11, A Subtle Art
Laurel looked at the parcel in her hand and sighed. Hesitantly she knocked at the trapdoor of Professor Trelawney's class room.
"Come in, my dear," a faint voice called.
When Laurel had climbed into the circular room, she remembered the few hours she had spent in Sybill's class. It was incredibly hot in the room and a sickening sweet smell filled the air.
"Oh, it is you, Laurel," said Professor Trelawney from her armchair and laid another card on the table. "But I knew that, of course."
"I don't want to disturb you, Professor," Laurel said politely. Not only did she not like the witch very much, she was also sure that the Divinations teacher was nothing but a fraud. After all, even Dumbledore admitted that she had only got two predictions right so far.
"I am looking for Serene."
"I knew that," Sybill replied slightly hurt. "She is at the solar, practising with the new crystal balls we got from Marrakech."
Laurel climbed another ladder and found herself in a much more pleasant room, airy, cool and filled with sunlight.
Serene sat on the floor on a pillow, her legs crossed, a crystal ball in her hands. 'She has never looked so beautiful,' thought Laurel free from envy. 'Does every woman feel as plain in her presence as I do?'
When she approached, Serene turned her head. "Laurel."
"Don't say you knew it was me."
Serene gave her a rare smile. "So you are back."
Laurel sat on a window sill and put the parcel next to her. "Isn't it strange how we both came to Hogwarts as students only a year ago, and are now teaching?"
"I am not teaching Divination, I only assist Sybill in finding her teacups and tarot cards and other stuff she keeps misplacing. I doubt Divination can be taught at all. It is not an art, more a curse." Her voice sounded bitter.
"What ever happened to Ben? I have not seen him yet."
"He should have returned from his holidays by now. Dumbledore offered him to stay in Hogwarts as well, take a few electives for advanced students."
Laurel nodded.
Serene put the crystal ball back into its case. She stood up and brushed the glorious mane of red hair out of her face. Her green eyes flashed when she turned to Laurel. "You bring news from Lupin, don't you?"
Taken by surprise, Laurel stared at her. "How did you know?"
"Saw it in the crystal ball," Serene snapped. Then she smirked. "Don't tell Sybill though."
"Actually you are right. I met him on a class trip with the Beauxbatons girls. He worked in a zoo in Provence."
"A … zoo."
"He said it was ok. Said if it had to be the zoo, at least he was the one with the keys. He sends you this." She passed Serene the small package.
Serene stared at it with a strange mixture of longing and anger. Then she pushed Laurel's hand away. "I don't want it."
"But … it is for you," Laurel shook her head in disbelieve, "what am I supposed to do with it?"
"Give it back to him when you see him the next time."
Laurel stood up, quite annoyed with Serene's behaviour. "He is in Provence. I don't know if I ever see him again."
Serene opened the door with a flick of her wand. "You'll see him soon. I am sorry, Laurel, but I am very busy. Thank you for your visit."
The door closed.
Laurel stood on the stairs, unbelieving how fast she had been dismissed. "And don't come back," she hissed.
The package in her hand she returned to her room. Serene had never been too friendly with her, but at least she had been polite. What bugged Laurel the most, was that she seemed to have misjudged Serene's feelings where Remus was concerned. Today she had made it quite clear she was not interested.
She weighted Remus' gift in her hand for a long time. Then she made up her mind and opened it. It contained a beautiful set of hand-painted tarot cards. All the pictures moved, the Queen of Swords smiled and sharpened her blade, the Hanged Man swung gently on his gallows. The backside of all the cards showed the moon.
"Ah, Remus," Laurel sighed and wrapped the tarot pack carefully. "We are very much alike. We both love somebody way out of our reach."
* * *
"Professor Hunter?"
Laurel looked up from her book.
"Hi, Emily," she said friendly. "What can I do for you?"
Emily Shanks twisted her plait with one hand and blushed a little. "Professor Snape told me to tell you … to ask you …"
Laurel waited patiently.
"To ask you to come down to the lab, if you are free this afternoon." Beaming, Emily breathed out in relief. Terrified by Snape's stern look, she had repeated the message all the way from the Great Hall to the library so she would not get it wrong.
Laurel thanked her, awarded Hufflepuff five points for prompt delivery and sent her off to the common room.
It was only the first week of October, she thought when she passed the Great Hall and saw the Enchanted Ceiling covered with black clouds and thriving rain. But teaching at Hogwarts felt as natural as if she had never taught at a "normal" school before. Her year as a student had certainly helped - otherwise she'd hardly been prepared for Cheating spells and Enchanted quills. On the other hand - kids would be kids, Muggle or Wizard.
The corridor that led to the dungeons was dimly lit. The torches on the walls flickered in the draught. The door to the lab where Snape worked was closed, and Laurel knew better than entering without permission since the safety spell had knocked her back against the wall the one time she had tried. After all there were all kinds of poisonous and otherwise dangerous ingredients in the chests and shelves. Gingerly she knocked and opened when Snape answered.
Studying something on the marble surface of one of the workbenches he rose one hand.
"One moment, I just have to finish this."
Laurel watched him cut some root into thin slices. He was all concentration, oblivious to everything but the substance on his cutting board and the knife. Carefully moving the slices one by one into a glass jar filled with a clear liquid he reminded her of an artist. But he looked exhausted and tired. The last weeks with frequent callings had taken their toll. She had tried to assure that he ate and slept enough, but his face was more gaunt and drawn than ever.
Removing the dragon hide gloves, he looked up and gave her the ghost of a smile. "Manchurian Ginger," he pointed at the jars. "It took Daisy Sprout years to cultivate it."
Laurel stepped closer and looked into the jars. The slices looked like common radish but smelled like cinnamon. "What do you need them for?" she asked. "More toad explosive?"
He sneered. "One of these roots is more expensive than all the toads in England. And they come cheap compared to the dew they must soak in. This is nothing for the Neville Longbottoms of Hogwarts to mess with. I need it to concoct Veritaserum."
"Veritaserum?" she tried to remember.
"Oh come on, Laurel!" Snape shook his head. "Did you ever pay any attention to what I told you in class?"
"A clear liquid which will force you to tell the truth?"
"10 points to Miss Hunter." He took a minuscule flacon from a shelf. "This is all I have left. It takes ages to brew and the ingredients are very rare and incredibly expensive."
Laurel looked at the Veritaserum and tried to imagine how many Ginger roots it took to produce it. As if he had read her mind, Snape heaved a basket filled with roots from the floor up onto the workbench.
She sighed. "All this?"
"One-hundred and eleven. Or one-hundred and ten, as I have already started." He took her hand and with a rare gesture of tenderness kissed her palm. "I know I promised you we'd go for a walk but …"
"It is pouring down anyway," she replied. "Why don't you let me stay here in the dry dungeons with you? And if you show me how, I could help you with these."
Half an hour later they stood at opposite sides of the workbench, the basket between them, slicing roots and pickling the slices in dew.
"So, Potions is hard work - not just the softly simmering cauldrons," Laurel remarked.
Snape smirked. "You remember that?"
"First lesson."
"It is both, a subtle art and a sometimes tiresome craft. Hard to make the first year students understand."
"Did you like it when you were a student?"
He ceased cutting and remembered the eleven year old, who had sought refuge in the Potions classroom. "Potions is all about cause and effect. I guess I liked that most. It made me feel safe."
Laurel looked up. There it was, again. The sadness in his voice, the loneliness whenever he talked about his youth.
"How about your friends? Did they share your passion?"
"I had no friends." He met her glance and gave her a self-mocking grin. "Pathetic, isn't it? Nobody would cope with my less than sociable behaviour."
"You can't have been that bad, Severus." Laurel kept her voice light and passed him her knife to sharpen.
"Well, you should have known me when I was a student."
"I often wonder … how things would have turned out had I come to Hogwarts in time."
He stepped away from the work bench all of a sudden and started rummaging through a trunk. "You would have been a class under mine. One year younger you are, aren't you?" His voice was muffled.
Laurel nodded to herself. "You are really lucky I wasn't there. It would have been so embarrassing for you."
He paused, turned and set a stack of gloves on a desk. "Watch your gloves," he said. "The roots eat away even dragonhide when they are as fresh as these. Have a new pair every dozen roots." Looking at his glove she saw fringed holes at the fingertips.
"Are you ok? Did it burn you?"
He shook his head. "Nothing I won't survive. Now tell me, why I should have been embarrassed about you being in Hogwarts?"
"I would have followed you around, too shy to ever talk to you. Secretly in love with you. You would have hated me for that."
"I seriously doubt it," Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "I was very unpleasant then."
"Very detached, I bet. Superior. Arrogant. I adored that when I was young, " she smirked self-consciously. "I still do."
Refilling the dew bottle from a barrel in the corner, he looked at her. His eyes were the dark depths they had been the first evening in the Great Hall, but now Laurel let herself fall into them without fear.
"I would have been amazed, not embarrassed."
"We could have been friends," she said softly.
"I would have needed a friend, very much."
"Me too."
Silence followed her words. They both picked up their knifes and continued cutting roots. Silently chuckling, Laurel thought how domestic the scene was, although nothing around her was the way it was supposed to be.
"What is so funny?" inquired Snape, honing his knife with a quick wave of his wand.
"This is like your typical scene from a mushy Muggle movie. A couple in their kitchen, preparing dinner, cutting vegetables for a stir-fry."
"Movie? Explain."
"Phh … moving pictures … but since all pictures in your world move you probably don't see the point."
He snorted. "I doubt they keep pickled bats in jars in Muggle kitchens."
"That's what made me laugh. The bats, the dragon's eyes over there, the scales and torches," she looked at him, "and you, the Potions master. It is surreal - but it still makes sense. I can't remember when exactly it became normal."
He put the knife down and looked at her in a peculiar way. "So you ceased being homesick?"
Laurel shook her head. "No, I still miss my family, my friends. We were very close and it was hard to be on my own suddenly. But Minerva gave me an Aquascope, so I can at least see them once in a while. And the Ministry let me visit them this summer, if only for three days."
"I never asked you about your live … there. Would you like to tell me about it?"
She shrugged. "What do you want to know?"
"Many months ago I asked you whether there was anybody you loved," he said and kept his back to her, obviously busy with the jars. "You said …"
"My family. Friends. Nobody … special." It was true. She had not wasted a thought about Jack in more than a year. She kept slicing and let her thoughts wander. "I had a relationship … out there. But it ended a few months before the Ministry sent me to Hogwarts."
"A relationship?" His voice betrayed nothing but indifference, but he still avoided her eyes when he picked up his knife again.
"His name was Jack. We lived together for … I can't believe it …. for almost three years. And then he left, without warning. Just moved out and left a letter, saying I was smothering him, and he wasn't ready for the kind of commitment I craved." She paused. "I could not bear it, so I took a job offer in London, just to get away."
"Because you loved him." Again the carefully guarded detachment.
Laurel thought about it for a while. "No."
She placed another lot of sliced roots in a jar and covered them with dew from a large glass bottle. "Today I think I never loved him at all. Make no mistake, he was a great guy. Very much like Remus Lupin."
Snape almost dropped his knife. "A Werewolf?"
Laurel's laughter echoed from the vaults. "No. Jack is an accountant. Perfectly normal, thank you. Nine to five, gymn-club, But he was ... nice. Very polite, friendly. Soft." She bit her lip in sudden understanding. "Safe. He was safe."
Snape waited.
"I knew he'd never want more than the average relationship. I'd never be in danger to give more than I could control. And I knew - even though I cried after he left me - that he was not able to really hurt me."
Without looking she reached for another root, only to find the basket empty. Snape's hand touched hers.
She smiled. "This is probably a stupid question, but isn't there a spell for that kind of work? A Shredding Charm?"
"Of course there is. No witch would cut carrots with a knife. But a spell needs energy. Cut by hand the energy goes straight into the Ginger roots where it starts a magical reaction." He furrowed his forehead. "Didn't they teach you anything in Beauxbatons?"
"Well, I can do a lovely pot au feu if you like."
Her smile made him happier than he cared to admit. He was only too aware of Voldemort's poisonous presence eating through his resistance. Being a Death Eater satisfied a dark and evil longing inside him, a longing he had thought burned out of his soul the night he had decided to put his fate into Dumbledore's hands. But now, with a Death Eaters meeting almost every week, it got harder and harder to keep the two worlds apart, to remember who he was.
Laurel pulled the gloves off her hands and put them back on their hook.
" I also learned to dust and iron - magically of course. They have a very practical approach in Beauxbatons."
"So you'll make a clever little house witch," he mocked her, clearing the table with one move of his wand. "Any wizard should be glad to get you as his wife."
"Any wizard but you, that is." She blushed violently until her whole face burned. What had got into her? Staring at the stone floor she repeated her mantra, over and over: 'He must not know. He must not know. He must not know.'
"Laurel, I …"
She looked up and saw the faint traces of pain and terror in his face. Without thinking she reached for his hand and for once he didn't push her back when she stroked his fist until he opened his palm.
"Don't," he warned. "I told you before that I was … damaged."
She ceased stroking but kept his hand in hers. "I didn't mean to push you. You never promised me anything, Severus, and I'll take what you are willing to give."
He took a deep breath. "I am not good at this … this love thing."
"Love thing?"
"Tenderness. Kisses. Foolish poems. Don't expect any of these things, Laurel."
"I won't."
He covered her face with kisses, hot, passionately, crushing her against his body. "We need to be present at dinner," he groaned when she undid the collar of his robe to allow her lips to draw a fiery line down to the hollow of his throat.
"We could be late … and leave early."
He lifted her up until their eyes were at the same level.
"Let me down!" she protested laughing.
"Will you spend the night with me?" His voice purred like a big cat's.
She knew it meant to sleep alone in the four poster bed while he tossed and turned in the chair or on the floor in front of the fireplace. But had she ever been so happy about the short time a man allowed her to hold him?
Instead of an answer she kissed him again.
Two pair of eyes stared at them through the open door of the lab. Two pair of feet tiptoed away as silently as possible.
"He is going to kill us. He is going to kill us," Neville whispered, his face white as parchment.
"Don't be ridiculous, Neville!" Hermione scolded, pulling him away from the lab and up the stairs. "Why should he kill us? We didn't do anything." She stressed the 'we' and shook her head in wonderment.
Neville snorted. "He killed Trevor just for being a toad. What do you think he is going to do to students who caught him kissing another teacher?"
"He probably didn't notice us at all. We just have to keep quiet about it, and they'll never know we saw them."
"I don't believe this! She is so nice. How can she let him touch her?" Neville looked behind them as if he expected Snape to come after them the very instant. "He must have given her a love potion!"
"I don't think so," replied Hermione slowly. "She seemed to act out of free will. And you know what?" She stared at Neville in sudden understanding. "He looked happy. For the first time since we know him, he looked happy."
* * *
Laurel looked at the parcel in her hand and sighed. Hesitantly she knocked at the trapdoor of Professor Trelawney's class room.
"Come in, my dear," a faint voice called.
When Laurel had climbed into the circular room, she remembered the few hours she had spent in Sybill's class. It was incredibly hot in the room and a sickening sweet smell filled the air.
"Oh, it is you, Laurel," said Professor Trelawney from her armchair and laid another card on the table. "But I knew that, of course."
"I don't want to disturb you, Professor," Laurel said politely. Not only did she not like the witch very much, she was also sure that the Divinations teacher was nothing but a fraud. After all, even Dumbledore admitted that she had only got two predictions right so far.
"I am looking for Serene."
"I knew that," Sybill replied slightly hurt. "She is at the solar, practising with the new crystal balls we got from Marrakech."
Laurel climbed another ladder and found herself in a much more pleasant room, airy, cool and filled with sunlight.
Serene sat on the floor on a pillow, her legs crossed, a crystal ball in her hands. 'She has never looked so beautiful,' thought Laurel free from envy. 'Does every woman feel as plain in her presence as I do?'
When she approached, Serene turned her head. "Laurel."
"Don't say you knew it was me."
Serene gave her a rare smile. "So you are back."
Laurel sat on a window sill and put the parcel next to her. "Isn't it strange how we both came to Hogwarts as students only a year ago, and are now teaching?"
"I am not teaching Divination, I only assist Sybill in finding her teacups and tarot cards and other stuff she keeps misplacing. I doubt Divination can be taught at all. It is not an art, more a curse." Her voice sounded bitter.
"What ever happened to Ben? I have not seen him yet."
"He should have returned from his holidays by now. Dumbledore offered him to stay in Hogwarts as well, take a few electives for advanced students."
Laurel nodded.
Serene put the crystal ball back into its case. She stood up and brushed the glorious mane of red hair out of her face. Her green eyes flashed when she turned to Laurel. "You bring news from Lupin, don't you?"
Taken by surprise, Laurel stared at her. "How did you know?"
"Saw it in the crystal ball," Serene snapped. Then she smirked. "Don't tell Sybill though."
"Actually you are right. I met him on a class trip with the Beauxbatons girls. He worked in a zoo in Provence."
"A … zoo."
"He said it was ok. Said if it had to be the zoo, at least he was the one with the keys. He sends you this." She passed Serene the small package.
Serene stared at it with a strange mixture of longing and anger. Then she pushed Laurel's hand away. "I don't want it."
"But … it is for you," Laurel shook her head in disbelieve, "what am I supposed to do with it?"
"Give it back to him when you see him the next time."
Laurel stood up, quite annoyed with Serene's behaviour. "He is in Provence. I don't know if I ever see him again."
Serene opened the door with a flick of her wand. "You'll see him soon. I am sorry, Laurel, but I am very busy. Thank you for your visit."
The door closed.
Laurel stood on the stairs, unbelieving how fast she had been dismissed. "And don't come back," she hissed.
The package in her hand she returned to her room. Serene had never been too friendly with her, but at least she had been polite. What bugged Laurel the most, was that she seemed to have misjudged Serene's feelings where Remus was concerned. Today she had made it quite clear she was not interested.
She weighted Remus' gift in her hand for a long time. Then she made up her mind and opened it. It contained a beautiful set of hand-painted tarot cards. All the pictures moved, the Queen of Swords smiled and sharpened her blade, the Hanged Man swung gently on his gallows. The backside of all the cards showed the moon.
"Ah, Remus," Laurel sighed and wrapped the tarot pack carefully. "We are very much alike. We both love somebody way out of our reach."
* * *
"Professor Hunter?"
Laurel looked up from her book.
"Hi, Emily," she said friendly. "What can I do for you?"
Emily Shanks twisted her plait with one hand and blushed a little. "Professor Snape told me to tell you … to ask you …"
Laurel waited patiently.
"To ask you to come down to the lab, if you are free this afternoon." Beaming, Emily breathed out in relief. Terrified by Snape's stern look, she had repeated the message all the way from the Great Hall to the library so she would not get it wrong.
Laurel thanked her, awarded Hufflepuff five points for prompt delivery and sent her off to the common room.
It was only the first week of October, she thought when she passed the Great Hall and saw the Enchanted Ceiling covered with black clouds and thriving rain. But teaching at Hogwarts felt as natural as if she had never taught at a "normal" school before. Her year as a student had certainly helped - otherwise she'd hardly been prepared for Cheating spells and Enchanted quills. On the other hand - kids would be kids, Muggle or Wizard.
The corridor that led to the dungeons was dimly lit. The torches on the walls flickered in the draught. The door to the lab where Snape worked was closed, and Laurel knew better than entering without permission since the safety spell had knocked her back against the wall the one time she had tried. After all there were all kinds of poisonous and otherwise dangerous ingredients in the chests and shelves. Gingerly she knocked and opened when Snape answered.
Studying something on the marble surface of one of the workbenches he rose one hand.
"One moment, I just have to finish this."
Laurel watched him cut some root into thin slices. He was all concentration, oblivious to everything but the substance on his cutting board and the knife. Carefully moving the slices one by one into a glass jar filled with a clear liquid he reminded her of an artist. But he looked exhausted and tired. The last weeks with frequent callings had taken their toll. She had tried to assure that he ate and slept enough, but his face was more gaunt and drawn than ever.
Removing the dragon hide gloves, he looked up and gave her the ghost of a smile. "Manchurian Ginger," he pointed at the jars. "It took Daisy Sprout years to cultivate it."
Laurel stepped closer and looked into the jars. The slices looked like common radish but smelled like cinnamon. "What do you need them for?" she asked. "More toad explosive?"
He sneered. "One of these roots is more expensive than all the toads in England. And they come cheap compared to the dew they must soak in. This is nothing for the Neville Longbottoms of Hogwarts to mess with. I need it to concoct Veritaserum."
"Veritaserum?" she tried to remember.
"Oh come on, Laurel!" Snape shook his head. "Did you ever pay any attention to what I told you in class?"
"A clear liquid which will force you to tell the truth?"
"10 points to Miss Hunter." He took a minuscule flacon from a shelf. "This is all I have left. It takes ages to brew and the ingredients are very rare and incredibly expensive."
Laurel looked at the Veritaserum and tried to imagine how many Ginger roots it took to produce it. As if he had read her mind, Snape heaved a basket filled with roots from the floor up onto the workbench.
She sighed. "All this?"
"One-hundred and eleven. Or one-hundred and ten, as I have already started." He took her hand and with a rare gesture of tenderness kissed her palm. "I know I promised you we'd go for a walk but …"
"It is pouring down anyway," she replied. "Why don't you let me stay here in the dry dungeons with you? And if you show me how, I could help you with these."
Half an hour later they stood at opposite sides of the workbench, the basket between them, slicing roots and pickling the slices in dew.
"So, Potions is hard work - not just the softly simmering cauldrons," Laurel remarked.
Snape smirked. "You remember that?"
"First lesson."
"It is both, a subtle art and a sometimes tiresome craft. Hard to make the first year students understand."
"Did you like it when you were a student?"
He ceased cutting and remembered the eleven year old, who had sought refuge in the Potions classroom. "Potions is all about cause and effect. I guess I liked that most. It made me feel safe."
Laurel looked up. There it was, again. The sadness in his voice, the loneliness whenever he talked about his youth.
"How about your friends? Did they share your passion?"
"I had no friends." He met her glance and gave her a self-mocking grin. "Pathetic, isn't it? Nobody would cope with my less than sociable behaviour."
"You can't have been that bad, Severus." Laurel kept her voice light and passed him her knife to sharpen.
"Well, you should have known me when I was a student."
"I often wonder … how things would have turned out had I come to Hogwarts in time."
He stepped away from the work bench all of a sudden and started rummaging through a trunk. "You would have been a class under mine. One year younger you are, aren't you?" His voice was muffled.
Laurel nodded to herself. "You are really lucky I wasn't there. It would have been so embarrassing for you."
He paused, turned and set a stack of gloves on a desk. "Watch your gloves," he said. "The roots eat away even dragonhide when they are as fresh as these. Have a new pair every dozen roots." Looking at his glove she saw fringed holes at the fingertips.
"Are you ok? Did it burn you?"
He shook his head. "Nothing I won't survive. Now tell me, why I should have been embarrassed about you being in Hogwarts?"
"I would have followed you around, too shy to ever talk to you. Secretly in love with you. You would have hated me for that."
"I seriously doubt it," Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "I was very unpleasant then."
"Very detached, I bet. Superior. Arrogant. I adored that when I was young, " she smirked self-consciously. "I still do."
Refilling the dew bottle from a barrel in the corner, he looked at her. His eyes were the dark depths they had been the first evening in the Great Hall, but now Laurel let herself fall into them without fear.
"I would have been amazed, not embarrassed."
"We could have been friends," she said softly.
"I would have needed a friend, very much."
"Me too."
Silence followed her words. They both picked up their knifes and continued cutting roots. Silently chuckling, Laurel thought how domestic the scene was, although nothing around her was the way it was supposed to be.
"What is so funny?" inquired Snape, honing his knife with a quick wave of his wand.
"This is like your typical scene from a mushy Muggle movie. A couple in their kitchen, preparing dinner, cutting vegetables for a stir-fry."
"Movie? Explain."
"Phh … moving pictures … but since all pictures in your world move you probably don't see the point."
He snorted. "I doubt they keep pickled bats in jars in Muggle kitchens."
"That's what made me laugh. The bats, the dragon's eyes over there, the scales and torches," she looked at him, "and you, the Potions master. It is surreal - but it still makes sense. I can't remember when exactly it became normal."
He put the knife down and looked at her in a peculiar way. "So you ceased being homesick?"
Laurel shook her head. "No, I still miss my family, my friends. We were very close and it was hard to be on my own suddenly. But Minerva gave me an Aquascope, so I can at least see them once in a while. And the Ministry let me visit them this summer, if only for three days."
"I never asked you about your live … there. Would you like to tell me about it?"
She shrugged. "What do you want to know?"
"Many months ago I asked you whether there was anybody you loved," he said and kept his back to her, obviously busy with the jars. "You said …"
"My family. Friends. Nobody … special." It was true. She had not wasted a thought about Jack in more than a year. She kept slicing and let her thoughts wander. "I had a relationship … out there. But it ended a few months before the Ministry sent me to Hogwarts."
"A relationship?" His voice betrayed nothing but indifference, but he still avoided her eyes when he picked up his knife again.
"His name was Jack. We lived together for … I can't believe it …. for almost three years. And then he left, without warning. Just moved out and left a letter, saying I was smothering him, and he wasn't ready for the kind of commitment I craved." She paused. "I could not bear it, so I took a job offer in London, just to get away."
"Because you loved him." Again the carefully guarded detachment.
Laurel thought about it for a while. "No."
She placed another lot of sliced roots in a jar and covered them with dew from a large glass bottle. "Today I think I never loved him at all. Make no mistake, he was a great guy. Very much like Remus Lupin."
Snape almost dropped his knife. "A Werewolf?"
Laurel's laughter echoed from the vaults. "No. Jack is an accountant. Perfectly normal, thank you. Nine to five, gymn-club, But he was ... nice. Very polite, friendly. Soft." She bit her lip in sudden understanding. "Safe. He was safe."
Snape waited.
"I knew he'd never want more than the average relationship. I'd never be in danger to give more than I could control. And I knew - even though I cried after he left me - that he was not able to really hurt me."
Without looking she reached for another root, only to find the basket empty. Snape's hand touched hers.
She smiled. "This is probably a stupid question, but isn't there a spell for that kind of work? A Shredding Charm?"
"Of course there is. No witch would cut carrots with a knife. But a spell needs energy. Cut by hand the energy goes straight into the Ginger roots where it starts a magical reaction." He furrowed his forehead. "Didn't they teach you anything in Beauxbatons?"
"Well, I can do a lovely pot au feu if you like."
Her smile made him happier than he cared to admit. He was only too aware of Voldemort's poisonous presence eating through his resistance. Being a Death Eater satisfied a dark and evil longing inside him, a longing he had thought burned out of his soul the night he had decided to put his fate into Dumbledore's hands. But now, with a Death Eaters meeting almost every week, it got harder and harder to keep the two worlds apart, to remember who he was.
Laurel pulled the gloves off her hands and put them back on their hook.
" I also learned to dust and iron - magically of course. They have a very practical approach in Beauxbatons."
"So you'll make a clever little house witch," he mocked her, clearing the table with one move of his wand. "Any wizard should be glad to get you as his wife."
"Any wizard but you, that is." She blushed violently until her whole face burned. What had got into her? Staring at the stone floor she repeated her mantra, over and over: 'He must not know. He must not know. He must not know.'
"Laurel, I …"
She looked up and saw the faint traces of pain and terror in his face. Without thinking she reached for his hand and for once he didn't push her back when she stroked his fist until he opened his palm.
"Don't," he warned. "I told you before that I was … damaged."
She ceased stroking but kept his hand in hers. "I didn't mean to push you. You never promised me anything, Severus, and I'll take what you are willing to give."
He took a deep breath. "I am not good at this … this love thing."
"Love thing?"
"Tenderness. Kisses. Foolish poems. Don't expect any of these things, Laurel."
"I won't."
He covered her face with kisses, hot, passionately, crushing her against his body. "We need to be present at dinner," he groaned when she undid the collar of his robe to allow her lips to draw a fiery line down to the hollow of his throat.
"We could be late … and leave early."
He lifted her up until their eyes were at the same level.
"Let me down!" she protested laughing.
"Will you spend the night with me?" His voice purred like a big cat's.
She knew it meant to sleep alone in the four poster bed while he tossed and turned in the chair or on the floor in front of the fireplace. But had she ever been so happy about the short time a man allowed her to hold him?
Instead of an answer she kissed him again.
Two pair of eyes stared at them through the open door of the lab. Two pair of feet tiptoed away as silently as possible.
"He is going to kill us. He is going to kill us," Neville whispered, his face white as parchment.
"Don't be ridiculous, Neville!" Hermione scolded, pulling him away from the lab and up the stairs. "Why should he kill us? We didn't do anything." She stressed the 'we' and shook her head in wonderment.
Neville snorted. "He killed Trevor just for being a toad. What do you think he is going to do to students who caught him kissing another teacher?"
"He probably didn't notice us at all. We just have to keep quiet about it, and they'll never know we saw them."
"I don't believe this! She is so nice. How can she let him touch her?" Neville looked behind them as if he expected Snape to come after them the very instant. "He must have given her a love potion!"
"I don't think so," replied Hermione slowly. "She seemed to act out of free will. And you know what?" She stared at Neville in sudden understanding. "He looked happy. For the first time since we know him, he looked happy."
* * *
