It was mid-afternoon and most of the classes had ended. You were in the staff room, curled up in your favorite armchair by the large window as you graded the third years' essays on Space Exploration, most of the essays bulging from your knapsack.

You scowled at a student's blatant dismissal of space travel, half tempted to scribble a sharp suggestion to go volunteer to be shot into space without a helmet and then tell you again how unimportant NASA really is.

Suddenly, a paper butterfly landed gracefully on the parchment, wiping the scowl from your face. You reached out to stroke it. You envied those that learned this particular charm.

It fluttered once before unfolding into a scrap of a paper. A slow smile began to form as you recognized the slightly messy cursive:

I would rather fight a herd of Dementors than grade another third years' essay.You're a brave soul.

At the bottom, there was crude drawing of a stick figure hand fighting a giant Dementor.

You chuckled and looked towards the fireplace, finding a grinning Remus. He immediately patted the spot beside him. That was really all you needed to abandoned your work and plop yourself beside him, immediately retelling him a scandalous story one of the portraits had told you about the founders.

You didn't notice the displeasure sent your way from across the room.

You tried to stamp down the feeling of disappointment as you glanced at your office clock for the third time. Severus wasn't coming.

When you arrived the week before school started to meet your fellow teachers, everyone had warned you that Severus Snape was a man that should be left alone.

But when Dumbledore had introduced you to him, the Potions Professor's dry remarks and thinly-veiled insults had made you laugh and you figured that he wasn't as bad as everyone said he was.

It took almost a year to get that man to even admit that he tolerated you. And now, he had missed your weekly chats for the third time this month. You felt like all your progress had been flushed down the toilet.

You straightened up in your seat. No. If he wanted to act like a petulant child, fine, but you were going to go down into the dungeons and demand an answer.

Thankfully, there were no students around to stop you and ask you questions, so you made it to the entrance of his quarters in record time.

Like all the other professors, he had a portrait guarding his room. Handpicked by the new employee a week before they move in. You weren't surprise that Snape was a fan of Caravaggio, though you couldn't help but wish that he would have picked something less...violent.

You tried to smile at the young boy and the head of the giant Goliath, ignoring the blood that was splattering on the canvas. "Hello David, is Professor Snape in his rooms?"

The young boy blushed. "Yes, Professor. Password?"

"Fluxweed."

The Goliath head gave a grunt of approval and the portrait hole opened. Your heart warmed at the thought of him adding you to the wards.

Severus was sitting on one of his arm chair, his head practically buried into a book. Of course, you were 99.8% sure he wasn't oblivious to your presence.

How to handle this? Severus had a volatile temper. The best thing to do was to be cool and not attack him or smother him with your concern. Be aloof and cunning and such a Slytherin that he would be so impressed -

"Why are you avoiding me?" You demanded, standing in front of his chair with your hands firmly on your hips. Well, so much for not being confrontational.

Severus had the audacity to take his sweet time; reading until the end of his page, carefully marking his place, closing it as slowly as he could before he dragged his obsidian eyes towards you. His face carefully blank.

"Missing one of our appointments is hardly called avoiding." He drawled.

You scoffed. "I think missing three of them is the very definition of the word."

"Did you ever think that I might be too busy to go cater your every childish whims?" Severus leaned back against his seat, a cruel sneer etched across his sallow face. " Muggle Studies may be the laughing stock of this school, but I am a Potions Master and I have a real job to do."

That stung. It had been a very long time since Severus had said something that acerbic towards you. Your eyes dropped to the floor, desperately counting backwards from ten.

"As my friend," You stressed out, "the least you could have done was send me a note stating you couldn't attend instead of making me wait like a damn fool!"

The sneer became much more pronounced. " Well, Professor [L/N], I'd like to inform you that I will not be attending our tete-a-tete for the foreseeable future. Now, if you would be so kind, I have to get back to my book."

You were about ready to rip your hair out. That fucking tosser had the audacity to dismiss you and end your weekly chats. Oh, he was going to fucking pay for that.

Biting back the urge to curse him or worse hex him, you gave him the most venomous glare in your arsenal and stomped out of his quarters.