In A Blink (Marauders Era)

Chapter Three

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September Third, 1976

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It didn't take long for people to start staring. In fact, Severus blocked her way to Defense Against the Dark Arts almost as soon as she began walking out of the Common Room.

"You're a Gryffindor now?" the greasy-haired boy sneer, looking slightly hurt. Lark side-stepped him, only to have him blocking her way again.

"Yes, and you're a prejudice git," she retorted. "What else is new?"

She would've stopped there, but he bumped her shoulder as she tried to pass him, causing her books to spill all over the hallway. A few students rushing their way to second period looked up to catch a glimpse of all the commotion, but didn't bother to help her. Lark felt her lip quiver unsurely, and the bitter, clotted feeling of bile rose in her throat. She forced it down.

"Oh, wait, no," she corrected herself snidely, turning around on her heel to face him. "That happened a while back. No fixing that mistake."

All the hurt was wiped from his face, making him look nothing but hell-bent on Lark's discomfort. She quickly darted her eyes away from his dark grey ones, fixating on his nose. This wasn't fair. Lily was supposed to be able to deal with this sort of thing, not her.

"Oh, I'm that prejudice one!" he gaped angrily. "You're the one that's wearing a Gryffindor uniform because you can't stand the sight of what you really are: a Slytherin. That's right, Lark, you're an oily, plotting, evil, betraying Slytherin and that makes you sick. Well, guess what? You're not the only one.

"You make me sick, too."

Lark trembled and finally gave in to picking up her spilled supplies, still refusing to look him in the eye.

"Please leave me alone, Severus."

"No," he knelt next to her dauntingly, and she could feel his hot, musty breath on her neck. "You don't get to call me that, Riddle, because I know your secret. Next time you think of me, look down at your left arm."

He stood, a hint of true, pure loathing in his voice.

"It'll be one hell of a reminder."

I'm almost seventeen, she told herself. I can deal with Severus Snape.

"Does it ever hurt?" sneered Severus, now kicking the books around her like a child throwing a tantrum. "Late at night, when you're thinking all of those brave, bold Gryffindor things that you think about, does it sting?"

"Yes," she mumbled through a mouthful of words she want to say but somehow could never force through her lips. "Can I leave now?"

"Leave?" he snarled. "You've been free to leave for a while now. I'm most certainly not keeping you here."

Lark stood and adjusted her bookbag against her shoulder, clutching a fistful of quills. Severus was taller now, at least two decimeters towering over her. It didn't phase her. What phased her was how he looked at her, as though she existed purely to make his life harder. What he didn't understand was that she was trying not to. She was trying to keep both of them from making any further damage between them, but he just wouldn't stop pushing.

Lark was crying again, but not the kind of crying that made everybody within five meters uncomfortable. It was the kind of crying that Severus could easily shove under his boot to inspect and shove aside.

"How are your friends, Severus?" she was looking at his eyes again, and they were very, very empty. "Do they sing you songs when you're lonely? Do they know when to say the right things? Are they perfect? Do they exist?"