Chapter 10

And I don't know how you do it,

making love out of nothing at all

(Air Supply, Making love out of nothing at all)

It's just the beasts under your bed,

In your closet,

In your head!

(Metallica, Enter Sandman)

Minerva did not expect that he would come back the very same evening after their first night, and the Sunday night too after his rounds, and that she would welcome him. After that, the week was devoted to exams, and they really had no time to share, except fleeting looks and exhausted smiles.

She wondered what would happen, come Friday.

On Friday night, as soon as they were out of Hogwarts and out of sight, he kissed her briefly but tenderly and took possession of her hand. They walked leisurely to the Apparition point, speaking about their week when he suddenly stopped, looked around and brought her behind a clump of trees – one all the teachers knew, as they always had to dislodge students during the Hogsmeade week-ends. There, he set upon proving her that snogging was not reserved to their teenaged charges.

She feared how he would react when she took her distance in public. She should not have worried, because he let go of her hand before they reached the Apparition point and acted just as usual in Diagon Alley.

She found it better, though, to clear things as soon as possible. The wine bar offered the perfectly appropriate little booths for privacy. Severus still cast his usual Muffliato on principle.

As soon as they were served, she began, "You'll agree with me that this… This thing between us-"

He drawled, "It's called a relationship, I think."

"Well, I have no illusion it will last." She hated how his face instantly turned blank and she hastened to say, "Don't mistake me, it's very nice-"

"Nice!" He snorted.

"Agreeable, if you prefer. Mutually agreeable."

"I should hope. Either we find mutually agreeable terms, or there's no point to pursue any of this." There was a slight edge to his voice that told her she was on dangerous ground but she had to make him understand, without damaging either their friendship or their professional relationship.

She could not afford to invest too much in a relationship with him, she pleaded. She had to protect herself, because what she told him last Friday was still true. She was still old enough to be his mother. She still had a family and children who did not expect her to start a new relationship with anyone, and certainly not with a man younger than they were. They had a foot in the magical world and another in the muggle world. Severus knew as well as she did that it was a shame for the muggles when an older woman took a young lover.

She was adamant that she would not be a motive of scandal and discord for her children or for any member of her family and of Dougal's family.

"Never fear. I'm not one for Sunday family dinners," he said sarcastically.

"Lunch, dear," she joked, to lighten the mood. "We go to church and lunch together. It would leave you time for your own family dinners."

He drawled, "You're welcome at Malfoy Manor, you know."

She pulled a face. "No thanks, really."

"You must know I have hardly any secret with Lucius, and even if I don't tell him, Narcissa will guess – but you can count on their absolute discretion."

She watched his face darken. He clearly had something else to say, and she guessed she wouldn't like it.

"Your muggle relatives mustn't know, but neither must my wizard associates." As she didn't seem to understand, he clarified, "The Death Eaters."

She gasped. He was not surprised. After all, the Order of the Phoenix was disbanded now that the war was over, and everybody was eager to turn the page.

"It's Dumbledore's opinion that I must be ready to return to active spying at any time. He doesn't expect troubles for several years-"

"Let's hope never!" she cried.

"Anyway, you must know I'm under orders to preserve my cover."

"I… I understand." Suddenly, the Muffliato and all his little paranoid quirks appeared in another, sinister light.

"It means I can't afford to neglect my relationships with the other side. I can't afford to have them suspect me of worse than turning coat to avoid Azkaban, like they all did. And above all," he added, hammering the point, "I can't afford to give them any leverage for blackmailing me… Or threatening you. Hence the need for not only discretion, but absolute secrecy."

She could not object to this. She also raised another type of concern. She might not share Dumbledore's fears, there was still the rest of the wizarding world to consider, and not in some vague future.

Prejudices still existed even if they were weaker than in the muggle world. Being both teachers at Hogwarts made things even worse. They were both authority figures and role models. What would usually cause just a few eyebrows to raise, immediately turned into a scandal when a professor was concerned.

Parents sent their children to Hogwarts for months on end, trusting the staff to give them moral guidance, strong principles and good examples.

The students must not know, for authority's sake. The colleagues must not know, or there would be a leak sooner or later, not to speak of the teasing. And above all, the parents must not know, or there would be hell to pay. For the bad example, the supposed corruption of the youth and-

"-And all the hypocrisy of expecting us to be more morally upward than they are," he finished in a sneer. "I agree. I can't afford to be driven out of Hogwarts and I don't relish the idea of having my pervert Death Eater past flung into my face yet again."

"It wouldn't be worse than being suspected of prying on my senior students, as is bound to happen if I'm written down as a seductress of young men – because the fault will be mine, make no mistake."

He knew it was true. He wanted nothing more than hold and comfort her – and he could not even hold her hand right now. He sighed in frustration. "So, we have a myriad of reasons to keep it a secret…" He looked at her, eyes pleading. "But I still want this, whatever you call it."

Minerva looked at him, and she was sure there was no artifice there, that he really meant what he said. That he wanted her. She realised she wanted him so badly herself, she would accept any other condition he put before her.

"As do I," he was relieved to hear her say, although it was hardly a whisper – but one so breathy and ardent… He tightened the reins of his control. He forced himself to say coolly, though he sounded much too eager to his own ears, "What do you say? Have we an agreement here?"

"An agreement," she repeated. "That's the word that I was searching for." A safe word, to hide behind. "Yes, we have an agreement."

So, it was decided. They were both free to find someone else as they saw fit, she proposed. But they must tell the other at once, he said. No cheating while they were together. She agreed of course, with a wry smile: this was not likely to be a problem for her. If – "when," she insisted – it happened, they would part ways amicably and without raising a fuss. They would never advertise anything in public, and no one must know, least of all the Headmaster.

Severus just remarked that he did not think they could dupe Dumbledore for long, but that it would be fun to try.

§§§

July 1983

"What do you mean, you won't be able to stay the month?" asked Lucius from his lounge chair. "You promised to sort the Borgia venture out for me. It's bad enough you're a rather absentee Research Director with your duties at Hogwarts, but you won't let me down on that one. It was your idea in the first place and I maintain Borgia's cheating about the gross margin."

"Of course, he is, but you also know I accounted for it in our own profit margin."

The Malfoys were holidaying in their Capri property – Lucius' way to combine business with pleasure. It was late afternoon. They were beginning to emerge from heat-induced slumber or lazying, and so did the locals as attested by the faint but growing rumble of cars and lorries coming from the muggle town in the distance.

"I won't abandon you to Borgia's tricks," said Snape. "I'll just have to return a few days here and there to Hogwarts."

He slowly stretched his limbs, seemingly oblivious to the knowing looks Lucius and his wife traded and the smile Narcissa gave her husband, that meant "I told you so."

He knew he was totally transparent in his desire to spend time with Minerva, but he also knew they wouldn't do more than tease him a little. Or a lot, he thought as a quick glance to Lucius found him smiling wickedly.

He called Moppy for a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice, from their own orchard.

He got another reprieve with the arrival of Draco, who had just waked up from his nap.

His nanny elf carried toys and set them down near Narcissa before leaving. Draco picked his toy wand and made a beeline for his godfather. "Unca Sevus," he said, "look!" He began to show off random moves with his wand but soon tired of it. He began to tug at the wizard's Bermuda shorts.

Snape rolled his eyes but picked him up and helped him to a few sips of his juice, which promptly turned into the whole glass. "Narcissa, do you ever feed that boy? I swear he always leaves me with only a few drops and crumbs."

"Serves you right. If you didn't give in to him, he wouldn't pester you."

"Draco, I have it on your mother's authority that you're a pest." The little boy nodded in eager agreement, as if he had understood. "What have you to say for your defence?"

The boy grinned at him. "Defence?" He only understood one meaning of the word, because he enjoyed watching his father and godfather practice duelling. He picked his toy wand again and brandished it like a sword, aiming straight for Severus with a shout. The wizard clutched his heart, let himself fall back with a long, agonized groan and closed his eyes, not moving any more. "Mummy, Unca Sevus is dead. I won."

Lucius laughed. "Well done, son. Your uncle is speechless someone's finally gotten the better of him."

"Of course I'm speechless. I'm dead."

Soon enough, Draco abandoned Snape to go to his mother. Narcissa sat him in her lap and began with a resigned sigh to read him for the umpteenth time the story of Slythie the Snake.

Snape returned to discussing his schedule with Lucius.

"Minerva's drafted the last instalment on Earth components but the publication deadline is for mid-August."

"What will it be this time? Another metal?"

"Minerals. Silicium, calcium and cobalt."

Lucius whistled appreciatively. "Pretty ambitious, aren't you?"

"Why ever not? But also very practical, and I think good for business."

"Oh oh ! Let me guess. Silicium: Glass Strengthening Potion compared to Strengthening spells?'

"With Minerva's own variations for mirrors and for china."

"Calcium… Bones?" Snape nodded. "Broken bones? I'd say Skele-gro and… Mmm… The Brackium Emendo Spell?"

Snape bowed in appreciation of his cunning.

"And the last. Cobalt. Cobalt… Let me see." Watching his friend's complacent look, Malfoy sat bolt upright, alarmed. "You didn't dare Felix Felicis? Even for the sake of glory-"

Snape rolled his eyes. "What kind of idiot do you take me for? I'll pass Scrimgeour's invitation to tour Azkaban again, thank you. But our friend will be glad he's been of use."

"Ah! Veritaserum, then?"

Snape gave him a very smug, "yes," before adding proudly, "And Minerva's input is the Glassfoe Spell."

"I have to say the witch knows what she's talking about," admitted Malfoy. "I don't care much for Transfiguration myself. Small margin, and these spells go so easily out of fashion. People like this idea of do-it-yourself, but when the average wizard throws the towel because his Strengthening spell doesn't last the month or the week, he doesn't bother casting it again. He comes and buys one of our Strengthening Potions. So, you're right. This is good business."

They both laughed.

Snape added, "Transfiguration Monthly has been pestering Minerva for the next publication to be done before the end of the year and she's been unable to say no, as usual. Potions Monthly and La Gazette de l'Alchimiste won't want to be outdone."

"Understandably so. Your articles sell well. I won't mind for my part if the stock of Malfoy Apothecaries rises another 2 or 3% after these publications."

"Neither will I. However, to attain that objective, we have to publish first." Snape looked pensively at his knuckles as he added, rather casually, "I won't kill my owl going to and fro between Capri and Hogwarts to discuss every sentence. So, I'll Portkey to Hogwarts every Monday. I'll stay the night, of course and come back Tuesday for dinner. If I can avoid Dumbledore, that is. If not, don't wait for me, I'll return in the night."

"Two days a week? That will be some paper, I hope."

"It will. This way, we'll have time to write the article and bicker about the content," he added wickedly. Lucius smirked knowingly. "We will also begin our experiments on Fire before deciding what will be worth investigating for the next series."

Narcissa raised her head above Draco's book, winked at Lucius and asked, much too innocently, "So, you're playing with fire with Professor McGonagall now?"

They both enjoyed watching Severus' cheeks turn pink while he sniffed and informed her that she had a dirty mind.

§§§

1984-1986

He was obviously still comfortable with the agreement because he persisted to come to her, and more often than she expected at the beginning.

She could not deny that they were good together. She knew he did not look round, and that he had asked Narcissa Malfoy to stop trying to introduce eligible witches to him. It sometimes puzzled her as much as it comforted her.

She rarely sought him out in his own chambers but she took to change to her Animagus form when they were not supposed to be able to meet, just to come to his office and sit in his lap for a little while. She always pretended she took pity on him, since cat purring is a well known relaxant.

He found a way of cheating his way around her forbidding the use of what she called mushy endearments. He had this little litany during intimate times. "Minerva... Minnie... Mine," as he became increasingly breathless and could not say her full name any more. She would have been surprised to know how much time and thought he had devoted to this little fraud. She did not object because she had much to blush herself when she remembered what she called him in the heat of things. You would have to put her under Crucio, though, before she would admit that she waited every time for him to call her that.

In the summer, she managed to invite him to her family home. He had never watched Highland Games and her son was organizing them for the village this year, and proudly issuing invitations to all and sundry. He did not expect anything beyond seeing her place and her people but he was nonetheless a little put out to see that their rooms were at opposite ends of the house.

She asked him what he expected. He was just a friend and a colleague, as far as they knew, and the house was already full to the brim for the occasion. Besides, her father had been a clergyman and her people were firm believers and rather straight-laced. For many of them, the sin of the flesh was not just words. She refused to make waves just for a week-end.

He sulked a little but managed to get his revenge. He spent his time finding surreptitious ways to touch Mrs McGregor – he took a perverse pleasure in calling her by her married name – and to arouse her. In the end, it was her who came to his room.

§§§

July 1987

"If you'd accept to come to Malfoy Manor or any of the Malfoy properties, there would be none of that hypocritical nonsense. Lucius and Narcissa would just leave us alone."

"You know very well I'll never set foot in that household and we always agreed nobody would know."

"I repeat that Lucius and Narcissa are not what you think. I told you from the first that they would know… And you've told Molly Weasley."

"She's my best friend, and I have nothing in common with the Malfoys."

"You do." He smirked smugly.

"What?"

"Me."

She just looked sternly at him, refusing to be baited. She could not help the corners of her mouth to lift, though. Before he tried to sway her again, she counter-attacked. "We could go to your parents home, if you don't want to come to mine."

"It's no place for a woman."

"It can't be that bad."

"It's worse."

"I would like to see it just the once, to really understand where you come from. And to see that famous lab."

"You can't. Even in your Animagus form, it would be dangerous."

"Procrastination. It's just a muggle area."

"Prudence. They do eat cats you know."

"What?"

"Yes. It is very similar to rabbit I'm told, and much easier to come by."

"You're making that up."

"I assure you that I don't. I'm pretty sure I ate some when I was a boy, although they called it Italian rabbit."

"It's been five years, and you keep telling me no. I don't understand. I know you were poor, I won't judge you by anything I can see."

"It's not the past that bothers me, it's the present. The area is much more dangerous than it was when I was a teenager. The police makes car rounds, but they never step out. It is worse than Knockturn Alley, worse than anything you can imagine. We would have to use Magic to protect us just to go buying bread or milk, and you know what that means. I refuse to have to pull on Albus or Lucius' connections to avoid pursuits… Or to watch you find excuses and be sweet to Moody."

Somehow, she never visited Spinner's End, even if she always suspected him to make it up.

When they were found in bed by the sister-in-law of her son, Snape refused to believe the busybody to be as candid as she pretended. He sent her packing with a few choice words, but Minerva forbade him to Obliviate her.

Minerva also had her suspicions. Brigid had been a little too obvious in her interest with Severus for her taste. She did not doubt she had spied on him to try to corner him, only to realise she was in fact spying on the both of them. What the woman wanted to accomplish with her piece of meddling, she did not know, but if she asked for trouble, she was going to find it, and without the help of magic.

She had worked herself in an angry, resentful state and was fuming when she went down for breakfast with Severus. Everybody, were they McGregor, McGonagall or Ross instantly recognised her mood and ducked their head, the infamous Brigid included.

No one, of course, dared raise the scandal Minerva had feared for so long, and that she would not care raising now. She recognised at once from the guilty and apologetic looks they shared, that her children and cousins must have nursed their own suspicions and probably sent Brigid to investigate because she was not a direct relative – or because she had drawn the short straw. Maybe bringing Severus home for the fourth summer in a row was not her most clever move.

The meal was eaten in general silence. Everyone's appetite seemed affected, except hers (she was forcing herself to eat, as a statement), his and the children's.

Minerva commented on the weather as if nothing happened. She asked fond questions to distract the bewildered children who were wondering what was wrong with the parents and why they all stared with bulging eyes at Granny/Aunty/Cousin Minerva and at the Professor.

Snape was finding the whole situation funny and made a hearty meal. He complimented Minerva's daughter-in-law on the excellence of her scones, only to have Minerva interrupt him, at her most serious. "Not the scones, Severus, the crumpets."

"You're right," he deadpanned, following her lead. "I always prefer a good crumpet."

He adored her when she was so incensed and flew the most outrageous provocations at anyone who had offended her, whether they happened to be him, her relatives, Dumbledore or the officials of the Ministry.

At the end of the meal, Minerva said, "I suppose you'd better leave before lunch if you want to finish that brew tonight." All eyes turned to her, and then, just as swiftly to Snape, to watch how he was going to take it.

"Good idea. It'll save us time for the experiment with the salamanders and algaes tomorrow. Try not to be late, we mustn't begin later than one P.M. if we want to finish before midnight, for once."

"I'm never late." As he raised his eyebrows, she amended, "well, hardly ever. But I won't be late tomorrow."

With that final declaration of intention, Severus stood and took his polite leave of his hosts.

He was never invited again. Nobody ever made the slightest allusion before Minerva, but her family tended to be rather ill at ease when wizard visitors asked her questions about Hogwarts and the famous other teachers she worked with, particularly the young Potions master. They knew he was some kind of genius and, from their children's complaints, a hard taskmaster and a terror, but what they wanted to hear was if he was truly a Dark wizard. She would invariably reply that, yes, he had very dark eyes and hair. At this point, one of her relatives would invariably hasten to offer more tea and to change the subject.

They just took to book a B&B for a few days together during the summer break, generally abroad.

§§§

September 1st, 1991

There is that phrase that someone is going to be the death of you.

Severus Snape knew, from almost the first moment of setting his eyes on Harry Potter that he would really, literally, be the death of him.

He barely had time to savour Draco's sorting in Slytherin. He almost missed Harry Potter's, thanks to that idiot of Quirrell. The man very nearly fainted on him when Draco sauntered to the Slytherin table with a triumphant look at his godfather. His colleague had to be discreetly helped and revived.

Snape could not understand why Quirrell was returning as DADA teacher, since he knew as well as any one else on staff that the position was jinxed. On the other hand, he was strangely affected since his return by trembling, odd ticks and stuttering. Snape suspected some kind of neurological disease. He probably would not be able to finish the year. Maybe Dumbledore had decided to kill two birds with the same stone: allowing Quirrell to return to Hogwarts as was his legal right after his sabbatical, and filling the DADA position without remorse since the wizard was so obviously ill.

He had to maintain a flow of small talk to keep his colleague alert, but the man was so boring! He discreetly tried to observe Harry Potter, even if there was no need to conceal his interest. Half the room was trying to do the same – the other half did not care to be discreet about it.

The boy sensed he was under watch, because he looked at him several times.

And then, it happened.

His Dark Mark flailed alive for a few agonizing seconds.

If he had not been Occluding to prevent any display of emotion while looking at Lily's and Potter's spawn, he would probably have cried out in horror and attracted all the attention to himself.

He had rushed to Albus' office as soon as possible and the Headmaster had taken the news as gloomily as he feared.

Dumbledore did not ask him if he was sure, if it was not the emotion of seeing Lily's son, or pins and needles for sitting still too long during the sorting.

Snape had been distracted by his Mark, but Dumbledore had not missed that Harry Potter had suddenly clutched his scar in pain too. "It's begun then," he said.

They looked at each other, and Dumbledore stood heavily to pour them something strong.

"You're sure it wasn't a call or a summon?"

"Sure. It felt like when he was particularly angry or excited."

Snape drank, only conscious of the mad beating of his heart and the sound of Dumbledore's clock.

"The boy has Lily's eyes."

Not again. He answered sharply, "Yes."

They continued in silence, until the Headmaster suddenly said, "No one must know." Snape looked up, at the unusual sternness of the tone, and he found Dumbledore's face much too close as the old wizard insisted, "No.One."

He knows, he thought. So much for keeping secrets from him.

"I should ask Lucius if he felt something."

"No. Not until he asks first. And if you feel anything again, I want to be informed as soon as possible."

Snape had known that Harry Potter's arrival at Hogwarts heralded his return to active spying. There was no way the Death Eaters who had escaped Azkaban would not stir themselves now. Harry Potter would be under constant observation by their children, as he would be himself – until both their fates were decided.

The Longbottoms' son would be there too. Another added complication, since some still believed he could be the child of the prophecy and not Potter.

But nothing terrified him like the reappearance of his hated, almost forgotten Dark Mark.

Several times, generally in the staff room or during meals, he felt a faint prickling sensation in his forearm. It was driving him mad. He was never sure if it was indeed the Mark or his own misgivings and fear. He could not help running to the loo every time to roll up his sleeve and watch if it was visible. It was not.

Albus' questions did not provide any comfort. It was obvious by now that the Headmaster had always been expecting the Dark Lord to return from whatever magical limbo he had disappeared into in 1981.

The fifth night, a Thurdsay, he watched himself in his bathroom mirror, taking in the dark smudges around his eyes and his almost demented look. He knew he was going for another sleepless night with bouts of panic, even as exhausted as he felt, and even with a Calming Draught. He needed release, any kind of release and the comfort of her arms or he would be going mad.

Minerva was surprised of course, and too tired to be interested, but he was so insistent she let him in her bedroom with a soft chuckle. In the middle of the act, she told him to slow down.

It struck him then.

He was using her.

He was using her as he knew his father was going to use his mother when he came back from the pub with that look in his eyes and he hit Severus, just for being here and standing in the way.

The same look he had seen much too often on Goyle's face or the other Death Eaters' face when there had been blood and torture, or killing. When they invited him to come to Knockturn Alley to release steam, or when they said, in an odd tone, that they were going home.

He was what he had always refused to be. He was no better than Tobias Snape or Mulciber or the others, and he was going to live it all over again.

He had instantly frozen and lost his hard on. Minerva had thought he had taken his pleasure and just teased him that she told him so, but that she was much too tired and that he would have to wait tomorrow to make it up to her. He feigned sleep to avoid any question and rose to leave as soon as he recovered from his shock, which must have been some time.

She groaned softly and opened her eyes. He had not been discreet enough. He bent to kiss her hair, said the first thing that came to mind about needing to have a look at an experiment – stupid, stupid! She won't believe you – and fled her room.

The following day, he tried to apologize. She laughed it off. "I was much too tired to follow your pace, that's all. I wonder what prompted such fierce passion on the first week of term?"

He mumbled something unintelligible about obnoxious first years and a disastrous class.

"Honestly, Severus! They can't be that bad. Not the first days, when you put the fear of Snape into them."

"They're worse. No wonder, it's your Potter's class."

He could not tell her the truth, so he left before making a fool of himself. He tried to imagine himself with her in the evening, and he just could not.

He assigned a random detention to a random Gryffindor third year for the evening, just to avoid her.

He did not return for almost two months, and only because he knew she was growing increasingly frustrated with him and would soon corner him, probably to end things. Not that he would blame her, but he still did not trust himself to touch her.

Fortunately, he was a Potioneer, and he made a small fortune every year just with brewing helps for men in intimate predicament.

He had never thought he would brew some for himself.

TBC

This is were God Save the Queen and this story converge. Thanks for staying on!