Trading My Sorrows
By Shadow Ballad
Genre: Drama/Spiritual
Pairings: None so far
Timeline: SEVERELY AU fifth year; it takes little account of book 6, and possibly no account of book 7. Also, Sirius Black has been pardoned and is the DADA assistant to Lupin.
Warnings: T for violence and some language. This is a story detailing a person's conversion to Christianity, so it will contain religious themes. If this offends you, please do not read and then flame me for offending you. Reader, thou hast been warned. : )
A/N: Weeeeeeeeeellllll…oops? Yes, I do in fact have a calendar. Yes, I do in fact know it's been almost half a year. … Not what I intended, I assure you. *sweating bullets* But, I'm thinking that such time intervals will probably be the norm from now on, all things (like school and getting another job 'cause I think I lost my other one and of course spiritual questions of my own) considering.
A note: the following chapter is rather heavy at times in theology. As I am of no particular Christian denomination and am somewhat a free thinker anyway, said theology might not mesh with common/commonly accepted theology of more mainstream denominations. If that bothers you…well, there's little that can be done except to read anyway or not to read at all. To read or not to read: that is your decision! (Yes I love Shakespeare and Hamlet and writing stupid things. Bah.)
Also, since I don't seem to be editing the very first chapters very quickly (understatement of the new year indeed), I thought I might as well put this here: This fic acknowledges that magic is a force of nature that has good, neutral, and bad branches to it and does not come from evil spirits/Hell/what have you. This being said, I realize that some Christians might take offence at this. If so, I respectfully suggest that you not read it.
And now, without further blabbing, may I finally present unto thee Chapter 12! Thanks go out to Ominous Voices for editing and waiting patiently for something to edit. Any remaining mistakes are mine, not hers.
Chapter 12: Lessons in Life Part II
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He who forgives ends the quarrel.
-African proverb
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Lawrence did not answer for a few moments afterward. Severus swallowed again and returned his eyes to his tea, telling himself that he had been foolish to sit there and hope he would be forgiven and that he should leave immediately and start packing his things. He shifted and opened his mouth to thank Lawrence for the tea and undeserved hospitality when Lawrence said slowly, "Alright then, I forgive you."
Forgetting his tea once again Severus snapped his eyes back onto Lawrence, who was giving him a small, gentle smile. He was sure he had misheard. When Lawrence continued to simply smile at him and then began grinning with amusement at Severus's astonishment, however, a little bubble of hope and relief swelled in Severus's chest and unravelled most of the constricting threads of guilt. "You do?" he said, as it was the only coherent reply he could think of; and then, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Why?"
What a wonderful way of showing gratitude you have, Severus, said the cynical inner voice the second the word left his mouth. He gives you exactly what you thought you weren't going to get and you have the audacity to question it? Severus, for once, agreed with the voice. He could feel his face growing warm, turning the brick-red colour he so detested. For the second time that morning, he wished he could simply Evanesco himself.
Fortunately, Beckett did not seem to find the question impertinent. He merely shrugged, a thoughtful expression dimming his grin. "Well, you did say that you were sorry, you know, and I could tell you were sincere," he said. "And anyway, I believe that we should always try to forgive others as soon as possible. That can only happen if we focus more on healing instead of on being angry, which is what I've been trying to do. Anyway, when we focus on healing, we can reach the point where, when someone who has wronged us honestly apologises, like you did, we can accept their apology." He then smiled and gave a self-deprecating shake of his head. "And now that I've finished my sermon" – he shifted and snatched a plate and a roll – "would you like another scone?" He tore his own open and began spreading generous amounts of butter on both halves.
Severus stared at him for a moment, slightly taken aback at the sudden change in topic, then nodded. "Yes, please," he said, his relief at having received forgiveness he knew he didn't deserve (regardless of what Lawrence had just said) bolstering his appetite. If it had been me, he thought as Lawrence threw him a sideways glance and then placed a particularly fat scone on Snape's crumb-littered plate, it would have taken me longer than two days to forgive everything.
Unsurprising, considering your abysmal track record in the Department of Forgiveness – which, I might add, is due to that No Forgiveness Before Ten Years or More Have Passed policy of yours, said the cynical inner voice as Lawrence cleaned the butter knife with a napkin, lodged the knife in the jar of raspberry jam, and then nudged both toward Severus. The pastor then turned to refill his empty teacup, humming softly as he tipped in a small amount of milk and – Severus wrinkled his nose – ruined it as usual by adding far too much sugar.
Shut up, Severus commanded the voice as he watched Beckett cheerfully butcher his tea. Watching his friend reminded Snape of his own twice-forgotten teacup, still held aloft in his right hand. He took a sip and sat it on the table and had just reached for the scone when a flurry of images swept through his mind.
Most, he noted with displeasure, his hand poised above the plate, were of the people he held grudges against and needed to forgive. He snorted to himself, grabbed the roll, and tore it in half, dismissing most of them immediately as they had neither expressed regret nor tried to make amends for the actions that had earned them a place on Snape's hate list to begin with. The faces of Dumbledore and Lupin, however, refused to fade as quickly, and contemplating just why they remained made him uncomfortable. With a mental shove he banished the images to the back of his mind and concentrated on daubing small smudges of jam on each half of his scone. Thinking about those people threatened to provide the remaining threads of guilt with a negative emotion that would strengthen them and enable them to drag his good mood beneath waves of resentment. As he was growing rather fond of his good mood (having not been in one since Monday), he wanted it ruined almost as much as he wanted Gryffindor to win the House Cup.
"Is something wrong?" asked Lawrence. Severus started at the interruption of his brooding, then gave his head a minute shake to clear it. He fleetingly wondered what led Lawrence to believe that something was amiss before realising that he had not said a word since he had accepted the offer of a scone.
"No," he said, taking a bite to prove that everything was indeed fine. Lawrence scrutinised him a moment longer, features arranged in light concern, before he was convinced that Severus was indeed telling the truth. His concern melted into a soft smile as he leaned back, balancing his teacup-laden saucer delicately on the arm of the chair.
"Anyway," said Lawrence, "sermon aside, I also forgave you because I've had plenty of time to think everything over. This is the first time we've spoken since Monday morning, you know." The soft smile morphed into his signature self-deprecating smile. "That's my fault, really, since I was…well…sort of avoiding you."
Severus swallowed the bite of scone he had taken and returned the roll to the plate, absently swishing crumbs from his fingers. "Sort of avoiding me," he repeated, lifting his left eyebrow. Beckett's face pinked slightly. "And why, pray tell, were you sort of avoiding me?"
"Why, because I thought you were still angry with me, of course. You wouldn't come out of your room."
Snape smirked slightly. "I didn't come out because I thought you were angry with me and had no wish to see me after what happened."
"Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn't angry for a while, you know," said Lawrence, not quite meeting Severus's eye at this admission. "But I got over it around…hmm…noon yesterday, I think it was." He thought for a moment. "Yes, noon yesterday." Severus raised his other eyebrow at this. He had thought that Lawrence had stopped feeling angry at him only today. The news that he might have done so earlier surprised him. The cynical inner voice suggested that Severus felt this way because his own ability to hold grudges and stay angry at people for long periods of time far surpassed that of any normal person, but he mentally silenced it.
"…couldn't concentrate on anything Tuesday morning," Lawrence was saying, "so I Apparated to that mountain over – well, you can't see it now for the rain, but it's usually visible through the left window. I go there and walk around for a while whenever I…well…get upset. Outdoor exercise seems to help me think more clearly, you know." He flashed Severus his self-deprecating smile again. "Anyway, as I was walking and thinking everything over, I discovered that I couldn't really blame you for losing your temper with me during the Potions lesson. My stupidity was in prime form on Monday, you know."
Severus, who had rather been expecting some moral or theological explanation, heartily resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the one he had received instead. "Though I can readily agree with your last statement, I'd rather you not defend my faults after I just finished apologising for them," he said. Doing so would completely invalidate the torture he had just endured apologizing for said faults, after all, and at that moment he wanted that to happen about as much as he wanted to adopt Potter.
"I'm not defending them; I'm just telling you that I understand why you got angry. It's possible to understand why people do things without condoning whatthey do, you know."
"Hmph. Says you."
"Exactly," said Lawrence, grinning again. "Understanding the reasons behind someone's actions can help us forgive them, though obviously not always, of course. In the end, forgiveness is not so much a thing of understanding or logic but of grace." He blinked. "Which I probably should have said earlier instead of preaching at you. Ah well." He gave Severus an amiably apologetic smile and then took a bite of his scone.
They lapsed into silence, allowing the cheerful crackling of the fire, the drumming of rain on the roof, and the distant rumblings of thunder to fill the room in lieu of their voices. Severus idly watched as a tongue of fire devoured a spindly branch on the foremost log, mulling over Beckett's words as he drained his tea and finished one half of his own scone. He could not help but wonder if Dumbledore had understood that Snape's reasons for joining the Death Eaters had not revolved around true hatred but a need to feel acceptance, of which he had known little at either home or school. He shifted his gaze from the fire to the window and absently watched raindrops pelt the glass, wondering if that same understanding had helped Dumbledore forgive him, and if, along with other factors, it had influenced the headmaster's decision to induct him into the Order.
An image of one particular Order member, grinning and tossing back his head arrogantly, popped into his mind. Snape stiffened and clenched his teeth. Sirius Black had starred in the montage of images of people he needed to forgive, but Snape, lip curling, firmly believed that no amount of understanding or anything else could ever help him forgive Black for sending him into the lair of a werewolf and later brushing it off as a joke.
"Are you sure nothing is wrong?" asked Lawrence, disrupting what would surely have evolved into a mental thrashing of Black. Severus started, then relaxed his unnecessarily firm grip on his teacup. The spike of anger that inevitably stabbed him whenever he thought of Black was steadily dissolving, though a dark, silken web still clung lightly to his thoughts.
"Of course. Why do you ask?"
"Well, you were sort of just sitting there, you know, glaring off into space…"
Snape mentally rolled his eyes at Beckett's turn of phrase. "I was merely thinking," he said, "and mostly about why you waited so long to tell me all of this." A small part of him hated to lie to Lawrence (and hated himself for the ease with which he had done it), but the larger part so loathed the idea of having an in-depth Black-centred discussion at that moment that it was fully prepared to lie to avoid it.
Perfectly oblivious to this fact, Beckett flushed slightly as he took a drink of his tea. "Ah, well, mostly because I thought you were still angry, like I said earlier, but also because…well…because I didn't want to have another row with you."
Severus snorted softly at this. Avoiding someone simply because that person would likely be angry and want to argue was, in his opinion, completely cowardly, though he felt far too content with the restoration of their friendship to sabotage it by expressing this opinion aloud. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and poured himself another cup of tea. "And what led you to the conclusion that I wouldn't be angry and want to argue today?" he said, neatly omitting the fact that he had been in neither an angry nor an argumentative mood since Monday.
Lawrence's flush deepened and he fiddled with his glasses. "Ah, well, nothing, really…I just finally got tired of avoiding you and decided that, no matter how much I disliked the thought of having another row, we needed to talk, even if you were still in the mood to bite off my head." He flashed Severus a mischievous grin. "You can be incredibly intimidating for a tall, scrawny Englishman, you know."
"Indeed?" said Snape, raising his eyebrows as if this was an astonishing revelation.
"Indeed," said Lawrence, nodding sagely. He was still grinning as he took a large drink of tea, but when he lowered the cup, the grin had faded away. "You are right, though," he said with a small sigh. "We could have avoided all this misunderstanding if I had just had the nerve to talk to you earlier." The self-deprecating smile appeared on his face yet again. "You have my sincerest apologies, Severus."
Severus, who had just taken a large bite of his scone, chewed it slowly to delay the moment he had to respond. Though he had never levelled such an accusation, the temptation to allow Beckett to take the blame for everything glittered beguilingly in his mind. The man seemed willing to accept all fault in the matter anyway, and Snape could, after all, have avoided a great deal of inner turmoil had Beckett simply chosen to pay him a visit instead of avoiding him and thus prolonging Snape's sufferings.
The threads of guilt that had been patiently lurking in his chest, however, again twisted themselves into tight knots at the thought of carrying out such a design. The word "dammit" fluttered through his mind at this, though only milliseconds passed before an entourage of shame followed in its wake. He gave an inaudible sigh, finally swallowed his scone, and immediately took an equally large drink of tea, hoping that Lawrence would not notice that he was stalling for time.
Severus dearly longed to accept the apology and thus enjoy the novel experience of someone else apologizing to him instead of vice versa. To both his surprise and vexation, he found that he simply could not do so in good conscience. It felt as comfortable as swallowing a bucket of baby Blast-Ended Skrewts to admit it, but he knew full well there would be no situation in need of mending had he simply controlled his temper. Not only that, added the cynical inner voice, back yet again from whatever level of his mind he had banished it to countless times before, but you could have ended the situation after you started it by talking to him, but no. You were far too busy wallowing in your own little haze of melancholy to do anything so productive, weren't you?
"No need to apologise," said Severus, interrupting the inner voice before it could continue its diatribe. He waved his left hand dismissively as though he had not just debated with himself for almost ten seconds over what he should do.
"Yes, well, there is, actually," said Lawrence. A shadow of the earnest, uncertain expression he had worn earlier clouded his face, and he began fidgeting with his teacup. "If not for that, then for…well…for the other things I mentioned earlier."
A wave of annoyance inundated the guilt-knots, almost washing them away. Severus was revisited by and this time surrendered to the urge to roll his eyes. So we've journeyed back to this nonsense, have we? he thought. Wonderful. "And do you remember what I said after you mentioned those things?"
"You said I treated you exactly how you deserved, but –"
"And so you did," said Snape with a tone of finality. He took another bite of his scone, hoping Lawrence would take the hint and drop the subject.
Beckett peered at him silently for a few moments, then sighed, took a drink from his teacup, and placed the cup on its saucer. "It is why I asked you to tea, you know," he said with the tone of someone navigating a minefield. "To apologise for those things."
Snape, who had been staring resolutely through the rain-pummelled windowpane at the lightning slicing through the darkness, bit back a groan. He could feel the slender strands of residual anger from thinking about Black trying to solidify, but he mentally checked them despite his rising level of frustration. He strongly suspected that if he lost his temper again, their tenuous friendship would shatter into thousands of irreparable fragments.
Only this sheer determination to maintain their newly-restored rapport prevented him from whipping his wand out of his sleeve and hexing Beckett's mouth shut. "The only thing you have any business apologising for is the intellectual sin of idiocy," he said half irritably and half sardonically, shifting his gaze from the storm to the pastor and raising both eyebrows emphatically.
"Well, I suppose I could add it to my list," said Lawrence, smiling mildly as he took a bite of his scone.
"It should be the only thing on your blasted list."
Lawrence swallowed both scone and smile and sighed, sounding as though he too was trying to curb a feeling of annoyance. "Forgive me, Severus, but I really don't think it should," he said, placing the half-eaten scone on the plate in his lap and folding his hands. "I need to apologise for…well…being stupid just as much as I need to apologise for the other things. Especially," he added, dipping his head, dropping his gaze, and frowning slightly at the section of blue carpet between their chairs and the table, "for completely losing my temper with you."
The shades of frustration and self-directed disappointment colouring his voice suggested that Lawrence losing his temper did not often occur. Judging by his reaction, Severus suspected that he prided himself on that fact. Which would explain why he's behaving as though he's done something unpardonable, he thought, snorting derisively to himself. He found it exceedingly irritating whenever people who had not done something egregious acted as though they had, as it made people who had done something egregious feel even worse about it.
Despite his irritation, Snape hesitated to disregard Lawrence's apology and berate him for being an illogical, self-deprecating idiot. He knew what it felt like to pluck out his ego and lay it at the feet of someone who had every right to crush it beneath his heel, after all. Deciding to act on this rare feeling of magnanimity even while a part of him raised its eyebrow at such a decision, he sipped his tea and said, "Considering what I did to make you lose it, your loss of temper was entirely understandable."
Lawrence shrugged and sighed. Though his gaze remained locked on the floor, his frown and the creases in his brow had grown smaller. "Well, yes, I suppose; but…" He made a vague, lost gesture. "I still don't think I should have gotten so angry with you."
Patience exhausted and magnanimity rapidly evaporating, Severus sighed and aborted taking a sip of tea, reasoning that he was less likely to fling the teacup at Lawrence's head if it still had liquid inside. If he thinks he's making me feel better by insisting that he is just as culpable as I am, then he is sorely mistaken, he grumbled to himself. In point of fact, Beckett's stubborn insistence that he was in the wrong was making Snape feel even more self-conscious about his own guilt. This, in turn, was allowing the guilt knots to overcome the annoyance that had previously checked them and begin constricting Snape's chest with renewed vigour.
A flicker of pain behind his eyes let him know that his headache, which had faded earlier with hot tea and roll therapy, had decided to return. Too weary of the martyr-like I-am-at-fault-for-everything behaviour to continue arguing with it, he said, "Believe that if you want, Lawrence, but you still have no business feeling guilty about it. The only legitimate apology you can possibly offer is for being an idiot, which, I might add, you are being right now." At the same time he spoke, a growl of distant thunder rumbled through the air as if the sky too felt exasperated with the situation.
Lawrence tore his gaze from the carpet at this and threw Severus a semi-pleading, semi-frustrated look, meeting the Potions Master's eye for the first time in minutes. This made Severus marginally happier, as he now felt less like a teacher chastising a wayward student and more like a friend helping another friend see reason (though he was honestly ready to strangle said friend). "Forgive me, Severus, but please try to understand! Anger…it's an incredibly dangerous emotion." Snape smirked humourlessly to himself. I understand that concept all too well, he thought cynically. "What begins as righteous anger can easily evolve into self-righteous anger," Lawrence was saying, "and that, in turn, can easily evolve into hatred."
Snape re-evaluated his previous decision and decided that the best place for both teacup and saucer was on the table, safely beyond his reach. "And have you progressed to either of the last two emotions?" he asked, draining his tea and setting the cup on its saucer near the plate of scones.
"Ah, well, to be completely honest, no, but –"
"Then I fail to see your point." He stuffed the rest of his scone into his mouth as both a gesture of finality and as a reason to place the small plate next to the teacup on the table, thus removing all potential projectiles from his immediate reach. This accomplished he leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and, while stifling the sudden urge to yawn, watched with sardonic amusement as Lawrence tried to compose a retort.
The pastor frowned, opened his mouth, said, "Yes, but…I…um…well…," and then trailed off, letting his mouth hang open for a moment before slowly closing it. He furrowed his brows and stared at a point on the rug near the toe of Severus's left boot, as though the way to express the fruits of his illogical thought processes to ensure that said fruits could not possibly be dismissed was woven in the threads.
Severus allowed him to flounder a moment longer, then sighed, his amusement flowing out of him along with his breath. He had grown tired of it all – Lawrence trying to convince him that Lawrence was at fault; the confusion he felt at trying to convince Lawrence that Lawrence was not at fault when usually he garnered so much pleasure from making people feel even guiltier.
Most of all, he was tired of the mass of guilt weighing down his chest.
He crossed his right leg over his left and pressed his back further into the chair as the distastefully familiar feeling of wrong-footed, embarrassed self-consciousness descended upon him once again. Though his experience with this type of situation was admittedly limited, Severus had reached the tentative conclusion that confessing guilt tended to ease it, even though the actual act of confessing and the awkward moments just after tended to smother him in humiliation.
It felt as distasteful as awarding one hundred points to Gryffindor, but Severus wanted the discussion to end so badly that even reopening the still-tender wound on his abused ego seemed a small price to pay. "Look, Lawrence," he said gruffly at the same time Lawrence looked up and said, "Forgive me, but –"
They both halted mid-sentence and stared at each other for a moment until one of the logs in the fireplace shifted, crackling loudly and sending up a shower of sparks. Lawrence jumped slightly at the unexpected sound and then flushed, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a small, sheepish grin. "You go ahead," he said, fiddling with his glasses with his left hand and motioning for Severus to talk with his right.
Severus, who had been too preoccupied with feeling guilty and uncomfortable to be startled, sighed and shot Beckett an irked frown for making him talk first. He could insist that the pastor speak first and enter the pointlessly polite cycle of "No, you go ahead;" "No, you go ahead; I insist," but that would waste time, and he wanted to get the unpleasant moment over with as fast as possible. And so, though he would rather not have had Beckett's full attention while he delivered another blow to his pride, he cleared his throat, resisted another overwhelming urge to yawn, and opened his mouth. "I cannot imagine why you insist on thinking so, but you are nowhere near as culpable in what happened as I am. The difference between us is that you, for some inexplicable reason, only feel guilty, while I, for reasons we both know, am guilty." There; I've said it, he thought, feeling both much better and much worse simultaneously, telling himself that he deserved any discomfiture he felt.
"Not anymore, you aren't," said Lawrence promptly, uncrossing his legs and leaning toward Snape. "You apologised for what you did, and I accepted your apology. That absolves you before me, the primary person wronged, and though there is still God to consider, absolution before Him will, I think, come in time." He blinked. "Providing, of course, that you're still interested in Christianity. Forgive me, Severus; that was an incredibly large assumption for me to make." He gave Snape a rueful smile, took a sip of his tea, and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Ach! Cold!" he choked once he had swallowed, then leaned forward and poured himself a new cup.
An odd feeling of shyness descended on Severus when Lawrence mentioned Christianity. He wanted to tell Lawrence that yes, he was still interested in Christianity in spite of what he had said Monday, but something held him back. He felt the way a person who had vehemently rejected an offer felt when, after consideration, he found that he actually wanted to accept the offer, but was afraid that those who had offered it would throw his refusal back in his face and tell him he had missed his chance. Though he suspected that Lawrence was not the type of person to do such a thing, still Severus hesitated to speak.
It did not improve matters that his brain felt fuzzy and sluggish. Nor did it help that the velvet warmth of the fire was caressing his skin so soothingly and that the armchair felt so comfortable…He had not slept well after Monday's fiasco, and listening to the rain while watching the flames dance in the fireplace made him feel as though he would like nothing more than to have a nap…
"Anyway," said Lawrence, startling Snape out of the beginnings of a heavy-lidded stupor, "well, forgive me, but it isn't quite true that I feel guilty for 'inexplicable reasons,' you know." He sampled his tea and then replaced the cup on its saucer, which was still balanced on the arm of his chair. "As a pastor, it's sort of worse for me to do something wrong than it is for someone else to do the same thing because I'm supposed to be a role model of how the faith should be lived out – for both Christians and non-Christians. Losing my temper with you and then leaving you to clean up the mess I helped cause weren't exactly things a role model should have done, you know," he added, his cheeks reddening.
Despite the fact his eyes felt like balls of lead, Snape managed to roll them. "If I say that I forgive you will it make you shut up?" he groused.
"Ah, well, yes, I suppose," said Lawrence, smiling through his flush. "But you really shouldn't say that unless you've re…really…" He broke off and gave an enormous yawn, then stared at nothing in particular for a few moments afterward, blinking groggily. "Oh my. My apologies, Severus, I didn't mean to –"
A blinding glare of light blazed into the room, followed instantly by a deafening KABOOOOOM!
Instantly Severus leapt to his feet, whipping out his wand and brandishing it at the window, the words Death Eaters! reverberating through his mind and his heart ramming itself against his ribcage. He stood tense and alert, eyes searching unblinkingly for any sign of movement outside, before he suddenly realised that it had only been lightning and thunder and not Death Eaters at all.
He lowered his wand slowly, feeling exceedingly foolish for pointing it at nothing, and turned to look at Lawrence, who had yelped and flinched so violently that he had knocked his plate and half-eaten scone off his lap and onto the floor. "And how long have we lived here?" asked Snape in a patronizing voice, slipping his wand back up his left sleeve as he lowered himself back into his chair.
Lawrence's fear-white face flushed crimson. "Oh shut up," he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just because I've lived here a long time doesn't mean I'm used to lightning striking right next to the church, you know." He uncrossed his left arm and reached for his teacup, but his fingers grasped only air. Severus, who took one look at the situation and realised what had happened, smirked as he watched Beckett blink, stare at the empty saucer for a moment, and then peer over the arm of the chair.
The teacup, dislodged by Beckett's earlier flinch, now lay on the floor a few centimetres from his chair, its spilled contents staining the blue carpet.
"Well damn it," said Lawrence, frowning as he surveyed the damage. He drew his wand from a pocket on the left side of his robe and then leaned over the arm of the chair, scooping up the teacup and pointing his wand at the stain. "Scourgify!" Instantly pink magic soap bubbles frothed over the blue carpet, and when they vanished nearly ten seconds later, so had the stain. Lawrence gave the clean carpet a triumphant smile and then turned his attention to collecting the plate and scone from the floor, uttering something that sounded suspiciously like another curse as he did so.
Severus watched Beckett for a moment, smirking to himself, then leaned forward to retrieve his tea, reasoning that, as the danger of him chucking anything at Lawrence had passed, it was now safe to do so. As he poured himself a new cup (the tea already inside would surely be cold by now), the thought occurred to him that now would be a perfect moment to disabuse Beckett of the notion that Severus was not interested in Christianity. Though the odd feeling of shyness mixed with uncertainty refilled him, it came unaccompanied by the sensation that his brain was immersed in soupy fog. He leaned back in his chair, took a sip of his tea, and then said nonchalantly, "By the way, in regard to your earlier assumption, I am still interested."
Lawrence, who had just finished with cleaning up and then pouring himself another cup of tea, gave Severus a blank look. "Hmm? What do you – oh!" His face brightened and a smile bloomed across it as comprehension dawned on him. "Really? You are? Splendid!" he exclaimed, eyes shining and looking as excited as if someone had told him that, until further notice, Christmas would be occurring every day of the week.
Severus outwardly smirked at Beckett's exuberance while inwardly he fought the urge to flush at being the object of so much blatant delight. "It certainly doesn't take much to make you happy, does it?" he said, taking another sip of his tea.
"Yes, well, after Monday I was so worried that my stupidity had turned you away from Christianity that to hear that you're still interested is, well, splendid!" said Lawrence, completely ignoring his own tea in his happiness. "It's sort of my job to teach others about Christianity, you know, not shove them away from it. I am the bloody pastor of a bloody church, you know," he added, now grinning like an idiot.
Severus groaned and rolled his eyes at the resurgence of the insufferable phrase, wishing he could go back in time and mute his past self before he could utter it to begin with. "As you have oft reminded me," he said dryly, "and if you remind me one more time I swear that I will Obliviate you." Lawrence merely continued to grin at him, apparently convinced that Severus was being facetious – which was only half-true.
Suddenly Beckett's eyes widened. "Oh! That reminds me! I remember you telling me on Monday morning that you wanted to borrow some of my books. Do you still want them?"
Severus, who had completely forgotten having asked to borrow books, paused in mid-motion of bringing his teacup to his lips. His brain scrambled to recover the memory, piecing together the events of the morning that, from this side of the fiasco, seemed so distant. Scenes flashed haphazardly through his mind: drinking coffee in the small kitchen – a blown up-looking Lawrence greeting him when he knocked on the door – the agonising pain he had endured when the botched potion had eaten through his clothing and burned his skin – his mind flickered back to drinking coffee; why? He concentrated on the memory, trying to recreate his mental state in that moment – and remembered that he had wanted to borrow books on redemption, forgiveness, and holy magic.
"I do, yes," he said, bringing his teacup to his lips after what seemed like hours but really amounted to only a few seconds. He described the type of books he was interested in borrowing, though he did not include the holy magic books. Only simple intellectual curiosity governed his desire to peruse books on that subject, and though it would be fascinating to read them, he had more important topics with which to occupy his mind.
"Splendid!" said Lawrence, beaming and looking so thrilled it seemed as though the tense discussion of only minutes before had never occurred. "I don't have any of those books in here, so I'll have to go to my office to get them. I'll only be a minute!" He made to balance his teacup and saucer on the arm of his chair, caught himself, gave Severus a that's-not-a-very-good-idea-now-is-it? grin, and then settled them on the table a safe distance from any edge. He then got up, stretched, and walked out of the room with such a spring in his step that he practically bounced his way through the doorway.
Severus, who had watched over his left shoulder as Beckett left, lifted a slender eyebrow and shook his head in amusement as he returned to facing the fire. He took a long drink of his tea and got halfway through wondering how much of Beckett's cheeriness could be attributed to the man's innate personality and how much could be attributed to his sugar intake when he was overcome by a jaw-cracking yawn.
But…it's not even past ten yet! he thought fuzzily to himself, giving his head a shake to wake himself up. He had no business feeling like wandering back to his room and taking a nap this early in the morning! Come to think of it, he thought, frowning and digging the nails of his right hand into his thigh to keep himself alert, I've been feeling tired for the past ten minutes or so. But why? His sleep had admittedly not been very refreshing over the past two nights, but he had endured much longer bouts of insomnia at Hogwarts and never once felt like dropping into bed before ten o'clock in the morning.
And that was while teaching classes full of dunderhead students, not sitting in front of a fireplace stuffing himself with tea and scones!
At any rate, Lawrence was feeling tired earlier as well, so it might not be simple exhaustion, he mused as his mind shuffled slowly through the events of the morning, searching for clues. He gave a vexed sigh – This would be so much easier if I wasn't so damn tired! – and raised his cup to take a sip of tea when a realisation hit him broadside.
The last time he had had vanilla tea was Sunday afternoon, when Malfoy had made his unexpected visit.
Snape froze, teacup poised just shy of his lips, then slowly returned it to its saucer as his mind began sifting through memories of that afternoon as quickly as it could in its lethargic state. He could not recall if the blue thistle-patterned teapot had been present. He had been so disturbed and shocked at Malfoy's presence inside the church that specific and relatively unimportant details – like the pattern on the teapot – had escaped his notice.
One thing he did recall, however: A similar, all-consuming fatigue had affected both him and Lawrence during the discussion they had had on Malfoy and holy magic after Malfoy departed. They both had gone to bed soon after, but – he frowned and furrowed his brow, forcing his heavy, protesting mind to think and remember – it could not have been long after four in the afternoon, if that late, when they had done so! A fuzzy memory of Lawrence hinting that he usually stayed up late dragged itself from the dismal mire of his mind, and the fact that Severus himself usually did not go to bed until after ten-thirty solidified the notion that something somewhere was amiss. To have the same feeling of fatigue strike us both at a time when we should be awake and alert defies the limits of coincidence, he thought as he leaned forward to place his tea on the table, giving his thigh an extra-hard pinch to keep himself awake enough to pursue the notion. The only common link between both situations is a pot of vanilla tea, and the greatest anomaly is one Lucius Malfoy. I wonder if he did something –
"Found them!" said Lawrence jovially. Severus started, having been concentrating so hard on remaining conscious and solving the Why Am I So Bloody Tired? riddle that he had not even heard Beckett re-enter the sitting room. He glanced away from the fire (which he realised he had been staring at blankly) in time to see Lawrence all but jump into his armchair, an excited smile on his face and two books – a thick black volume with ornate silver lettering on the cover and a slender, dark green leather-bound tome – wrapped in his arms. "You borrowed my best books on redemption and forgiveness on Saturday, you know, so this one" – he tapped the dark green book – "is sort of just supplemental. And, since you're still interested in Christianity, I also picked out one of my best – Severus? Severus?"
Severus had not heard one word Lawrence had said. The instant his mind registered that Lawrence had returned, only one line of thought managed to cross it: the fact that he could verify his suspicions (or prove himself a paranoid over-analyzer of innocent situations) simply by asking Lawrence if he had also noticed anything at all unusual. He did not know for certain that Malfoy had caused the overpowering fatigue by tampering in some way with the teapot, after all, though his instincts certainly leaned in the 'guilty' direction. Questioning Beckett about the teapot first made the most sense. If Beckett had used it since Sunday and had not experienced unusual levels of tiredness afterward, then Snape's entire theory would collapse.
The repetition of his name, however, jerked him from his contemplations back to reality. Severus gave his head a small shake, then, after digging his nails into his thigh to combat the ever-growing temptation to flop back in his armchair and sink into a stupor, he refocused his gaze on the pastor.
Beckett was staring at him, his brows pushed together and the corners of his mouth pulled down slightly to form an expression of both concern and confusion. "Is something wrong?" he asked, plainly at a loss as to why Severus no longer seemed interested in the books he had retrieved from his office.
"I don't know," said Severus, too tired and bewildered and tired of feeling bewildered to answer any way but honestly. He pressed his right hand firmly against his mouth to stifle a yawn, then gestured at the blue thistle-patterned teapot with it. "Where did you last have that teapot?"
Lawrence blinked and stared at him for a few long seconds. Then, his frown deepening, his eyes shifted to gaze at the item in question before sliding back onto Snape a moment later. "In the kitchen?" he said slowly, as if it were a trick question.
Stupid! Snape growled at himself. What else could he say, unless he's in the habit of leaving teapots sitting out wherever he last used them? "No – I meant, when did you last use it?" he said, pinching the bridge of his nose as the first jagged bolts of pain from a fatigue headache lanced through his head.
Again Lawrence stared at him as though he had quite taken leave of his lucidity. Severus stared back over his index finger and thumb while his left hand pinched his thigh, hoping the man's seemingly compulsive desire to help anyone in any way possible would override his desire to ask questions and compel him to provide answers instead.
Either the compulsion triumphed or Lawrence realised he could never outstare Severus, for after only a short staring contest the pastor sighed and shifted his gaze to frown at a spot in the ceiling. "Erm…well…it's the teapot I use to make black tea, but I've been drinking mostly coffee lately, so…um…Sunday, I think, was the last time I used it," he said, tapping the top edge of the thick black book with his right index finger. Sighing again he looked back at Severus, his question-clouded eyes and frowning expression telltale signs that he neither understood nor appreciated the sudden inquisition into his teapot usage. "May I ask why you want –" The finger stopped tapping as he broke off, blinking. For a few heartbeats his eyes glazed over in thought, and when they refocused, they held a gleam of understanding. "That was the day Lucius Malfoy came here, wasn't it?" He gave Snape a searching look. "Do you think he cast some sort of spell on the teapot before left?"
"Perhaps," said Severus, still not quite ready to fully commit himself to his theory. Lawrence's answer had only proven that the theory was not completely false, after all. There still remained the possibility – however improbable – that he had completely misjudged the circumstances. But his suspicions against Malfoy continued to hold their ground, and Lawrence, now that he had puzzled out exactly what Severus meant by his admittedly strange questions, seemed to be thinking along similar lines. All that remained now was to ask the deciding question. Giving the bridge of his nose a final, futile squeeze, he lowered his hand in spite of the growing headache pain and asked, "Do you remember anything…unusual happening on Sunday?"
"What, you mean something more unusual than a Death Eater visiting my church?" said Lawrence with a small smile, his good humour restored now that he understood why Severus had ignored the books and apparently content to ignore them as well as long as he had a good reason. Snape merely lifted his left eyebrow to form a please-answer-the-question-seriously expression. Lawrence gave him an if-you-really-must-insist smile in return and then frowned once more, though this time it was contemplative rather than frustrated. His gaze slipped to the same spot on the ceiling he had stared at earlier, while his fingers began lightly thrumming the top edges of the books. "Well," he said after nearly ten seconds had passed, "to be completely honest, I don't really remember anything unusual about Sunday other than Malfoy's visit. I imagine that you do, though." He gave Snape a sheepish smile and fiddled with his glasses.
Severus sighed. With every passing second both the fatigue headache and the exhaustion mushroomed in strength, making it harder to think, harder to remember, harder even to speak. "After Malfoy left, we had a discussion on holy magic and then on Malfoy himself," he said, digging his fingernails as far as he could into his thigh to combat his mental foes. He was caught between hoping the reminder would jog something in Beckett's memory (and thus prove he had not degenerated into an overly paranoid lunatic) and hoping that it would not. If Malfoy had tampered with the teapot in any way, the possible reasons could not be in any way good.
Beckett's eyes lit up and his fingers ceased motion at Snape's mentioning of the Sunday afternoon discussions. "Now that you mention it, I do remember feeling incredibly tired after we finished talking. That was odd, you know, since I usually stay up well past eleven p.m., and it" – he frowned and squinted at nothing in particular – "it wasn't even past five o'clock then, was it?" His eyes abruptly widened and his frown eased as an expression of dawning comprehension crept onto his face. "And it happened again this morning, didn't it? I almost fell asleep in my chair before that bloody clap of thunder scared the – well." He pinked and fiddled with his glasses again. "Did you also notice –?"
"Yes," said Severus, impatient to dispose of further discussion and test the teapot itself for enchantments while he still had the strength to use magic.
"On both days?" Severus nodded. "Really?" Lawrence's brows furrowed marginally. "Forgive me, but then why didn't you check –?"
"I only made the connection less than ten minutes ago," said Severus, "and I wanted to make sure I wasn't imagining things before I started throwing spells at your possessions."
"Ah. Well, that was very considerate of you, you know." Severus gave Lawrence a look, then, too tired to decipher whether or not he was being serious, he drew his wand from his left sleeve and shifted to face the teapot.
It sat clustered with and slightly in front of the milk jug, sugar bowl, jar of raspberry jam, and butter dish. The plate of cooled scones and Lawrence's empty teacup and the scone he had knocked to the floor earlier were to its left, while the small stack of empty plates, Severus's used plate, and his half-drunk tea were on its right. Behind the table the fire flickered and danced softly, sparking occasionally and bathing everything before it in warm, golden-orange light.
The scene looked entirely innocent, but Severus, glowering at the teapot as though it had committed a criminal act, flicked his wand at it irritably. "Specialis Revelio!"
Lawrence's eyes widened and his mouth formed an 'o' shape, but Severus watched with little surprise as the teapot began glowing a bright, silvery-blue, giving the sides of the objects facing it a sapphire tint. After a few moments the magical light deepened to a colour reminiscent of a clear evening sky, then slowly faded and allowed the firelight to dominate once more.
"Well," said Lawrence, his eyes still wide, "I daresay that means Malfoy enchanted it."
Snape nodded. "The bastard," he growled as he stuffed his wand back up his sleeve, almost angry enough to fight off the crushing compulsion to lapse into a daze.
Lawrence made a sceptical noise in his throat and rubbed his jaw in front of his ear. "Forgive me, but…um…I really don't see why Malfoy casting a sleeping spell on my teapot is so…well…bastardly," he said, giving Severus an apologetic look.
Snape glared at him incredulously. "And why not? He probably meant to put us both into so deep a sleep that he and some other Death Eaters could break in later and murder you and capture me! Is that bastardly enough for you?" he snapped, caught between both hating that he could still think like a Death Eater and feeling thankful that he could, as it allowed him to avoid being caught unawares by anything they might do.
"Please calm down, Severus," said Lawrence, holding up his hands in a conciliatory manner, allowing the books to slump forward into his lap. "I'm sure you're right, since you know him better than I do and know what he's likely to do."
Severus harrumphed, though it turned into a groan as particularly sharp spike of pain lanced through his head. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose harshly; then, ashamed at losing his temper, he sighed and muttered around his hand, "Sorry."
"It's alright," came the almost expected reply.
Severus sighed again, wondering not ungratefully how Lawrence managed to be so kind all the bloody time. Concluding that pinching the bridge of his nose was not helping, he lowered his hand, forced open the eyes he had stupidly closed, and faced Beckett once again. "At any rate, what I fail to understand is how Malfoy managed to get inside if he was intending to set things up so he could capture me later," he said, rerouting the conversation back to the original topic.
Lawrence shrugged. "Maybe he didn't come here intending to use the sleeping spell. Before you joined us on Sunday, he just seemed interested in getting information, you know. Maybe he…well…sort of had the idea after you came in and then cast the spell on an impulse."
"Perhaps," said Severus, frowning, "but then why didn't your holy magic ward do something to him the instant he had the thought?"
"Probably because he wasn't trying to cast a killing curse, just a sleeping spell," said Lawrence. "The Sanctuary Ward is designed to prevent the entry of anyone who wants to harm or kill someone who has taken refuge inside, you know, since the church is supposed to be a place of sanctuary. Hence the name," he added, smiling. "And, to be completely honest, I really don't know what the ward would do to someone who suddenly went mental after coming inside and tried to murder someone. No one in my congregation has tried it yet, you know."
"Shocking."
"Isn't it?" said Lawrence, grinning a grin so evident of boundless energy that it drained Severus to simply look at his face. His eyelids felt like they were coated in stone, and fight it as he might, the encroaching fields of blackness in his vision only expanded. "Anyway, what Malfoy intended to harm you actually sort of helped you, you know, since the spell gave you a good night's – Severus!"
He scrambled out of his armchair and just managed to catch Snape – who had but for a thread of consciousness finally succumbed to the overpowering urge to fall asleep – before he collapsed face-first onto the table.
The jolt of an abruptly terminated fall jerked Severus from plummeting into complete oblivion, strengthening his thread of consciousness so that he could open his eyes. He stared at the strange, smooth brown surface lined with darker brown markings for he knew not how long before realising that he was staring at wood, and that the tip of his nose missed touching it by only a few centimetres.
The sound of a familiar voice fell on his ear, but it took every ounce of strength he had left to concentrate and understand the words. "…wha…ng…verus…what…wrong? Severus…you hear me? What's the matter with you?" Hands suddenly gently shoved his shoulders back, forcing him to sit upright, and he realised the wood he had been staring at was the table and that Lawrence was kneeling on one knee slightly to Snape's left. "What is the matter with you?" Lawrence repeated slowly, his forehead furrowed and his eyes wide in alarm.
"Tired," Severus rasped, not having the strength to form a more complex reply. His body lurched forward, as he almost did not have the strength to stay erect, but Lawrence tightened his grip on Severus's shoulders and pushed him into a vertical sitting position once again. The thought 'this is humiliating' tried to cross his mind, but only the word 'this' managed to complete the journey.
"You're tired?" said Lawrence, frowning. "But why? I'm not, and we both used the same teapot! We even drank about the same amount of tea, if I recall correctly; so there's no reason the spell should have affected you more, is there? … Oh bloody hell, I am such an idiot!" he swore a moment later, planting his left hand in the middle of Severus's chest so he could rummage around in his robe with his right. The angry tone and abrupt transference of his weight from two hands to one jarred Snape from slipping further into unconsciousness. He blinked heavily and focused his vision just as Lawrence drew his wand and pointed it at him. "Finite Incantatem!"
For a moment Severus felt no different. Then, ever so slowly, he felt the pressure to fall asleep lift from his mind, his shoulders, his entire body as though an invisible sun was burning away a thick fog layer by layer. Nearly five minutes later he could sit upright unaided and felt as energized as he had before he had started drinking the tainted tea, and though his energy level then had not been exceptionally high, it seemed immense in comparison to only five minutes prior.
"I am so sorry I didn't think to do that earlier," said Lawrence sheepishly, still kneeling on one knee beside Severus's chair. "You have my sincerest apologies."
Severus stared at him. Now that Beckett had done the spell, it seemed so obvious a thing to do that he felt exceedingly dim-witted for not having thought of it himself. "No need. It never even occurred to me to have you try Finite before now," he said, waving his hand dismissively.
"Yes, well, you were too tired to have thought of it, you know. I was just too stupid." He gave Severus a self-deprecating smile and then, leaning heavily on the arm of the chair, pulled himself to his feet. "Ouch," he hissed under his breath, giving his right kneecap a quick massage before fully straightening up. He turned to go sit back down in his chair, but paused midway and stared appraisingly at the teapot. "Well, it did work on you" – he aimed this remark at Severus – "and anyway, it's worth a try, so" – he raised his wand – "Finite Incantatem!"
Nothing seemed to happen, so Severus withdrew his wand and pointed it at the teapot. "Specialis Revelio!" It did not glow with a silvery-blue light this time but merely sat on the table, a simple teapot once more.
"Splendid!" said Lawrence, smiling at Severus. "Thank God I didn't use it again until today. I would probably have collapsed in the kitchen and then woken up confused, never able to figure out – Ach!" he exclaimed. Severus leaned forward to see what he was looking at and caught a glimpse of the books – the thick black one lying face-down and open, crinkling the pages on which it rested, while the green one laid on top of it – before Lawrence moved to collect them, blocking his view. "It seems all my things have ended up on the floor this morning," he said with a shake of his head as he sat down. "First my scone, then my tea, now my books – I'm surprised I didn't knock anything off of the table when I flew out of my chair to catch you! Ah well; I suppose that it is sort of my fault everything ended up on the floor at all…" He trailed off and began smoothing the crinkled pages of the black book.
Severus, however, had stopped listening once Lawrence had mentioned his tea. The word had summoned the memory of the event, and something in the back of his mind kept insisting that this scene held the answer as to why he had grown tired again after the thunder while – Wait! Lawrence knocked his tea off the chair arm because of the thunder, but afterward – That's it! he mentally exclaimed, elated that his mind was working quickly once again.
"This really is no way for a pastor to treat a Bible, you know; or anyone, for that ma –"
"It was the thunder," said Snape.
Lawrence blinked at the interruption of his chattering and looked up at the interrupter. "Hmm? What about the thunder?"
"It was the thunder!" repeated Snape impatiently. "We had both been drinking the tea and getting tired, but it startled us enough to fight off the effects of the spell! And afterward –"
"– I didn't drink any more tea, but you did!" Lawrence smiled broadly at him. "Well, it's obvious that you're back to normal. It would have taken me much longer to figure that out, if I ever managed to figure it out at all."
Severus inwardly rolled his eyes at the self-deprecating statement, but impulsively decided to sidestep his habitual way of dealing with such an attitude and said gruffly, "You're a Slytherin, Lawrence. Of course you would have figured it out." It felt odd giving a compliment without first disguising it beneath layers of insult, but at the same time it also felt oddly…pleasant.
"Really? You think so?" said Lawrence, beaming at Snape so brightly that his face could have outshone the enchanted teapot.
Though Snape felt pleased that his words had elicited such a response, it also made him feel so uncomfortable that he cleared his throat and gestured at the books in Beckett's arms in a bid to change the subject. "So, ah, what books do you have there?"
If possible, Lawrence's face lit up even more. "Ah, yes, the books!" He separated the two and held up the thick black one. "This one is a Bible," he said rather needlessly, as the words 'Holy Bible' were written in large, ornate silver letters on the front. Beneath them were the words 'New International Version,' whatever that meant. "And this one…well…" Lawrence trailed off and frowned at the slender green volume, then tucked it between his left leg and the side of the chair. "This one you don't really need, actually, since you have the best of my redemption books already, and anyway, they make much more sense if you've read the Scriptures they're based off of." He smiled and then held out the Bible.
Severus took it from him and held the spine in one hand, letting it fall open so he could thumb through the surprisingly thin pages. If he had to read this entire book before he could truly understand the other books Lawrence had given him – which he had found fascinating regardless of not knowing the source on which they were based – and thus make an informed decision about this whole Christian business, he might as well send Dumbledore a letter asking for the rest of the year off.
"You don't need to read it all, you know," said Lawrence, seemingly reading Snape's mind. "I would recommend starting with Luke and John, the last two Gospels, so you can get acquainted with the type of person Christ was and the sort of things He did."
"Why the two of them?" asked Snape. "If they're all about him, wouldn't they all have the same basic information?"
"Yes, well, the first three Gospels – Matthew, Mark, and Luke – are very similar, since they were all based on another document called the Q Document. They do vary slightly, though, since they were written with different audiences in mind," said Lawrence, sounding very much in his element. "John was written from different sources, so it's quite different from the other three. More…er…theologically dense, I suppose you could say."
"Ah."
Lawrence smiled. "Anyway, once you've read those, I'd recommend reading Ephesians and Philippians next, and then 1 John. These books will give you the best understanding of the faith, and if you have any questions, I'll do my best to answer them for you."
Severus nodded, committing the names to memory, and opened the Bible to the table of contents to see on what page each book began. Immediately he noticed that all five of them were in the very back. "What about everything before those five?" he asked, carefully flipping through the pages.
"Ah, well, that's the Old Testament. Basically the Old Testament is the Jewish faith, and the New Testament is the Christian faith, which Christians believe is a fulfilment of Old Testament teachings and prophecies. You can ignore it for now, though there are some books, like Proverbs, that you might like. Do you have any more questions?"
Severus shook his head.
"Splendid!" said Lawrence. "I'll let you start reading, then, while I clean up this mess," he added, nodding at the tea things and levering himself out of his chair. Severus did not offer to help as Beckett collected the plate of scones and stacked Severus's plate with the unused ones before picking them up, assuming that he would only politely decline as before. True to his conjecture, Beckett said nothing as Severus rose and took his cloak from the back of the chair. He simply smiled at Snape as he walked by, humming as though he had forgotten all about their rather tense discussion on forgiveness and about Malfoy's enchanting of the teapot.
This observation reminded Severus of something that he had completely forgotten about. Even though he still thought that Lawrence had no business apologising for acting the way he did, Lawrence obviously felt that he needed Severus's pardon; and so, to give his friend peace of mind, he called out, "Wait."
Lawrence, who had been half way out the door, paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Hmm? Is something wrong?"
"No," said Severus, wondering how he should word what he wanted to say. "I simply wanted to say that…ah…I accept your apology," he finished, immediately berating himself for sounding so stupid.
Lawrence, however, gave him so huge a smile that it put both his earlier beam and the enchanted teapot to shame. "Really? You do? Splendid!" he exclaimed, looking both delighted and relieved. They stared at each other for a few seconds more before Lawrence, apparently remembering that his arms were full of dirty dishware and cold scones, gave Severus a final smile and disappeared around the jamb.
Severus stared at the empty space where Beckett had stood for a moment longer, feeling the same warm pleasure he had felt when he had complimented the pastor. Thinking sardonically that perhaps, like any other poison, being nice was not lethal in small doses, he smirked to himself and set a course for his guestroom.
Unlike Lawrence he had not forgotten about Malfoy, but in his good mood the threat the cunning Death Eater posed seemed somehow more distant and small. Besides, he thought as he sat down at the desk and flipped through the pages to the Gospel of Luke, none of the Death Eaters – not even Malfoy – can harm me while I am inside the church.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
A/N: Phew! Once again, I'm sorry this took forever to get out. I truly am. It doesn't seem like almost half a year since I last updated, but the calendar proves me wrong. So, to those who are still reading this: thanks for still reading, even after it took nigh forever to post more. Big thanks go out to you!
So, we're finally back on the God track, which is what this story is supposed to be about anyway. Yay! It will probably very theological from here on out, so…yeah. It's pretty self-explanatory that a story about a character converting to Christianity would have a lot of spiritual concepts in it, no? :)
School is school, but in spite of that, I'll do my best to post in reasonable time. However, don't quote me on it. It will be posted when it is posted. On that note, if anyone is interested in being part of a mailing list so I can alert those who don't have accounts with when the story is updated (or to give out updates on progress in general), let me know. It will also let you contact me and (gently) pester me that yes, you would in fact like an update before you have grey hair and grandchildren (unless of course you already have those; then, let's say, before your hair is greyer and your grandchildren older. :) )
And on that note, that's it. Thanks again to anyone still reading!
Cheers,
Ballad
