Hope was like a cancer, Severus thought to himself as he turned his collar up against the bitter cold; it spread and choked out all reason and sense, until all that was left was the inevitable, crushing death of disappointment. It was a terrible thing to inflict upon someone. Like unicorn's blood, it gave a rancid half-life to every passing shadow, every mahogany-coloured curl of hair, every little flash of gold. It had him lurking in shadows, unwisely lingering, leaving obvious breadcrumbs in hopes that one day, she would follow them straight back to him. 