Thanks, That Was Fun Chapter 4

Severus Snape sat stiffly on the edge of his chair in the waiting room of Victoria Macmillan’s office. It was a cheerful room, painted a pale yellow. The doors entering and leading deeper into the building were both a light wood. A pudgy red haired girl sat behind the desk attempting to look busy, but in reality was really shuffling papers about. Untouched magazines with titles like Quidditch Quarterly and Golfing Around the Globe sat near him on a low table.

There was no title on the exterior of the building, insuring the privacy of Macmillan’s clients.

Unfortunately for Severus, he had taught generations of Hogwart’s students and his identity was no secret. The secretary was eyeing him warily.

A small bell chimed from within the walls.

“Mrs. Macmillan will see you now,” the secretary said with a faint smile.

Severus didn’t know whether it was from fright or she was mocking him. He had no doubt her job also entailed a bond of silence, he hoped she took it seriously. He fixed her with a stony gaze as he passed by her desk and she paled considerably.

Wordlessly, he walked through the other door.

As the door shut behind him with a satisfying click he felt a little better. Temporarily.

“Did you terrorize poor Mabel?” A tiny, stout, grey haired woman in conservative blue robes stood before him with a demanding expression on her face.

“I did nothing of the sort,” Snape frowned at her. She snorted.

“You have a problem controlling your emotions, Severus,” the woman softened a bit. “You were always a volcano waiting to happen, even when you were small.”

“I was nothing of the sort,” he scoffed.

“Then why are you here?”

Snape stayed silent.

“Good,” she said with a firm nod. “You admit there’s something you need to deal with. This is a significant step, Severus.”

He gave her a foul look, but approached the set of grey chairs in the corner with a resigned look.

Agatha Berger heard it from Millie Tuttle who heard it from Jack Kensington that he defiantly went to Victoria Macmillan’s office last Thursday,” Ginny said with a firm nod.

“Well, that settles that, then,” said Ron looking torn between skepticism and laughter.

Hermione shook her bushy head and took a sip from the tea cup sitting in front of her.

A small cooking fire in a small stone fireplace crackled behind her; a large heavy pot bubbled slowly. Ginny rose to stir the contents briefly.

“So he went to talk to Victoria,” Hermione said flatly. “They are cousins.”

“She helps people, Hermione,” Ginny sighed.

“It doesn’t mean she can help him,” Hermione said sarcastically.

“It doesn’t mean she can’t either,” Ron said, stretching his arms and giving a hopeful look to the pot of stew Ginny was attending to.

Hermione rose and opened an enchanted breadbox. Warm bread steamed invitingly as she lifted a loaf out and set it on a wooden breadboard.

“I just can’t possibly fathom it,” Hermione said, turning to face her friends. “Severus in counseling.”

“He cares for you,” Ron said cautiously.

“As much as he can, anyway,” Ginny pointed out.

“I think that’s the problem,” Hermione said somewhat mournfully as she took a bowl of stew from Ginny. “I really think that was his best try.”

Severus lay awake in his bed, staring at the underside of his canopy.

He could do this. He would do this. He loved her. She belonged t— with him.

He discovered in her mad rush she had forgotten a single black ribbon she used to hold her hair back when she was assisting him with his experiments. It still lay as a placeholder in the book they were working out of when she left. If he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply his imagination made it smell faintly of her shampoo.

He had tied it around a post of the bed, on the side she would normally occupy. Vaguely, he hoped she would return to retrieve it.

Perhaps one day she would.