Chapter Four
Warnings appear at the beginning of Chapter One
A/N: Since there have been numerous revisions to this story, previous readers should reread Chapters 1-3 in order to make sense of Chapter 4.
The fact that he didn't have to utter the name of some inane confection to get into the Headmaster's suite told him that Something Was Afoot. The guardian gargoyle had simply moved aside to allow him access. As the staircase carried him up toward the Headmaster's rooms the overwhelming knowledge that the Something was probably a Bad Something set his teeth on edge.
Then, there was the silence.
All of the little instrumentalities that normally filled the room with their clicks and whirrs, or that crawled, rolled, clambered or thumped about the surface of the Headmaster's desk were conspicuously absent.
The Headmaster's desk was empty save a teacup and a flat, black case that was a little larger than a Standard book.
Then, there was the Headmaster's guest.
Yes. This was most certainly a Bad Something.
As Snape crossed the threshhold of the office, the occupant of one of the horribly bright armchairs facing the Headmaster's desk stiffened. The man was sitting rigidly, his hands clenched to whiteness on the arms of his chair. As an instinctive Legilimens, Snape sensed anger rolling off the man in slow, silent waves, anger that was directed specifically at him.
Arthur Weasley's balding head jerked up, his color going to beetroot almost immediately.
Oh shit, Snape thought, something's happened. . .? For an instant, his breath caught in his throat. Immediately, his guts twisted with the wrenching desire to know that brought Weasley pere to Hogwarts; but that part of his nature that had been honed by years of dissembling made him keep silent.
"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore smiled warmly, gesturing at the remaining chair, "will you have a seat?"
As he settled into the seat, Arthur Weasley stared resolutely forward, as if pretending he wasn't there.
Not Good.
"Arthur," he extended by way of a greeting. Still, there was no response. He looked at Dumbledore, who now seemed to be ignoring both of them as he stared off into space.
"Headmaster," he called, "you interrupted my schedule of classes and asked me to come here. . ."
"Yes, Severus." The Headmaster took an envelope from the sleeve of his robe and held it out. "This, I believe, is yours.".
Snape took the envelope and turned it over to discover that it was unsealed. Flipping it back, he saw that its front bore an engraved return address for the Granger Orthodontics Centre and that his name was written on the front in an unfamiliar hand.
"I don't understand-"
At this, Weasley rose to his feet.
"You don't understand? You don't understand! I'm the one who doesn't understand! I don't understand why my son would be sending you anything like that!" Arthur Weasley erupted.
"Now, Arthur-let's have some tea and talk about this calmly-"
"Albus! How in the worlds can you sit there and talk about tea at a time like this? One of your teachers has been fraternizing with students-"
"I don't fraternize with students," Snape said softly, as he dropped the envelope on the Headmaster's desk.
"I should say not!" Weasley exclaimed. "It's apparent that you do a whole hell of a lot more than just fraternize. What I can't stomach is how the Headmaster can just turn a blind eye to something like this. Well, I'll be damned if I'll stand by and sacrifice my son!"
"Sacrifice your son!" Snape hissed. "You talk as if I am some sort of bloody cannibal or something!"
"If the shoe fits, Severus," Weasley gritted out between clenched teeth. "This is disgusting! The boy's only eighteen! You have to be influencing him somehow. He always hated you. What would make him change now?" He pointed a shaking finger at the envelope and turned toward the Headmaster. "Maybe the Imperious! Oh yes! That must be it. Is that part of the deal, then? Take the Death Eater back, put up with his perversions, everything forgiven-anything allowed as long as we get what we need to defeat You-Know-
Who!"
Snape's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to respond, but was stopped by a stern look from the Headmaster.
"Arthur, calm yourself and sit down," Dumbledore said mildly. "We have much to discuss, and we will be civil about it." The Headmaster sat back in his chair and folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe.
For a few seconds, Weasley wavered, torn between staying and leaving. Electing to stay, he hurled himself back into his seat.
Dumbledore lifted his teacup and took a bracing sip, "Severus came to me last Christmas and explained everything."
"Last Christmas? So you are guilty of taking advantage of students. . ."
"Ron approached me first," Severus said defensively.
"Approached you first? Is that supposed to be an excuse? For God's sake man! You are the teacher!"
"Let me finish, Arthur." Dumbledore interrupted. "Ron has turned out to have the gift of prophesy. We had people in from the Department of Mysteries just before he sat his NEWTs, and he has been formally confirmed and registered as an Oracular Seer. There are already several of his pronouncements recorded and on file."
For a moment, Dumbledore drummed his fingers on the desktop as he sat back and smiled before continuing.
"Arthur, it would really be most instructive to you to visit Mysteries and check those prophecies. One of them involves you and Molly. At any rate, it seems that the gift first announced itself with a series of visions involving Severus." Dumbledore laughed as he went on, "I've been told that this is typical for the Oracular type, that the first and strongest predictions would involve a future spouse or lover. Ron apparently decided on his own to consult with Severus about certain visions he had been having."
"LOVER! Why, the very thought is disgusting and it doesn't change the fact that my son was a student when it happened. Why wasn't someone looking out for him, Minerva, for example? Where was she in all of this?" He shifted in his chair so that he could look Snape in the eye. "Why didn't you report. . ."
"I did report this." Snape gave him a fierce glare.
"I have told you, Arthur, that the first visions in this case are very fervent," Dumbledore continued. "Ron might have felt uncomfortable discussing this with anyone else, or, considering his age and the influence of hormones, he might have been emotionally involved by then. At any rate, he was legally an adult at the time. It was his choice to discuss this with whomever he wanted."
"That's just an excuse. There's still the matter of inappropriate contact between a Hogwarts teacher and a student. . ."
Snape snorted, "Aside from the clear fact that I want to keep my job, it is very plain that you are not thinking clearly. We are both in the Order. What do you think I am, a fool? I was watched everyday by Draco Malfoy. Have you never thought about that? Have you never thought how it would look if I was friendly with the Weasley family, a family that loves Muggles?"
"Lies, damnable lies," Weasley gritted out.
"I never touched him, Arthur," Snape rose to his full height to tower over the occupant of the chair next to his. "Do you want me to tell you what happened? Very, well then."
Snape retreated to the space behind the armchairs and paced as he spoke.
"Late at night on the evening before Hogsmeade weekend,
Ronald came to my office. He marched right in and told me directly that he had been having dreams and visions since the previous summer. I laughed at him and told him to talk to Sibyll, but he kept on about me, about the two of us. I told him to speak to Minerva, I did everything I could to dissuade him, but he was insistent. I didn't even believe him until. . ."
"Until what!"
"Until he kissed me," Snape ground out through clenched teeth.
"Albus!" Weasley shouted.
When the Headmaster didn't respond, Snape sighed and clasped his hands together behind his back. Memory rushed into that small silence and in spite of all, his voice softened. "He kissed me. As soon as he touched me, in that sudden moment of thought and mood, I could see everything he saw."
Dumbledore smiled widely. "Splendid, my dear boy! And here I was worried that you would always be alone."
Weasley pounded his fist on the arm of his chair. "Albus, I cannot believe you condone this!"
"It isn't a matter of what I condone. I have told you that this is what your son forsaw. If in his prescience he has chosen Severus, then the matter must rest between the two of them alone. He isn't a student or a child anymore." Dumbledore's response was stern.
Weasley seemed to deflate as he finally sat sank into his chair.
"Molly's quite upset about this," he said softly, "she blames herself, you understand. Just can't see how she went wrong, what with Ron turning out to be this way.
"And what 'way' might that be?" Snape drawled as he circled around to face Weasley.
Weasley exhaled and shook his head in response, his eyes drifting shut. Snape seized the arms of his chair and leaned down so that they were face to face.
"Oh, I do understand. It's bad enough that the boy associates with a known Death Eater on a regular basis--but the thought that your Ronniekins might be a bender, a shirt-lifter, a pillow-biter is beyond tolerance," Snape hissed. "Surely his being that way is someone's fault. Yes. I must have lured him, but Molly must share the fault. She coddled him. She babied him. She tied him to the apron strings. . ."
Weasley sunk his head into his hands and scrubbed at his eyes.
"I wonder how Molly came to the conclusion that the particular blame was hers?" Snape whispered.
"Enough, Severus," Dumbledore said, "Take your seat. We are still on the same side. And there is something of substance that we must discuss."
Ron stood over the woman on the floor, watching as her body spasmed with Cruciatus. In seizure, the woman rolled toward him, and he saw her blood splattered face.
He wanted to scream. Why couldn't he scream?
"Very good, then," a male voice boomed from just behind him. "Are you sure that she was the only one who saw you?"
"Yes," Ron answered. Only it wasn't his voice. It was a woman's voice.
He knew that voice--he'd heard it before. If only he could remember. . .
"She'll tell us nothing further," yet another man's voice floated over Ron. That one stepped over in front of him, but all he could see was the back of a coarse brown hooded robe.
"Avada. . ."
"Ronald?" Master Po's hand on his shoulder and concerned voice brought him back to reality. Ron looked at the teacher, and then out into the room, blinking to change his focus, his body rigid. He knew that this was a vision of something yet to occur. Something that would happen if he didn't do something. If there was anything that he could do. . .
"Ron? Are you okay?" Harry asked.
Ron bowed forward, head in hands. "I need to talk to the Centre Director right away."