"Stay put," he ordered and left me briefly, returning with a towel to wrap about my sodden hair. Then he led me to my bedroom, deposited me against the pillows, and laid a cool flannel across my eyes and forehead.
"Congratulations, you're the first person ever to drive me to hysterics," I said thickly, through hiccoughs and hitches in my breath. "Even the most obnoxious actors hadn't managed that --"
"Hush." I heard him draw a chair up to the bedside, and his fingers sought out the pulse at my wrist. "On reflection, this was not the best time to have this particular conversation," he muttered wryly.
I laughed shakily: his fingers tightened briefly and then relaxed on my wrist, but he didn't withdraw his hand.
"You couldn't have known Moody put me through the wringer this afternoon," I conceded. "It had already been a long day by the time we went to the forest."
We sat in silence for a while, and then he carefully said, "You're right, of course." His fingers clenched against mine, and then he reflexively stroked the inside of my wrist with his thumb. "What I chose to do in the Quad was ultimately a mistake."
I said nothing; eventually he sighed, and laughed ruefully.
"You have more power than you think. You disarm me so easily... and there are times I hate you for it. You and Dumbledore both -- you burn me with your compassion. The two of you make me hope that there is something other than this wretchedness... that there are... possibilities...."
He didn't say it all at once. This articulate, viciously witty man struggled and stumbled, with many long pauses, through a confession far harder for him than any factual recital of sins past. And all the while his hand rested on mine, fingers absently playing along the sensitive skin of my wrist.
I'm not certain why he did it. Perhaps it was merely so the sound of his voice, uncharacteristically gentle, would put me at ease with him once more: perhaps it was an unspoken apology. All I know is that his soft, velvet voice and the hypnotic rhythm of his thumb stroking my skin gradually relaxed me, and I finally went to sleep.
As I dropped off I wondered if he would ever forgive us, Dumbledore and me, for making him feel so vulnerable. To Snape, that was surely the greatest Unforgivable.
"Will you be all right now?"
I nodded. "Thanks. I obviously needed a good clear-out," I said dryly as I sat down and did my damndest to ignore the huge, invisible elephant that occupied the room with us -- his confession that I deeply unsettled him, quite possibly more than intellectually. He said nothing, but quirked an eyebrow and then returned his attention back to the wine.
"Sorry," I added. "I don't imagine hysterical females are one of your favourite things with which to deal."
He snorted but managed not to make an outright comment. Presently he dispassionately noted, "I'm sure you realise that if Hooch is running true to form, an... encore of Yule night will not be necessary. But I may still need to touch you, on occasion. Until the project is completed."
What? Ohhhh... he took 'lovely little stunt' as an expression of disgust. Well... in the interest of preventing misunderstandings, as he seems so concerned with that tonight --
"Pity. I rather enjoyed it," I said.
He sputtered inelegantly into his wine. "Must you do that?" He glared at me.
"What?"
"Attempt to shock me with vulgar and unnecessary commentary."
"But you make it so rewarding," I observed serenely. "And as it happens, it was pleasant -- you surprised me, that's all. Yes," I plunged ahead, as his face was rapidly pinking up, "Hooch has already done her worst. McGonagall called me on the carpet, severely. 'Junior faculty engaging in disgracefully intimate contact with Senior faculty in a public area.' I took the brunt of it, but you may want to avoid her for a few more days, all the same."
"Please, do not tell me she went to Al--"
"She did." I smiled at the memory. "He agreed that it was shocking, and then made oblique mention of some incident in the library's restricted section when she was Head Girl --"
Snape choked on another sip of wine and hastily deposited the glass on the table.
"-- and she turned purple and sailed out of the room. And then he kept me there for five minutes while he laughed himself silly, and congratulated me for 'plumbing hitherto unknown depths of Severus' psyche'."
"Gods." Snape buried his head in his hands. "Never mind Voldemort or the bloody students. It's Albus who will wreck my sanity."
I gave him just enough time to begin to recover his composure, and then added, "He also said he would have preferred if we'd managed it in front of students, but he didn't begrudge us the practise."
Snape stared at me, appalled, and then he utterly collapsed. It quite surprised me: I wouldn't have guessed he was capable of it at all, much less after a heated row and the gravity of his confessions.
"You, of course, let him know what a disgraceful old man he is," he finally gasped, wiping at his eyes.
"Not much. I didn't even sulk -- I couldn't bear to spoil his enjoyment." I sighed. "This had better be over with before Valentine's Day, or God only knows what he'll try to push us into."
"I promise you," Snape said solemnly, "that any singing valentines you receive shall not be perpetrated by me. Blame him."
"Agreed."
We enjoyed the moment, and Snape finished his wine -- and didn't budge. It was making me uneasy: it wasn't like Snape to spend any more time with me than was strictly necessary, other than the chess games.
"You should go to bed," I finally suggested. "Between whatever you were up to and dealing with me, you look done in. And Moody will be pounding on the door first thing in the morning --"
"I doubt it," Snape said. "Apparently you threatened to relieve him of several body parts of which he's particularly fond. I imagine he'll give you a wide berth for a while."
"Oh, God," I moaned, and covered my face. "I honestly don't remember everything I said."
"He advised me to steer clear as well -- he said an angry Irishwoman was twice as bad as any Dementor. I should have listened to him," Snape admitted wryly, and I buried my head in my arms.
He stood to go, but hesitated. "There is one more thing I feel compelled to ask you," he said carefully, and I raised my head and nodded for him to go on. "Are you certain you understand what you might be giving up --?"
He's nothing if not persistent.
"I'm sure I don't fully realise what I'm refusing," I said calmly, "but I know what I'd be leaving behind, and I'm not willing to do that just for magic. I'm an outsider, and I always will be -- I saw it with Ian, and still do with Granger and Finnegan. I can learn the passwords and the secret handshakes, but the core of the people -- the heart -- will always be hidden from me."
He considered that, watching my face carefully, and then slowly nodded. "Yes, I think I can understand that," he said softly, and turned to go.
"Severus?"
He stopped and turned back to me, as surprised as I: I don't think I'd ever used his given name before.
"What was my Patronus?" I was half-afraid to ask; I knew they usually took the form of animals, but given that the thought had been of Ian....
"Missed it entirely, did you?" he asked, his mouth twitching upward.
"I don't remember a bloody thing between the Dementor and waking up."
"It was impressive -- though quite predictable, to anyone who knows you at all well. It was a lioness." His mouth twitched again. "How very Gryffindor of you," he noted with faint mockery, and saw himself out.
The fact that Snape had been on an "errand" during that time did not escape my notice. I wasn't brave enough to ask him of it.
The return of the students meant the resumption of regular patrols as well, and Moody took advantage of the time by continuing to educate me in the theoretical aspects of magic. (He had, indeed, avoided me for several days after the Patronus incident.) He wasn't pleased with my decision not to continue with the practical aspects -- nor was Headmaster -- but I noted that neither of them pressed the issue, either. I suspected that Snape had informed them of our discussion. He might even have taken my side: I can't imagine Headmaster would have let me give up otherwise.
Whomever the "mutilator" was, they were lying low: there were no further animal deaths or attacks on patrolling teachers.
The most interesting development of the term was the presence of a new staff member: one whose true identity had to be kept quiet. I shouldn't have known at all, save for a regrettable incident in the staff room.
I truly thought it was a dog. I obviously hadn't learnt enough of a lesson from the hare in the forest.
I recognized him, of course: a large black dog -- the one from the Infirmary last year -- very friendly, and with a plaintive expression. He'd been following Filch and Mrs. Norris around for several days, and I found him in front of the staff room fire one afternoon. His tail thumped companionably when I took a chair, and he issued an unmistakable invitation by rolling onto his side. Which is why Snape found me idly scratching the dog's chest with the toe of my shoe when he entered.
"Black!" he thundered, and glared at the ecstatic canine in absolute rage and loathing.
"What in bloody hell is the matter --" I blurted indignantly, and squealed as the form under my toe suddenly shifted. "Sweet Jaysus!"
Lounging at my feet was no dog, but a lean, more than usually attractive man who was currently engaged in grinning at me as he imprisoned my ankle in one hand.
"Professor Hunter," he acknowledged with another grin. "Glad to discover you're a dog person. Sirius Black, at your service."
"What are you playing at, Black?" Snape hissed. I'd never seen him this enraged: it was nearly as terrible as an enfuriated Dumbledore.
"Just introducing myself, Snape," Black shot at him with malice. "I dispensed with the usual canine formalities, don't worry."
Snape gave a more animated sneer than usual, and took another threatening step toward the man reclining at my feet.
"That," I said severely to Black, to halt Snape, "was not cricket." I jerked my foot away from him.
"You'd never have known," he noted with satisfaction as he lazily stretched and rose to his feet, "if Snape hadn't outed me." And he bent to pick up the essay books that had slipped from my lap to the floor.
"That is hardly the point," Snape said harshly. "You took advantage of the situation and her ignorance. Bad enough that you're here at all, but if you're up to your old tricks --"
Black took grave offense to this. "You're a fine one to talk," he said contemptuously, and something quite dangerous sparked in Snape's eyes in response. It was like watching Malfoy and Potter go at each other, and therefore vaguely amusing -- but with a decidedly more sinister undertone: I sensed that there was a history here that could blow the whole incident out of proportion.
"Gentlemen," I interjected in warning, "whatever this is really about, this is neither the place nor time --"
"I quite agree with Professor Hunter," Headmaster stated firmly as he entered and crossed to the fire.
Thank God. I'm not up to dealing with two homicidal wizards.
"I thought," he continued severely, "that I made it quite clear to the two of you that there should be a cessation of hostilities for the present."
"But Headmaster, he --" Snape began indignantly.
Headmaster raised a warning hand to still him. "Miranda, was there any harm done?" he asked me courteously.
"Apart from a bit of a fright and dog dander on my shoe, no," I admitted.
"There, you see, Severus? Her honour and dignity are intact."
Snape bit back another retort and retreated, eyes blazing, to his favoured window-seat.
"As for you, Sirius," Headmaster continued -- rather more gently, I was appalled to note -- "it wasn't well done of you. I should have preferred that as few people as possible knew you were here, even those like Miranda who can be trusted."
"Sorry, Headmaster," Black replied -- unconvincingly. "Snape forced the issue," he added with a shrug.
Headmaster gave him a stern look. "As the damage is done, we should let you know that Sirius is here to help with the patrols, and to keep an eye on Harry Potter," he informed me. "He is Harry's godfather. It is important that he remains incognito, however, as he is, ah, persona non grata with the Ministry."
I nodded.
"The rest of the staff shall be in shortly, so I suggest you revert, Sirius," Headmaster again addressed Black, and he did; then it --he -- turned twice widdershins and pointedly curled up at my feet. "No more mischief," Headmaster instructed the dog, and it cheekily thumped its tail in response.
It was a distinctly uncomfortable meeting: Black remained at my feet throughout, and Snape glared at the two of us. McGonagall sensed something was up as well, and shot many worried looks my way until the meeting was dismissed; she knew who the dog really was, of course. I glanced reprovingly at Black as I left my chair; his tail beat against the rug, and he grinned at me (some dogs are capable of it, you know.)
"Stay away from him," he muttered under his breath as he forced me into a trot.
"What?" I asked in shock. Good God, he's never jealous, is he?
"He's a wanted man -- moreover, he's very persuasive. For your own good, stay away from him," Snape reiterated grimly.
I jerked my elbow away from him. "I have no intention of becoming involved with him or anyone else -- if only," I said spitefully and with no little fury, "because of the job we have to do."
It was a low blow, and Snape didn't take it well: he paled in anger. I hadn't meant to wound his ego so badly, but I'd obviously hit on a sore point.
"Look, I don't know what the problem is between the two of you, and I don't much care to find out," I said hastily, lying through my teeth, "but I wish you'd leave me out of it. I appreciate your concern, but I'm fully capable of coming to my own conclusions and acting accordingly." I didn't mean it quite the way it sounded; I simply meant that I wasn't interested in romantic entanglements, either serious or casual.
That last bit's a major lie, my girl, and you know it, part of my consciousness whispered to me. Snape was a far more interesting subject than any other man I'd ever known. But I wasn't about to admit that to him.
"Then see that you do act appropriately," Snape said icily, and strode of down the hall, the tails of his teaching robes fluttering behind him.
It was just possible that our little contretemps in the corridor had been for the benefit of the other faculty, so I shook it off and thought no more about it; but I was proven wrong. Snape did not appear for our weekly chess game the next night, and I knew full well he wasn't off on an errand.
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