before, now looked absolutely terrified.

         “I – I” he stammered, “Uh, um. Ma – madam Pomphrey sent me. She – she told me that you – you could come back now.” He finished.

         “Is that all?” Severus asked him. The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Very well then.” he rose. “You may go now.” The boy scampered off. He took the piece of string that he had laid on his desk and pulled his long, black hair out of his face and tied it off with the string. Then, black robes billowing out behind him, he made his way up the many flights of stairs to the hospital wing.
*************

         Tamara had just finished her second dose of the potion when the hospital wing's doors opened slightly. In slipped none other than Professor Snape. He strode over to Madam Pomphrey. Tamara strained to hear what they said, but soon gave up. She could not hear them at all. Once, they both looked over at her. She smiled weakly. Snape looked a bit surprised and hesitantly smiled back. Then, they both turned again and continued talking. Tamara sighed and looked up to watch the setting sunbeams dancing across the ceiling. She jumped when someone cleared his throat, directly beside her.

         “Stop doing that!” she snapped at the young professor. He looked confused.

         “Doing what?” he asked her.

         “Moving so – so quietly! It's creepy, and you are constantly doing it!” He blinked in surprise.

         “I am?”

         “Yes.”

         “Oh.” There was a pause. “H – how are you feeling?” he asked. She shrugged.

         “Well enough, I suppose. I'm bored though.” She said. Snape shrugged.

         “I see. Well. I, uh, had better get back to work.” He told her. Then, he turned quickly and left, just as quietly as ever. She watched the door close behind him, strangely disappointed.
****************

         Severus strode from the hospital wing, mentally scolding himself. That's enough. He told himself firmly. He walked to the Entrance Hall and paused. Then, he strode out onto the grounds. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes and started to walk the perimeter of the Lake. He needed to clear his head. Yes, that's what he needed. But, instead of banishing thoughts of the young girl lying in the hospital wing, being outside just brought back to mind the way the sunlight had gleamed on her messy brown hair. He shook his head only to find that imagine replaced with another, more poignant one. Her smile was so very... warm. It made him want to smile back. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed.

         If he was going to think about her, he wanted to do it on his terms. When he was in control. So, he started doing what he did best. He started to analyze it all. Right. She was still in school. He was not. She was a Gryffindor. He was a Slytherin. Well, technically, he wasn't anything, not being in school anymore. But still... She was a girl. And a very attractive one at that. He stopped short. Where had that thought come from?

         As he continued his analyzing, he realized something. His analysis led him in no other direction. There was only one possible explanation. He was falling in love.

         This was bad. Very bad indeed.
******************

         The next morning, Tamara stared at the ceiling. Again. This was getting monotonous. She sighed. Madam Pomphrey had left several minutes ago to work in her adjoining office, leaving her quite alone. Her thoughts drifted around in circles. But they always ended up on the same thing. Well, the same person, actually. But that shouldn't be. She closed her eyes tight, hoping that would shut out the thoughts. It didn't. She opened her eyes again and sighed. Well, there was no denying it – Severus Snape was attractive. He was graceful, handsome, and, surprisingly, well... kind. Which was weird. She had always, even in first and second year, been intimidated by him. He was tall and dark and foreboding. He was always frowning, walking around, hands stuffed in his pockets. She never dreamed that there could be another side to him. But, well, there it was. He was like a cat, really. Graceful, elegant, quiet, and...

         She sighed again. Stop it! She told herself. It was all well and good fantasizing about him in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep, but this was getting out of control. He was a teacher. She was still in school. She was a Gryffindor. He was... well... nothing really. He didn't have a house. But, that didn't matter. He used to be a bloody Slytherin for gosh's sake!

         She raked a hand threw her messy hair and rubbed her eyes. This was insane. She wished desperately that Madam Pomphrey would come back and give her a sleeping potion. Or just something that wold stop these ridiculous thoughts.
***************

         Severus sat at his desk again. It was late at night. Very late. The only light in the small room was a single candle. There was distinct scowl on his face, his brows were creased. Correcting potions lists did not require mass amounts of concentration by any stretch of the imagination, but, to the casual observer, it appeared as if he had never done anything so strenuous in his life.

         With a howl of frustration, he suddenly stood up and tossed an ink pot at the far wall. It shattered. He sat down again, burying his head in his hands, not knowing or caring that the thick black ink was now trickling down the wall, soaking the green carpet.

         Moments later, there was a rap on his door. He did not look up. He did not answer it. Slowly, the door creaked  open. Finally, he slowly raised his head. There, on the threshold of his office stood none other than Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Snape slowly raised himself from his seat, running a hand through his mussed hair. He inclined his head.

         “Headmaster.” he said.

         “Severus.” Dumbledore returned. “How are you this evening?”

         “Well enough, thank you.” Severus returned. “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked. Dumbledore surveyed the room. He seemed not to notice the streaming puddle of ink on the wall nor the shards of the ink pot on the floor. He smiled, slightly, and sighed.

         “I was planning on going on a stroll through the grounds. I saw your office light on and wanted to know if you would like to accompany me?” he asked. His eyes were shining in the candlelight. Severus wasn't sure if he saw pity or amusement in those bright eyes. He inclined his head.

         “I would be much obliged to accompany you, Headmaster.”
*************

         Albus Dumbledore inconspicuously surveyed the young man walking by his side. No matter how old Severus got, he would always be a boy to him. He would never tell Severus this, but he found it both humorous and endearing that Severus was so concerned over the Reynolds girl. It was obvious to him that the young professor was very much infatuated with the young Gryffindor, and very angry at himself for being so. He was glad. It was good for the boy to be feeling something again. Very good. And now, Albus Dumbledore was determined to do what he could for him.

         “Severus.” he started. The young man turned, his face mirroring his internal turmoil.

         “Yes, sir?”

         “Don't think I didn't notice that you have... defaced... the walls of your office.” He said, eyes twinkling. Severus stiffened.

         “I apologize, sir.” he said quietly. “I was being... rash. It will not happen again.”

         “It won't?” Dumbledore repeated. The young man nodded curtly. “Pity.” Dumbledore murmured, just loud enough to be heard. Severus stopped walking and turned to him.

         “I'm – I'm afraid I don't understand, sir.” He told the headmaster. Dumbledore smiled.

         “Don't be afraid to not understand, dear boy. Never be afraid of not understanding. For if we understood everything all the time, there would be no adventures in life.” Dumbledore responded. Severus blinked in surprise. That apparently was not the answer he was expecting. Good. Dumbledore thought. That will hopefully get him thinking.

         “Yes, sir.” He mumbled. Dumbledore nodded and let the subject drop. They walked in silence for a few more moments. Back inside the castle, Dumbledore stopped walking and turned to the young man.

         “Severus, I almost forgot.” He started, and reached into his robes, pulling out an old book. “The whole reason I came down the dungeons this evening was to drop this off in your office. I have read it several times.” He handed the now very surprised and confused young professor The Tales of the Beedle Bard. “It does worlds of good for... curing boredom. Good night, Severus.”
**************

         Tamara woke the next morning. It was Saturday. She smiled to herself. In exactly twenty-four hours she could leave the hospital wing and resume her normal life. Finally. The castle clock rung out the hour – ten o clock in the morning. This was a Hogsmeade weekend. She could hear her fellow students out on the grounds, getting ready to leave. The castle would soon be all but empty. Madam Pomphrey bustled in with the-four-times-a-day potion that Severus – no, Professor Snape – had brewed.

         “Here you are, dearie. Not long now. How are you feeling?” Madam Pomphrey asked. Tamara just shrugged. That was such a general question. How was she feeling? Physically, she felt quite well. The pain had greatly subsided. She was a bit stiff, but it was not much. Mentally, she was... drained. She was tired of trying to fight her thoughts. It was exhausting enough recovering and coping with boredom. It was even worse forcing herself not to think of the handsome young professor that had taken to haunting her thoughts. And her emotions were in even worse shape. She was angry for constantly thinking about him: his grace, and elegance; his kindness and his.... attractiveness. She was embarrassed for the same reason. She was nervous because it's not like either of them were going anywhere. They would be spending at least the rest of the year together. And she was... well, in love. There was no other way to put it.
**************

         Severus Snape spent the entire morning... waffling. He half-heartedly corrected papers, constantly getting distracted from doing so to do some minor thing... such as getting a snack from the kitchens. He then paced. After that, he sort of cleaned the ink off of the wall. Then, he sat down to fill out an order form for more potions ingredients. However, after he wrote in the blank prefaced by: Please List Desired Products, “boomslang, armadillo bile, Tamara, essence of murlap” he put down his quill, shook his head, and finally allowed himself to smile.

         He then rose from his chair, took the old book from the drawer of his desk, and left the room. He took the steps two at a time all the way up to the hospital wing. When he opened the door the wing, his nerve finally failed him. There lay Tamara, the sunlight dancing across her peaceful face. She was sleeping. He slowly, quietly, made his way to her bed and sat by her side, content to simply watch her.
***************

         Tamara woke. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the young man seated by her bed. He was reading in an old book. She turned to look to see what book it was. As she did so, Severus looked up and closed the book, putting it on the bedside table.

         “You're awake.” he said simply.

         “I am. What were you reading?” He gave her a wry smile

         “The Tales of the Beedle Bard. The Headmaster gave it to me to borrow. It's...” he paused, searching for the right word. “Interesting.” he finished. She arched one of her eyebrows.

         “Really?”

         “Yes. And... kind of... odd. I mean.... Babbity Rabbity? Is it just me – or does that sound like something written for a Hufflepuff first year?” He asked. That surprised a laugh out of her. He blinked, and, after a moment's hesitation, chuckled softly.
         
         She tilted her head, to take him in more fully. He had pulled his hair back again, revealing the sharp-cut features of his face. She noted how charmingly his high cheekbones rose when he laughed. A few strands of black hair had fallen from their tie and now hung across his cheeks – but he didn't seem to notice. Her eyes flitted up to his. His amazingly blue eyes locked with hers. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Madam Pomphrey bustle out of her office – stop when she saw the two of them, and hurry back in again.

         She felt his hand at the base of her neck; his long, elegant fingers getting slightly tangled in her hair. He drew her forward into a half-sitting position. Then, he leaned over. She felt his soft, full lips close over hers. And she was, for the first time in a long time, incredibly happy.

         After several moments, she sank back into the soft pillows once again, feeling very peaceful and content. She looked up at his face. He smiled down at her, and she returned the smile fully. He reached down and stroked her arm. She smiled hesitantly. After a moment, she jerked her arm away. Confusion etched itself on his features.

         “What?” he asked, bewildered. She ducked her head and gave him a shy smile.

         “Sorry. It's just... that tickled.” She said. Tamara did not miss the smirk that swiftly appeared - and disappeared - on his face anymore than she missed the mischievous glint in his eyes, as he asked, a little too innocently.

         “You're ticklish?”

         “Just. Never. Mind.” she told him shortly; but it was already too late...




                                       The
                                           End