fiebre || severus snape

deu - la seva mirada

chapter ten - his gaze

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Usually, the middle of the school week was tolerable since it edged closer to the weekend. This was true for me most of the time, however, this week was just dragging on for me. It felt as if it was the start of the week everyday, never getting closer to the weekends.

The day after Snape and I's encounter, I wasn't sure what I was feeling. It's days later and Snape's words replayed in my mind like a broken record player to the point where I was questioning my sanity and even the quality of my hearing.

I couldn't have bad hearing though, he had leaned his head down and spoke right next to my ear, his voice was as clear as day. I deemed that my mind just registered his response the wrong way, that it was just in the gutter since I was with Harry most of the time and his jokes were just in the back of my mind, wanting to relate them to whatever I could. That was what I told myself.

After leaving his office that day, I wasn't sure if I should've gone back and asked him to repeat what he said in order to confirm my theories, or if I should just ignore and act like it never happened. I also wanted to slap myself for spitting out such nonsense at that moment that everything happened, but I wanted to be a smart ass and make my point so he'd shut up, but in return got a response that would hinder my mind for days.

It didn't help that I had potions the next day, first thing in the morning. Not to mention I had potions three times a week. I had debated whether or not to attend his class, but I figured that any chance Snape saw an opportunity to interrogate me as to why I wasn't present in his class again, he would take, so I'd rather just go, keep to myself and avoid any other interactions with him.

What Snape had said days before about me avoiding my problems that I couldn't handle, or as he phrased it 'stomping away', would cross my mind at times. It was true. I didn't know how to face or deal with my problems, sometimes I couldn't handle the emotions. Yes, I was good at concealing them, but if they got too overwhelming, close to breaking, I'd need to leave. My best bet was writing everything in my journal and hoping that by writing—my feelings, unwanted thoughts, worries would all go away, latch onto the paper and disappear from my inner world. That was exactly what I did.

In potions, I found myself being more hypervigilant than usual. Before, with Snape being the moody, unpredictable professor he was, everyone, including me, would try our best to not cause trouble or an inconvenience to his day so he wouldn't have a reason to pick at or embarrass us. Of course, the majority of the time that was difficult and unavoidable, but we still tried. Though for me this week, the lookout and avoidance towards him was enhanced.

My senses were almost heightened in his presence. Just the thought of him fired up my fight or flight. In my vision, or I might as well say peripheral vision, I was able to spot him immediately. I was on the lookout in case he ever made his way around a dark corner in the halls and saw me, proceeding to interrogate me. I made sure to walk with someone at all times to avoid it being as awkward as I felt at the thought of bumping into him or seeing him on my way somewhere, alone.

The times in class where Snape would walk around to observe the students and eventually make his way to the table with Harry and the rest of us were, the warmth in my body would rise. I found myself anxiously fidgeting with my rings and bracelets, keeping my eyes down the entire time during classwork, making sure to avoid any eye contact during his lessons, never leaving my seat so I wouldn't bump into him. I tried everything in my control that I could do to not give him a reason to pick on me, talk to me, look at me. Though practically burning inside, I kept my cool, strutting down the halls and keeping a straight face as usual.

Snape was the exact opposite. He acted as if nothing had happened, continuing to lecture as normal. There was no special or awkward treatment either, he treated me like the rest of his students, but because I was hyperware of my actions in order to avoid his attention, he spoke not a word to me during these few days. Along with this, it made me question if I really did hear him wrong that evening, or if he himself was acting as if nothing happened.