Severus Snape was not having a busy night. To an outsider, it might have seemed a relief. He had no one expecting anything from him. Dumbledore didn't need him to do anything. The Dark Lord had no use for him again until the semester started. It was close enough to the beginning of term that he had been able to move from Spinner's End to Hogwarts without raising any eyebrows, meaning he was free of Pettigrew, which was never a bad thing. And, since classes had yet to resume, he had no essays to grade. So delighted had he been to finally receive the appointment he'd been angling for for over a decade, he had already completed his lesson plans for the years.

In short, he had an evening in which he had absolutely nothing to do.

It was driving him mad.

He needed something to focus on, something to do, someone to serve. He had become very bad at being alone with his own thoughts at some point over the years – unsurprising really, considering his thoughts were his worst enemy. On free night's during the school year – more often after a particularly dramatic encounter with Lorena Potter – they tended to drive him straight into a bottle of fire whiskey to try and dull them. He was completely aware it was a terrible habit, but he'd yet to find anything else that worked.

He needed an activity, something to do that would take most of his not-inconsiderable mental faculties, leaving him no time to dwell on the past.

There was nothing to brew, as the Hospital Wing was stocked for the year. Thanks to Potter's offer, the Order didn't need him to whip anything up. He took a moment to be annoyed with her for that before brushing it off. He couldn't begrudge her the desire to help. He had no personal projects to work on at the moment.

Reading was also out, he had nothing that he could delve far enough into to block out his thoughts. He'd tried many a night, but he usually ended up staring blankly at the pages and completely consumed in his own worries, regrets, and guilt.

Company, that's what he needed, he decided. But honestly, he didn't want to go to Dumbledore. The old man always welcomed him with a cup of tea and some form of candy that he never took, but he didn't have the patience for Albus tonight. And the idea of strolling into Malfoy Manor to spend the evening with the Dark Lord made him smirk bitterly. Absolutely impossible. It was sad, really, that the first people he thought of for company were his masters. The only man he might consider a friend was locked away in Azkaban at the moment.

Really, his social life was almost worse than it had been in his Hogwarts years. He knew no one outside of the conflict who might be available. And he was fully aware of how pathetic this desperate search for a conversation partner was, but even more pathetic would be spending another night sipping firewhiskey alone in his office.

But that wasn't exactly true, he thought suddenly. He did have an acquaintance outside of this conflict. He would not precisely call her a friend, but Amity Raincrow was an option. His wards were keyed to allow him to Apparate to her, meaning he could go without being seen. And those wards provided the perfect excuse for showing up – checking to make sure they still held. She was perhaps not the most agreeable option, but she was close to the only one, and at the very least squabbling with her a bit would spare him his own company for a while.

That thought in mind, Severus donned his travelling cloak and headed from the dungeons, out onto the grounds and off school property. He would deny being childish, but he did really dislike the fact that Raincrow had gotten the last word in during their last conversation. It felt too much like losing, and the Slytherin in him hated to lose. He felt almost mischievous as he turned and stepped into nothingness. There was the usual squeezing pressure, and just when he thought he wouldn't ever breathe again, he was released and found himself standing in the middle of Raincrow's small flat.

"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses."

Much like the last time he had visited, music was playing. Amity wasn't in the living room. He could hear her singing along softly from the kitchen, along with the sound of gentle scraping. Slowly, perfectly aware of Apparition etiquette and the fact that he'd just stomped all over it, he stalked towards the kitchen. Sure enough, Amity was there, once again in her small pajamas, using a spatula to move cookies from a baking sheet over to a wire rack to cool.

Severus cleared his throat. "Raincrow."

The reaction was immediate. She shrieked and hurled the spatula at him. Startled, Severus knocked it aside with a sweep of his arm as Amity backpedalled with wide-eyes towards a drawer that, going by her frantic features, he strongly suspected held kitchen knives. Cursing, he lunged a grabbed the wrist of her outstretched hand to keep her from grabbing one. In response, she turned around and, with surprising accuracy, punched him in the eye.

"Merlin, woman!" he swore, and staggered back, clutching his eye and scowling heartily. So much for a good idea, this had turned out to be far more trouble than expected.

"Christ on a cracker!" Amity swore. "I- Severus? Is that you?"

He nodded and then rolled his eyes at himself, remembering that she couldn't see him. "Yes, it is."

"Well son of a protestant whore!" She swore once more and stalked past him, seizing a dish towel from the counter as she passed and yanking open the door of the refrigerator.

"Okay, I get you people have an aesthetic going on, but I'm pretty sure breaking and entering was always illegal, or at the very least frowned upon, even way back in the Dark Ages," she lectured him as she began to pull ice out and pack it into the towel. "Give me a heart attack, why don't you?" she muttered as she turned around and shoved the ice pack at him. "Here, keep the swelling down."

"Don't bother." Severus drew his wand and, with a flick, healed the area around his eye. After all, he could hardly turn up at Hogwarts with a black eye and not raise questions. "Like it never happened."

Amity stood there and stared over his shoulder for a second, the ice beginning to melt and drip down her arm. She shivered and, with a sound of annoyance, shook the ice out of the towel and into the sink.

"So you just healed it with magic, then?" she confirmed. "Okay, good, then I won't feel so bad about doing this." She whipped around and snapped the towel at his arm. "Screw you, Severus! Don't just come popping in here! Creeping around like some kind of pervert… Announce yourself or call ahead – owl ahead, I guess – or do the chicken dance, hell I don't care, just make some noise!" She placed a hand over her heart and tossed the towel back onto the counter, leaning her lower back against it with a sigh.

"Are you quite finished with your abuse?" he asked her tartly, already deeply regretting his decision to come here. She was far more annoying than he remembered, which was rather impressive, really. In an annoying way.

"Don't you even take that tone with me, honey," she said darkly, shoving a finger at him. "I'm perfectly within my rights to be annoyed with you for just popping in with no warning." She stuck her nose into the air. "Just for that, no cookies for you!" she said haughtily, and picked up the plate from the counter, striding past him into the living room.

Severus smirked – he had hardly come for her baking after all, though it did smell nice. She looked like a petulant child as she plopped down on her couch with the plate of cookies in her lap and tucked her legs under her. She paused and informed him, "Fetch me a glass of milk and I'll forgive you. I forgot in all the absolute terror."

Severus wasn't entirely sure why he was going along with her request as he pulled the milk from the fridge and poured her a glass, carrying it into the living room for her. Perhaps some instinctive urge to help a disabled woman, though given how hard she'd hit him, it was very hard for him to think of her as disabled. He reached up to touch his cheekbone just under his eye as he passed the glass.

"You have a surprisingly powerful right hook," he informed her.

"Damn straight," she said, and patted the couch next to herself for him to sit.

Severus did so. The whole situation felt strangely surreal. When was the last time he just sat and had a conversation with someone? A conversation that had nothing to do with the war or his subject or any of the other myriad things he had to worry about and concern himself with. It was oddly exciting, the thought of doing something so painfully normal when the world was falling apart around them all, the sort of normal that other people had but he never got.

"So, how's our girl?" Amity asked, biting into one of the cookies. Chocolate chip, he observed, and still warm, going by the smear of chocolate left at the corner of her lips. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about the woman referring to Lorena Potter as 'their girl.' Certainly they were the ones who cared the most about the girl, but she would have screamed in outrage at being called 'theirs' and that he knew for certain.

"Doing as well as can be expected of her," Severus commented. "And far better than could be expected from anyone else."

Amity smiled proudly. "Uh huh, that's her. So what's she looking at this year, as far as Defense Against the Dark Arts? She tells me that there's always a new teacher. Another Umbridge?"

Severus couldn't contain his smile of pride. It occurred to him that it didn't matter if he was grinning like a loon because she couldn't see him anyway, and the thought was oddly pleasing. "Thankfully not. I will taking the position."

Amity's face crumpled in confusion. "But you teach potions…"

"I have applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position every years since I began teaching at Hogwarts. I have always been denied."

Amity tilted her head, still looking lost. "Why? I mean if you can teach it and there's apparently always a struggle to fill the post… Might be easier to replace you than whatever teacher just left." Her mouth curved into a teasing smirk and she reached out, settling her hand on his shoulder and cooed, "Although I'm sure you're irreplaceable, honey."

Severus shoved her hand off of him, annoyance rising. "Must you do that?" he asked tartly.

Amity grinned and fell back, leaning her spine against the armrest. Seemingly without thought, she slid her toes under Severus's thigh. Her feet were cold. He jumped slightly, but was prevented from saying anything when she spoke.

"I really must," she assured him. "So tell me… what sort of things will you be teaching?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "In class or after class?" he asked. Did she mean what would he be teaching in general or what would he be teaching Potter?

"Ooh, you give lessons after class?" she asked, bobbing her eyebrows lewdly.

"Woman, I'm warning you…"

Amity threw back her head and laughed. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. For now," she added with a crooked grin. "Come on Severus, talk to me. Wait…" She frowned. "What are you even doing here? I don't think I asked."

"I came to check the status of my wards," Severus replied instantly. Amity's mouth opened into a small o. She smiled faintly and shook her head, raising her glass to her lips. Her expression was knowing as she lowered it and drawled,

"Right. So, tell me, Mr. Magical Genius, am I still safe?"

"Theoretically," he said simply.

"Though I do have one of Lord Frenchie's men in my house," Amity said, pulling one foot out from under him long enough to nudge him lightly in the leg before replacing it with a grin.

"Potter told you of my role." Severus sighed. "She seems incapable of keeping secrets from you."

"I just have one of those faces."

"I hardly think-" Severus paused. "I'm sorry, what did you call the Dark Lord?"

"Lord Frenchie," Amity repeated shamelessly. "Because of his name. Vol de mort means flight from death in French, and going by what Lorena's told me I doubt that's a coincidence. Although with that logic, his name should properly be pronounced without the T, but I guess he wasn't too familiar with the French language when he rechristened himself. After all, you usually only pronounce the last consonant if there's an 'e' after it."

Severus blinked. He would be so certain that Amity Raincrow was an idiot and a joker, with not a serious or practical or intelligent bone in her body, and then she'd say something like that and reveal that now only was she smart, she was clever enough to take that knowledge and apply it in ways others wouldn't think of. It was an ability not everyone had.

"You're looking at me funny, I can feel it," Amity said slowly. "What'd I say?"

"You're a cleverer woman than I originally assumed."

Amity smirked. "Thanks, I think?"

"Do you enjoy languages?"

"Well hey, I don't have my eyes to go by, so I mostly listen. And yeah, other languages interest me." She shrugged. "I can get by in Spanish and I know a little bit about French, at least the structure. I can see 'O Christmas Tree' in German – we're not going to talk about why. And of course, Tsalagi."

Severus tilted his head. "I'm not familiar with the last one."

"Of course you're not," she scoffed. "Very few people are – from a conversational standpoint, it's next to useless." Her lips tilted knowingly and she commented slyly. "I'm a halfblood too, you see. My dad was Cherokee, my mom was white, but she picked up the language. She taught me."

"Native American," Severus mused to himself. "I'm told that they have a particular system of magic which doesn't involve the use of wands to perform spells."

Amity blinked. "Do we? Huh." She shook her head. "Wouldn't surprise me, I guess, not anymore than finding out magic is a thing that exists." She shook her head and smiled faintly. "Sorry, we got sidetracked. We were talking about you."

"I am far from a good topic of conversation," Severus said shortly. Amity shook her head.

"Oh, I disagree. You don't realize, do you, how fascinating all of this is to me? You could sit here and tell me about the myriad different ways to cook dinner with magic and I'd be completely entertained. Mostly, I just like listening to you talk."

Severus frowned. He was well aware that his voice was one of his very few redeeming features, and he appreciated it insomuch as it gave him the ability to effortlessly command a classroom and sound as though he were sneering and disdainful without ever having to change his expression. There was nothing better than watching people work out if he meant a comment cruelly or in jest. He had never had anyone express such an open adoration for listening to him, however. Certainly, none of his students felt the same.

He sneered. "You are in dire need of better sources of entertainment."

Amity snorted. "Well yeah, but I can't exactly go and see a picture, can I?" she asked sarcastically. "Think about it though – you can look past someone when they're talking or ignore them, but all I've got is voices. I have to pay attention and listen, and do you know how annoying that is when someone sounds like they need an extra eight hours of sleep, or like they're a squirrel that just sucked helium? Would you rather listen to heavy metal or Beethoven twenty-four seven? You, sweetie, are a symphony."

"Then let us pray you never miraculously become able to see, or I would surely ruin the illusion for you," he replied, forcing aside the flattered feeling because it was silly and pointless.

Amity chuckled. "Oh please, you think Lorena hasn't given me the complete checklist? She never shuts up about you, I had to know what you looked like, and she gave me the full rundown. Scarecrow of a man always wearing black with a Roman nose and dark eyes, greasy hair, bad teeth. By this point I reckon I've got a pretty decent mental picture of what you look like." She sat back smugly.

"It's nice to hear how Potter would describe me," he muttered. He was completely aware of how he looked. Years ago, those words might have stuck like burrs under his skin. But he'd heard far worse from people he hated far more and now he was not even remotely phased by Amity's less-than-flattering reeling off of his physical characteristics. "Did she give you the list of nicknames as well? Pinocchio, Bat of the Dungeons, Slithering Snake?"

Amity smiled. "First of all, Bat of the Dungeons would be a great name for a band. Secondly, Pinocchio seems a bit childish, and thirdly… is that last not kind of true?"

He smirked. "Perhaps."

Amity shrugged carelessly and threw up an arm, draping her forearm across the top of her head. "Besides, I heard redskin, halfblood. I think the one I was most impressed by was cave shrimp, that one took some actual knowledge."

He stared at her blankly. "Cave shrimp?"

"Kentucky cave shrimp," she supplied. "Little shrimp with no eyes, no pigment in their shells. They live in the caves under the state, mostly Mammoth Cave."

Severus scoffed. "And you found that impressive?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "When someone manages to come up with a nickname that actually requires a little bit of knowledge, that's a rarity. Snake? That's like a step above buttface."

"Have you ever considered therapy as a career choice?"

"Hell no," Amity laughed. "I'd have to pretend to care about other people's problems." She tilted her head, resting her cheek on the backs of her fingers. "So, Severus," she continued, "why'd you really drop in tonight?"

His eyes narrowed as she stared past him knowingly. It was a bit unnerving, actually, the way her eyes never actually seemed to focus on him but instead beyond him, like she could see straight through. Her eyes, for all that they couldn't see, were a very good gauge of her emotions, however, and they always seemed to be laughing, much like Dumbledore's damned perpetual twinkle. Somehow, he found this less irritating than the headmaster.

"I told you, I was checking the wards."

"Yeah, cuz you seem like the guy who does work that needs checking up on," Amity rolled her eyes and smiled. "You know, you want company, all you've got to do is send me a note telling me you're coming."

"You can't read it."

Amity smiled knowingly, looking almost proud of her knowledge as she sang, "Howler, sweetie! Lorena came up with that one, and thanks to Muggle speech-to-text software, I can speak letters back." Her face crumpled into a scowl. "Now I've got to figure out a way to get my hands on an owl and I can actually talk to that girl." Her expression was serious for once, and mildly stressed, concern plain. "She needs somebody to talk to, I think."

For the life of him, Severus couldn't imagine what persuaded him to offer. Possibly because he intended to go to Diagon Alley in two days anyway, for the sake of checking with the apothecary there and making sure his usual standing orders were still in place for the year – students could always be counted on to go through armadillo bile and standard ingredient powder faster than he could get more in. And Eyelop's was not far…

He recognized the value of Amity Raincrow being able to communicate with Lorena. He understood exactly why Potter had let this woman in on their world – it was beyond liberating to be able to speak freely with someone who had no preconceived notions about things in their world and who listened, actually listened, though that was admitted peppered with swears and crass jokes. He found himself wishing he had a personal Amity Raincrow. The idea was oddly appealing, and she had offered…

For so very long he had been entirely alone. The moment Lily abandoned him was the moment he lost the one friend he'd ever had. As long as he had been teaching at Hogwarts or been a part of the Order, he had never made a friend. They were work colleagues, acquaintances at best. Most of the Order made no secret of the fact that they couldn't stand him and while his fellow teachers were at the very least more accepting, the only one who knew much about him was McGonagall, who was aware of his actions as a spy, as a Death Eater, as a teacher, as Pomfrey's supplier of potions, and as a hundred other things.

The idea of having a person who was entirely removed from that world, from his work as a teacher, as a Death Eater, as a spy, who he could simply sit with and talk to as Severus Snape and not as the person who simply filled a slot on a game board was heady and tempting. How long had it been since he'd spoke to someone who wasn't using him in one way or another? Had he ever, really?

Knowing that he was going to regret it the moment he said it, Severus opened his mouth and ground out, "In two days time, I will be going to Diagon Alley. If you would like, I can procure for you an owl while I'm there."

Amity's face lit with delight and thankfulness and she sat up. She took care to move the plate of cookies off the couch and onto the coffee table, and for a moment Severus thought she planned to get up and walk away. But no, she launched herself at him, and he suddenly found himself with a ridiculous Muggle woman sprawled halfway across his lap, arms holding tightly around his shoulders and her laughing face pressed into his chest.

"Thank you, Severus! Seriously, you have no idea how much this means to me, and don't worry, I'll pay you back – as soon as I work out what the conversion rate is – and if you need a favor from me, don't hesitate to ask."

Severus was never comfortable being hugged, even as a child. When his mother passed away shortly after he left school, that was the end of any hugs for him, a loss he hadn't really mourned. Then Lorena Potter showed up, with her alarming tendency to hug him and sob into his robes. And now Amity Raincrow seemed to be developing the habit as well.

Damnation and hellfire. He knew he would regret offering.

"Get off me!" he snapped, and Amity squeezed him one last time but did indeed crawl off of him and settle herself back against the couch.

"I see what Lorena means, you really are a sweetheart," Amity said.

"Woman, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop with the terms of endearment," Severus snapped at her as he straightened his robes, scowling thunderously.

Amity shrugged. "Hey, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me woman. Raincrow works fine, ya know." She feigned shock at the idea and breathed, "Maybe one day we'll even work up to Amity." She gave a melodramatic gasp and clapped her hands to her mouth. "Can you imagine?"

All in all, Severus thought as he settled into his quarters again later that night with a plastic bowl full of fresh cookies, the night wasn't bad. On the whole, he would have preferred someone a bit more serious for company and he didn't think that he would ever become used to her insistence on flirting with him and her seeming delight in trying to embarrass him, but Amity Raincrow was definitely not bad company.

Contemplatively, he picked up a cookie and bit into it as he stared into the flames. He hadn't had anything to drink tonight, he noted, and he hadn't even thought of anything terribly depressing or painful once. Perhaps Amity's raucousness was good for something – she drew attention to herself so flawlessly that he had none left to turn inward, and that was a blessing in a way.

He did note that he'd also managed to provide himself with an excuse to see her again. Barring unforeseen circumstances, that should be in about two days. He breathed out wearily. They were the same age, but she made him feel incredibly old. He was aged beyond his years whereas she remained young at heart, and the stark difference only made him more and more aware of the things he'd missed in life. Yet he couldn't bring himself to regret it, because if he wasn't doing what he was doing, then the Light would be in far direr straits than they were now.

But really, did she have to keep flirting?