***Chapter Fourteen***

March 1997

She bit her lower lip, the hood of her cloak was drawn around her, keeping her from being easily identified. She was hoping she would be out tonight. She felt a little … bad asking this of her, but she didn't know who else to ask. No one alive would tell her. Well, no one alive she wanted to ask anyway. That left ghosts. She was the only one Hermione was pretty positive wouldn't tell anyone what she'd been asked tonight.

She paced outside the Ravenclaw tower. She wasn't out past curfew … yet.

"Please make an appearance." She whispered this as if it was her mantra for the night.

Eventually, the ghost in question showed. Whether she'd felt summoned and therefore unable to stop from coming, Hermione did not know.

"Good evening," she said, knowing she wasn't going to get a response. "Can you show me where the entrance is to Professor Snape's rooms?"

The Grey Lady arched a ghostly brow at Hermione's request. She drew the small "basket" she'd made out of a box out from under her cloak, waving her wand at it so it would expand back to its regular size so the ghost could see she wasn't trying to … prank the potions professor. "I just want to leave this for him, and I can't use my familiar for it this time."

No reply, which was expected. She crooked a finger, though, bidding Hermione to come with her. It worked! She wasn't sure what she would have done if it hadn't.

Hermione followed the witch, down into the dungeons (unsurprisingly). Hermione cast a disillusion spell, not wanting to risk anyone seeing her. A few times she wondered if asking the woman to lead her down here where the Baron's ghost spent most of his time was cruel, but if there was a ghost Hermione could count on keeping Hermione's secret.

It was this one.

She didn't have to do this. At least that was Hermione's reasoning for not feeling truly awful.

Eventually, the ghost stopped, pointing at what looked like a wall, but upon closer inspection was open. Interesting. She stepped inside the alcove, squinting in the dark before walking to the end of the hallway. She took the box out from under her cloak again, returning it to its regular size once more, and set it on the ground outside the door. It had to be his door, didn't it?

She took her leave almost immediately. She had no doubt his wards would alert him to someone being there. The Grey Lady waited for her, and Hermione was relieved to see that. Maybe she hadn't waited for her. Maybe she'd waited to be sure Hermione wasn't really out to prank the professor. It was impossible to say.

"Thank you," she whispered once they got to the main floor of the castle. The Grey Lady went her own way, Hermione went back to the seventh floor and Gryffindor tower.

+++++

Severus opened his door, feeling his wards had been breached. No one knew where his rooms were, not even his Slytherins. He would be alerted if they went to the head of house office. Thus far, there'd been no need to reveal this information to anyone. Wandlessly, he cast a lumos. He always … liked the look of light coming from the end of his hand. The passageway leading from his rooms was empty.

He looked down at the feel of something rubbing against his ankles.

"You don't set off my wards," he murmured to the cat. He knew who he was. He was Miss Granger's familiar. He had a habit of finding his way into Severus' quarters more than just occasionally. They'd gotten acquainted during her third year when the familiar would come sit near her while doing her extracurricular activities.

"Meow," the feline said, drawing Severus' attention to him once again after determining there was truly no one there. Nothing seemed … off.

He spotted it then.

A box. Clearly, the feline hadn't brought it. He stooped to pick the box up, noticing that it was full of muggle sweets typically sold at … Easter time. Not out of the ordinary, considering Easter break was starting tomorrow.

"I don't suppose you know who is responsible for this?" he asked the feline as he used his index finger to sort through the various items in the box. It wasn't excessively full, but certainly he'd have enough sweets for days.

He brought the box to his nose, smelling it. Odd perhaps, but he was hoping to glean information as to where it originated. Or, rather, who had handled it before it was dropped off.

No such luck.

"If this is you, Albus," he muttered, taking the box into his quarters, closing his door behind him. The cat went on his way.

He didn't think Albus would do this. He had an odd sense of humor, for sure. This, though, would border on being cruel. That was not something Albus would do to him. Not deliberately.

He had no idea who else it could be was the problem. Sybil was out of the question, despite Albus' insinuation on Valentine's Day that it might be.

What did it mean? Was it someone trying to get him to do something wrong? The box being full of muggle, not magical, goodies led him to believe it was not a former death eater. Then, he supposed, he could be wrong about that. How better to fake him out? Make him believe it couldn't be one of them trying to kill him. (Though what would the purpose of the rose have been? He didn't know. Lulling him into complacency? One rose wasn't going to make him let his guard down.) He summoned his wand, mumbling a spell as he pointed the wand at the various items in the box.

No poison then. No packaging had been tampered with. Other than their placement in the box anyway.

It was just candy.

Other than Albus over the years, he'd never gotten things , so he wasn't quite sure what to feel. Worse, he didn't know who he was supposed to direct those feelings toward.

He went back to the who it could be. It couldn't be Trelawney. Could it? He had made it abundantly clear for nearly eighteen years that he had absolutely no interest in her, friendly or otherwise.

He regarded his reflection in the mirror after he set his wand and the box down on a table under it.

He was nearly forty years old, and he thought he looked it. The past sixteen years hadn't been awful, but constantly worrying that Albus was right about Voldemort's potentially coming back was stressful. Teaching students year in and year out in a subject that most just didn't care for wasn't easy either.

He was, overall, a bitter man.

Was it a joke? Assuming it wasn't Sybil, because surely she wasn't that dense. And she'd never given him things before. Why would she start now?

So it had to be a joke, didn't it? Someone wanting to have a bit of fun at his expense. Make him think someone was interested in him. And he'd find out at the end of the road that it was Crabbe or Goyle making fun of their head of house?

And yet, they'd gone out of their way to find his quarters. And did nothing with that information but leave the box of treats. That didn't point to it being someone up to no good. Surely, they'd use the information, tell others, or something.

He had no idea, he realized with a sigh. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

At all.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com