Disclaimer: Auriga and Severus are not mine, they are Jo Rowling's. Most of the things in here are Jo Rowling's, except for Destiny du Maurier, who is drama-princess's, and many memories that include coffee-mug-throwing, house-elf paramours, seduction of Defense Against The Dark Arts professors, etc., are Nita's, aka She's A Star. She wrote Lamentations of a Starry-Eyed Twit, which is pure genius, and this is sort of a spinoff of said story. It is also bloody brilliant, and I urge you all to pounce upon it with passion. I also highly encourage Gedia Kacela's Good Ship Snape/Sinistra stories, because they are brilliant as well, and I now take the time to mention that I actually have permission from Nita to write this and am contemplating paying her with an I LOVE GILDEROY LOCKHEART coffee mug. Just because.
Oh, yes. Shakespeare's quotes are also not mine. Obviously. But I just thought I'd mention that. Now, on with the show!...er, ficlet.
A Bright Particular Star
Severus Snape was not in the mood for anything faintly approaching romance.
Not that he ever was. But one could pretend, if one felt up to dodging expertly thrown missiles hurled from his general direction.
Actually, that day had gone quite nicely, up to a point. He had had to deal with the Dream Team during the double Potions exam; the Weasley brat had received two detentions and a loss of twenty points and he had managed not to award Granger any, and then Neville Longbottom had proven once again that he was the clumsiest idiot known to wizardkind by melting his sixteenth cauldron since coming to Hogwarts. Severus was planning on docking Gryffindor six hundred points once the boy reached twenty-three and broke the all-time record.
(It was, after all, not his fault that Potter and Black had found it so infernally amusing to toss fireworks and other explosives into his own cauldron at every opportunity. He saw this as the prime chance to clear his name from the top of that list, and could really not be blamed for that.)
…Pink hair dye. Honestly. That had apparently been the joke of the year for those four. Severus Snape and pink hair. How thoroughly unoriginal.
…also thoroughly humiliating, but Severus chose not to dwell on that. After all, he had more important things to think about.
…Not that she was important. Of course not. She was a whingy little starry-eyed twit that could not manage to spell the word "star" correctly, much less pronounce her name (it was Aur-eye-gah Sinistra, for Merlin's sake, not Aur-ee-gah), and who did things like seduce Defense Against The Dark Arts professors, sometimes without even making sure that that particular person was the current Defense Against The Dark Arts professor.
He did hope she hadn't tried anything of the sort with one of the former Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers with a fetish for writing horrid romance novels.
Destiny du Maurier.
Shudder.
TwitchShudderSneer.
He had actually liked the word "obsidian" before that thoroughly frightening woman had cornered him in the teacher's lounge. Serenading a fellow professor with murmurs comparing him to silky, obsidian strands of oil immersed ruthlessly into the bitter cerulean waters of the Nordic seas, upon which icebergs flowed as smoothly and as gently as swans glided upon the glimmering, translucent mirror of the surface of a still, breeze-driven lake of passion—well, that tended to ruin words like that for one.
Especially if they were seductively murmured to the tune of "Spellbound" by Celestina Warbeck.
But still.
Nothing had prepared him for a situation of this kind. Nothing.
Things had commenced normally. He had swept into the Great Hall for dinner, made a couple of first-year Ravenclaws cringe as he sneered at them (if all else failed, he could always make a fortune on a book about dastardly glares and their deliverances), and saw with gratification that the house-elves had found it in their little hearts to provide chocolate liqueur for the soothing of the teachers' souls. It was, after all, the last day before Christmas vacation, and souls needed a bit of soothing here and there, just as ruffled owl feathers did. His own private soul-owl had just been hurled through a comparatively rough tornado.
Somewhat mollified at the sight of said beverage, Severus accepted a glass from Iolana Hooch and made sure that she had no chance to repeat her performance of the badly aimed slap on the back that ended somewhere that was most undignified to someone who had built up the reputation of a big, bad, bastardly bat. Chocolate liqueur was never to be despised, no matter who the giver was.
Then, not that Severus Snape noticed this before anyone else did, because he most certainly hadn't, Auriga Sinistra waddled into the Great Hall, immaturely giving out private information about her subject and who knew what else to an underage wizard.
…actually, he pointedly chose to ignore that Auriga did not exactly waddle, and that she had probably been giving a few helpful homework pointers to a second-year. He had built up a particular block about that woman in his mind long, long ago, and, through his eyes, she waddled.
"Hullo, Severus," the said auburn-haired disgrace of a professor smiled cheerfully, sweeping into the seat next to him. "Tortured any poor first-years today?"
"Several," he scowled. And then…then, a very, very disturbing scent wafted upwards, towards his nose, and was unwillingly imbibed, because that meant that he had noticed her. "Auriga, what is that you are wearing?"
"Perfume, Snape," she said amiably, helping herself to sprouts. "Ooh, is that chocolate liqueur?"
"It is not for those who cannot hold their alcohol," he informed her, moving the flask just out of her reach.
"Pass the liqueur, you great git," she responded almost too sweetly, and, when he did not move, she tutted briefly and stood up to get it for herself. "Always the gentleman, aren't you?"
"Always," he replied smoothly, picking the flask back up and placing it in front of her plate just as her fingers were about to grasp the handle.
"Ooh, you immature bastard," she growled, her good mood temporarily upset. "Why did you—oh, honestly!"
She returned to her seat and ignored him for what remained of dinner, leaving him wondering in a very detached way why on earth she was wearing perfume.
...which smelled really horrible, to be bluntly honest.
Like a French—
…like a French garbage can.
…yes.
Exactly.
Safely back in his quarters, and having just sent out an order for a replacement flask of that stunning chocolate liqueur, Severus was bored. He wasn't irritated, he wasn't annoyed, he wasn't pleased, he wasn't sardonic…he wasn't anything. Except really, really, really bored.
In a moment of desperation, he switched on the wireless, and regretted it a minute later as the dulcet tones of Celestina Warbeck floated across the airwaves. But he didn't have the energy or the motivation to turn the demned thing off, so he let the song play.
Your eyes
They are
Entrancing, darling.
I see you
Standing
And I watch you falling.
And I see myself falling, falling for you—
Yet I'm spellbound, spellbound to watch you.
Watching you is cursing you
Eyes never wand'ring, stares never fading
Fingers never moving, hair never waving
I'm spellbound, spellbound to watch you.
He blinked a few times, and then realized just what exactly he was listening to.
Spellbound, by Celestina Warbeck.
To top everything off, Destiny du Maurier's words and voice suddenly managed to replace Madam Warbeck's.
"Silky, obsidian strands of oil immersed ruthlessly into the bitter cerulean waters of the Nordic seas—"
With a sudden, sharp movement, Severus reached for the knob on the wireless, but missed and knocked the thing onto the floor, spilling its innards all over the elegant, green carpet. He absolutely refused to listen to that trash anymore. He just refused. It was not in character for him, thankyouverymuch.
One of the house-elves trotted back into his quarters, bowed very low, handed him his prized beverage, and withdrew, just in time for Severus to look up at his clock, realize that it was nine o'clock, and high time for him to begin patrolling the corridors. Why he had to be given this damnable job was more than he could tell; he didn't get paid enough overtime to deal with all the stress of docking yet more points from houses that were usually Gryffindor, Gryffindor, and, for variation, Gryffindor.
True, the occasional Hufflepuff did sneak out at times to snog with the occasional Ravenclaw, but overall, the Gryffindors were the ones that snuck out of bed in the middle of the night to prove that they were bold and daring and tough.
He pulled a cloak from his wardrobe; the one with the miniature poison-flask intricately concealed in the handle (although he usually used it for Anti-Sleep Potions when he wasn't in the grasp of insomnia), and swept out of his quarters, heading for the usually frequented hallways.
Thirty minutes later, he had unsuccessfully traversed the library, the corridors around the library, the halls surrounding the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff dormitories, the kitchens, the staff room and its very popular oversized cupboard, the North Tower, the West Tower, and a large selection of broom closets. Apparently, the Christmas spirit was keeping all students in bed and out of Severus' disfavor, which did not do much to elevate said spirit in any direction faintly resembling up in Severus' opinion.
With a martyred sneer, he set off for the Astronomy Tower, where he would likely be gratified. It usually housed at least one couple that was busily engaged in eating each other's throats, which was grounds for much point-taking.
The Astronomy Tower had no right to be so high up, he reflected unreasonably after step fourteen. Never mind that the night sky had to be visible from it on all sides; architects had no business making dedicated professors come close to perspiring while climbing these tormenting devices of evil. None at all.
Oh, dear.
If Severus Snape hadn't had the reputation for never retreating in the face of danger (which he did), he would have retreated then, there, and in all haste.
…Although, really, he did think that he would be pardoned by the masses for this transgression.
Auriga Sinistra was standing there, leaning on the edge of the stone banister and looking out into the night sky, a coffeemug looming threateningly by her side.
Severus vividly remembered that one time when she had thrown one of those lethal things at him, complete with boiling hot liquid that would have ruined his robes had they not been black. Although…
…well, she didn't look as if she was in any sort of particularly bad mood tonight, so…
"How sweet, Auriga," he sneered, stepping out into the chilly, biting December night air. "Watching the stars, are we?"
She yelped briefly, jumping around to face him; apparently, his ability to startle her eyes out of her head had not diminished. Quite the opposite, in fact. But in a gentlemanly manner, he picked her eyeballs up from the floor and handed them back to her without any snarky comments, for once. The cold was getting to him.
…meaning that he sneered the Sneer of Ultimate Superiority at her and swept over to join her at the balustrade.
"You scared me," she complained, obviously hoping for an apology. When he didn't respond, she punched him lightly with her coffeemug, grinning evilly as he flinched. "Ha."
"You are a truly disturbed woman," he snorted, edging away and trying to distract her. "What have you been doing with your stars that is so obviously entertaining?"
"Oh," she shrugged, setting her mug down and picking at a thread of her fraying sleeve, "nothing much. You know. Remembering myths, legends; things like that. Andromeda's second star's rather dim tonight."
"In imitation of you, I'm sure," he said cordially. And then, after a short pause: "Are you still keeping to your deep-seated goal of never punishing a student, or have there been no trespassers up here tonight?"
Auriga glowered at him, and he was surprised to find that he must be rubbing off on her; those glares were getting more powerful every time she turned them on full-force.
"I do so punish students!"
"Of course you do," he smirked in the general direction of the Forbidden Forest.
"Just because I'm not a bloody bastard about all things spiritual and secular doesn't mean I'm not a decent disciplinarian, you wanker. At least my students don't hate me."
"Not all of my students hate me," he said self-righteously. "And if they do, it is merely because they cannot understand the refined art of potion-making and are simply the most immature and idiotic brats I have ever had the misfortune to meet."
Either Auriga could not find a decent response or she simply did not want to humiliate herself further, but the end result was that she hushed for a while. With a most unpardonable air of superiority, Severus finally straightened up and brushed a bit of dust from his robes.
"Amuse yourself with your stars, Sinistra," he said carelessly. "I will unfortunately be seeing you tomorrow at breakfast, then."
"Bastard," she said gloomily, absently stirring her coffee with her index finger. "If I had the energy, I'd throw something at you."
Some circuit in Severus' brain must have fizzled up and died, for he did not attempt a hasty retreat that ended in a barricade behind iron doors that repelled coffee and coffee mugs with passionate fervor. Instead, he winced almost unnoticeably, stepped back towards her, and thoughtfully removed the I LOVE GILDEROY LOCKHEART mug from her grip. "Auriga, is something wrong?"
If Auriga had still been holding her coffee, the surprised start that she gave would have sent it crashing onto the Hogwarts grounds. "Nygeh?"
Severus blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Nothing," she said faintly. "Er…yeah, nothing."
"Is there something wrong?" he repeated, fixedly not looking at her.
"Sort of," she mumbled half-heartedly. "Well—not really, but…well, in a not-important kind of way. It's just that…oh, sod it." Heatedly, she snatched her mug back from him and downed several gulps of its contents at once. "Algernon broke up with me."
Algernon was the boyfriend, Severus remembered. He couldn't exactly blame the man for running as far as he could…but…
"Why?" he said conversationally.
"He said we never get to see each other," she mumbled, trying not to cry. "He said my job takes up too much of my time and we're not as close as we should be and he never has my undivided attention. About fifteen minutes of that rot, and then I gave him back his ring and he Flooed out." She sniffled loudly, and Severus was tempted to offer her a handkerchief. "He was perfect, and I miss him, and…and…"
"'A kind heart he hath: a woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart'," Severus quoted. "Isn't that it?"
"From Merry Wives of Windsor," Auriga sighed. "Yes, exactly." And then she frowned a little, and turned to face him. "I didn't know you were that much of a Shakespeare buff."
"I am, rather," he admitted. "You are, too, I imagine?"
"'Prove true, imagination, O prove true'," she grinned in response. She had stopped crying, Severus noticed.
"For where thou art, there is the world itself…and where thou art not, desolation," he continued, vaguely playing with a small pebble; neither were looking at each other. "He isn't that bloody perfect, Auriga; he's quite capable of being forgotten. I forget him twenty times a day as an amusement, and it succeeds marvelously."
"But 'twere all one," she smiled faintly, "that I should love a bright particular star and think to wed it, he is so above me."
"Honestly, Auriga, that twit isn't that much better than you are. Which takes a lot of trying," he added, "but still, he isn't." Reaching under his cloak, he brought out his hip flask and set it down in front of her. "Have some bat toes?"
Auriga eyed him oddly, and he smirked as he unscrewed the bottle for her. "It's chocolate liqueur, woman; drink up."
She obeyed then, tilting it up to her mouth and not spilling anything, and Severus helped himself to some after she had finished. Then, there was a rather long pause, as both of them returned to star-gazing.
"That's my star," she said finally, pointing up to the constellation that contained the Sinistra star.
"I know," he replied. "You are not the only one in this school that knows their astronomy."
"'I would not wish any companion in the world but you'," she quoted sardonically. "Can't you be a bit nicer about things?"
"'I know no ways to mince it in love but directly to say 'I love you''," he shrugged. "I'm admirably blunt."
"Ah, 'the prize of all-too-precious-you'," she observed. "Irritating as all hell."
"As are you," he said, returning the compliment and turning stare irritably at her glasses, which, once again, were falling down her nose. "You cannot spell worth a damn, seduce Defense Against the Dark Arts professors and their iguanas, throw coffee mugs, have not grasped the concept of keeping your glasses on the bridge of your nose, are pathetically good-hearted towards your students, manage to gain a stalker that is not, in fact, human, but inclined towards the species of 'house elf', and you…"
This did not happen very often.
Severus Snape completely forgot what he was going to say.
As a matter of fact, he forgot what the point of that sentence had been.
And it was all her fault.
When he had mentioned that thing about her glasses, she had automatically shoved them back up her nose. And he had never actually looked straight at her when her glasses were where they were supposed to be.
It was faintly scary.
She really looked rather…sweet.
No, not sweet.
…Intelligent?
No, not that, either.
This was very disturbing.
He couldn't, somehow, bring himself to look away.
It was not helping, either, that their past conversation, including Shakespeare quotes, kept running around and around in his head mercilessly, especially the part where she told him that she would not wish any companion in the world but him.
…True, it had been very sardonically meant, but—
"You are a truly ridiculous woman," he said severely and quickly, drawing his cloak together and sweeping out of the Astronomy Tower to regain the safety and normalcy of his chambers.
An hour later, he was positive that he was going insane. He could not even remember that blasted Shakespeare quote correctly, and he knew that something about the way it was emblazoning itself across his eyelids was definitely wrong.
There just had to be something wrong with this.
'Twere all one
That I should love a bright particular star
And think to wed it, she is so above me.
It didn't sound wrong. But it had to be. Something about it just wasn't right, and he couldn't figure out what it was.
Oh, sod it. He was going to bed, and he was going to drown himself in some Dreamless Sleep potion so that pondering of the above subject would not go on overnight.
…because it really was very disturbing.
Because it was so ridiculous.
Auriga's last name just had to be Sinistra, didn't it?
Yes. Ridiculous. Not true at all.
At all.
LA FIN
Shakespeare references:
'Twere all one
That I should love a bright particular star
And think to wed it, he is so above me.
All's Well That Ends Well, 1.1.86-8
I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you
--Tempest, 3.1.54-5
For where thou art, there is the world itself,…
And where thou art not, desolation.
--Henry VI, 3.2.362, 364
A kind heart he hath: a woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart.
--Merry Wives of Windsor, 3.4.100-1
The prize of all-too-precious you.
--Sonnet 86
I know no ways to mince it in love but directly to say
'I love you'.
--Henry V, 5.2.126-7
Prove true, imagination, O prove true.
--Twelfth Night, 3.4.374