Of course he knows she's there, and of course he knows she's been skulking around like a depressed wayward duckling. (Once, he considered - no, it isn't important.) It's that awareness that almost keeps him from bothering; it's hardly his fault if she stands out there until dark at the bloody back door, unannounced, pointless.

But then.

The heavy iron door swings open and Severus, dressed as ever, stands there in the frame of the doorway, head raised, gaze downcast, observing her with a very critical eye.

"Miss Bennet." It's almost a greeting. "This is a tactic that I'd not yet experienced, and so I must congratulate you. I've opened the door. What," and this is the important part, "Have you done to yourself?"