𝐔𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥

You are nothing to me

At the end of the Staff Meeting, Minerva approached her with a slightly concerned countenance; it was veiledly alarmed, but Blanche tried to maintain her poise. The dark dress Minerva wore emphasized her concern, as it made her look paler than usual. "What was that, Blanche?"

She was mortified. Snape had fled the Library immediately after the end of the meeting, probably to avoid that exact situation; that was probably the first sensible action he had performed in her presence.

"I'm sorry, Minerva. I take full responsibility for my actions."

Minerva sighed, tiredly taking off her glasses. "I know that Severus can be difficult to handle, and as the main responsible for your well-being as a staff member, I may apologize on his behalf. I will speak with him," she said, glancing in the door's direction with her eyebrows raised, "as soon as I find him."

The Library was slowly emptying as the teachers left to head back to their rooms, and that was what Blanche desperately wanted to do. Minerva's presence made her feel at ease, but she was quite tired both from people and lack of rest; she hadn't slept from the day before, after all. Tiredness made her feel all but social.

However, as much as she felt slightly vindicated, both by the amused sparkle she saw in Flitwick's eyes and Minerva's promise, she nodded, deciding to take the high road. At least she hadn't escaped.

Sprout approached them with a big smile. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" The vibrancy in her voice delighted Blanche and caused a genuine smile to appear on her face, even after being softly scolded by Minerva - and, most of all, after that messy meeting. Sprout grabbed her hands with enthusiasm, making her flinch instinctively. "Oh, I'm sorry! Silly me, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Less," she said, immediately retracting her hands to put them in two of her numerous pockets. Blanche didn't mean to convey uneasiness: Sprout was a company so warm and welcoming that it was all but unpleasant to be around: actually, her presence was so kind and cheerful that it always managed to change a whole room's mood in mere minutes. She was down to earth - literally - and it showed in her gestures, overall shining through her; moreover, her age made her somewhat reassuring, as her experience guaranteed a wise insight into her takes. Blanche was sorry for her reaction and quickly replied: "You don't make me uncomfortable. I apologize, I'm not used to having people touch me. I'm really glad I could be of help!" She put a hand on Sprout's shoulder, trying to reassure her, and added: "Please, call me Blanche. I greatly enjoy being around people as passionate about their field as you are."

"Call me Pomona, then," Sprout said with a bright, relieved smile, "I have a good feeling about you. Don't you agree?" She turned to Minerva, who nodded with a warm smile. "I'm sure Blanche's permanence will be memorable, to say the least."

Hooch suddenly joined the conversation, giving a playful nudge to Sprout and, with a loud whistle, she said: "Wow, Blanche! Blanche! We love a woman with a strong character! Or we stan, as the kids say. I don't know, it's a young thing. No bullshit allowed," she laughed, winking at a scandalized, frowning Minerva, "looking forward to meeting you again!"

"Rolanda! Language!" Minerva said as Hooch fastly bounced away with a playfully dismissive wave, leaving the Library. Blanche was taken aback but flattered nonetheless. Hooch had an energy that made it impossible to dislike her: honestly, she was quite entertaining to have around.

Blanche finally excused herself, leaving Sprout and Minerva with another apology while heading out.

Before going to bed, she wanted to be alone for a while; the idea of going directly to her quarters felt oppressing, so she decided to take some air with a quick night stroll around the castle. Hogwarts was starting to feel like a place that she could see herself living in, and that probably was partly due to the warm welcome she had been given: even her recent outburst hadn't been reprimanded as harshly as she expected. She didn't anticipate feeling so at ease so soon; she felt unexpectedly accepted, at least on a superficial level, and that made her look forward to building stronger relationships with several colleagues who had effortlessly caught her attention. The reigning silence was peaceful, and so was the cold moonlight filtering through the windows.

"Lumos," she whispered while walking down the long corridors, admiring her surroundings. The portraits were asleep; trying to make her steps as quiet as possible, she passed by the Arithmancy classroom in the Central Hall, to finally exit in the open. The chilly air of September hit her, bringing a fresh scent of grass to her; the Transfiguration Courtyard was as beautiful as always, with its columns dimly shimmering in the moonlight and the great lawn immersed in the night's darkness. She marveled at the sight. She wasn't allowed to go out at night when she was a student: this was the first time she could contemplate the Courtyard at such a late hour.

Suddenly, she sensed a presence behind her back; but before she could turn around, a familiar, ironically disapproving voice reached her ears. "Are you... lost?"

She instantly recognized Snape's voice. Of course, it was him. She raised her wand to illuminate Snape's serious face. His features were even paler in the cold moonlight, quite harsh, even: the shadow that her wand projected on his eyes didn't help to soften his countenance. However, his gaze glowed softly, reflecting the wand's light. Blanche felt observed, and then almost embarrassed for a split second. She was still mad, but she tried not to show it. "Of course not."

Besides, why do you care?

"I most certainly do not," he replied. Blanche frowned. This time he had been way more slick with his Legilimens, and that alarmed her. His reading abilities were far superior to the norm, if her Occlumens had been bypassed; she made a mental note to renforce it. "Stop doing that. It's unethical, annoying and frankly disturbing."

Snape didn't reply.

"Well, can I help you?"

Blanche was annoyed. He had disrupted the peace she felt before he interrupted her lone stroll, sneakily used Legilimens again, and now he was still and silent like a statue. The man was unbearable.

Following a few seconds of silence, he murmured: "Yes. Move."

"Pardon?"

"Don't make me repeat myself and move," he reiterated, pointing at the Courtyard, "you are in my way."

Don't make me repeat myself? What an arrogant man.

Blanche stepped aside without a word, but he didn't move an inch. "If I may," he added, "I find it quite hypocritical to criticize my ways, since you tried to do the same." His voice was calm, but it had an accusing note to it that caught Blanche off guard. "It was different."

"Nonsensical. It was the same, and I don't know why I even bother explaining," he stated flatly. "You don't have to explain anything to me," she said, mimicking his contemptuous tone, "your arrogance is beyond belief, Snape."

He was right, Blanche knew it, but she'd never admit it. She felt a hint of satisfaction when she saw him visibly scowling in the darkness.

"My arrogance?" he snarled quietly, "Your arrogance defies the laws of nature, and your pesky tendency to enforce far-fetched double standards is... risible." He was progressively raising his voice: Blanche had probably touched an exposed nerve.

Got him.

"Well, someone's mad," she chuckled, lowering her wand. With a scoff and a dismissive gesture, Snape tried to look unbothered. "To be mad, one should respect their opponent enough to deem their opinion worth the time of the day," he replied curtly, without lowering his voice. His stare was drilling into Blanche's skull, and she almost took a step back; his audacity was almost inspiring. That thought almost made her laugh, but instead, she whispered: "And yet I got under your skin, Snape. Pull yourself together and stop behaving like a jerk." Her tone was amused, but a vein of sarcasm stained it.

Snape's countenance darkened. With nothing but a soft rustle he leaned forward, bringing his face mere inches away from Blanche's nose; not severing eye contact for a single second, he finally slowly uttered: "You. Are nothing. To me."

A shiver ran down her spine. The man was intimidating, and those words had struck a nerve. Somehow, they resonated with her, and this time, she did take a step back. The soil, soft under her sole, grounded her again.

With an indecipherable stare and not a word more, he vanished at once, disappearing in the darkness of the colonnade embracing the Transfiguration Courtyard. Suddenly, like she was waking up from a dream, Blanche noticed that the fresh night air had turned cold on her skin. It all felt surreal, but of one thing she was sure of: he was an insufferable prick.