Chapter 4: The Package

She walked away from the Potions classroom with the question still stuck in her throat. Tomorrow seemed impossibly far away when she needed answers now, but cornering Snape after class clearly wasn't going to work. The man had probably noticed her hesitation and would be ready with another cutting dismissal if she tried again.

The common room was too loud when she finally made it upstairs. First years clustered around the fireplace, arguing about some game, while a group of sixth years had spread their Transfiguration homework across three tables in a way that made the whole space feel cramped. She climbed the stairs to her dormitory instead, dropping her bag beside her bed before collapsing onto the mattress.

Her fingers found the remaining earring automatically. The silver felt cool against her skin, and she traced the edge of the green stone while staring at the canopy above her bed. Losing one earring meant the other one became useless too, just a reminder of carelessness rather than a matching set.

Sleep didn't come easily that night. She kept replaying the moment in the Potions classroom when she'd almost asked about the earring, Snape's eyes lifting from his marking just as she'd turned back toward the door. Had he known what she wanted to ask? The timing seemed too precise to be a coincidence, though assuming Snape paid that much attention to her movements felt presumptuous.

Morning arrived with grey light filtering through the dormitory windows. Her roommates were still asleep, their breathing creating that familiar rhythm that usually helped her relax. Today, it just reminded her how early she'd woken up, too anxious to stay in bed but too tired to feel properly rested.

She dressed in her uniform, fingers fumbling with the buttons more than usual. The remaining earring sat on her bedside table where she'd left it last night. Putting it in felt wrong without the matching one, so she left it there and headed down to breakfast without bothering to wake anyone else.

The Great Hall was nearly empty again. Apparently, she'd developed a habit of arriving before most students had even considered leaving their beds. A few seventh years sat scattered among the house tables, and she recognized a couple of Ravenclaws who always seemed to be studying no matter what time of day it was.

Her house table stretched out mostly empty in front of her. She walked along it toward her usual spot, already thinking about whether toast or porridge would require less effort to eat. Then she saw the package.

It sat directly on her plate. Small enough to fit in her palm, wrapped in plain brown paper that had been folded with precise corners and secured with thin twine. No card attached to the outside, no note tucked under the string, nothing to indicate who had left it or why.

She looked around the Great Hall before touching it. The Ravenclaws were absorbed in their books, and the few other students present were focused on their own breakfasts. Nobody was watching her or paying any attention to her section of the table.

The package felt light when she picked it up. She turned it over in her hands, checking each side for writing or marks that might identify the sender. The brown paper was completely plain, the kind used for wrapping purchases at Hogsmeade shops or sending small items through the school's internal mail system.

Someone had tied the twine with a basic knot. She worked it loose with her thumbnail, then carefully unwrapped the paper. The folds had been creased sharply, and she opened them slowly to avoid tearing anything.

Her earring sat in the center of the wrapping paper. The silver caught the light from the enchanted ceiling, and she could see immediately that someone had polished it. The metal shone brighter than it had in months, all the tarnish she'd gotten used to seeing completely removed.

She picked up the earring with careful fingers. The green stone looked cleaner, too, like someone had actually taken the time to wipe away the film that accumulated from daily wear. When she turned it over to examine the backing, she found the second change.

The backing had been bothering her for weeks. It had worked itself loose gradually, requiring her to tighten it every few days to keep the earring secure. She'd meant to take it to a jeweler over the summer but had forgotten until it was too late to make the trip.

Someone had fixed it. The backing screwed on smoothly now with the kind of resistance that meant it would actually stay in place. She tested it twice to be sure, unscrewing and re-securing the small piece of metal while her mind tried to process what she was holding.

Her eyes scanned the Great Hall again. Still, nobody is watching her. The same students were eating breakfast, the same general morning atmosphere of people too tired to care what anyone else was doing. She looked toward the staff table out of instinct, but breakfast hadn't started officially yet, so the professors hadn't arrived.

Snape would have found the earring yesterday after she'd left detention. He'd been planning to dispose of the ruined ingredients, which meant sorting through the mess she'd created while organizing the supply cupboard. A small silver earring on the floor would have been obvious against the dark stone.

She turned the earring over in her fingers again. Snape had not only kept it instead of tossing it in with forgotten student property, but he'd also had it professionally repaired. The backing fix required tools and knowledge she doubted he'd bother with personally, which meant he'd either taken it to a jeweler or used magic to restore it properly. The polished job alone suggested effort. Someone had cleaned every surface of the metal and stone until they shone like new.

Her mind kept circling back to the same question. Why would Snape bother? He'd made his opinion of students clear through seven years of cutting remarks and house point deductions. The idea that he'd spend time and possibly money repairing a student's jewelry didn't fit with anything she knew about him.

Maybe it wasn't from Snape. The package had appeared on her plate with no identification, which meant anyone could have left it. Except nobody else would have had access to her earring after it fell in the Potions classroom. The timing was too perfect to be a coincidence.

She put the earring in carefully, feeling the secure backing hold it properly in place for the first time in weeks. Her fingers moved to her other ear out of habit, finding bare skin where the matching earring should have been. She'd left it upstairs on her bedside table.

The wrapping paper sat on the table in front of her. She smoothed it out flat, looking for any detail she might have missed. The folds revealed nothing new, just plain brown paper with no distinguishing marks. The twine had been standard as well, the kind anyone could find in dozens of places around the castle.

She folded the paper carefully and tucked it into her bag. Maybe examining it later would reveal something she'd overlooked in the distraction of finding the earring. Probably not, but keeping it felt important anyway.

Breakfast food appeared on the tables while she sat there thinking. The usual assortment of toast, eggs, porridge, and fruit materialized along the house tables, and the smell of fresh bread filled the Hall. More students began filtering in now that actual food was available.

She poured herself tea and added sugar, using the familiar motions to occupy her hands while her thoughts raced. Thanking Snape seemed like the obvious next step, except how did you thank someone for something they'd done anonymously? Acknowledging the gift meant revealing that she knew he was the sender, which might not be welcome.

Maybe he'd sent it anonymously specifically because he didn't want to be thanked. The thought made a strange kind of sense, given everything she knew about Snape's personality. He'd helped because of some internal sense of obligation or fairness, not because he wanted gratitude or recognition.

Still, ignoring the gesture completely felt wrong. The earring repair had taken effort and care, and pretending it hadn't happened seemed disrespectful. She just needed to figure out how to acknowledge it without making the interaction more uncomfortable than necessary.

Her morning classes passed in a blur of half-attention and distracted note-taking. History of Magic meant another lecture from Professor Binns that barely registered through her preoccupation with the earring situation. Charms involved practice with Summoning spells, and she managed to complete the assignment without setting anything on fire, which felt like an accomplishment given how little mental energy she had available.

By lunch, she'd rehearsed seventeen different versions of what to say to Snape. Most of them sounded too effusive or too casual, thanking him either too much or not enough. A few attempts came across as presumptuous, assuming he'd sent the package when she had no actual proof beyond circumstantial evidence.

The version she finally settled on was simple. A brief acknowledgment after Potions class, just thanking him for returning the earring once the other students had left. She wouldn't mention the repair work or the polish unless he brought it up first. Quick and direct, nothing that would create an extended conversation or require him to respond beyond a dismissive nod.

The afternoon double Potions lesson approached too quickly. She gathered her textbook and materials with hands that felt slightly unsteady, annoyed at herself for being nervous about a simple thank you. Snape would probably just grunt and tell her to leave his classroom, and that would be the end of it.

The dungeons were cold as always. She took her usual seat in the middle row, arranging her supplies on the desk while other students filed in around her. Snape stood near his desk at the front, arms crossed, while he watched everyone settle into their places.

He began the lesson without preamble. Today's focus was on the Elixir to Induce Euphoria, which apparently required careful attention to the stirring technique, or the potion would cause uncontrollable singing instead of happiness. Snape demonstrated the proper counter-clockwise motion. She watched him with attention, centering her gaze more on his long fingers than she wanted.

She focused back, took notes on the procedure. Her hand moved across the parchment automatically while part of her attention stayed fixed on Snape's position in the classroom. He moved between the desks to observe their preparation work, stopping periodically to criticize someone's ingredient preparation or point out errors in their technique.

When he passed her desk, she kept her focus on crushing the porcupine quills to the specified consistency. He paused beside her workspace for several seconds. She could feel his presence even without looking up, that particular awareness that came from having someone standing close enough to observe every movement.

Then he moved on to the next desk without saying a word. She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and continued working on her ingredients, her heart racing for some reason.

The lesson progressed with its usual rhythm of tense preparation and sharp corrections. Snape deducted points from Hufflepuff for improperly prepared shrivelfig, then from Ravenclaw for adding ingredients in the wrong order. His criticism was distributed evenly across all houses, which somehow made it feel less personal even when he was standing directly beside your cauldron, pointing out mistakes.

She managed to complete her potion without any major disasters. The liquid in her cauldron was the correct sunshine-yellow color according to the textbook, and it produced the faint shimmer that indicated proper brewing. Whether it would actually induce euphoria or just cause embarrassing singing remained to be seen, but at least it looked right.

Snape dismissed the class with his usual abrupt announcement that anyone whose potion had turned orange should report to the hospital wing if they experienced any adverse effects. Students gathered their belongings quickly, eager to escape the dungeons before he found additional reasons to deduct points.

She packed her materials slowly. Her textbook went into her bag first, then her parchment and quill. Other students filed past her desk toward the door, their voices echoing in the stone corridor outside. She arranged her remaining supplies with deliberate care, buying time until the classroom emptied.

The last few students disappeared through the doorway. Snape had returned to his desk at the front of the classroom, already seated with a stack of essays in front of him. His quill moved across the parchment in smooth strokes, marking what were probably scathing comments about inadequate research or poorly constructed arguments.

She picked up her bag and walked toward his desk. Her footsteps sounded too loud against the stone floor, each step announcing her approach in a way that made her feel overly obvious. Snape didn't look up from his marking, though she suspected he was completely aware of her presence.

"Professor," she said quietly when she reached his desk.

He continued writing for another few seconds before setting down his quill. When he finally looked up, his expression held the same cold neutrality he wore during lessons.

"I wanted to thank you for returning my earring," she said. The words came out steadier than she'd expected, though her pulse felt too fast. "And for having it repaired. I appreciate—"

"I have no idea what you're referring to." Snape's voice cut through her sentence with the kind of sharp dismissal he usually reserved for particularly stupid questions during class. "I haven't found any student property."

She stared at him. His expression hadn't changed, still maintaining that same detached coldness. But the denial was so obviously false that she didn't know how to respond to it.

"The earring I lost during detention," she tried again, keeping her voice low. "It was returned this morning, and I thought—"

"If you've recovered a lost item, I suggest you be more careful with your possessions in the future." Snape picked up his quill again, making it clear the conversation was over. "Now, if you have no academic matters to discuss, I have essays to mark."

The dismissal was absolute. She stood there for another second, trying to understand why he would repair her earring and return it anonymously, then deny any knowledge of it when she attempted to thank him. The contradiction didn't make sense, unless he genuinely didn't want acknowledgment for what he'd done.

"Leave my classroom, Miss," Snape said without looking up from the essay he was marking.

She turned and walked toward the door. Her mind was racing through the interaction, trying to parse what had just happened. Snape had helped her, then refused to admit it when she'd tried to thank him directly. The deliberate denial felt almost like a rebuke, as if thanking him had been the wrong response entirely.

The corridor outside the Potions classroom felt warmer than usual. She joined a few lingering students heading toward the main stairs, her hand moving automatically to touch the repaired earring. The backing held secure, exactly as it should, proof that someone had cared enough to fix it properly.

She couldn't reconcile the careful repair work with Snape's cold denial. The man who had taken time to polish the silver and fix the loose backing seemed completely different from the professor who had just dismissed her attempt at gratitude with barely concealed irritation.

Maybe that was the point. Maybe Snape had helped because it needed doing, not because he wanted credit or thanks. She adjusted the earring one last time and kept walking.

Whatever debt she had unknowingly incurred, she suspected it had not been paid in full.