a small thing for @oftriwizards
The castle felt emptier now.
Even with students bustling between lessons, the echo of laughter in the Great Hall, the rustle of parchment and whispered incantations in the air - it all seemed distant. As if Hogwarts had been hollowed out, its marrow scooped clean by war, leaving only a vast, yawning shell of what had once been.
And there he was, just as hollow - Snape moved through its corridors like a ghost, his robes whispering against stone as he walked. He did not belong here. Not anymore. Perhaps he never had.
His black robes trailed behind him, the movement slower than it once was, heavier, like a man carrying something unseen. His hair, streaked with strands of grey, was mostly gathered at the nape of his neck, though a few stubborn strands had fallen loose. His collar, as always, was high - buttoned up to the throat, shielding the pale, jagged remnants of Nagini's fangs.
He was nearly at the staff wing when he heard it.
He closed his eyes for half a second.
With a slow exhale through his nose, he turned.
Hermione Granger - Professor Granger, now, fittingly - was striding towards him, books clutched to her chest, her robes slightly askew, as if she'd just left a particularly engaging (or frustrating) lesson. Her hair was still wild, though it had been wrangled into something tamer, and there was a look in her eyes that set his teeth on edge.
She's going to speak to me.
He considered walking away before she could, but she was already too close.
"Professor Granger." he drawled instead, as if her presence were a mild inconvenience rather than an inevitability. Ever adept at keeping everyone at a sensible distance, especially after the events of the war and the painful revelation of his exploits and true nature. He had Potter to thank for that particularly embarrassing detail, and Fate had not seen it fit to grant him the solace of death.
You left these in the staffroom, she said, holding out a stack of parchment.
Ah. His lesson plans. How obliging. Not that he needed them, his mind was still sharp enough to retain information.
Snape plucked them from her grasp, his fingers brushing parchment, not skin - he was careful of that. "How observant." he murmured, tucking the papers into his robes. and then, not one to resist an opportunity for a well-timed sarcastic remark, he tacked on, "Perhaps I should recommend you for Head Girl. Oh, wait."