Cake and a Note

The sunlight was good, falling on Snape's pale, tight face, making even the slight quivering of his nostrils, as he suppressed his emotions, visible. He stared at the soft, delicious-looking oat cake in Lin Yanqing's hand, his eyes filled with suspicion that was almost tangible, as if it were smeared not with honey, but with some undetectable poison or a more bizarre potion.

Time flowed slowly in the silent standoff. The laughter of other students in the courtyard could be faintly heard, further highlighting the dead silence in their corner.

Lin Yanqing's arm, holding the cake, began to ache. He knew that continuing to hold it would yield no results. Snape's resistance was deeply ingrained, stemming from the distrust and strong self-defense shaped by his entire upbringing. A cake was not enough to break through that thick shell.

He let out a barely audible sigh, preparing to withdraw his hand and end this failed attempt at a mission.

Just then, a burst of exaggerated clamor approached from a distance.

"Look who it is! Snivellus and his... Ravenclaw little follower?" James Potter's voice was filled with undisguised malice. He and Sirius Black burst into the quiet corner like a gust of wind, their faces wearing mocking smiles of onlookers. Their gazes swept back and forth between the cake Lin Yanqing was holding and Snape's face, as dark as still water, filled with scrutiny and ridicule.

"What are you two doing? Sharing afternoon tea?" Sirius leaned lazily against a nearby stone pillar, a wicked curve to his lips. "How touching, Snape, finally made a friend? Or is this some kind of... transaction we don't know about?" He deliberately drew out the word "transaction," dripping with insinuation.

Snape's face instantly turned ashen. Humiliation and the awkwardness of being watched surged like lava in his chest, transmitted clearly to Lin Yanqing through their contract. He stood up abruptly, his movement so sudden he almost knocked over the nearby stone stool. He didn't even look at the cake, merely shot Lin Yanqing a glare as cold as ice, his eyes clearly saying, "Look what you've done!"

Then, he snatched up the Potions Book from the stone stool and, as if fleeing a plague, left quickly without looking back. The hem of his black robe swept out in a decisive arc, disappearing rapidly into the castle's shadows.

James and Sirius erupted in laughter behind him.

"Haha, look at him scared!"

"Seems like we interrupted someone's 'good intentions,' Ravenclaw."

Lin Yanqing expressionlessly withdrew his hand and placed the slightly cooled oat cake back into his basket. He ignored the Marauders' taunts and silently packed his belongings.

"Mission [The Meaning of Sharing] failed. (;´;ω;`)" System Cub emitted a dejected prompt. "Bond Value progress remains unchanged."

The failure was within Lin Yanqing's expectations. He even thought that due to the Marauders' sudden appearance, Snape might take his anger out on him for this unpleasant experience, making their already difficult relationship even worse.

However, things developed somewhat beyond his expectations.

In the following days, Snape's attitude towards him indeed became colder, and in public, he was almost treated as air. But this wasn't anger directed at the act of "sharing" itself; it was more like misplaced anger stemming from his embarrassing situation being witnessed. Through the contract, Lin Yanqing could feel that beneath Snape's usual gloom, there was a hint of... sensitivity and aversion to the definition of "transaction," triggered by the Marauders' words.

He didn't seem to think Lin Yanqing offering the cake was pure malice or calculation, but rather attributed it to a "foolish and ill-timed" action, and the Marauders' appearance amplified the awkwardness of this "ill-timed" moment.

This subtle difference allowed Lin Yanqing to see a sliver of a door that wasn't entirely closed.

A few days later, in Potions class, when Professor Slughorn asked them to independently complete a more complex Tonic, Lin Yanqing found himself lacking an auxiliary ingredient that wasn't rare but wasn't readily available to him at the moment – Dried Billywig Worm Stinger Powder. This powder was typically used to neutralize the side effects of certain irritating gases.

He frowned slightly, contemplating whether to borrow from a classmate at the next table or simply omit this step (which would affect the potion's purity but not make it impossible to complete), when he felt a gaze fall upon him.

He looked up, meeting Snape's quickly averted eyes. Snape was bent over, meticulously handling the ingredients in his own cauldron, as if that glance had been accidental.

But the next moment, a small glass bottle filled with pale blue powder was pushed extremely quickly and silently from the edge of the adjacent workbench by a slender hand, stopping precisely within Lin Yanqing's reach.

It was Dried Billywig Worm Stinger Powder.

Lin Yanqing froze. He looked at Snape, but the latter didn't even spare him a glance, completely engrossed in his own potion world, as if the small bottle had grown legs and walked over.

This wasn't sharing. It was more like... a precise supply of materials based on mutual benefit (perhaps to prevent Lin Yanqing from making operational errors due to incomplete ingredients, which could cause unpredictable contract interference).

But regardless, it was a response. A cold interaction, devoid of any warmth, yet undeniably present.

Lin Yanqing did not offer thanks; he knew it would only make Snape uncomfortable. He simply picked up the small bottle, took the required small amount of powder, and gently pushed the bottle back to its original position.

The entire process was completed in silence, attracting no attention.

After class, as Lin Yanqing was packing up, he felt a small, folded piece of paper tucked into a gap in the bookshelf where he placed his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

His heart stirred slightly, and he discreetly slipped the note into his sleeve.

Back in the Ravenclaw Tower, in a deserted corner, he unfolded the paper. It bore familiar, slightly ornate handwriting, with only a few short words, like an order, or perhaps a notification:

"Mooncalf Fur. Two bundles. Before next week."

No preamble, no closing. But Lin Yanqing understood immediately.

This wasn't a request, not a thank you, not even cooperation. It was a confirmation. A confirmation that the twisted yet real connection channel, built by their contract and shared goals (stability, avoiding trouble), was still valid.

Snape was defining their relationship in his own way – a unidirectional supply-and-demand relationship based on pragmatism. He provided instructions, and Lin Yanqing was responsible for executing them. This allowed him to feel in control, avoiding the realms of "sharing" or "friendship," which he couldn't understand and deeply rejected.

Lin Yanqing crushed the note.

He wasn't disappointed; rather, he felt a sense of understanding. For Severus Snape, being able to send out such a note again was itself an "improvement." It meant that the failed cake-sharing incident in the courtyard and the subsequent embarrassment had not caused him to completely sever this sole connection.

He had simply set a new rule for their interactions, one that fit within his internal boundaries of safety.

And Lin Yanqing, for the time being, chose to abide by this rule.

"New mission triggered: [Material Collection II]"

[Mission Description: Obtain two bundles of Mooncalf Fur and deliver them to Severus Snape before next week.]

[Mission Reward: Gold Galleons x30, Potion Materials (Random) x5.]

[Failure Penalty: None.]

Looking at the mission list, Lin Yanqing knew that his attempt at "sharing" had temporarily failed, but the thread woven from their contract, potions, and secrets still stubbornly connected them, and was slowly tightening in a very peculiar way.