Oh, hey, everyone! Happy holidays to all of you, and here's another chapter. Apologies for what I can promise will be another long gap between updates - my last year of uni is much more frantic (in a wonderful way) than anticipated, and as I'm juggling two long-chaptered fics, I think it's only fair if I update them each in their turn. That said, please enjoy, and I hope to get back to you soon!

Also, further apologies for how generally serious this chapter is (sort of). I promise to put more straight-up humour into the next installment...

10. Equilibrium

Filius stared down at the broomstick, his eyes widening. He had never been the greatest shot at flying, but he could still appreciate a beautifully-crafted broom as well as the next fellow, and this Firebolt was by far the most state-of-the-art apparatus he could have imagined. Tentatively, he reached out a hand and held it over the broom until it leapt up into his palm, almost buzzing with energy.

Harry Potter was a lucky, lucky boy. Even if this broom did have some horrible spell embedded within it, Filius was determined to restore it to its original state with as much care as he could manage; it would be such a pity to waste a creation like this.

'Enjoying yourself?' asked Minerva with a smug smile as she peered into his office.

'I was just thinking about how terribly sad I'd be if we had to damage it beyond repair to remove any curses,' muttered Filius, turning the broomstick slowly over in his hands and admiring how the polished wood gleamed in the firelight. 'It's quite a spectacular broom.'

'Indeed,' agreed Minerva ruefully. Part of her desperately wanted to snatch the Firebolt from Filius's hands and take it for a ride around the parapets of the castle, but something told her that if she so much as touched the handle, she'd never be able to bring herself to let Filius strip it down for precisely the reasons he had just stated. Damn her infernal Quidditch obsession… once again, it was bringing her dangerously near to placing the sport above the well-being of one Harry James Potter.

'Well, shall we get to it, then?' she said finally, tearing her eyes from the Firebolt and rolling up her sleeves.

'We're still missing one of our party,' Filius informed her.

'Oh?'

'I've asked Severus to be here as well, considering he, er, is more familiar with certain Dark curses than the rest of us,' Filius explained somewhat sheepishly.

Oh. Well, that did make sense, once Minerva thought about it, although it made her a bit sad to think that that association sprang to mind so easily when it came to Severus, who had just swept through the door.

'Filius,' said Severus solemnly with a nod. 'Minerva,' he added without exactly looking at her.

'Hello, Severus,' replied Minerva, annoyed at this trend of being ignored by Severus. 'If you're ready, shall we begin?'

The three professors worked diligently for the next half hour, carefully subjecting the levitated broomstick to a variety of test spells and potion daubs. Minerva glanced continually out of the corner of her eye at Severus, who seemed utterly absorbed in the task at hand, which was a bit odd, although perhaps professional pride for a job well done trumped exhibiting any sort of concern for Harry Potter's well-being, in this case? At any rate, the wan wizard looked slightly less stressed than he had on either of the previous two occasions they had met, although that wasn't saying much.

'I appreciate how thorough you're being with this, Severus,' she said lightly, 'seeing as it may end up benefitting the Gryffindor Quidditch team, in the end.'

'Perhaps I think the Slytherin team can win without the need for flashy broomsticks or other gimmicks,' replied Severus without looking at her.

Minerva relaxed a touch internally. If Severus was displaying his expected snark, then everything was back to normal.

'Oh, I wouldn't be so sure,' squeaked Filius. 'You've got a very good team this year, Severus, but Gryffindor's shown a lot of spunk, disasters notwithstanding.'

'Thank you, Filius,' replied Minerva, frowning as she sent a shockwave down the handle of the broomstick. She still hadn't quite gotten over the jolt of horrified panic she had experienced upon seeing her Seeker fall from his broom.

'Yes,' continued Filius, 'I think Gryffindor might well have won that game, had the Dementors not appeared. Your Chasers were flying very well, in spite of the storm.'

'You do realise that we'll be playing you next month, I hope?' laughed Minerva. 'I'll find it hard to make any bets with you out of sheer guilt, if you keep this up, Filius.'

'Oh, I always bet for my own team, I think it's just more sporting that way,' said Filius cheerfully. 'Good for House morale, you know. Plus, our Miss Chang is a quiet force to be reckoned with, in her own way. We'll see if she can outfly Mr Potter.'

'Cheers to that,' replied Minerva, smiling smugly and reaching out to shake hands with Filius just as Severus began to pour a trickle of a clear potion onto the handle of the Firebolt.

'Careful…!' Severus snapped a second too late. Minerva gritted her teeth with a sharp intake of breath as the potion steamed gray on her wrist for a second and then sank into her flesh with a poof of mist.

'I hope this isn't toxic?' muttered Minerva, wincing with pain as a shiny burn mark began to develop on her wrist where the potion had touched it.

'No, but nor is it exactly healthy for you,' said Severus icily, quickly corking the bottle and sweeping round the suspended broom. 'We should counteract the effects as soon as possible; I have a couple of potions that may help.'

'You'd better go with Severus, Minerva,' said Filius, concerned. 'I can wrap all this up for the day.'

'Very well,' replied Minerva, clenching her jaw again as a fresh wave of pain made her hand seize up involuntarily. 'Although I'm surprised you don't carry some sort of anti-burn anecdote with you, Severus…'

'I keep several in my classroom, but I wasn't expecting anyone to get burned today,' replied Severus acerbically as he and Minerva quit Filius's airy office. 'Besides, this isn't a common burn, which is why it is far more efficacious for me to treat it myself than to let Poppy puzzle over it for an eternity.'

'Well, common or not, anything you could do to take some of the sting out of it would be much appreciated,' answered Minerva. She hissed as her wrist began to ooze blood from the burn. 'Merlin, Severus, what is this?'

'It's a potion to test for any signs of particularly strong magic,' explained Severus, picking up his pace. 'If detected, the potion sequesters the different components of the magic so that the malignant types can be easily removed.'

'That… sounds immensely clever in theory,' gasped Minerva, struggling to keep up with Severus and deal with a rather extraordinary amount of pain at the same time. 'I hope it won't have any lasting effects on me?'

'I'm sorry to say that I'm not sure,' replied Severus slowly, although his gait remained as steady as ever. 'I inadvertently invented this myself a few years ago and haven't had the occasion to test it on any living subjects.'

'Wonderful,' muttered Minerva. She stumbled and caught herself against the wall, which she leaned against to regain her breath and her composure, her legs shaking. It was harder work keeping herself together than she might have expected.

'Needless to say, the sooner I can treat you, the less likely the effects will be lasting,' added Severus unhelpfully as he noticed that she had stopped.

'Yes, I realise that, Severus,' snapped Minerva between ragged breaths. 'It's just a bit more difficult to keep pace with you when…' Another spasm of pain shot up her arm and she winced.

Merlin. She hated acting so weak around someone like Severus Snape, but this was really intolerable.

'Severus,' she said in as normal a tone as possible. 'Could you please go fetch Poppy and ask her to administer some sort of painkiller to this? Or else,' she continued, swallowing her pride, 'if you yourself could conjure a stretcher to make moving me a bit less of an ordeal…?'

Severus gave her a long look.

'I… don't think it would be wise to risk putting any other sort of magic in close proximity to this,' he said, his brow furrowing. 'It might just complicate the whole procedure, or make the potion react even more quickly.'

'Severus, look,' Minerva gasped. 'I can't walk any further, so unless you have some ingenious plan for getting me elsewhere without magic…'

To her dismay, her legs gave out and she slid to the ground, still shaking. This was incredibly unprofessional. Minerva reminded herself to apologise to Severus for all this, at some future point in time when it didn't feel like she had a piece of shrapnel embedded in her arm... although, it was after all his fault that she was in this mess in the first place…

'Here,' said Severus's voice somewhere close to her ear, and Minerva realised that her vision was fading in and out. 'Put your arm around my neck.'

'But that'll just…' Minerva tried to say something intelligible and gave up.

'Your other arm,' clarified Severus, and Minerva had the vague sensation of being lifted off the ground. Well, this was turning out to be a rather unusual day. At least they were still on holiday and she wouldn't have to worry about rescheduling any classes, she thought, just before she lost consciousness.

When Minerva came to, she became gradually aware that she was lying on a bench of sorts down in the dungeons. Unpleasant-looking pickled animals sat in jars on the shelves, and Severus was rummaging in a cabinet behind his desk. An array of brilliantly-coloured potions in surprisingly elegant stoppered bottles were scattered across a slew of unmarked scrolls from his N.E.W.T.-level class.

'Severus,' Minerva croaked, then stopped, irritated by the sound of her voice. She tried to sit up, but the room started spinning rapidly, and she decided it would be wisest to remain reclining.

She opened one eye when she sensed that Severus was standing directly over her.

'You'd better take this, too,' he said in an unnervingly soft voice, holding out a dark purple potion in a beaker.

Minerva nodded slightly and began to move herself to a seated position very slowly. She was again surprised when Severus placed his free hand on her shoulder to support her.

'Thank you,' she rasped, taking the potion and choking some of it down. Immediately, her head cleared a little and she felt less nauseous.

Severus nodded curtly in return and moved back over towards his desk, where he began to replace all of the bottles back into the cabinet. Minerva sighed slightly and leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes and just listening to the calm clink of glass against wood as each bottle was put back in its place.

'I hope you haven't strained yourself too harshly?' she said finally, when she heard the door of the cabinet snap shut. She opened her eyes to see Severus regarding her with a slightly confused look from across the room. 'I mean, I can't imagine it was easy having to, er, carry an incapacitated witch through the castle, and especially seeing as you've seemed a bit unwell the last few times I've seen you…'

'It was no trouble,' said Severus, averting his eyes and beginning to straighten up his desk a bit. 'I'm feeling quite well now.'

'Good.' Minerva felt remarkably awkward. 'Thank you, for all this.'

'I doubt the Headmaster would have been all that pleased if his Deputy Headmistress's powers had been rendered useless due to sequestration,' replied Severus, albeit with less of an edge to his tone than usual. 'As it is, I've given you a serum that has countered the effects of the previous potion and will help to reintegrate everything within the next few days. I recommend you do not attempt any particularly complex types of magic until you feel completely recovered, however.'

'Fair enough. Thank goodness we're still on holiday.' Minerva stretched her injured arm; the burn had faded somewhat, but her joints were now dreadfully stiff. Although by Muggle standards, she physically appeared somewhere in her early forties, the stiffness made Minerva feel all of her seventy-some-odd years rather too acutely. 'How long have I been here?'

'Only half an hour or so.' Severus stopped stacking scrolls into neat piles on his desk and scowled at the bench on which Minerva was sitting. 'Forgive me for not… for not placing you on something more comfortable. Given the circumstances, I thought it might be unwise to try to Transfigure the bench into a couch, or something of that nature.'

'Not to worry, Severus,' said Minerva kindly. It suddenly occurred to her that she could not recall ever having been inside Severus's office before; certainly, she could remember the space when it was Horace Slughorn's office, but never as Severus's. She felt suddenly invasive. 'I'll just…'

Minerva made as if to push herself to her feet, then quickly decided against it, for fear she would collapse again.

Severus had been watching her calmly from the other side of the room, but he slowly walked over to where the increasingly-embarrassed Minerva sat on the edge of the bench, breathing heavily.

'It's probably safest if you rest here for a bit,' he said hesitantly. 'I am sorry to detain you from any work you may have to do today.'

'Oh, not at all,' said Minerva, waving her hand. 'I just feel terrible about being such an imposition…'

Her breath caught when, quite unexpectedly, Severus caught her hand in his own and held it gently for a moment.

'Never,' he said quietly, and Minerva found herself touched by the startling sincerity in his voice. For a moment, she simply stared up at the Potion Master's inscrutable expression, enjoying how the warmth of his hand contrasted incongruously with his stony demeanour. Then, flicking his eyes away from Minerva's gaze, Severus turned her hand over so he better examine the burn on her wrist.

'This might take a while to fade completely,' he said, almost apologetically. 'I can see if I have anything that will speed the process…'

'Please, don't trouble yourself,' said Minerva quickly, glad that she was not a terribly vain person. 'And thank you for everything you've done for me already, I mean it.'

Severus nodded curtly.

'Can I fetch you anything from your office?' he asked.

'Oh, no, it's fine,' sighed Minerva. 'The last thing I really want to do right now is mark papers. It is the holidays, after all; it's probably more friendly to chat with friends, anyway. If you feel like staying, that is,' she added hastily, kicking herself mentally for assuming that Severus would have the leisure or the desire to talk to her.

Apparently, Severus had not been expecting such a response, for he looked down towards the ground just an instant too late for Minerva to miss some subtle change in his expression.

'Of course,' he said. 'Shall I… put on some tea, then…?'

'That sounds lovely,' replied Minerva.

Severus nodded, regarding Minerva pensively. Then he swiftly tapped the bench with his wand, and Minerva felt slightly lightheaded for a moment before she found herself seated instead on a chaise lounge lined with green velvet. She shifted slowly into a half-reclining position as Severus disappeared into the back of the office to find a tea kettle, and it was then that she noticed the script resting on the table next to the chaise lounge.

'You know, Severus, you did promise to catch me up to speed on all of this,' she said, flipping through the well-worn pages of the script as Severus reappeared in the doorway, levitating a tray bearing two green tea cups and a steaming pot of tea.

'So I did,' said Severus warily, placing the tray on the side table.

'Well, then?' Minerva curled her legs up to her chest and propped her head up with one ear, sending her spectacles just slightly askew. 'Any good gossip, interesting stories, funny anecdotes?'

Severus conjured up an austere black chair and took a seat in it, angling himself so that he could face Minerva and serve tea at the same time.

'Oh, dear me, where to start?' he said, his lip curling slightly as he rolled his eyes heavenward in pre-emptive exasperation. 'One could argue that more mayhem has occurred than actual Shakespeare. Just last week, for example, Filius and that idiot of a ghost Nick were working through part of Act Four, where Malcolm just talks on and on for ages and makes almost no sense in the first place; and Nick, being his overblown, absurd, incorporeal self, made the text so overblown and unclear that Irma actually…'

Minerva was shocked to hear the grandfather clock in the corner of the room emit a string of matter-of-fact chimes some time later; had they really been talking for over an hour?

'Good heavens, Severus,' she chuckled, sipping her third cup of tea. 'If Irma can't manage to pull this all off, you could always just go up on the stage alone and perform a one-man comedy show for the students. You've got quite a knack for storytelling.'

'Anyone can tell a good story,' said Severus dismissively, pouring himself some more tea. 'It's getting an audience to listen that's the hard part.'

'Hmm.' Minerva frowned, cradling the tea cup in her hands and trying to ignore the fact that the steam was fogging up her spectacles. 'And is it just that you don't want an audience to listen to you, then?'

Severus quirked an eyebrow and took a quick sip of tea.

'Maybe it's just that the only audiences I really care about are already willing to listen,' he replied shortly, setting his teacup and saucer down on the side table.

Minerva thought better than to press the cryptic Potions Master further, and instead she swung her legs over the chaise lounge so she could sit upright and balance the teacup on her knees.

'I have to admit, I haven't looked through this in months,' she said, holding the script out to him. 'I can't believe I actually had a grasp of sorts on some of the lines in the past.'

Severus took the script from her.

'Again, I feel dreadful about keeping you from all your work,' she continued, 'but if you wouldn't mind working a little on some of the lines…?'

'Rote memorisation? I suppose so.'

'Actually…' Minerva hesitated. 'You know, at one point a long time ago, Severus, you sat me down and began to talk me through all the nuances of character relationships, and so forth. And that's what I really feel like I should be working on.'

'Really.'

'Yes.' Minerva exhaled. 'In all the various… chats I've had with Albus about this whole exercise, I've increasingly felt that perhaps I'm not trusting the rest of you enough. I mean, I'm not exactly demonstrative about my feelings, normally, but if the point of all this is to push me out of my comfort zone…'

It was harder for her to put this all into words than she had been expecting. She decided to blame it on her recent accident.

'The point is, Severus, do you trust me?' she said suddenly.

Severus blinked.

'I believe I asked you that same question once,' he responded curtly.

'You did,' Minerva conceded, 'and at the time, I wasn't sure what to say, and who knows, maybe I still don't exactly know. But I'm perfectly willing to admit that I trust myself even less in this, just because… because I know how much you're putting into this production, Severus, and I want to meet you halfway in terms of commitment, I really do, but I just don't know if I can get over whatever's stopping me…'

Minerva bit her lip and looked down at her hands, where they were clasped on her knees. After a long moment, Severus cleared his throat, his elbows balanced on his knees and his hands likewise clasped.

'I have very little stage experience myself,' he said quietly, 'and what performance I have done has had far higher stakes than mere embarrassment. So I do not count myself an expert on theatre, in any respect. But if I have learned one thing, it is this: The most important goal is to convince the audience that you are serious. Often, this can lead you to buy into your own game, but it doesn't matter a jot what you yourself feel if your audience isn't affected by it. A complex emotion felt by the actor will be meaningless if it cannot be communicated clearly to the audience, while a very simple gesture can mean the world to the audience, even if it means nothing to the actor.'

'Really.' Minerva furrowed her brow. 'For example…?'

'For example…'

For the next week, Severus Snape would ask himself over and over again what exactly had possessed him to do such a mad thing, how the devil he had summoned enough bravery to do it. Over and over again, he came to the same conclusion: The only way he ever could have had the nerve to kiss Minerva McGonagall was because he acted on impulse and did not take the time to think about it. And indeed, that was exactly what had occurred; he had simply leaned forward, clasped her hands in his, and kissed her chastely on the lips before sitting back in his chair, feeling as stunned as she looked.

'So, if the audience sees that,' he continued in a completely normal voice, although his heart was beating rather faster than normal, 'it no longer matters what we feel, as Severus and Minerva; they will assume that we – or, rather, our characters – are in love, and they will react emotionally in some way, even if such a gesture is completely empty for us.'

'Oh,' said Minerva, trying to sort out what exactly had just happened. She had not been kissed in a romantic sense for years, and she couldn't recall ever having been kissed for educational purposes. 'Yes, that does make sense.'

'Well, then.' Severus half-shrugged, still not quite looking at Minerva. 'You can see that effective commitment does not necessarily mean that you have to sell your soul to this play. It is very possible to maintain strict boundaries between yourself and your character.'

'Yes, and thank goodness for that, given her sunny disposition,' laughed Minerva awkwardly.

The clock on the wall chimed the quarter hour. Minerva started.

'I should probably be going,' she said apologetically, pushing herself to her feet and thanking some higher power that her legs held up this time. 'Sorry, I suppose the lines will have to wait for later, but I suppose we'll… talk again some time soon, about our characters, and so forth? I don't want to be too behind when rehearsals resume, since you've all been working so hard…'

'Don't worry,' said Severus calmly, also rising to his feet. 'A cast is like a Quidditch team, Minerva; it reacts and rebalances as players come and go.'

'So you'll all have to reach some sort of new equilibrium when I replace Sybill Trelawney?' joked Minerva, taking a few tentative steps towards the door.

'We'll all have to reach some sort of new equilibrium,' Severus corrected her, tracking each step with an impassivity that masked concern. 'I can walk you back up to your office…'

'Oh, I'll be fine,' insisted Minerva, although she could already tell that the walk would wear her out more than she would like. 'Thank you for the offer, though.'

She turned to face him with one hand on the handle of his office door, and for a long moment, they each considered saying something more to one another, before individually deciding that it was highly unlikely that the right words would spring to the occasion.

'Alert me immediately if you need any further care,' said Severus finally. 'Again, you should be fine if you refrain from attempting any forms of complex magic over the next few days, and you should be completely back to normal in all other respects by tomorrow, if you rest up tonight.'

'Thank you,' Minerva repeated. 'I'm feeling much better already, but I will keep that in mind.'

Severus nodded once.

'Well, good evening,' said Minerva finally, fumbling with the door handle. Only when she had shut the door firmly between them and rounded at least two corners on her way out of the dungeons did she stop to regain her breath, leaning against one of the hard stone walls.

It must be the aftereffects of such a strong shock to her system, she reasoned; it was all making her more tired and jittery than usual. Why else would she be so wound up about Severus Snape kissing her, in what he had made clear was a decidedly platonic and purely instructional context? Other than the fact that it was completely unexpected, and that most people would at least ask permission before demonstrating such an intensely personal sort of emotion-inducing gesture… well, but she had just told him that she was looking for ways to stretch beyond her comfort zone, and this certainly qualified. Kissing a former student certainly qualified.

Merlin, was that being fair to Severus, though? Thinking of him as a former student, as she often did. The funny thing was, for Minerva, there had always been three rather distinct Severus Snapes; the isolated student, the ruthless Death Eater, and the enigmatic professor. And while it was easy – perhaps even necessary – for her to excise the second of these three identities from her perception of the Severus she knew, she still could not help but draw the connection from the student to the professor, even though she had known Severus as a man for the past thirteen years. It was easier to think about the fact that he had just kissed her (however lacking in romantic content) when she pretended she had never known him as an unhappy 11-year-old, difficult as it was to dispel the association.

It was all too confusing. Minerva wanted nothing better than to just lie down in bed and think it through after a long nap. She continued slowly up the hallway, one hand against the unforgiving wall for support, trying not to reflect on how different it felt from the gentle warmth of Severus's hand on hers.

'Minerva!' squeaked Filius when Minerva appeared in the Great Hall for lunch the next day. 'Feeling better?'

Pomona eyed her old friend closely as she sat down at their end of the table, away from the bored looking Ravenclaw student flipping through an old article on some Quidditch team across the way. Minerva looked a bit more tired than usual, but otherwise fairly normal… perhaps rather preoccupied, but then again, Pomona had never known Minerva to have her mind on fewer than five things at once.

'Filius told me you had an accident yesterday,' she said, passing Minerva a tub of jam.

'It was nothing,' said Minerva briskly, helping herself. 'Severus managed to patch up the damage within a few minutes.'

'Well, that's a relief,' said Filius cheerfully. 'You looked like you were in rather a fix when I was leaving my office, my dear, but I'm glad to know that our Potions Master got you, ahem, back on your feet in no time.'

Pomona had the distinct impression that the flush tingeing the Transfiguration professor's cheeks was not due solely to the fact that she had just choked slightly on a sip of orange juice.

'You know I'll just ask Filius what he's talking about if you don't tell me right now,' she muttered mischievously.

'If you must know, I, er, fainted,' sniffed Minerva, glowering.

'You what?!' Pomona's eyebrows flew upwards into her flyaway hair. 'And you didn't go to the Hospital Wing immediately?'

'Oh, of course not, Pomona; my unconscious self decided that would be a terrible idea,' snapped Minerva. 'No, Severus decided he was going to take care of things himself, and…'

Minerva sighed.

'He carried her down to his dungeons in his arms,' supplied Filius, smiling slightly mischievously. 'Rather sweet of him, don't you think?'

'Indeed,' said Pomona, failing to suppress a smile.

'It was a perfectly logical thing to do!' said Minerva defensively. 'The potion he accidentally spilled on me would have reacted with any foreign magic, so…'

'So that explains perfectly why he roughly brushed aside Remus's offer to help him out when he ran into him on the stairs down to the dungeons,' quipped Filius. 'Although perhaps it's lucky Severus refused; Remus looked on the verge of collapse yesterday when I saw him in the staff room. Poor fellow. Horrible to be sick on Christmas Day, like he was.'

Minerva closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, as if on the verge of breathing fire. Pomona could tell that her friend was wondering if the entire school knew by now about her fainting spell.

'But you're feeling well now?' Pomona pressed her. 'Only, when I stopped by your office mid-afternoon yesterday to ask you about tonight's rehearsal, you weren't anywhere to be found. I knocked on your bedroom door, even though I know you don't really take naps, but you didn't answer…'

'No, because I was still feeling a bit unwell after Severus gave me the antidote to his potion, so I rested down in his office for a bit until I felt better, and… wait, what was that about tonight's rehearsal?'

A flush was creeping up Minerva's neck again. Pomona decided that enough was enough.

'Minerva, if you're almost done with your porridge, why don't you take a turn in the fresh air with me?' she said breezily.

'Oh, for heaven's sake, Pomona, I'm not ill!' sighed Minerva, but she obediently stood and followed Pomona out the Great Hall and through the doors of Hogwarts.

'First things first, Minerva: You keep claiming you're not ill, but if you had to rest for several hours in Severus's office before you felt quite well enough to leave,' Pomona began, but Minerva cut her off with an impatient wave of her hand.

'We fell to chatting about this and that, and I lost track of the time. Nothing to worry about.'

'Chatting?' repeated Pomona, who had never associated such a casual verb with Severus Snape. She noticed that Minerva was moving just a touch more slowly than usual and slowed her own pace accordingly.

'More like he caught me up to speed with what was going on with the play, and so forth,' explained Minerva irritably. 'Now, what are you really asking me, Pomona?'

Pomona realised she should have known that over sixty years' worth of friendship would have clued Minerva in to Pomona's own quirks.

'I feel like there's something you're not telling me,' she said without preamble, stopping by the greenhouses. 'You and Severus have been exhibiting the most erratic behaviour towards each other lately, and I'm glad to hear that it sounds like nothing negative has passed between you two, but… what?'

Minerva was staring resolutely at the ground.

'We had a very serious talk yesterday about… about the play, and so forth,' she said slowly, lowering herself onto a bench outside the greenhouses. 'I think I lost more sleep than I should have, thinking about it. I'm not sure I can really say what happened, but… but, Pomona, I'm not sure I have the courage to be who he wants me to be; who I want to be. Who he needs me to be. And I'm not sure what to do about it.'

Pomona took Minerva's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

'Minerva McGonagall, lacking the courage to do something?' she said with a playful smile. 'Not the Gryffindor we all know, is it? I know that Severus is an immensely confusing person, but whatever he wants or needs you to be, just do your best. You can't be everything for everybody, Minerva; you're only one person, and you can only do what you can do. If that's not enough for Severus, then he'll have to compromise. But we – by which I mean your friends – will always be here to help you however we can, which I hope you know.'

Minerva smiled wearily.

'Of course.' She let go of Pomona's hand with a sigh. 'It's this play, Pomona, that's what it must be. I'm not sure who or what I am anymore. I haven't even paid attention to Lady Macbeth in weeks, and yet the second I start thinking about my lines, I can't tell who I'm supposed to be thinking as…'

'All the world's a stage,' quipped Pomona, 'And all the men and women merely players: / They have their exits and their entrances, / And one man in his time plays many parts…'

'Act Five?'

'Wrong play altogether; this is As You Like It, that's Macbeth's "Life's but a walking shadow" speech you're thinking of,' scolded Pomona lightly as Minerva rose to her feet. 'I hope you're off to go read your script before rehearsal tonight? '

'Actually, I had thought I might go take a walk down by the lake, try to memorise some of my lines.'

'Sounds lovely. Just, Minerva?'

'Mmm?'

The words spilled out of Pomona's mouth before she even had time to process them.

'Just don't hurt that poor man unless you absolutely have to. He's been looking for someone to trust for too long, and I shudder to think of what might become of him if he can't trust even you.'

Minerva gave her a long look, then turned on her heel and headed off for the lake. Pomona wondered if she presumed too much, and said too much about what she had presumed.

Irma had decided to block the banquet scene that night, and Minerva was glad to have some easy material to work with for her first rehearsal back with everyone else. As this scene was really about Macbeth and the ghost that only he could see, most of the time was spent with everyone else seated and avidly watching Severus convincingly shout down the Bloody Baron, who played his silent role immaculately. It actually gave Minerva a bit of a rush to see how fully committed Severus was to his role; at one point, just to give the rest of the actors a sense of what their characters were witnessing at Macbeth's dinner party-gone-awry, Irma told Severus to play the scene as if the Baron were there, at which Severus rushed about through the same frantic blocking he had just learned, hurling threats at the empty air.

'Impressive,' remarked Remus to Minerva during a break, nodding with approval in Severus's direction as Irma gave the Potions Master a note. 'I almost wish I were playing Banquo's ghost as well, so I could be up there onstage with him.'

'You wouldn't deprive the Baron of his only cameo in the show, would you?' replied Minerva. 'Besides, with Severus worked up into such a passion, I wouldn't put him beyond throwing a chair in his fury, and that would damage you far more than it would an actual ghost.'

'I wouldn't want to give him the convenient excuse, either,' muttered Remus, rubbing his jaw with his hand.

'Now, Remus…'

Minerva began to admonish her younger colleague for thinking such uncharitable thoughts about Severus, but just then, Irma called her over.

'You know what you're doing here, right?' she said to Minerva, slightly frazzled. 'Basically, Lady Macbeth is the one holding this banquet together. She can't see Banquo's ghost either, but she's the only one who suspects that her husband might have just had Banquo killed. Mainly, she's mad at Macbeth for being spooked by Banquo's ghost (which she honestly believes doesn't exist) and she's terrified that his confessions aloud to the ghost are going to get them found out for having murdered the king… does that all make sense?'

'I think so?' said Minerva.

'In short, just be cross with Severus for divulging all your personal secrets, all right?'

'I think I can do that quite well,' replied Minerva, returning to her spot at the table that Dumbledore had sketched into the air for them.

And, according to Remus (spectating from the audience), she did do quite well. Minerva herself could remember very little of what had gone well or not, because she was too busy being captivated by Severus's performance; or, more likely, by the fact that the shaking, stammering being she was pulling aside to scold was so unlike the emotionless man she knew. To her, it no longer felt like she was telling off any of the incarnations of Severus Snape that she had known – this man, so uncertain and openly fearful of the world around him, was an utter stranger.

'It's really quite dynamic,' Remus opined from his seat when Irma stopped the scene to tell off Peeves for twining pieces of Filch's stringy hair around gobs of chewing gum. 'Could I mention something, though, Irma?'

'If you must,' snarled Irma as Filch clawed at his hair in fury and Peeves bounced backwards up the walls of the offices, knocking into indignant portraits and blowing raspberries at the professors below. 'Peeves, stop that…'

'Minerva,' said Remus, standing and walking over to her, 'you're doing an absolutely lovely job, but don't you think that Lady Macbeth's bad temper is at least in part motivated by concern for her husband?'

'Well, yes, I suppose so…'

'Remember, this is a world in which people don't usually see ghosts,' Remus reminded her with a wink as he went to sit back down.

Minerva sighed and turned to find herself face-to-face with a completely neutral Severus Snape.

'Dare I ask?' he drawled in his customary voice.

'Just saying I should be more concerned about you,' said Minerva as Irma stomped back towards her amused actors. 'Correct me if I'm wrong?'

Severus raised an eyebrow, turned to start the scene again, and in a flash was gone, dissolved back into the panicked figure of Macbeth quicker than Minerva could have assumed her Animagus form. But this time, when he approached her, muttering, 'Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time, / Ere human statute purged the gentle weal,' she spent a second too long wondering how to act concerned as well as irritated, and forgot where her line went.

'I'm sorry,' she muttered to Severus. 'I was trying to find a good balance between being extremely cross and extremely concerned, and then was having a hard time imagining you as Harry Potter.'

Severus shook his head, perhaps at least in part over having his Macbeth compared to Harry Potter.

'Apologies in advance Minerva, but just remember to think less and do more,' he said cryptically. And before Minerva could say anything further, Severus had seized her by the shoulders and was practically using Minerva as a support to keep his legs from collapsing under him. Minerva was half-terrified, but she had enough wits about her to take Severus's face in her hands until he wrenched himself away to confront a spectre that only he could see.

From where he sat, Remus flashed Minerva a thumbs-up. She rolled her eyes.

At long last, Irma decided that she had asked everyone else to stay for long enough, and she dismissed everyone but Minerva and Severus. Though they were in Albus's office, he apologetically went into the adjacent room to write a long letter to Cornelius Fudge about some recent crisis at the Ministry, leaving only Irma to supervise things.

'So here, all the guests have gone, and you're both exhausted,' she told Severus and Minerva, skimming her script with a furrowed brow. 'Mainly relieved, actually, for having narrowly dodged that catastrophe. Macbeth, you're still jittery; Lady Macbeth, I think you're mainly just depressed about how much less fun being queen is than you had hoped. At the beginning… all right, Minerva, if you're starting from over there, and Severus, you're over here… that's fine. Hmm.'

Minerva glanced at Severus where he sat at Albus's insubstantial dinner table. He looked very tired indeed, or perhaps he was just still embodying a bit of the character?

'Yes,' continued Irma, jotting a note down on the edge of her script with her quill. 'Minerva, if you could just go and sit at the very opposite end of the table from Severus at "Almost at odds with morning"... and here, you're really just too tired and upset to want to deal with any of whatever your husband is saying. But by "I am in blood / Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, / Returning were as tedious as go o'er," can you start to remember that this is as much your fault as his, and come over to him, and maybe put your arms around him?'

'I…'

'Wait, but in sort of a detached way. More sort of a cold comfort, because you both realise you've destroyed your happiness forever, and moreover haven't slept in months. Does that make any sense?'

Minerva and Severus looked at each other at almost the same time. And somehow, without either of them saying a word, a sort of tacit agreement passed between them.

'It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood…'

Severus began to speak his lines slowly. Minerva crossed to the chair opposite him, lengthwise down the table, and sat in her chair, staring at the table. But, for once, she began actually listening to what was being said, not just for her cue. And she began to understand who this man was in relationship to her character: This was a man she had once loved, but whose present paranoia and irrationality and bloodlust had brought him so far from the man she had known that she now could love only the idea of what he had been. She answered his questions in turn, and, at the appointed time, rose from the table and walked along the table, then draped her arms around the seated wizard's shoulders and felt (as her character was supposed to feel) nothing.

'You lack the season of all natures,' she said, 'sleep.'

And Minerva had no way of really knowing that it was what Severus would do next, yet it felt so natural that it was if they had discussed it. In one fluid movement, he stood and turned within the embrace of Minerva's arms, facing her with her arms still twined about his shoulders. His face was weary, although it cracked a sad smile as he gently ran the tips of his fingers down the line of Minerva's jaw, as though it were a gesture he had done regularly for the past decade.

'Come,' he said quietly, pulling her towards him so that her face rested against his shoulder and his cheek pressed against her hair, 'we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse / Is the initiate fear that wants hard use: / We are yet but young in deed.'

The moment held for an instant longer than perhaps it needed to, and in that infinitesimal gap of time longer than the scene required, Minerva felt something seismic shift within her. When Severus released her, he turned straight towards Irma and awaited her directorial opinion.

'That was…' Irma raised her eyebrows with an impressed smile. 'Whatever that was, do it again. I'll take it. And I… no, I don't think I need to see that again. I'm sure we'll tweak it in the future, but that's all I'll need for tonight. Thank you both…'

Severus and Minerva left the Headmaster's Office without saying a word to each other, or even looking at each other. Nothing passed between them but the few synchronised steps they took on the cobblestone floors of the corridors, until they somehow both stopped at the juncture where they normally would have said goodnight before parting ways.

'Severus,' said Minerva suddenly, 'I… I just wanted to thank you for trusting me enough to let whatever happened back there happen.'

'Funny,' replied Severus, 'I was going to say the same to you.'

'Oh! Excellent, then.' Minerva hesitated. 'It's just, I was rather afraid I would let you down horribly…'

'Minerva…'

'Because you're so incredibly committed to this, Severus, and it really shows, you're doing such an impressive job…'

'Minerva…'

'And… and I guess I'm just so relieved and so happy to have been able to step outside my comfort zone long enough to have made that moment there work for us.'

Severus smiled.

'Yes, you did,' he said, and then he kissed her again.

Minerva's first impulse was to resist – this was getting too complicated – but then Pomona's words returned to her – Just don't hurt that poor man unless you absolutely have to – and… oh, she had forgotten how pleasant it was to be kissed like this, really. Her body relaxed, and she voluntarily wound her arms around Severus's neck, where she had placed them only a few minutes before for the sake of theatre. When he pulled away a moment later, somewhat stunned at his own audacity, she was the one who breathed, 'Don't stop,' and pulled him back to her.

'You have no idea,' he murmured in her ear, 'just how long I've wanted to do that.'

'I'm sure I don't,' she sighed into his shoulder, her breath catching slightly as he began to trail a slow line of kisses from her ear down to her collarbone. 'Severus, we're in the middle of a corridor! Shouldn't we at least…'

'Find a classroom, like naughty schoolchildren?' smirked Severus into the base of her neck.

'Perish the thought. I believe my office is closer?'

In retrospect, Minerva could not quite figure out how she and Severus managed to make it back to her office without losing all self-restraint first. No sooner had she locked the door than there was Severus behind her, breathing into her increasingly-mussed hair, his hands wrapping around her, turning her round so that they could better help each other out of their robes between kisses that left them both breathless and hungry for more. That they awoke the next morning tangled in each other's limbs on the rug next to the dying ashes of the fire was perhaps an indication that their feelings for each other had been suppressed for too long and had erupted with more reckless passion than might have been desired.

'Merlin,' groaned Minerva, stretching out a cramp in her neck where she had slept on it at a funny angle. 'Next time, we'll have to at least make it to the bedroom. I assure you, my pillows are far more comfortable than this rug.'

Severus rolled over, still half-asleep.

'At least you have the good sense to keep your office warm,' he mumbled. 'Would have been dreadful waking up in the freezing cold next to a dead fire.'

'Says the man who keeps his dungeons at glacial temperatures,' scoffed Minerva, locating her glasses so that she could better figure out where her robes had been scattered throughout the room. When she had collected most of her clothes, she turned to see Severus watching her like a hawk from where he was half-reclining on her rug.

'What?' she said, feeling suddenly extremely self-conscious.

Severus looked as if he were about to say something, then shrugged slightly instead and turned to look at the fire. Minerva tossed Severus his robes and pulled her own clothes on haphazardly.

'Would you care for some tea?' she said awkwardly, tapping the kettle on the table next to her desk.

'No, thank you,' said Severus, clambering to his feet.

'Oh.' Minerva glanced at the clock on her wall; half past nine. 'Well, I don't have anywhere to be, any time soon, so feel free to stay…'

But just then, the dying embers in Minerva's grate flared green.

'Minerva? It's Remus,' called the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's slightly distressed voice from the fireplace. 'If you're able, could I have a word with you some time in the near future? Thanks…'

The flames in the grate simmered back down to gray ash. Minerva strode towards the fireplace, and Severus seized her hand.

'I'm not rushing off right now, Severus,' she said impatiently, taking a pinch of Floo powder from her own mantel and tossing it into the embers. 'I'll stop by this afternoon, Remus,' she called into the ensuing green burst of fire.

Severus was still holding her hand lightly when the flames died down again. Minerva knew he would not have protested if she withdrew it, but she did not, and something caught in her throat when he drew her hand up to his cheek and simply held it there. In a strange way, Minerva thought, such a simple, oddly romantic gesture was far more intimate than sex had been.

'Is that how you are with other professors?' he asked quietly. 'Dropping in for casual chats, and so forth?'

'Not all of them. Some of them.'

'You never have with me.'

'I did,' countered Minerva. 'I overstayed my welcome by an hour yesterday.'

'Against your will, because you had no choice,' said Severus, with a smile that was slightly too gentle to be called a smirk. 'And I'm sure it was nothing like your visits with Lupin and the rest.'

Minerva pushed a strand of hair from Severus's face, catching it behind his ear.

'Of course not,' she said. 'For one thing, I think Remus Lupin would face down a gaggle of Hagrid's most irritable Hippogriffs wandless before he thought of kissing me, or trying anything else.'

Severus looked as though he wanted to smile, but his impulse faltered.

'I should go.'

'If you must,' replied Minerva. 'I… I suppose I shall see you soon?'

'In some capacity or another, I'm sure,' said Severus, and he kissed her once more before he pulled away. An odd air of formality fell slowly between them.

'Well, until then,' said Minerva uncertainly, just as the tea kettle began to whistle. By the time she had turned it off, she was sorry to see that Severus had gone, and she felt more confused than ever.

To be fair, Severus felt equally confused and frustrated with things as they stood. His only consolations were that Minerva seemed at the worst confused (not repulsed or disturbed) by everything that had just happened… and that, unless his ears had deceived him in his half-awake state, she had alluded to a 'next time' when they would hopefully wake up on her bed rather than on the rug next to the fireplace.