"Clothilde"

Chapter 9 "A chthonic soul"

Now chthonic life has set its sights on

Making me a slave to its ways

I wait for return

Until then my soul it burns

And it burns only for you…

~"The Halcyon Days" The Tea Party

"That woman is not an 'unknown' named Clothilde Corgan, that is Charlotte Malfoy! Now I don't know why you have deemed to hire her on Albus, but she is dangerous. I for one have never even heard of that curse she used in the hall outside Gryffindor tower." Minerva said passionately as she faced the Headmaster and Snape in Professor Dumbledore's office. She swished around in her tartan bathrobe as she continued, positively unhinged by what she had seen this night.

Severus glanced at the floor unable to tell her what the curse was as she searched his face for an answer.

"Well, for a girl who failed out of Hogwarts she's obviously spent a good deal of her time studying Dark Magic, that curse had to have been one of her own Albus. Unpublished, untested… unsafe."

Dumbledore met her eyes with a nearly calm expression. "I know."

"You… you know?"

"Yes, I knew what she had been working on before I hired her."

Snape's head jerked up to look at him hopefully.

The Headmaster met his knowingly.

"If…" Severus began, "if that's the only magic she's superior at, then perhaps there's no reason for concern~"

McGonagall fixed him with a severe look.

That had sounded weak even to him.

"Well, Charlotte Malfoy may have failed out of Potions Severus. She may have failed miserably out of Charms, and she may have failed her NEWTs on a whole, but I can assure you she did not fail Transfiguration. She received the highest grade I've ever given in that class."

Snape's face widened. He had no idea.

"There is a list of seven. Seven known Animagi in this century… now Clothilde Corgan's name is not on that list, but Charlotte Malfoy's is."

"What?…"

"Yes Professor Snape."

"What animal?~"

"A cat." She turned to look at Dumbledore, "but if you ask me, if she's been practicing magic all this time, behind the back of the Ministry of Magic, I might add, she probably can turn herself into more than a cat by now."

"Professor McGonagall," the Headmaster said soothingly. "She's on our side."

"What she did to Macnair, Professor Dumbledore…" she was unable to finish the thought, "I for one do not feel safe having her in Gryffindor tower… guarding Harry Potter."

"She saved his life." Snape said curtly.

"She ruptured internal organs, why not a spell to stun the man?"

"She did… try. I even heard her issue him a warning. Would you rather that was Potter lying in the hospital wing?"

"Severus," she said now in a kinder, almost patronizing voice. "I know you feel you failed her when she was a student here, don't allow that idea to cloud your judgment now."

He met her with an icy look. "That is certainly not the issue."

"Professors…. Clothilde Corgan has my trust, but, if you insist Minerva, we could remove her from her current duties until we have assembled The Order of The Phoenix to discuss this matter further." Dumbledore rounded his desk.

Professor McGonagall's mouth drew into a thin line, she didn't want to cause Clothilde any trouble really. She had nothing personal against her… after all she had been a great student when she was seventeen, unfortunately she was no longer seventeen, she was a grown woman who had done some rather dire things in her life. She had made some very bad choices over the years… Minerva didn't know that she could bring herself to trust Miss Corgan now. She would have to be the one to do the brave, yet rather unpopular deed.

"I'm going to have to say, yes Professor Dumbledore."

"So be it."

Snape could feel all hope depleted from him. As if he had a vast amount to deplete.

"Professor Snape," Albus began, waking the Potions Master. "I would like you to keep an eye on Miss Corgan until this matter is settled."

Snape attempted to protest but was silenced by a look, and he said only, "yes Headmaster."

* * * * *

Severus swept down the dungeon hallway, his robes spread out all around him, giving him the impression of gliding. The halls were silent, early morning in a two week holiday… the sound of his own footfalls echoed. He replayed that duel in his mind, the atrocious sound of it… thunderous, the crack of the curse, the… thud, of organs rupturing deep within Macnair, the wall exploding by the sheer force of the man being thrown into it. The blood… everywhere. Certainly he had seen his share of Dark Magic, it was awesome, and awful all at once… he was almost immune to the horror of it. He wondered how Granger, Weasley and Potter were dealing. He knew this had to be on Clothilde's mind.

He stopped abruptly as he reached the questionable painting.

"Bludgeon." He stated plaintively. It didn't move.

Sighing, he knocked.

* * * * *

Clothilde opened the door. It was Severus. She let him in and returned to her chair before the fire.

"I'm not in the most jovial mood but feel free to sit," she hoisted her shot glass, "and I'll just pound down a couple more of these, which should improve my countenance considerably." Her tone was rather… terse.

He pretended not to notice and joined her. Without Peeves this place really was a graveyard. Stark… gray, what was left of the potions vials glittering in the corner, and rows of books. And… she hadn't bothered to do more than pull two of the chairs out of the state Peeves had left them in. There were still shards of glass and spilled potion all over the room.

She watched him surveying the mess. "I'm no good at charms, and I've been too lazy to deal with it yet."

"Odd, that you cannot manage a charm spell but do perfectly well with curses."

Understatement.

"I suppose so. Charms are baby curse spells. Perhaps it's rather like being able to ace physics but unable to balance one's checkbook?"

He wondered what a 'checkbook' was briefly, but let it pass. Something Muggle he assumed… and she had been drinking.

"So… what brings you by Professor?"

"Erm…."

Definitely drunk.

"You're duties have been suspended, for now. There is going to be a meeting to determine…."

She waved it away. "Nevermind, I guessed this much." Clothilde set down the glass, and gazed over at him, a mass of black crepe in her ancient chair… he looked good today, he really looked good today. His hair was so… black.

Clothilde took a moment to examine the amount of alcohol left in her bottle.

"Hmm," she said to herself as if confirming something. She could feel Snape watching her, she met his eyes. "He sent you to look after me?" This… came more sober than her prior statements.

"Yes."

She weighed the idea, then said, "so… did that duel count as foolish wand waving?" Then laughed shortly, as if that was the silliest thought she had had in quite sometime.

Snape did not reply.

She laughed… she wanted to cry. Harry, Ron and Hermione had seen exactly what she had tried her best to hide from them. Her dark side. What she could do. How frightening it could be. She knew they would never look at her the same way again.

Clothilde smashed her shot glass into the hearth.

This woke Severus. "Charlotte…."

She faced him now with the darkest expression he'd ever seen on her face. It was actually a little scary. He wondered if drunk, worked into a state like this… could she, would she be capable of… using a curse?

"Perhaps," he stood, "I should come back at a better time."

"You're scared of me."

"You've had too much to drink. That is all."

Conceding that was probably the case she slid back into her chair, letting it ebb away a bit, she rubbed her eyes. "I'm… sorry. I just… I didn't want them to see me like that."

He was looking down at her, "like what? Didn't want them to see you save Harry Potter's life?"

There was a odd note of concern and… what was that? He sounded as if he was making excuses for her. She looked at him, massaged the bridge of her nose and said at long last in her flat, alto voice. "You're protecting me."

"Certainly not."

She tilted her head to the side. This realization seemed to sober her a bit. Now she was feeling pretty bad about her actions, her comments, the state of her rooms, the state of her… hair. She made an attempt to run her fingers through it, but they caught and snagged and she hoped he hadn't noticed.

"I was enlightened today, about your grades in Transfiguration."

"What?"

"Professor McGonagall said you are an animagus."

"Oh… did she?"

He made some affirmative snort. "She said you could become a cat."

"Hmm, well… yes. I can become a cat." Good call McGonagall. She was guessing Snape could see her holding back but that was all she was owning up to at the moment.

His eyes were lingering on her face, then he sat down in front of her. "You didn't bother to go to the hospital wing I see."

She touched her face absently.

He appraised her clinically with his eyes. "How does it feel?"

"Numb." She motioned to the bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on a table nearby.

"Ah…."

"Perhaps I need a shower… and some coffee."

He moved back to let her get up.

"You can stay of course if you like, I'll only be a few minutes."

His eyes flicked over in the direction of her study, curious.

* * * * *

Glass shards 'crunched' under his feet as he stood there looking at the many potions before him. He selected one healing draught and set it aside, perhaps she had somehow overlooked this one. At this moment, his curiosity was piqued and although he stood there comparing himself inwardly to Miss Granger, he couldn't help but rummage through her things.

But first. He drew his wand and cast a charm to clean up the rooms. Then continued perusing her collections. What a selection of books… he pulled one, 'Abnormal Psychology IV edition'… some sort of Muggle school book. 'The Schizophrenic Mind', 'Study of a Sociopath', 'The Archetypes and The Collective Unconscious, Collected Works of C.G. Jung Vol. 9'. He knew little about Muggle studies but he did recognize what psychology was… obviously Charlotte was absolutely fascinated by it. There was an entire bookcase dedicated to this alone. He moved on and found some magical and some Muggle books on herbs and explosive ingredients… lovely. 'The Norse Conquest', 'A Distant Mirror', by Barbara Tuchman, 'The Biography of Doc Holiday', 'Chronicle of the Pharaohs', 'Valley of the Kings', 'Egyptian Magic'…. He pulled that one. She had a lot of information on Egypt for some reason.

Just as he settled down to read some of this text though, his hand fell upon another slender book setting haphazardly on her desk as if it had been thrown there. He glanced at the cover… it was a Hogwarts yearbook. The professor set down the spellbook and lifted the yearbook instead, he leafed through the first few pages… there were precious few signatures he noted. The staff… oh good heavens but he looked awful in that photo. He inwardly hoped Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley had not run across that as they ransacked Charlotte's rooms. For some reason there was a bookmark on that page. The bookmark was a page of potions notes from about fourteen years ago… he read it, it was… a healing draught, and true to her nature she had underlined every item that also had deadly consequences associated with it.

He arched his eyebrows.

Her bathroom door opened, and steam rolled out of the room. Clothilde emerged from the cloud, quite an entrance. She was wearing a black bathrobe, and curiously there was a white silk scarf wrapped around her throat. Her very long hair was still dripping wet and being a man he watched her cross the room trying to stop wondering what she looked like in the shower. His eyes focused on the long, slender legs that extended from her robe, just below the knee, they too were covered in beads of water.

'Doesn't she own a towel?' he thought bitterly, being reminded again of what she had just been doing.

She looked about then found him in her study area, "you cleaned up?"

Severus willed himself to look at a brain floating in some solution… "yes."

"Oh I was saving that, but thanks, it was a nice gesture."

He turned now quizzical.

Clothilde did not supply further explanation.

His face worked as he tried to decide what she was planning to do with all those shards of glass… unless, she still used explosives from time to time.

She seemed to be affirming his suspicions as they made eye contact. She made no excuses for her actions.

He decided to change the subject, "quite an impressive collection of potions you have here."

"Hmm… thank you. I've always been fascinated by potions."

He lifted a jar it's label read, 'Personality disorder; Border-line; Brain'. "I noticed you have quite a few Muggle books on psychology as well."

"Not so surprising is it?" She smiled warmly.

"Quite a lot of interesting material here actually. Nothing… about Transfiguration however."

"I suppose once you've mastered something that fascination ebbs away a bit." She lifted one of the vials lost in thought, "I guess that means I'll always have a huge supply of potions as I was virtually the Neville Longbottom of my Potions class."

"Oh, hardly Miss Malfoy."

She smiled at the sudden edge to his voice, this was a comment straight out of her own past. Nearly grinning she turned to find him very near her.

"You are far more gifted than Mr. Longbottom. And," he hissed, "although you have little talent for potion making, you are subtly gifted with the ability to hide your potions… in tea."

Her jaw dropped.

But he discontinued that thought and began discussing how practical her efforts against Voldemort could be. How her abilities could help to protect Harry and how he planned to defend her at the meeting very soon.

Irritated, brought back to the Christmas spent stealing vials from his lab eons ago she bristled. She didn't deserve his trust, his protection~

"If you knew everything about me you wouldn't be so eager to protect me~ or to trust me." She moved to get by him.

He caught her by the arm as she passed.

"Oh, let me alone."

"I spat out that Forget potion," he said curtly.

Her eyes widened, no… he couldn't have just said what she thought he'd just said. "What? You knew? And you never told anyone about the~"

"Theft. No."

But that's not all that it meant. She shrugged off his hand. "I, it was unforgivable. I have no idea why you would bother yourself with me now." She attempted to brush past him again but he moved a step to the left to block her exit.

They were very close and he was not certain how comfortable he was with the proximity of her body from his.

She took an uneasy step back nervously. He suddenly seemed, very male blocking her escape and she was acutely aware she was wearing only a bathrobe.

"Ironic you would choose to flippantly tell me I would do that sort of thing… poison your coffee… or something?"

There was something very frightening, yet very arousing about the way he was slowly pushing her back against the wall menacing her. She decided she wasn't going to notice it right now. Instead she replied in her usual flat tone, "it was a hint."

He raised an eyebrow. "I realize that."

She unconsciously pulled her robe closed, then absently touched her scarf. His eyes followed.

"Did you think it would be funny to drug The Potions Master with potions? Honestly Charlotte, although you hid the smell, the instant I sipped my tea I knew what was in it."

"Ah…" she heard herself say faintly. She suddenly realized what he was saying… and looked directly into his eyes. He seemed to be amused, frozen in place before her. Long black hair falling to the top of his collar, long raven robes…. "You… played along with it?"

His eyes were fixed on hers, she found herself unable to move. His lips parted as if he would speak… nothing came out.

The scene played itself out in her mind…laying on top of him, her tongue in his mouth begging him to kiss her… telling him how much she wanted him. She was momentarily horrified.

"I… thought," he said at last, "that, you would take the vials and leave."

"Well, that's what I did." She looked away.

Silence.

The professor was still watching her, uncertain, if she pretended nothing else had happened he would believe it himself. It really was one of the most unbelievable things that had ever happened to him. Eighteen year old girls didn't generally break into his lab to have their way with him.

She began to remember, at the end he stopped fighting… she suddenly wondered how far things would have gone if she hadn't stopped it. Clothilde's eyes met his again, and now she eased a bit, raised an eyebrow and found something rather amusing. Well, that was a long time ago and her excuse was she was a teenager, what was his? What difference did it make anyhow? What right did he have to menace her? No, this was not the way things were going to transpire between them if they were to transpire.

Clothilde's lip curved into a slight smile, this gave her a dangerous yet sensual expression. "Oh, I see now."

There was no way another Slytherin was going to use his dastardly gentleman type approach on her, no matter how many times she might rerun this scene in her head for self stimulation purposes. "I think Severus, being that I am extremely… damp, you should see yourself out. I need to dry off and we both need to get ready to deal with some upcoming meeting as I understand it."

She also needed to roll this new information around in her head a couple more times… he knew? He'd known for years? This put a whole new spin on that memory.

Snape's cool faltered a bit. This time he let her get past him.

She moved across the room, but watched him as he crumpled a little… she hoped that hadn't utterly destroyed relations between them.

He forced his lungs to work again, that was not the way he had expected things would go… although he'd been rejected before. Well, that was years ago… somehow he couldn't fully believe she hated him, the look on her face, the way her breath caught in her throat. He was confused. Perhaps it was just bad timing.

He swirled around to meet her. She was standing rather tall at the moment, defiant, holding the collar of her robe. Wow did he feel stupid. He wanted to inform her the meeting was this evening, that she would need to be ready in case they wanted to speak to her… he wanted to mention the healing draught set aside for her…. He wanted to make some sort of departing gesture, but he couldn't find his voice.

She watched him sweep out of her room gracefully, purposefully… not bothering to say 'goodbye'.