Author Note: For some reason document manager won't save my scene breaks, so apologies if the flow seems funny in a couple of places.
Chapter 10 - Yule, and the Potions Conference
~ So hither I come
From my fairy home,
And if there's a magic in music's strain,
I swear by the breath
Of that moonlight wreath
Thy lover shall sigh at thy feet again ~
- Thomas Moore
The Christmas holidays began with the customary emptying of the castle. At least half of the students were returning to London on the Hogwarts Express to join their parents for the festive season, leaving more than enough students to attend the Hogwart's annual Yule Ball without claustrophobic over-crowding.
Tamara, Thalia and Jez took refuge in the warmth of the library, resolving to complete as much of their homework and revision as possible in the hours that the castle bustled with activity, as many of the students scurried about in an effort to be ready on time for the train, which was due to leave mid-morning. Hermione, like Harry Potter, had decided to spend Christmas with the Weasley family, leaving the three to spend the holidays by themselves. It wouldn't have taken much to persuade Adelaide to join them in their study session, but she had been asleep when they had left Ravenclaw Tower. Having been under such strain recently, Tamara hadn't the heart to wake her.
Tamara had almost finished an arduous Rune translation, when Thalia pushed her Divination essay away, throwing her quill onto the table and stretching theatrically. Tamara leaned over to peek at the essay and laughed.
"It must be so much fun proving Professor Trelawney wrong." She thought aloud. Thalia grinned, wickedly.
"I wasn't kidding when I said it was my favourite subject." She told Tamara. Tamara shook her head and finished the last line of her Rune translation before following Thalia's example and throwing her quill down onto the table.
"I'm exhausted!" Tamara exclaimed. "With so much going on at the moment, my emotions are higher than a kite."
"This advice may seem strange, but just stop for a moment." Thalia told her. Tamara looked up in confusion. "When things become too much, just stop, take some deep breaths and observe the power of the elements. The wind in the trees, the moon at night, the way the clouds roll across the sky, the golden light of the sun on a beautiful summers day. Taking a moment like that to collect yourself can be both empowering and rejuvenating."
Tamara and Jez exchanged puzzled glances. It seemed odd that such sentiments would come from their gothic friend, but then Thalia was as mysterious as they came. Thalia noticed the expressions her friends were sporting. "With the emotional chaos that comes with my gift, it's just a good way of helping me stay centred." She explained. To Tamara it made sense. Going for walks when she was stressed had always seemed to help calm her down, so perhaps Thalia's advice was not so strange after all. In fact, it seemed like a great idea.
"I think I'll take that advice, Thalia. I'm going to go for a walk in the grounds, and then I'll start packing." Tamara announced, and began shoving her books into her bag before she remembered that she could use magic. She tapped the remainder of the parchment and books with her wand and watched them fly into her bag of their own accord. Standing up, she slung the bag over her shoulder and headed out of the library.
A blast of cold air hit her full in the face as she yanked open the heavy oak front doors. Damn, I should have worn something warmer, she thought to herself, pulling her robe more tightly about her as she slipped through the doors and pushed them shut behind her. Once outside, she took a moment to close her eyes and take a couple of deep breaths to relax herself, before trunching through the snow toward the lake.
She glanced at her surroundings, noting how the snow had fallen on the bare branches of the neighbouring trees, and how the grounds seemed to glisten, as though someone had carpeted the earth with diamonds. She smiled, remembering how she used to play in the snow as a child, and registered with surprise that Thalia seemed to be right about the natural element being a soothing one. But suddenly, she was not alone. She turned to see Thalia herself heading toward her, standing out in her black attire. She held out a thick and warm jacket, that Tamara recognized as her own.
"I thought you might need this." Thalia told her. Tamara smiled and pulled it on, gratefully.
"Do you really think I can do this?" Tamara asked, after a moment. "Fight in this war, I mean."
Thalia smiled. "Of course I do." She answered. "It's all part of the path that you are meant to walk."
"It's overwhelming, Thalia. Sometimes I can't help but think that this is all too big for me." Tamara confessed.
"I know it's scary, Tamara. I can hardly imagine what you must be going through. One thing I can say, though, is to play to your strengths. This is my strength," Thalia gestured to the majesty of their natural surroundings, "and I think we both know what your strength is." Thalia smiled, knowingly, and Tamara blushed slightly, but her resolve did not waver.
"Well, you know what they say about the power of love, and isn't that what distinguishes me from Voldemort?" She spoke up, her voice quiet but calm and knowing.
Thalia only smiled again, knowing that Tamara was at last beginning to discover her true identity, and that the strength that would result from this would be unparalleled. With that, she slipped her arm over her friend's shoulder, and they headed back to the castle together.
Later that afternoon Tamara's trunk sat open on her bed in the dormitory that she shared with Jez, and all of her belongings were scattered about the room. Jez sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through the pile of clothes that Tamara had thrown at her. The two girls sat in relative silence, punctuated here and there by the occasional outfit suggestion. Tamara marvelled at her friend's natural affinity for this work.
"Have you ever considered becoming a professional designer? She asked, conversationally.
"All the time. It's what I live for. My rich daddy doesn't think it's a worthy profession though. You know what he's like." Jez told her, making a face.
"Don't give up on it if it's what you truly want to do." Tamara advised her, squeezing her friend's hand encouragingly.
"Of course not. You taught me that." Jez smiled at her best friend, and silence fell over the room again as together they went back to sorting through the clothes.
Finally, the packing was almost finished. All that was left to take was Rosalyn Landon's small wooden chest of potions. It was a Potions Conference after all. With that added, she drew her travel-bag shut.
"Just don't forget to let everyone know who your stylist is when you conquer you-know-who looking fabulous!" Jez joked.
"Absolutely!" Tamara laughed. "But you know you're going to have to get used to saying his name sooner or later." Tamara went on, her voice becoming more serious.
"I know. In my own time, alright." Jez told her, looking more uncomfortable than Tamara had ever seen. Tactfully, she changed the subject.
"Hey, you know what I have a craving for right now? Sticky-toffee pudding!"
Jez's eyes lit up at the mention of her favourite dessert.
"Race you to the Great Hall!"
The next morning dawned bright and crisp and Tamara woke to the sound of voices. She turned over, sleepily, and opened her eyes to see Thalia sitting cross-legged on Jez's bed. Jez stood examining her reflection in the full-length mirror.
"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!" Jez announced, seeing Tamara rise from her bed, in the mirror. Tamara responded with her ritualistic morning groan.
"Alright, alright, I'm up." Tamara yawned. "I take it you've both worked out a schedule for me."
"Well, firstly, we found these in the library." Thalia began, tossing a couple of books onto Tamara's bed. "The first one might help you find Elizabeth. The second one is an ancient book of defensive magic, which I think could be useful. And then of course you have to do your morning exercises."
Tamara nodded, her anticipation heightening.
A short time later, Tamara sat in the common room, her eyes closed and her legs crossed. Thalia stood before her, guiding her through a meditation.
Drawing deep into herself, but at the same time managing to retain her awareness, Tamara called on the vestigial power that flowed through her veins, the way Snape had been teaching her in their training sessions. After a moment of focusing, and sinking into herself, she began to direct and shape the power that usually flowed directionlessly through her. All at once, a ball of blue/white energy emerged from her hands and floated in front of her. A moment later it took the shape of a swan, and began to sail about the room.
The utter control was amazing, but her awareness was not clouded by it. Her senses detected the utterances of Thalia's voice, and the soft thud of Jez's steps behind her. All at once, she could feel a rush of hot air as a bolt of energy shot towards her from behind. The swan disappeared immediately, and reappeared behind her, radiating its light to form a shield of sorts as it absorbed the attack. Tamara let the swan fade into nothingness and brought herself out of the meditation. She stood up, and grinned at Jez.
"Nice touch. Thanks." She told her friend.
"It was Thalia's idea. We wanted to test you." Jez replied.
"I must say, I'm very impressed with your alertness and speed." Thalia commented. Tamara smiled. Her improvement had made her feel proud of her heritage in the best sense. She only hoped that Snape would see her improvement just as favourably.
At that thought, a bell chimed… it was the alarm clock that Thalia had set on the mantelpiece. It sent shivers throughout Tamara's body.
"Is it time to go already?" She asked.
"Looks like it." Jez replied, holding Tamara's cloak out. "And remember, we want a full account when you get back!"
Tamara grinned. The long-awaited trip to London was finally upon her…
Severus Snape paced the entrance hall, impatiently, a battered black travelling case sitting neglected by his side. He paused long enough to lean against the wall and flex his fingers in mild irritation at how slowly the time was passing. A moment later, he pushed himself away from the wall, and resumed his pacing.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs behind him, and he paused, turning to look at who stood there. There she was; a vision in classic black, and denim. His breath stilled at the way her long hair fell softly over her shoulders and framed her face as she smiled easily at him. A moment later, and his trance had passed. He turned away from her and took up his travelling case.
"Come." He told her. "Let us not waste any more time dawdling." He resounded, in his unwavering cool voice. Any emotion he might have felt was not betrayed by his exterior in the slightest.
Tamara noticed Professor Snape immediately as she began to descend the stairs to the entrance hall. He paced impatiently, flexing his fingers in nervous irritation. She noticed his apparent reaction with mild curiosity. It was not the first time she had seen him react to her in this manner, so it did not surprise her to see it again. Though his agitation at seeing her seemed to increase every time they met.
When he turned to look at her, she smiled warmly at him, attempting to ease his agitation as much as she could. A smooth journey would, of course, make the whole experience much easier on both of them.
She wasn't surprised at the words he spoke to her, though. Aside from it being typical of his usual manner, which almost seemed to be a means of compensating for something, and he hid behind his usual cold exterior as a means to do so. But it was only theories. Tamara nodded and took up her travelling bag once more, continuing down the stairs and following him out of the hall.
Tamara settled herself on the plush seat in one of the train's many compartments. She glanced at Snape, who sat opposite her, wondering nervously whether or not to say anything to him. When he did not seem to show any interest in instigating a conversation, she turned away, pulling the defence book out of her bag.
It felt warm and comfortable in her hands, and as she opened the cover she felt the distinct sensation of power and wisdom as ancient as the earth, radiating from the worn and brittle pages. The words seemed poetic and beautiful. The words spoke to her, even though those words seemed to be Latin. A quick silent charm that she remembered from her Mother's book corrected that, and all of a sudden the words seemed to rearrange themselves and she found that she could understand them.
Tamara could sense that Snape was watching her, curious about the book she was reading, but for the first time that she could remember, she simply tuned him out, absorbed in the poetic wisdom in the book's pages.
At last he spoke, unable to contain himself any longer.
"Would you be so kind as to explain to me exactly why you are reading Latin? Surely you do not understand it." He shot at her, his voice positively icy. It did not faze her.
"It's an excellent book on defence. And yes, I understand it." She responded, simply.
"It's ancient." He pointed out.
"Wisdom grows with age." She retorted.
"It's outdated."
"Professor Dumbledore is ancient, but he is regarded as one of the most powerful, not to mention wisest, wizards of the age."
To that, Snape found no response. Instead, he did what he did best. He twisted her words to his advantage.
"Well, at least it explains something. It proves that your technique is ancient to say the least."
"I think I'll take that as a compliment." She told him, inwardly marvelling at the confidence she was feeling in conversing with him.
Her statement annoyed him, exceedingly, and more so because he knew she was right. That didn't stop him from lashing out at her, though.
"Be careful Tamara. Your presumptuous attitude could land you in trouble."
"Presumptuous? Do you really expect me to fall docilely into line with society's expectations, when I know the majority is wrong?"
"Don't misunderstand my words. I most certainly do not expect that of you, and strangely enough that is one of the things I admire most about you."
With that, he fell silent and turned to look out of the window in his sullenness. This left Tamara feeling more than a little puzzled, but the thought that maybe she had finally begun to break through his icy exterior was invigorating.
She closed her book, and placed it on the seat beside her. "What do I do now, Mother?" She silently asked. At once, the amulet began to feel hot against her throat. She almost laughed at the response, understanding its meaning perfectly.
"Professor." She addressed him, choosing to take a more formal tone. When he didn't respond she got up to sit beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder. At last, he turned to face her, his expression unreadable. She was not deterred by it in the slightest, however. She stood her ground and out-stared him, as though she were facing a particularly stubborn hippogriff rather than the man before her.
"I want to show you something." She told him. With that, she took out her amulet and let it rest openly against the black material of the top she was wearing. Its presence was comforting, and to openly acknowledge it brought a strange peace of mind. She took hold of his hands and closed her eyes, drawing the power that would serve as the beginning of her charm.
He looked on, wide-eyed, at the magic she was creating. It was an incredibly personal charm and he had never had the privilege of seeing anyone create it, much less for his benefit. He looked back at her, hoping she could see, could understand, exactly what it was that she had just given him.
The entrance to the foyer of the hotel was masked by an old soft drink vending machine. A large tatty sign proclaiming "out of order" was plastered over the top of the old peeling paint-work. The witch or wizard desiring entry simply had to recite the password and walk through.
Snape spoke the password, cauldron, and pushed Tamara forward. Instead of crashing into it, as she expected, she fell right through it, and found herself in the large foyer of a luxurious hotel. She gazed in awe at the white marble that adorned the floor and walls, and at the fountain, which stood in the centre of the room. It spilled not water, but what appeared to be liquid gold.
"Do not be fooled. It is simply an enchantment, and a cheap one at best." Snape informed her, as he appeared at her side.
Gee, what happened to appreciating the beauty of the simple things? Tamara wondered to herself. She shook her head and smiled, good-naturedly.
A house-elf hurried toward them and took their cases, lugging them with a great painstaking effort toward one of the hotel's three grand staircases. As Tamara watched the poor creature trying to pull the cases up the stairs, her sympathy outweighed her awe. She threw forward a silent "feather-light" spell, allowing the elf to have a comparatively easier journey.
She followed the elf up the stairs and down the corridors, sure that she would be bound to get lost if she had to navigate her own way through the hotel. She glanced at Snape a couple of times along the way, but his expression remained fixed and as unreadable as always.
Finally, the elf stopped by a door marked with the rune dagaz which accompanied an impressively long number. The elf put down the cases for a moment, and drew a large silver key out of his pocket. He reached up and placed the key in the lock, turned it, and heaved the door open before removing the key and handing it to Snape. The elf then proceeded to carry the cases into the room, and promptly disapparated.
Tamara followed Snape in and closed the door behind them, taking some time to observe the room before her. It was a large sitting room, with a plush couch to one side and a round dining table to the other. On one wall was a door leading to a gleaming bathroom, and along another wall were two more doors, both leading to bedrooms. The sheer magnitude of the place was stunning. On the table was a pile of leaflets advertising various aspects of London and the conference, and next to the leaflets sat a large volume, on the cover of which was embossed in gold-leaf "Rules, Regulations, Processes and Procedures of the Annual Academic Potions Conference." Tamara trailed her hand over the age-old cover, marvelling (if a little nervously) at the prominence of the conference.
But Snape's eyes were on her again and she lifted her gaze from the cover of the book. At length he spoke, his expression calculating.
"For the moment, preparation for the conference is secondary. This is a valuable time for another lesson. Come." He instructed. With that, he wordlessly guided her out of the room, leaving her no choice but to follow.
Several corridors and a flick of his wand later, Tamara found that she and Professor Snape were the sole occupants of a small dark room that seemed to adhere to Snape's tastes perfectly. Tamara, however, found the cold dampness uncomfortable and uninviting. Without a moment's hesitation, she took out her wand and conjured a series of lanterns along the stone walls of the room, which each sprang to life with fiery illumination. Satisfied, she stowed her wand in her jeans pocket.
"Take position." He uttered his usual instruction. She was ready. Taking her place in the centre of the room, she began to regulate her breathing. The power began to surge through her veins, searching for direction. She brought her vision back into focus, but seeing him standing before her, watching her as she prepared herself, and knowing that they were alone in London together… her heart skipped a beat and the power coursing through her body practically sizzled with electric radiance as it threatened to pour from her, uncontrollably, and she struggled to keep it reined in. She had always known that that the effect he had on her was like nothing else she had ever experienced, and the feeling was only getting stronger. She looked up to him, respected him, and loved him. She wanted to impress him, to earn his favour and affections, and that need was dancing inside her. That was why when he conjured a ball of electric energy and sent it toward her, with the instruction to repel and dispel it, the force field it encountered was so powerful that the ball of energy exploded with a bang upon impact, sending reams and shards of magic bouncing into all corners of the room. Tamara physically jumped in surprise at the suddenness of what had happened. He marched toward her.
"You need to control yourself." He hissed, impatiently. "Have you learnt nothing?"
Tamara blushed at being so close to him, but furious as to why she couldn't control herself when she had performed so valiantly earlier that very same day. She knew the reason for her fault, of course, but she could hardly explain it to him.
All of a sudden, a shard of the shattered magic flew behind her, and she leapt forward, her nerves skittish. This had the effect of knocking Snape backwards, and she instinctively grabbed hold of his arm. Looking up at him in sudden realisation of what she had just done, she found something in his eyes that she had never expected to see…
Unable to look away, she uttered the words to end the chaotic spell and instantly the renegade magic dissipated. That taken care of, she allowed herself to become lost in his gaze, which hadn't changed. Her heart began to beat, furiously.
He was close; so close. Closer than she could bear without allowing herself to lose control of her faculties and do the unthinkable. But surely he would stop her, or move away, if he didn't wish to be a party to the proceedings… Surely she could take a risk this once… After all, if she didn't take this risk while the perfect moment to do so had presented itself to her, then she might regret it. She studied the curve of his mouth, the fine line of his lips, in contemplation before drawing her eyes up to meet his, once more. Their eyes burned into each other, as she allowed gravity to pull them closer and closer together. She brought her mouth up, her lips brushing his, now. Her heart was pumping as though it had never felt the breath of life before… intoxication… she was falling, had already fallen… was ready to receive the sweetness of his kiss…
At first she dismissed the tugging on the hem of her robe, deeming it as nothing more important than the possibility that perhaps it had become caught somehow. When the tugging suddenly became more incessant and she heard a soft wheezing, she pulled back, yanking at the robe forcibly until it became free. After a moment she noticed a frail and elderly looking house elf staring up at her. The poor creature had been knocked to the ground when Tamara had yanked her robe from his grasp.
"Miss and Sir are required in the conference room now." The old elf gasped, struggling to pull itself back to its feet. Tamara sighed, and turned to look back at Snape, who had taken a step backward and was now wearing an inscrutable expression that she found both familiar and infuriating. She gave him a diplomatic nod and proceeded calmly from the room.
Tamara followed Snape into the conference room, her skin flushing, but she held her head high. A crowd of witches and wizards of all nationalities milled about, chattering to each other in various languages. A tired looking wizard with sunken eyes stepped up to them and handed them both name tags that stated their position and their school. Tamara took the tags from the wizard, who promptly shuffled away. Snape took his tag from her, taking great care not to touch her hand as he did so. Not giving her a chance to say anything, he turned toward their appointed seats, ushering her to follow him as he did so. She stayed close behind him, not wanting to get lost in the crowd, but it wasn't long before she was taking a seat beside him, awaiting the start of the conference.
Eventually, a pompous looking wizard stepped up to a lectern which stood at the forefront of the room, facing the audience, whose seats were arranged in a semicircle. The wizard, quickly performing the sonorus charm, called the room to order. The crowds of witches and wizards made their way to their seats. Almost ten minutes later, after an extraordinary amount of noise and kerfuffle, everyone was seated and the chatter was dying down.
The pompous looking wizard introduced himself and welcomed the crowd, launching into a tiring speech on the importance of potions in everyday life. Tamara found her attention slipping. It seemed so far removed from the beauty that Snape usually interjected into the subject. So far, the exciting international potions conference was proving to be a great disappointment.
After an inordinate amount of time had passed, with various witches and wizards having given long and tiresome speeches, Tamara was surprised to see Snape rise to his feet and proceed to take his place at the lecturn. Instantly, Tamara's attention peaked. Snape's presentation was as different from those of the other speakers as wizarding folk were from muggles. He spoke expressively, with the same finesse that had first garnered her love for the subject back in her first year at Hogwarts, even if his standards were tough. She was glad to see that he still had the same approach to the subject, and she drank in every word.
After a time, Snape concluded his speech, nodding his thanks to the audience, and people began to mutter to each other again, shuffling from their seats. Tamara sprang to her feet, looking to see where Snape was. Her eyes found him waiting beside the door, and she headed toward him.
"Miss Edgecombe," he addressed. It seemed stiflingly formal. "I have some errands to attend to. You will need to occupy yourself until I return. If you decide to leave the hotel, you will confine yourself to Diagon Alley." Without further ado, he turned and disappeared from the room, leaving her to her own devices.
Snape's mention of Diagon Alley seemed like a good alternative to hanging around the hotel, so huddled against the chill wind, Tamara could be found sidling past the Alley's shop windows. She wandered in and out of some of them, deciding out of boredom, to buy whatever trinkets took her fancy, but finding none.
As she glanced, idly, over the shelves in one of the shops, something finally caught her eye. Entranced, she approached the display and gently ran her fingers over the glass casing. Resting on a velvet cushion at the front of the display was a bolline. But it was no ordinary knife. Its handle was carved from pure white marble, around which a snake wrought from silver had been curled. It was expensive, she could see, but fortunately not beyond her price range.
Minutes later, she walked out of the shop with the beautiful tool cradled in a cushioned box that was covered with silk and wrapped safely in brown paper. It would be perfect for cutting, slicing, and chopping potion ingredients.
Tamara returned to the hotel room and quietly closed the door behind her. Snape stood, gazing out of the window.
"You were gone for quite some time." He said, tonelessly, before she could take another step.
"You didn't say how long you were going to be, so I thought it was okay." She replied, with a shrug. He turned at this.
"Perhaps, but even so you shouldn't be reckless. I trust that you were in Diagon Alley as I asked?"
"Of course." She replied, indignantly.
"At least you had sense enough to follow my instructions, then." He told her, tersely. The conversation was starting to get tense. It was times like this that Tamara didn't think she would ever understand Snape.
After enduring another series of tedious lectures in the conference room that evening, Tamara decided to skip dinner and retreat to her bedroom. The whirlwind of that day's events had successfully robbed her of her appetite.
Huddled up in the bed sheets in the dark, thoughts sailed through her mind like clouds across a blue summer sky. Remembering the oddly tense conversation that she had shared with Snape, she realised that he had a point. She was in London, away from Hogwarts' protective walls, and Voldemort was on the loose. Snape's concerns were entirely justified. In fact, she remembered having the same misgivings herself when she had first been invited to the conference. She knew she needed to take better precautions, and stay where she would be safe.
The way the days passed was almost nonsensical to Tamara. The lectures dragged on and on, mindlessly, with the exception of Snape's inspirational lecture. Wishing that all of the lectures could have been like his, she made a mental note to work through the Potions homework he had set before the Christmas holiday, when she was free to return to the hotel room.
When the day of the closing ball dawned, she could hardly believe it. The morning passed by with a closing lecture, leaving the afternoon free for lunch, packing suitcases, and getting ready for the ball. Lunchtime saw Tamara sitting alone in the hotel's restaurant with a bowl of soup. She realised with a pang that she had only had one training session with Snape during the whole trip. She didn't regret what had happened in their training session on the first day of the conference, but the way things had turned out was regrettable.
"Damn elf." She muttered to herself.
But one thread of hope remained. The ball was due to take place that evening. Perhaps it would give her the chance to redeem herself. Perhaps…
She spent the rest of the day packing, as did most of the other conference attendees, but Snape seemed to have disappeared completely. She shrugged it off, trusting that he had more important things to do than baby-sit her all day, and she knew that he would never have left her alone in London if it wasn't safe to do so, or at least that he wouldn't be far.
Once her packing was finished, she took out her Potions books and curled up on the couch to begin her homework. An hour later, notes were spread over the couch and she was lost in the work that she loved. Snape's lecture on that first day had stayed with her, entrancing her mind, and now inspiring her interpretation of the essay question component of the Potions homework. Tamara felt so content that she even hummed to herself.
She didn't notice when Snape returned to the room. Tamara was engrossed in the work she was doing, and her humming revealed a sweet and melodious voice. Unable to help himself, he stood in the doorway for a time, simply listening to her. After a few moments, he finally allowed the door to swing shut, and it clicked into place with a slight bang, which announced his presence at the same time. She looked up in surprise. Snape said nothing, but simply gave her a courteous nod before retreating to his bedroom. Tamara shook her head and laughed softly to herself. She certainly could not understand his moods, but perhaps the trip wasn't such a failure after all. Things between them obviously weren't what they had been on the first day of the conference, but at least now it was amiable, and Tamara knew she would rather that than the tension of the previous few days. With that thought bouncing through her mind, she retreated to her own room with a skip and a smile.
Tamara spent the rest of her time preparing for the ball. A considerable amount of time was spent taking a bath that was laden with bubbles and soap. She splashed about, playfully, until no more time was hers to waste.
She stepped out of the bath, allowing her body to drip-dry as she towelled the moisture from her hair. She turned, noticing her reflection in the bathroom's floor-length mirror. In it she saw her natural unveiled self. 17 years old... how was it that she had grown up so fast? Could time really have flown by so quickly and laid so much upon her, without her realising? Unbidden, an image of Snape analysing himself in the same way as she was, sailed into her mind. She blushed. Almost as quickly as the image had appeared in her mind, she cast it away, turning from the mirror and wrapping the towel about her.
As dusk set in that evening, Severus Snape stood, waiting beside the fountain in the hotel's foyer. He had been exceedingly uncomfortable with the traditional dress robes, and so had exchanged them for a garment fashioned after a muggle "suit". This was still uncomfortable, and he had exchanged the white shirt for a black one, but at least it was an improvement. Truth be told, he had never expected to find himself waiting for something for an event like this. Unpractised when it came to socialising, he found himself wondering whether he'd be any good at it. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have cared for such things, but he hadn't enjoyed the tenseness of the last few days. He had long since accepted that her opinion was important to him, and given the last few days it seemed even more important now to give her a good impression.
A gentle hand on his shoulder startled him out of his reverie of thoughts. He turned and there she was. Before him stood not the fiery and head-strong student who had managed to surprise him by beating Hermione Granger to the top of the potions class, but the image of a woman. And a beautiful one at that. She, too, had exchanged the dress robes for a more flattering garment. It was a black gown that she wore that highlighted her features perfectly, and her hair was pulled back, leaving her neck and shoulders enticingly exposed. No, he could not fathom the woman who stood before him.
Tamara raised an eyebrow and smiled, teasingly. Aware, then, of the expression his eyes and face must have betrayed, he stepped toward her and offered her his arm. She took it, her warmth spreading over him deliciously, as he led her into the grand ball room.
Tamara felt as though she had been transformed into someone else as she sat at the table. Snape was by her side, and an important-looking Norwegian wizard was questioning her in broken english on exactly what it was that had lured her to the field of potion-making. Snape, of course, said very little. She knew that he rarely favoured social events.
The fact remained, though, that the evening was unlike anything she had ever experienced. After dinner had adjourned, the soft sounds of the string accompaniment morphed into a variety of upbeat tunes, which most of the students spent the evening dancing to.
However, reluctantly, Tamara allowed herself to be pulled to her feet by a group of witches, also students, who had her join in the fun. She even found the heart to join in when an elderly German wizard with a terrible sense of humour insisted on teaching the group some German folk dances. She tossed her head back and laughed as she poorly attempted to imitate the moves.
When the music morphed into the Gaelic that was signatory of Ireland, Tamara managed to wrench herself from the grasp of the witches who had so ensnared her. She returned to the table where Snape sat, now alone. He glanced at her, curiously, as she took her seat beside him at the table. She waved her hand over the empty goblet before her, and instantly it filled itself with punch; a trick she had learnt from her Mother's book. She took a refreshing sip, and sighed with blissful relief. She was enjoying the night more than she had expected she would. However, the expression on Snape's face suggested that he felt otherwise.
"Are you okay?" She asked him. A non-committal noise in the back of his throat dictated his answer.
"You look as though you would rather be scrubbing bedpans in the hospital wing." She went on.
"What did you expect? This is not how I usually choose to spend my time." He snapped. Tamara raised an eyebrow in a Snapish-like manner, but really she had not expected him to react any differently.
"We'll have to change that, I think." She told him, mysteriously. At her word, the music morphed again. This time, a good old-fashioned ballad began to ring melodically through the hall. Almost automatically, witches and wizards alike began seeking dance partners. Tamara rose from her chair and offered her hand to Snape.
"Dance with me." She commanded. "This night is as much yours as it is mine."
He studied her, for a moment, hesitantly. Then, to her surprise, he took her hand and stood. Gathering herself as quickly as she could, she led him to the dance floor.
Once on the dance floor, she stood before him, her heart beating manically. Taking control before he could protest, though, she wrapped her arms about his neck, and drew him to her. It took a moment before he responded, but when he did it was to delicately lay his hands on her waist. She began to move, and he moved with her, but it began an awkward gangling mess instead of the slow-dance that everyone was undertaking. She leaned forward.
"Relax." She whispered. The tension she felt in his body did not relent, but after a moment he conceded a little and wrapped his arms about her, and their awkward gangling dance turned into a soft sway to the rhythm of the music. It was progress, perhaps, but it was still not comfortable. This did not deter her, however. He had lived behind his mask of stone for long enough.
She laid her head on his shoulder, moulding her chest against his. Another few moments was spent in this fashion, when all of a sudden, he broke away, his eyes smouldering in a startling gaze that reminded her faintly of the atmosphere that had surrounded the almost kiss that had taken place during the only training session that they'd had in London. The passion she saw in his eyes was intense, and she could have sworn that her heart had stopped beating in her chest. Taking her hand in his, Snape suddenly turned and led her from the room. Once in the safety of the corridor, he rested his hands on her hips and apparated them both back to the chambers they shared.
Alone now, and hardly able to believe that she was now being offered what she had been longing for, she snaked her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He kissed her back with an almost unbearable passion; so much so that she stumbled backward and they both crashed against the wall. It felt so good. So right. She had been waiting for this for so long, and she decided not to waste a single moment of it, just in case it was a dream and that she might wake up.
She sighed against his mouth, and then leaned her head back in ecstasy, as he lowered his lips to her neck. After a moment, he pulled away again, gazing into her eyes as though he were seeking permission. She gave it wholeheartedly. Taking her hand, once more, he led the way into the bedroom that he occupied. Once the door was shut behind them, she disentangled her hand from his and lowered herself onto the bed, awaiting him.
He leaned forward over her, propping himself up on his elbows as he studied her face; beautifully flushed, her cheeks were tinged pink. His fingers brushed her jaw-line, and then her lips, before kissing her once more.
It was bliss. Everything she had longed for. Her eyes blazed as she gazed into his face, and she felt more in love than ever. She wondered, briefly, whether he really intended to go all the way. The idea made her nervous. She had never been that close to a man before, but secretly it was thrilling at the same time.
Severus leaned in to kiss her again, savouring the sweetness of her lips against his. But there was something else... unbidden, memories of an old conversation with Dumbledore rose in his mind; a conversation in which the Head Master had given him certain instructions. Snape could not escape what he knew he must soon do for the war and his heart pounded, painfully, with guilt. In his mind's eye, he could almost see the reaction that she would inevitably have when she eventually found out and the look of revulsion that he knew he would see on her face was heart-breaking. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do that to her.
He sat back on his knees, his head hanging in what appeared to be trepidation. Tamara's heart began to pound with worry.
"What's wrong?" She asked, as gently as she could. He didn't answer. The silence was thick with tension. "Severus?" At that he responded.
"Please, don't." He told her, a faint bite to his voice.
"I don't understand. What's the matter? Did I do something wrong?" Madly, Tamara plucked reasons out of the air, trying to determine the problem. Worry was surging through her, now.
"Tamara, nothing you could do would push me away. This falls on my head. I'm sorry, I just can't do this." The words seemed to tumble from his mouth.
"Is that all you're going to say?" She exclaimed, her heart shattering with every beat.
"I'm sorry." He whispered. The expression on her face was too much for him to bear, and the disappointment carved in her features pained him to no end. As carefully as he could, he extracted himself the bed, and quietly left the room.
Tamara didn't know what to do. Her breathing was erratic, and a lump choked in her throat. Curling up amongst the pillows and the duvet, she sobbed great wracking sobs until finally she had cried herself to sleep.
The next morning Tamara awoke with a strange emptiness within her, momentarily unsure of where she actually was. After a moment, she realised that she must have fallen asleep in Snape's room. So last night's events hadn't been horrible nightmare after all. It had really happened. Tamara's heart shattered a little more with that painful realisation. Today was Christmas day, and the day they were due to return to Hogwarts, she realised, but she couldn't erase the tormenting memories of the previous night that were still fresh on her mind. It was like a gaping wound that had refused to heal. It didn't feel like Christmas Day.
As she sat up in the bed, she realised that she was still wearing her dress from the ball. Sighing, she got up and opened the door, gingerly peering out into the sitting room to see whether he was there. The sitting room was empty. Stepping out, she headed back to her own bedroom. Promptly discarding the ball dress, Tamara stepped into the shower, allowing the hot water to wash over her, and she scrubbed at her body as though she could scrub away her pain, though to no avail. At last, she stepped out of the shower, and wrapped a large fluffy towel about her body, using another to dry her hair.
She left the bathroom, and found that the sitting room was still undisturbed. Ignoring its emptiness, she returned to her chamber, where she proceeded to dress. She draped her travel robe over her shoulders, gathered her bag, and headed back into the sitting room. She scribbled a quick note on the hotel stationary, informing him that she had left for breakfast and that she would head to the train station from there. Secretly, she wasn't hungry in the slightest, in fact the thought of food made her feel slightly nauseous, but she was anxious for a good cup of tea. She left the note on the table, so that he would find it if he returned, and left the room with her bag in tow.
At 11 am, Tamara was seated on the train in her designated compartment, her bag resting on the seat beside her, and the train began to pull out of the station. He had not come. She could only assume that he was on the train somewhere, or making his own way back to the castle. She shook her head in confusion at all that had happened, trying to hold back the tears that began to sting again. How could she ever stand to return to potions classes? She couldn't bear the thought of seeing him almost everyday after what had happened. Maybe Dumbledore would give her private tuition... and maybe the sky would turn green. There was no way Dumbledore would exempt her from classes. She had as much chance at becoming best friends with Juliet. Resigned, she closed the thought from her mind and pulled one her books out of her bag so that she might lose herself in the world of fiction for a little while.
It was dark when the train pulled into the station at Hogsmeade. She descended onto the platform, the only passenger to do so, and headed away from the station and into the carriage that awaited her. As soon as the door was closed behind her, the carriage sprang to life and carried her to the gates of Hogwarts.
Walking through the large front doors, she could hear jolly music floating toward her from the Great Hall. Of course. Hogwarts had hosted a ball, too, for Christmas. Tamara was somewhat thankful for this, as it meant that everybody would be attending, which meant that she would have the Ravenclaw common room to herself. She certainly wasn't in the mood to join another ball.
She climbed the stairs to Ravenclaw tower and breathed a sigh of relief when she was able to step through the portrait and into the sanctuary of the common room. It was dark, but she could hear someone, nonetheless. Adjusting her eyes to the darkness as best she could, she soon spotted Adelaide curled up on one of the armchairs, sobbing quietly to herself. That was all it took to set Tamara off again. Her bag slid from her hand and hit the floor with a soft thud, causing Adelaide to look up at her, the tears streaming down her cheeks. Tears began to spill down Tamara's own face, and before long, the two girls were curled up together, crying in each other's arms and pouring their hearts out through their tears.