Things Better Left Unsaid (Snape love story)

Chapter Twenty Eight: The Gray Lady

A/N: okay, so in the UK it's "Gray", and here in America it's "Grey". Pardon my use of both! Also, enjoy this chapter, cause its actually kinda nice! Can't say that much for the next few...!

Chapter Twenty Eight

We snagged the map from Harry, who was more than happy to send us out on this little mission. I think that maybe he was most relieved about someone stepping up an taking responsibility because it was such a fruitless task. After all, no one alive has seen it. Which basically meant that we needed to talk to someone dead, and who better than Roween Ravenclaw's own daughter? It seemed uncannily lucky that she roamed this school as a ghost.

George held the map, stationed between Fred and I as we all peered over at in, leaned in closely. It was a nostalgic; this is what we did back when we went to school here. We walked around in formation, always the three of us, with the map in hand and a task in mind. This time, however, it's much less fun. We've all matured since then, though I least of all. George had become a lot more responsible with the shop, and Fred... Well, he was so much more grown up. He was adult enough for the both of us, though still retained his everlasting humor.

I, on the other hand, couldn't seem to let go of my youth. I was still as feisty and teen-like as ever, though I was a bit more responsible. I just couldn't let go. Ideal bad sometimes for Fred; I just slipped into these moods, primarily when I see all the kids getting Hogwarts supplies and school memorabilia, becoming a complete downer, snapping at him. Sometimes, I wasn't sure why he even stayed with me. Yet, he did, which just went to show that I was wrong about Snape. Snape never stuck by me for very long-- one day one moment he wanted me more than anything, and the next moment he was hissing at me to leave him.

Besides; I was an emotionally compromised teenage girl. My mother had just been killed, I was upset and alone, and I needed companionship. Obviously, Oliver was never going to give me much of that, simply craving the physical. Here came this man, who was intimidating and challenging and... Reliable. An adult. A man I admired and wanted nonetheless. Countless times I went through these thoughts, trying to get something out of it that I hadn't before. I came to realize that Snape was just something I clung to, something I needed then. I only felt a need for him still now because I was in a weak state of mind, and had made myself believe in him.

Yes, that made a lot if sense.

And yet, I can't help but think that it was just an excuse. Before I could think on this anymore, a hand dropped to my shoulder. Fred. I wiped the guilt from my face and looked over at him.

"As much as I don't want us to all split up, I think that only one of us should go in and talk to the ghost." He said, pointing to the room before us, which was known to hold the roaming apparition of the daughter of Ravenclaw.

I nodded glumly. "Well, I'm not so sure if I can do much with her, but I can go in." I offered. The boys looked a bit relied at this, knowing they both aren't exactly the serious type.

George patted my shoulder, giving me a brave look. "Well, good luck." He said, giving me a gentle push forward. I stumbled a bit over my feet, glancing wearily behind me at the boys, who watched intently. Pursing my lips, I pushed into the room.

Darkness enveloped me-- but there was a misty moonlight in the room that shed some creepy light. This just seemed like a place a ghost would cling to. I closed the door behind me, moving forward. "Hello?" I called.

Nothing. I cleared my throat. "Ravenclaw?" My voice shoes emptily in the corridor-like tower, causing me to frown. I hated creepy places like this.

"What do you want?" A distant voice snapped, and my heart nearly leapt from my chest.

I turned out the large open windows, which looked to have held panes of glass countless decades ago, but now looked as barren and lost as the rest of this lonely tower. Through one of the openings, a translucent woman hovered in, looking skeptical and angry.