TooChey, you asked how Annie looks like. Well, while I have been writing, I imagined her as Angie Vazquez until Third Year, and from the Fourth and onwards, I have been thinking of her as Barbara Palvin.

Dear readers, it may be a while until I update again this book, seeing as I am still re-writing the whole beginning. But a light of inspiration struck me yesterday and I wrote this all morning before I forgot.

Is most likely a filler chapter, but if you notice closely, I already gave ypu two hints about what is to come.

Review Please!

Ninth Months Ago

So far, this, perhaps, has to be the most awkward moment on my life, I thought as I subtly tried to glance at the man sitting on the car seat at my right. Given the circumstances, it was probably true.

My gaze wandered through the busy streets of London. Honks blared here and there; the voices of the Londoners were carried with the wind. Today the weather was cloudy and with mist… not that it was different from the usual, actually. But today, the weather seemed to be specifically more grayish than normal. I was seriously starting to hate that color. It was very depressing.

Risking another chance, I glanced over at him one more time. I almost jumped when I saw he was staring back. I coolly masked my face into one of boredom and lazily looked at the rear-view mirror, fully aware that he was still watching me.

"Subtlety was never your forte, Miss Barton," he drawled with that voice of his. The one he used to scare his students, although it wasn't necessary with the overgrown bat appearance he had.

"You can't blame me, though," I retorted as lazily as he did, turning to meet his black eyes. "I'm still in a bit of a shock so please; spare me the lecture, sir."

Professor Severus Snape raised his eyebrows but didn't add further to the conversation.

You may wonder how I ended in this position, but honestly, I can't answer, as I don't even know myself.

The Dungeon Bat had been the person who had touched my shoulder and with a loud exclaim, I couldn't hide my surprise. What was he doing there?

Giving me a note, he briskly had said to follow him. His tone meant that it was more an order. After re-reading the note, I blindly tried to follow him through the crowd.

The silence on the car had been unbearable and awkward. It was so quiet you could actually hear a pin drop.

Tapping my fingers on my tight, I finally opened my mouth.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't glance at me.

"I mean – where are we going?"

A pause.

"To Wiccan Manor," Snape said. "Don't ask for more information. I am afraid I can't tell you while we are on the road. You'll have to ask your guardian."

And we fell into a more awkward silence.

One of the few obvious features Wiccan Manor possessed was its cheerful painting. A three –storey building, the manor resembled more of a Muggle house than what the name suggested.

Inside, it was normal as the Burrow's entrance was… if you count the high ceiling as normal. The only casualty of such a beautiful place was that it was too big for two persons – or when Tonks visited – three.

This time, I wasn't greeted by a cheerful Tonks though. In fact, there was no one else besides Snape and me. Sighing, I went up to the stairs, letting my hand grip the railing tightly as my ancestors waved at me from the maroon walls and the purple ceiling. I let myself smile a bit when I saw a little girl shoving her older brother to get a glance of me.

"Natasha will arrive later today with Nymphadora," said Snape from downstairs.

I frowned. "With who?"

He barely contained himself from sneering. "Tonks."

I pursed my lips and nodded at him. It wasn't my fault that I had forgotten what my cousin's name was when she had threatened me to not say it aloud the first time.

Walking up at the top, I finally registered that my Potions teacher was on my house. Wasn't there a rule that strictly prohibited a teen to see his dreaded professor outside from school?

Half turning around, I opened my mouth to tell him to make himself comfortable but I froze when I saw him staring at the first picture down the stairs.

The moment I had entered this house, I avoided particularly that frame. It was the only frame with a picture on the house that didn't respond or did something else than just move by its own accord.

Snape watched as my father made a V sign with his hand behind Natasha's head. Rolling her eyes, Picture-Natasha swatted his hand, making Alec Barton laugh. It was slightly disconcerting the way Snape seemed to be drinking from this scene, as if he were imagining himself on the moment. His black void eyes didn't seem so void; they were glistening at an alarming rate.

Was Snape crying? I thought incredulous.

I realized he was on the verge of a collapse.

My hand tightened its grip on the wooden knob at such discovery.

Knowing this wasn't a moment for me to intrude, I did the wise; I turned my back on him and went right to my room on the left hall.

I had seen the most hated teacher at Hogwarts crying over a frame in which my father was. I wished I could make that image disappear altogether from my mind; it was easier to hate him as the Dungeon Bat he was than the man that had collapsed unknowingly in front of a fourteen year old girl.

It wasn't until supper time that Natasha arrived.

Thankfully, Snape seemed to be acting as his usual sneering personality. All the time, I kept throwing cautious glances at him, waiting for the moment he would collapse once more and ran out of the room. If he noticed this (I was probably too obvious), he didn't say anything.

I hadn't seen Natasha since the end of May, when the TriWizard Tournament ended. Since Mr. Dumbledore said to those people – what were their names again? – If he had their unconditional support, she had looked as if she were in her late twenties.

But right now, I could say she almost looked as Professor Remus Lupin did after his last transformation at Hogwarts. There were purple bags under her eyes, and she seemed to be holding herself upright forcedly. Her shoulders dropped tiredly as she made her way to the kitchen. Her black coat looked shriveled and used. She looked far older than she actually was.

Behind her, Tonks, my cousin, came looking nicer than her friend. Her usually colorful hair was now a shiny elegant brunette knot; even her reddish robes looked a little expensive than the usual Weird Sisters shirt she liked to wear.

Snape followed them quickly. None of them had noticed me staring from upstairs, half hidden in the shadows, half illuminated by the sunset's light coming from a circular window above my head.

Descending quietly, I heard them talking in hushed voices. One of them was angry, other sounding tired, and the final was as if it only wanted to keep peace between them.

It was very easy to tell who it was who.

Whilst I leaned against the door frame of the kitchen, I watched them as they interacted together.

Tonks was obviously awkward in Snape's presence. Why, I don't know. Although having been sorted in Hufflepuff, she was the most impulsive woman I had ever met.

Neither Natasha nor Snape didn't seem to notice her attempts of calming them; they were too much wrapped in their discussion to even look away from each other.

"It was the half-breed's fault!" Snape was hissing. I frowned at his choice of words. "He should have tightened the lash with more force!"

"It wasn't both their faults!" snapped Natasha. "If anyone is to blame, that would be me."

"Certainly," he stressed the word.

"What's that supposed to mean, Severus? If you have something to say, spit it out!"

"This would not have happened if you and he had kept a closer watch on both."

I was more confused as the arguing went. Natasha… should have been watching me? Why for? And what's that of both?

"They are people, Severus! And young! They have a right to make mistakes," she said as if trying to find reason.

Snape though, didn't look as if he would reason at all. His mouth curled down in his trademark malicious sneer. The hand he kept on the table balled up on a fist.

"You keep forgetting, Thea," he said in a soft tone. "This are not times for them to make mistakes. If they don't be careful enough, then the Dark Lord will find about her, and when that happens –"

"If that happens!" Tonks said. "Remember the If, please."

"Don't be foolish, Tonks!" he snapped. "Voldemort will find about this sooner or later, and if he gets a hold of her, then the Wizarding World and the life as we know is doomed."

My eyes widened.