"Clothilde"

Chapter 7 "The Yule Ball"

A view from a broken window

I can hardy breathe

clouds are forming faces

and they laugh at me

strange desires

under friendly fire

but it's alright it still feels nice

It's taking me away

I'm seeking shelter from pain

I'm holding on again

holding on again

seeking shelter from pain

It gives me a line and I cross it

an acrobat graced with skill

"Taking Me Away" ~The Tea Party

Professor Snape was staring out one of the porthole windows, it was nearly coated with snow, but Filch had tried his best to keep it dusted out so Severus would get some sunlight down there in his office. He heaved a sigh... the Yule Ball was in progress, he rarely ever attended, and only at Dumbledore's request to chaperone the festivities.

He turned about and unlocked a desk drawer... 'Charlotte Malfoy's Book of Poisons'. It was black, the lettering was hot pink but that was actually an area where Charlotte had ripped away the black material to carve the letters in. Creative in her violent nature.

Snape took a drink.

She would be at the Ball he assumed, he'd overheard Harry Potter talking about going, and that would be a place she would feel he needed to be protected, Severus was certain.

Snape ran a hand over his face roughly, then looked down at the book again incredulous. So... she had failed out of Hogwarts as she had always predicted, she had watched them snap her wand, alone... no one to reassure her. He had abandoned her. Abandoned one of the only Slytherin who he really felt a kindred spirit with. They had shared some very similar experiences going to school there, she just never knew... and he never let on.

She had betrayed his trust.

He shut the book hastily... then moved back to the window.

She hadn't returned to take Filch's position as he once said, she had returned as someone else. Half dead. He wondered to himself what she had been through.

He had heard the rumors... that she had been a ruthless Auror. Obviously Clovis Malfoy had arranged for her to become an Auror after the Ministry of Magic had found out about Lucius being a Death Eater, and all the suspicion surrounding him... must've suddenly been very handy to have kept his Mudblood daughter around. He probably had decided to get in touch with her and give her his name just in case something like that did happen. He could hear Clovis now, "You see, I have a half-Muggle daughter myself I would never be involved with Voldemort of my own free will. What if something awful had become of her, I love her too much to risk it."

Snape knew the rumors... she was violent. Not really a shock to him. That was probably true, she'd always been an angry young woman. The rumors claimed she could be hired for a price... to protect, or to kill. He wondered if that was true.

He traced the line of snow in the window idly. He had done some things for Voldemort he was not proud of... it was hard to cast stones at someone else. It was hard to feel betrayed by someone he had always cared about when he knew it was nothing but a childish whim on her part really. Knowing that... if perhaps he had continued to help her she might not have gone down the path she did. If she had not failed Hogwarts, her wand would be intact, she could cast spells and not have to hide it from the ridiculous Ministry.

'Clothilde Corgan' had become a name mothers used to scare their children into being good... like Sirius, she was a viper in the night... a phantom. When Dumbledore had uttered the idea of bringing her into Hogwarts one day in the staff room the looks on the faces of the other professors... the blanched expressions. Severus sneered a bit at the memory of it. And now he knew, Clothilde was Charlotte Malfoy. The student he had taken such a shine to in his first year as a professor.

That had been a hard year. Somehow taking her under his wing had meant a lot to him. It gave him something positive to work on. Made him feel he was making a difference, while at the same time he was still dealing with Voldemort... a very nerve wreaking situation. Spying for Dumbledore. Charlotte had offered that almost, mundane case of juvenile delinquency that returned him to reality every day. When she betrayed him, it was like the things had to put up with from the other Death Eaters... he simply wasn't prepared for it.

He touched his lips absently. Then of course there was that other episode in the potions office she probably believed he had forgotten.... How in the world she could've assumed she could pull anything potions oriented over on The Potions Master was beyond him. One sip of that tea and he knew, he knew he'd been poisoned. The taste of it alone told him what it was... although he had to admit she had hidden it rather well, he didn't smell anything while actually sipping it. Then of course, it was too late to stop it from working it's way into his system... but, he certainly did not swallow the 'Forget' potion. At that point, he had swallowed so little of that tea... neither the Suggestion nor the Weakness were actually working. He had no plans to drop that one on Clothilde though, he supposed she had enough on her mind.

Snape moved again to his desk and poured himself another draught of Scotch, then thought the better of it. Ironic how she was back now... now that Voldemort had returned and he was once again Albus' spy. His mind raced over the possibilities of what that could actually mean... it did seem a bit, dubious but Dumbledore trusted her, he decided to chalk it up to paranoia on his part... for now.

He drank the Scotch. Pounded the goblet back down onto his desk, and swept out of his office determinedly.

* * * * *

The great hall was made to look like an ice palace. The long tables had all been moved out and several small round tables were set around the room. There was an illusion of glittering snow falling from the ceiling. It was enchanting. Clothilde had never been to the Yule Ball and had never seen what a wonderful job they did making it... for lack of a better word, magical. Not too many of the students had stayed on for Christmas, there were probably around fifty students, and the staff of course. They were all wearing their dress robes and very lovely gowns, the girls had their hair coifed high. Harry had spent a long time in his dormitory attempting to slick his hair into place... but it just wasn't an attainable goal.

"No, this time it was different, it was as if the cauldron was faulty or something the bottom just sagged right out of it," Neville was saying.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "it was the order you put the quills in again Neville."

"I don't know..."

"Why don't you talk to Percy Weasley? I think Ron could help you with that," Harry said this quietly but smiled mischievously as his best friend shot him a look.

Ron was trying to work up the nerve to ask Hermione to dance, of course it's harder when one doesn't actually know how himself.

Clothilde was sitting at one of the small tables, shadowed, behind Harry watching all of this transpire. The pentacles on her tabard glittered in the warm candlelight. She sat menacingly, one arm resting on the back of her chair. Her Athame shining at her side. This was not the safest place for Harry to be. Anyone could show up, the lighting was bad... it would be easy to lose him. He probably knew that too.

"Ah Harry, how are you enjoying the Yule Ball?"

It was Dumbledore in fine robes. And he looked straight back at her as if he knew what she was thinking. He was a little spooky sometimes.

Clothilde met his eyes, her face impassive. Yet, there was the flicker of a smile.

It was amid the small talk, the wafting of strong perfume and some silly girlish giggle that she began to notice the sea of dancing couples parting. Severus Snape crossed the room, silencing the silly girlish giggle with a stern look in her direction. His blacker than night robes billowing behind him, cutting a path through the crowd. Clothilde was suddenly reminded of Uncle Drosselmeyer, from "The Nutcracker".

There was some humor there. He was a garish figure amid all the pale pastel gowns and the false snow which felt so prettily in his hair then vanished. Snape's eyes swept the room, his brow furrowing, then he was looking over at Harry. He glided over to where her party was located.

"Mr. Potter," he said stiffly, as pleasantly as he could manage. "Headmaster."

"Well... Severus, so good to see you here." Dumbledore smiled warmly, his eyes twinkled. "I was wondering when you were going to drop in."

Snape apparently didn't hear or fully catch what the Headmaster was conveying. Instead he turned all his attention to Clothilde. For a moment the two of them were staring at each other. He looked almost agitated. She was cool... her head tilted to one side slightly waiting.

Most of the Gryffindor house had moved away from Snape as if he had some sort of transmittable disease.

Then the most bizarre thing happened, he lifted his chin a bit, and extended his hand to her, with the utmost grace. In the most confident, silkiest voice he said, "may I have this dance?"

Ron was looking on in horror. He also considered using that line if it worked for Snape... hey, if it worked for Snape how could he really go wrong?

Clothilde glanced at Dumbledore, hoping he would stay with Harry. The Headmaster nodded at her smiling. She stood, this was going to look stupid, she was still in her armor.

"Of course." She accepted his hand, the sharp studs on the back of her knuckles glittered.

Severus looked over at several of the students who were dancing beside them, and gaping, and he gave them a rather menacing exchange. They quickly maneuvered away.

Tchaikovsky was the music that began to play. She wasn't even going to satisfy the Headmaster with a look this time. Without a question of a doubt, he was reading her mind. She looked up into Snape's eyes instead as she slid one hand on his shoulder, he flinched ever so slightly... as if he had never grown accustom to being touched.

She met his eyes as they began to dance, slowly. She could feel his hair, coal black tickling her face, they were that close. He had come all the way down there to dance with her? It was incredibly romantic... she couldn't fathom why.

"You may think me ridiculous, but I have enjoyed the witty rapport these past few... days."

"I have enjoyed it as well."

His face registered some relief. She hadn't hit him with her own brand of self-loathing. "You look very..." he was going to say something polite, like, 'elegant', that was the plan, but the truth of his feelings surfaced and "beautiful" is what escaped much to his dismay. Embarrassed, his eyes found the marble floor suddenly very interesting.

"Beautiful?"

Oh, she had heard the slip. Severus winced.

She pulled back enough to gaze into the eyes he was trying to hide from her. She was actually having a hard time breathing herself, her heart felt as if it had grown so large it threatened the space she had reserved for her lungs. Although she was seeking out eye-contact she wasn't certain what she would do once she obtained it.

He felt the intensity of her eyes on his... her breath against his skin as if time were standing still at that moment.

The music was playing but they were no longer moving. Had he completely offended her? Why had he dared such a stupid remark?... Then again if he had offended her, so what? He didn't care... only, he really did feel stupid for exposing himself so much.

Taking a breath he lifted his eyes to meet hers, she was looking at him with more an intense expression of wonder than disgust or hatred. He glanced away and then looked up again quickly.

"I... take back that remark I made about Italian Ren," she said at long last, her voice had the distinct sound of someone who had just caught her breath. She lowered her own eyes and took in his form, from the buttons at his ankles, slowly... up to the lace at his throat.

He was looking at her with a seemingly severe expression. Her words did not die in her throat however, she forced herself to continue. "It is... astonishing on you."

His face seemed to widen a bit, his lips parted but nothing came out. He... surely she was not speaking to him, or perhaps she was toying with him, making some mockery of him. He actually turned to see if someone was laughing on the edge of the ballroom. No one was. He fought the explosion of feeling melting away the inner iciness he was accustom to. Afraid to feel anything at all... afraid it would be ripped away in an instant.

The music stopped and everyone else was leaving the floor.

"Uhh... I believe this dance is over," she said.

"So it is." His voice was direct, the edge garnered from years of teaching practice had returned, and he released her hand.

"I am not going to forget this," she said to the cold, black form bowing curtly before her now.

"Oh... good."

She smiled at the embarrassed sarcasm.

In a whirl of black robes he turned and glided away from her.

"What in the world did he say to you?" It was Harry's voice suddenly.

She turned and found Hermione's eyes on her, she was looking at Clothilde as if she knew exactly what was going on.

"I thought you were going to kiss him for a minute!" Ron said disgusted as the scene replayed in his mind.

She felt as if she was in a daze. "I think I almost did." This was said quietly enough for only Harry to hear.

He looked up at her uncertainly.

Across the room she caught the last glimpse of him, his black robes swishing about him as he sashayed around people on his way out.

* * * * *

"Ron, Ron wake up Ron."

"Why, what's going on?"

"C'mon Ron, we're going to look for Clothilde's room now."

"What?..." He looked at a clock. "It's two in the morning."

"Hermione's already waiting for us in the common room." Harry said as he moved away from his best friend's bed. "I'll meet you down there."

"Who decided we were doing this tonight anyhow? Christmas is barely over."

* * * * *

Clothilde sat staring out a window in the hallway outside of the large painting of the fat lady, who had spent a lot of time trying to chat with her.

"My dear is this really the sort of work for you? You look tired. You aren't really part of Gryffindor are you?"

Harry's bodyguard had actually talked to her quite a bit during the last few days. She spent her nights like this, hanging around the Gryffindor tower, in the dark. She could've passed for a specter herself... pale and intense in expression. Perhaps it was in that moment when she decided to have a look outside that the three of them got out of their tower unnoticed in Harry's invisibility cloak. She wasn't sure how it happened, she went back in to check on Harry, and found he was missing... along with Ron and Hermione.

She checked her watch, three in the morning... she swooped out of the large portrait, and thundered down the hall, her tabard floating with the fluttering weightlessness of wings. She had her gladius drawn.

"Charlotte...."

She heard a deep voice behind her, and slashed through the air as she spun.

"Ahh..."

It was Severus.

She blinked away the adrenaline that had been coursing through her to focus on him, swathed in black, his long shining black hair hung down in front of his face... he held his hand.

"Are you hurt?" Clothilde heard her voice... it sounded a lot less flat and alto at the moment... it sounded girlish, and it even hinted that she might actually care. She cringed inwardly.

"It's nothing. Just a cut."

"Let me see."

Pursing his lips a little annoyed Snape looked down at her, then thrust the injured hand toward her. There was some blood, it wasn't too bad though.

"Looks like the blade just grazed you. Not bad at all, did you want me to attempt to heal it or... I have some super-glue~"

He closed his fingers over it and pulled away. "Glue?"

"Yes, it works to close wounds, they used it in a Muggle war... at least one I know of. I carry it just in case."

He arched one eyebrow then cast a minor healing spell.

"Glue," he was muttering. "One would think you had spent some time after Hogwarts at least, practicing healing spells. For someone in your... line of work it would seem a necessity."

She sheathed the sword. Looked into his dark eyes, and then took the hand she had injured in her own hands and appraised it. The white doe-skin gloves were warm, her fingers traced where the mark had been. "Perhaps I should do more study in that area."

He freed himself from her.

Their eyes met.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you."

For a moment he thought she was referring to the past, he looked at her wordlessly, stupidly.

"Your hand."

"Ah... I presume I startled you."

"Yes," she began to walk again; Snape followed. "I've misplaced Harry."

There was the ever so slight hint of amusement on his lips. "Ah yes... Mr. Potter and his elusive invisibility cloak."

"What?"