Disclaimer: Not my characters. When we left the Unholy Trinity, Fred and George had almost fulfilled every Hogwarts' student's secret wish - to blow up Severus Snape.
A very intense light.
A deafening explosion.
That's all Severus remembered before he regained consciousness and quickly wished that he hadn't, having found himself being dragged down a long, dusty corridor. He tried not to think too much, as his head was in agony, but still he did. Two very important questions kept popping to the forefront of his aching mind.
Who was dragging him?
Where were they dragging him?
Severus did not remember ever being in this particular tunnel, and the light, while dim, was too bright, adding additional painful throbbing to his aching head. He couldn't even see who was holding the wand, but it was at a very low height.
He last remembered being in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, but … where was he now?
Who ever was dragging him was aiming to be gentle, so odds were quite good that it wasn't the Carrows. They'd bump his head on the ground while they dragged him by his ankles. But if it was the good guys, that mutt Black would deliberately conk his head on every low wooden beam while that spineless, pathetic excuse of a werewolf Remus Lupin refused to intervene beyond the shaking of his head in silent disapproval.
"Merlin's beard, the boy's heavier than I thought he was," whispered a female voice. "Always thought he was a slip of a lad with those billowing robes."
"Black's considered slimming, maybe that's why it's all he wears," snarked another female voice.
Maybe it was Narcissa?
Cissy was keen on fashion and was always harassing him to add a splash of color in his wardrobe. Didn't sound like her, plus she would not be dragging him, as that was physical labor, suitable for house elves, not a pure blood.
"Or maybe the boy's in mourning," retorted a male voice. "I swear you two cackle like two old hens."
"Filius… maybe you've forgotten something, Min and I are old hens, luv! But seriously, Fi, we need to stop for a moment, I need to readjust him," said the snarky female voice. "His arm is around my neck like the boy is trying to throttle me, and I've got a pinched nerve, Filius. Old Quidditch injury."
Filius? Filius Flitwick?
He was safe then. The other woman supported him while the other woman moved him to a more comfortable position.
"Sorry, Ro, I can't physically carry the boy, and using magic on him right now would be suicidal," Filius patiently explained as though he was repeating an explanation to a particularly dense first year. "He'd no doubt attack first and then ask questions."
Ro? Rolanda Hooch? Maybe I'm not safe after all. Friendly fire has taken out more witches and wizards…..and Rolanda's aim isn't that accurate at the best of times.
"How much longer?"
That was the other female voice.
"A little bit, Min."
Minerva? Rolanda? I felt significantly safer when I thought it was Cissy.
"I didn't know about this particular corridor, Filius," Minerva sounded disapproving.
Aha! So, in spite of rumors to the contrary, Minerva didn't know everything after all! He bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling. It was delightful to know that even Minerva wasn't all knowing and infallible. No, that was Albus' role in the universe.
"The Ravenclaw Head knows the castle' secrets," Filius tersely retorted.
"Or at least the ones Rowena created," Ro quipped.
"Guilty as charged. Did the lad come around yet?" softly questioned Filius.
The bright light came closer to him, and Severus realized that Filius was holding the light as high as he could in his upraised hand. That's why the light was so low. Severus tried to answer, but his response was a low, incoherent mumble.
"Don't talk, Severus. About ten more minutes, and you'll be in your suite," the Charms Instructor softly promised.
"It would have been faster for us to Stun Dolores and go the regular route," Rolanda huffed and puffed. "Can you help us out, Severus? Regardless of what you may have been told, I can assure you that you're not made out of gossamer and fairy wings, and you're getting a wee bit heavy."
"Someone needs to get off their broom more," Minerva commented to the world at large.
"Are you saying that I've got a broom butt?" Rolanda hotly questioned.
"You're the one getting winded," Minerva replied, her voice completely free from any nuances, which naturally meant that Minerva had scored on Rolanda. "Not I."
Best thing to do then was just to pretend to be completely out of it. Like hell did he want be known as an eye witness to a cat fight between Hooch and McGonagall. Didn't mean that under normal circumstances he would not enjoy overhearing it, except now their voices would be so shrill, and Merlin's bloody tye dyed tunic, his head hurt as though it was a bell rung by an overly enthusiastic Quasimodo.
The dangerous trio got him to his suite with none the wiser and no more hissing and flying of cat fur. Gratefully, he collapsed onto his bed.
"Blue bottle," he slurred.
Thank Merlin; Filius had tended to him so frequently after Severus had experienced the Dark Lord's tender mercies that the Charms Instructor knew exactly what Severus needed. The Charms Instructor crisply instructed Minerva where to find the potion. Severus needed the blue bottle to put his head to rights, as he'd be easy prey for the Dark Lord if he was summoned as dazed and confused he currently was.
Filius also knew enough not to let him have the potion unless it was an emergency. Over the years, Severus had developed a tolerance to the various fundamental healings potions, requiring him to utilize more and more esoteric components in order to achieve the same results. After Filius helped undress him, as the number of buttons on his black funeral coat had apparently multiplied exponentially, Severus was content to crawl under his bed covers, and he gratefully began to doze.
But he had such weird dreams, no doubt due to a sleeping potion Filius had forced upon him.
Poppy arrived, gave him a ration and a half for his misdeeds, and then turned into a poppy plant with bright red flowers on which he then proceeded to snack….
He was in a large comfortable bed, Filius, wearing a striped nightshirt plus a tasseled night cap jauntily perched on his head, was on his right and Minerva was on his left, wearing her crooked witch's hat, and tartan jimjams. Rolanda Hooch then blew her referee whistle, giving Slytherin a technical foul for getting fresh with the Head of Gryffindor and he stared at the witch in complete befuddlement. She was dressed in her Quidditch Referee robes, riding her broom... and she was proudly wearing ripped fishnet stockings and stiletto heels…
"Severus?" Rolanda questioned. "Do you agree that I've got a broom butt?"
He was young again, and he was back at the zoo, desperately trying to find Lily.
Severus had found something when he had been watching the Nāgas and he wanted to show it to his friend. Lily didn't like Nāgas, as Lily thought that snakes were evil and creepy and icky and that Nāgas were even worse, so she had decided to look at the Panda Bears instead. Trust a girl to think like that, Severus had thought, but wisely never said to Lily. He didn't want her angry with him and risk losing his only friend.
No, it was enough that his father was mad at him because he had gone to the zoo with the Evans. Tobias never liked it when Severus played with Lily, as Tobias thought the boy got uppity because the Evans were richer than the Snapes. Tobias was chasing him, as his father was furious; Tobias never really needed a reason to be angry with Severus, besides the simple fact that Tobias was his father. Fearing Tobias' temper and his thick black leather belt, Severus ran as fast as he could.
Severus knew that he needed to hide; he needed to find a sanctuary, as his father was right behind him. His terror began to overpower him, a panicking, drowning sensation and Severus unwillingly shrieked when he ran into someone… something… hard. He heard a squawk, there were feathers flying everywhere….
NO! It was Garuda
The half man half eagle who hated snakes… which meant he hated Severus because if there was ever a boy that was destined to be a snaky, slithering Slytherin, it was Severus Tobias Snape.
YOU AGAIN? Garuda thundered in a voice of flame and fire. I WON'T ACHIEVE ENLIGHTENMENT IF YOU CONSTANTLY INSIST ON BLOODY INTERRUPTING ME WHILE I'M READING.
Caught between the enemy he knew and feared and the enemy he truly didn't know, but one who Severus believed to be a snake hating, fire breathing mythological creature with razor-sharp claws and a finely honed beak, Severus did what any frightened, badly abused nine year old boy would do.
He burst into tears, but Severus still tried to hide them, knowing that the fearsome Garuda would mock his tears. Wiping his tearing eyes on the sleeve of his very best shirt that he had been allowed to wear only because the Evans were taking him to the zoo, he tried not to sniffle. Naturally, his best attempts were due to failure.
His father was so close, Severus started shaking in his fear and to his surprise, Garuda threw down the book he had been reading and completely engulfed him in his eagle wings. The weeping boy shuddered and trembled when he heard Tobias scream his name and threaten to give Sev what was coming to him. Yet, Garuda held and sheltered him.
SUFFER THE LITTLE CHILDREN COME UNTO ME.
The wings were warm and protective, Garuda was stroking Severus' greasy hair with his human hand and Severus drifted to sleep, clutching his most prized possession in his fist. It wasn't just a metal hairpin; it was everything that that small pin represented, everything for which the adult Severus had ever secretly yearned and had long since bitterly accepted that he never deserved.
Sleep. I will guard you and you will be safe. One can not achieve spiritual illumination if by searching for it, you allow children to be harmed.
Severus might have had other dreams that night, but he didn't remember them upon waking.
Instead, when a disorientated Severus woke, he pondered about what dreams he did remember and wondered about the hair pin that he was tightly clutching in his fist.
Minerva softly grumbled when she realized that another two hours had gone by, and it was now once again time to confirm that Severus was among the living and pour more of Poppy's potion down his throat. It was quite remarkable that Severus had been such a pleasant patient so far, as it was truly unlike the boy. Severus didn't grouse upon being woken and he accepted the potion without complaint or even a quiet muttered snide comment on how he could have easily improved the taste. Cracking her neck, shuddering in painful delight as her bones realigned themselves, she proceeded to stretch, flick her little cat claws carefully, and then jumped off the couch.
Transfiguring back to her human form took a moment, as Merlin's beard, she hurt. Even in cat form, Severus' couch was damn uncomfortable. The comfy chair in his bedroom, on the other hand, had been far too relaxing, as she had found herself drifting off into a deep sleep. Changing into her cat form and catnapping on Severus' couch had been the only option if she wanted to get any sleep and still keep watch over Severus. Yes, she could have transfigured the couch into something a little more comfortable, but she was a nurse, not even a guest, in Severus' quarters, and good manners demanded that she not willy nilly transfigure Severus' belongings.
To her surprise, Severus was completely unaware that she was in his quarters, as he was in the process of changing. His wardrobe was open; displaying a neat row of what was probably identical outfits. The boy had apparently taken a shower as he was starkers and there was a wet towel on his bed. Instinctively, she sharply inhaled. The witch's only excuse to defend her gasp of surprise was that Severus did posses a fine arse. Not that anyone would have guessed that tasty tidbit, as Severus had it thoroughly hidden beneath his funeral coat and flowing academic robe.
Severus turned to face her. His face turned white when he realized too late that he was starkers in front of Minerva McGonagall. Minerva did not expect his reaction as the Potions Master didn't reach for his wand, hex her or shout. No, instead he twisted his left arm oddly, no doubt to hide his … attributes…, even as his robe flew from the bed to drape itself over his left arm and around his waist.
The boy's hiding his Death Mark tattoo, Minerva realized. He is more ashamed of me seeing that than the fact that he's not wearing a stitch of clothing.
It was clear that Severus was mortified, but his pride demanded that he pretend that he wasn't. His voice was cool and controlled when he was finally composed enough to speak.
"I believed that Filius was playing nursemaid. Please turn around, Minerva. These last two mornings, I have made an unfortunate habit of prancing about buck naked for the lurid enjoyment of mature witches and it is not something that I am truly comfortable doing."
Minerva turned around, faced the bathroom, but since the door was open, the mirror showed her everything that was occurring behind her back. Severus had his back towards her, and he was quickly putting on his pants, but she couldn't help but focus on the crisscrosses of old scars on the boy's back.
Who gave those to you? She wondered, feeling a moment of compassion for Severus. What did they use? It looks like a belt.
Damn it, Severus would be furious if he realized where she was standing and what she had seen, so she spun around of her heels to find a safe spot in which to focus her eyes.
"Mature witches?" Her tone was acidic. Apologizing to Severus would do no good, Minerva knew, so it was best if they verbally sparred.
"Yes, the India Headmistress is probably a contemporary of Albus, so that qualifies her as mature," Severus retorted. "Well, physically mature. Emotionally? That's another ball of wax."
"I'm not as old as Albus!" Minerva protested. "Kritika isn't that much older than I am. She was Head Girl during Filius' sabbatical there."
Merlin! She sounded like a shrew. An OLD shrew.
"Aren't all teachers far older than their years in the eyes of their students, no matter how old their students become?" Severus softly drawled.
The Potions Master had deliberately added that little twist to his comment, so Minerva knew full well that he was talking about her. The opportunity to take the mickey out of him was far too tempting to let go unchallenged.
"You're quite correct, Severus. Just the other day, I heard a Hufflepluff first year assure a Ravenclaw firstie in all seriousness that you are at least in your mid seventies. It seems the current rumor making its way through the dorms is that your hair is far too dark to be natural without the use of hair darkening potions." She dryly announced that tidbit, and started mentally counting down, waiting for Severus' irate reaction.
Three…. Two… One….
"Which fumble fingered, lack witted, talentless, brain dead hack said THAT?"
The anger in his voice combined with the very idea of Severus interrogating every frightened Hufflepuff firstie until he found out who the unfortunate soul had been was entirely too funny. Minerva giggled and then she laughed out loud.
"Merlin's left saggy tit," Severus snapped. "You're mocking me."
"No, I'm not, but the chance to tease you was far too tempting, Severus. I'm assuming that you are feeling much better as you are up to sparring?"
He didn't answer her immediately, and then he sniped, "I'm presentable. You can turn around now."
Minerva did so slowly, and she was pleased to see that Severus was blushing slightly when their eyes met. His hand was outstretched towards her, and Severus seemed rather hesitant.
Her eyes then focused on what he held in his hand. It was her hairpin! How much did the boy remember?
"Is this… yours?" His voice was rather subdued.
"Yes," Minerva tersely admitted. She reached for it, and took it from him, her fingers touching his hand. "Thank you."
"I don't know why I had it," Severus slowly admitted. "Care to enlighten me? Last night is… bit of a blank slate."
"First of all, Severus, you got knocked on your bum by one of the Weasley Fire Crackers."
There! Best start off with the small problems and then work up to the fact that he had kissed her. Or perhaps it would be better not to mention that, as that one small kiss last weekend had caused her previously uncomplicated relationship with Severus to veer into dangerous, uncharted depths.
She ceased talking when Severus growled. It was a low, deep growl, promising untold painful retribution.
"Sev, they were quite concerned," she informed him.
Fred and George were her House students after all, and she would protect them from Severus. The Potions Instructor had agreed to test their fireworks, knowing full well that they weren't perfected. In a moment of unexpected clarity, Minerva also remembered that the only reason Severus had agreed to light the fireworks was to protect her and Filius from the twins' mayhem.
Damn it, she owed Severus.
"Probably praying that they had slain the Great Greasy Git of the Dungeon," retorted Severus.
"You were out of it for a bit, so we brought you here. While we were dragging your sorry arse through one of Filius' secret tunnels, you accidentally pulled that hair pin out of my hair," she smoothly lied. "You stumbled because it was dark, and you instinctively grabbed me for support. You promised to hold it for me until we got you here, but you were dead on your feet when we arrived. I thought it best not to wake you for a mere hairpin."
Severus gave her a very long stare, as though he was weighing to believe her or not, so it was time to distract him.
"I spoke to India last night, Severus."
That was probably the most distracting topic of conversation she could bring to mind. Well, besides dropping her robes and offering to shag the boy then and there.
"INDIA?" Severus growled.
"Yes, they've agreed to reconsider their decision not to attend. Well, actually Kritika said that the matter would be voted on by the Cadre, so that's significantly better than a 'Hell, no! We won't show!'." She paused, and then pounced. "Oh, before you even think to volunteer to miss the party, you're still attending this farce of Albus' even if I have to drag you to the Quidditch Pitch. Last night proved that I can physically drag you throughout the castle."
Severus looked doubtful, and Minerva bit back her sigh.
"Well, with a little help from Rolanda, I can drag you. But it's almost breakfast, Severus. I need to be leaving before your little Slytherins start wandering the halls. It would do your reputation no good to have me seen leaving your suite at this time in the morning," she announced in ringing tones.
Minerva turned to leave when Severus quietly spoke.
"It actually might do my reputation a world of good if you were seen leaving my quarters," he softly whispered.
There was no way that she was supposed to hear that comment, but Severus was obviously still not one hundred percent from the previous night.
Merlin's Beard, the boy still had it so bad for her. Why hadn't she noticed his infatuation before now?
Because you thought he was a nasty git, that's why. Her inner voice snarkily reminded her before pricking her with a sharp pin. You should be nicer to him!
Why? He might get the wrong idea!
And when was the last time Minerva, that you let your hair down and had a good, proper shagging? The kind where you need hours to brush all the knots out of your hair?
Remus Lupin… it was…a little over a year ago.
More than a year ago! It was the morning he resigned because of that werewolf incident. You grabbed him in the staffroom, kicked the poor boggart family out of the wardrobe and shagged him in the wardrobe. TWICE.
Three times, actually. If you're going to browbeat me over my affairs, it's quite helpful if you get the basic stats right.
Her conscience made a rather rude noise.
You should think about shagging Severus. You could do a lot worst than a boy who worships the ground you walk on. Barty Crouch, Jr, ring any bells?
I thought he was Moody, damn it! Besides, Barty and I didn't do a damn thing. THANK MERLIN!
No. If he had leered Moody's all seeing eye ball at you, you would have jumped the man and done him in Rolanda's broom closet.
ENOUGH!
Min, you're still a young witch. When was the last time you actually bedded a man who loved you? No, the last few affairs have been mutual grope fests...
HEY!
Fueled by sexual tension. While I'm not denying that lusty, sweaty grope fests are quite enjoyable, it's called making LOVE for a reason. Come on, Min, the boy's hung like a hippogryph, and Severus wants you. He's probably got you on a pedestal, which means you'll have to make the first move. Come on, girl. You know the boy's not a virgin, but I doubt anyone's ever touched the boy in love. You could be his first.
NOT LISTENING!
You're right. You're not listening. Not at all. Then, please explain, why do you keep salivating over the boy's...
Minerva promptly threw her conscience into a mental wardrobe, complete with a matching, imaginary boggart, locked the door and lost the key.
"Never fear, Minerva," Severus said in a voice she was meant to hear. "My little Slytherins usually sleep in on Saturday mornings. On Friday nights, they customarily have a party in the common room until the wee hours. I'm not supposed to know, naturally, but as long as no one is injured and the House Elves don't complain about the mess, I let it slide."
The witch executed a perfect pivot on her right foot, so that she now facing Severus. Both arms were crossed and she wore a stern look of disapproval, which was quite ruined by her amused eyes.
"Severus!" Minerva protested in fake astonishment. "Don't tell me that you allow parties in your common room! That's so… Hufflepuff!"
"Yes," Severus dryly retorted. "Horace was the one that started the tradition. He thought it a fine way of making connections with the promising students. Though, unlike the parties in Horace's era, all Slytherins are permitted to attend. Not just Slugs' little Slugettes."
"I never understood why you weren't a member of that odious club," Minerva admitted. Mentally, she winced as she realized anew that Lily Evans had been a member, which was probably why Severus had declined membership.
"I was never one of Horace's dazzling shining stars. He has the knack of looking at people, and picking those students with long, bright futures. My future is not long, nor is it particularly bright, Minerva."
Instinctively, she reached out and hugged him. It mattered not to Minerva that he was the Greasy Haired Git, Sarcastic Slytherin, Sometimes Bane of her Existence, the boy was in emotional pain. Severus recoiled immediately, but she continued to hold him until he relaxed into her embrace. Minerva deliberately held the embrace for a bit longer, and then stepped back from him.
The boy is touch starved, she sadly thought.
"I always thought Horace was a pompous ass who would run at the first sign of trouble, Severus. I'll see you at breakfast, Severus. Yes, you need something to eat."
Minerva managed to beat most of the teachers to breakfast and she was proud that she looked presentable, unlike Charity, Aurora and Pomona who had partied rather hard from the looks of them, and were still hung over. She was had just greeted Severus with a nod when Albus Dumbledore swept past them on the way to his seat. He stopped a few paces away from them, returned to stand in front of them, dramatically sniffed the air, and then leaned over to the dangerous duo. In a conspiring whisper, loud enough for all the deaf children in China to hear him, the Hogwarts Head Master whispered, "Erumpet and Ashwind eggs? You three are lucky you didn't bring the Great Hall down around your ears."
His blue eyes twinkled merrily. Minerva, refusing to admit anything, noticeably sniffed the air and leaned toward Severus.
"No, it smells like breakfast to me. You must be smelling the porridge, Albus," Minerva promptly answered. "Severus? Do you agree?"
Severus promptly agreed, before suggesting that perhaps an elf had burnt toast.
Rather than taking them to task for lying, Albus' blues eyes began twinkling even more.
In a softer voice, Albus informed them that they were meeting him on Wednesday at seven so they could finalize the party. He then swept away from them, his robes swinging behind him.
"Sometimes, I truly hate that man," Minerva whispered.
"Most of the time so do I," Severus softly admitted.
"I suppose it was foolish to hope that he'd remain blissfully unaware of our nefarious plans," wryly admitted Minerva.
"Rather naive also," Severus softly drawled. "He's a manipulative, barmy old codger that has his bloody finger in every bloody pie."
Dolores Umbridge then flounced into the room, wearing a shocking pink cardie, pink slacks and hot pink ballet shoes. She made a beeline to Filius, who claimed complete innocence on the reason why the very foundation of Hogwarts had trembled the night before. The two of them argued for a bit, with Filius finally having enough.
"I am not too old to practice my Charms. I do not need you to baby sit me!" Filius squeaked. "Need I remind you that I taught you? And I know how well you did in Charms, Dolores. I'd rather have Rolanda look after me. Least she made the effort to pass my class!"
That comment angered Dolores, and her face turned particularly toad-like. The High Inquisitor realized that everyone was watching her altercation with Filius, and she began to sweetly simper.
"I'm just worried about you, Filius. Considering your age and your precarious health," she said sweetly. "I'd hate for anything to happen to you."
Severus rubbed his head as though physically pained by the sight of the Lady in Pink, and Minerva sighed. It was a damn shame that Filius was sitting next to Wilhelmina this semester rather than next to Severus, but at least Wilhelmina was keeping Filius under control. If it had been her, Minerva would have cheered Filius on when he offered to duel Dolores to the death. Hell, she would have taken wagers!
"Did anyone tell her it's considered terribly gauche to wear pink after you're five?" Minerva quipped.
"She probably hexed them," was Severus' instantaneous response. "Choked them to death with a bloody pink bow."
Wednesday night.
Severus, Albus and Minerva were sitting in Albus' office, and recounting the guest list. They had counted the guest list six times, and they were in process of counting it once more. To Severus' horror, his count was once again an impossibly high number. Then Minerva and Albus both agreed on his count.
523.
Five hundred and twenty three witches and wizards… and only a few of them are the local mages.
That impossibly high count included at best, a rough estimate of the Tanaka Yukiro contingency, as Yukiro's frightened Demiguise was still remaining invisible and refusing to relinquish Yukiro's letter to anyone. But never fear; Wilhelmina was still promising to get the letter from the Demiguise before Saturday in order to get a definite count for the Nippon Magical Institute.
Severus began his by protest by speaking softly and calmly, but his composed tone didn't last for long.
"I distinctly remembered reading somewhere that 'This will be a nice, quiet, intimate affair of Filius Flitwick's closest friends and colleagues', Headmaster. I believe that five hundred and twenty three guests has turned this intimate affair into a Muggle three ring circus. All we need is someone to juggle fire to make it complete."
"Well, Severus, don't give up hope for your fire juggler as we're still waiting for Indian's response. If we're lucky, perhaps they'll send Vice Headmaster Masood. He's a Fire Mage. If we ask nicely, perhaps he'll juggle fire for Filius," Albus cheerfully stated.
India again.
No matter what potion he created, Severus' India induced headache kept returning in full force and the pain in his belly could only be described as curry-induced.
"Albus, do you remember what happened to India? During the Kali Massacre, India School of Magic had two Fire Mages. Had being the key word. They immolated themselves, Albus, so that students could escape. They burned down their bloody school, Albus. Do you truly believe the Board of Governors will be pleased if Masood decides to make it two magical schools for two?"
Severus didn't even bother to make the effort to keep his voice calm.
"Plus, need I remind you that Filius doesn't have the most pleasant memories regarding Fire and India?"
Good God had Albus taken leave of what little sense remained to him? Why the hell did he, Nobby No Mate, have to remind Albus that a sensitive Filius might not react well to a demonstration of Pyromaniac's Elemental magic?
"India might send along a Water Mage to keep the risk of an inferno small," Albus suggested.
"Have you been DRINKING, Albus? Adding a water mage to this mess? Are you planning on turning Filius' party into a Roman steam bath?"
He spat that, and for a wonder, Minerva McGonagall's hand reached for his. The witch gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
"Ignore him, Severus. He's being purposely difficult, as I highly doubt India will send one of their prized Elemental Mages here, let alone two of them. But yes, Albus, I must agree with Severus." Minerva paused, and then laughed at the hurt look on Albus' face. "Yes, I know, Albus, you never thought that I'd take Severus' side over yours, but this party is now an exercise in complete insanity. A fire juggling Fire Mage? I really don't believe that Filius would respond well to that."
"Tsk, tsk, all this negativity about what is supposed to be a wonderful event for Filius," Albus shook his head. "Tea anyone?"
They both stated their firm desire for no tea, which naturally, Albus ignored. He meandered away from his desk to prepare a spot of tea, an obvious attempt at defusing the tension in the room.
Minerva's hand was still on Severus, and there was no doubt in Severus' mind that Albus had noticed the gesture and had filed that tidbit away for further ammunition. He probably should move his hand away from hers, but Minerva was rubbing his hand with her thumb, probably believing that she was calming him.
No, the witch wasn't calming him; instead Minerva McGonagall was confusing him.
They were still verbally jousting, though lately, Severus hadn't bothered keeping score in their duels. He couldn't be bothered with such trivial details as points when he needed to completely focus on their verbal matches. As it now stood, Severus had lost one battle because he had to intently concentrate on keeping his usual dyspeptic façade intact rather than breaking out in a real smile. Minerva had been so angry with him, her face flushed, her eyes sparking and Severus had been delighted because a breathtaking Minerva had been completely focused upon him, determined to verbally skewer him.
To all appearances, Minerva's memories of his lapse in control that one night in Filius' bedroom had been completely Obliviated.
There had been no other reasonable explanation, because she was treating him like she normally had done. He was the Stupid Scum of the Earth, Greasy Git, the Bane of her Bright Existence, Verbal Fencing Opponent.
That was what he hoped.
Recently, Minerva was also rather touchy feely with him and prone to smiling at him for no discernable reason. All these years, he had truly believed that the Gryffindor Lioness' face would crack if she smiled at him, and yet, she now always greeted him with a smile when she saw him at the Staff Table.
Bloody hell, Minerva had even invited him to her quarters last night to confirm the guest count. For the first time in recorded history, the Head of Slytherin had entered Minerva McGongall's suite. It was a wonder that the castle was still standing, as Severus had felt the very foundations nervously quiver when he had stepped over her threshold. The meeting had gone quite well, without any bloodshed as they had finished the master plan for this fiasco. To his surprise, Minerva had given him a quick, chaste buzz on the cheek when he had left, thanking him for all his help.
Her thumb kept rubbing his hand, and…. a horrific thought came to the forefront of his mind.
Deliberately, he had suppressed the unease that had been gnawing at him since that Monday night. He hadn't asked her to Obliviate her memories. Rather than risk ever mentioning it again, he had preferred to wallow in his ignominious humiliation. No, instead Minerva had offered to remove the memory as a show of good faith, so that he would accept her as one of his handlers.
Bloody hell, had she kept the memories?
It might explain why she was being so physically demonstrative to the Greasy Git. But after years of first hand experience, he couldn't detect the tell tale taint of condescension and ridicule in their interactions. If Severus didn't know that it was impossible, he'd swear that Minerva actually cared.
Wait… Severus had often noted that Minerva was warm and affectionate with her fellow instructors. It wasn't that uncommon for her to hug and kiss another instructor. Filius, for starters, but Filius and Minerva had had been lovers of long standing.
Maybe the witch was actually treating him like he was her friend rather than an assignment? Lily had often hugged him and held his hand…. when they had been friends.
Minerva detected his unease, and she gave him a slight smile before squeezing his hand again.
"We're doing this for Filius," she reminded Severus in a soft whisper. "For no other reason would I agree to this insanity."
Her warm hand felt nice, Severus admitted to himself. It was, dare he admit this, pleasant to be touched by another human being who didn't fear him.
Uncertain of what was a normal person would do in this situation, and having no clue of what was expected of a Nobby-No Mate like himself, Severus hesitantly squeezed Minerva's hand. It seemed the right thing to do, though Minerva's expressive eyebrow arched slightly in surprise.
"Thank you," he quietly whispered. "I couldn't hope to survive this without you. Being a Death Eater doesn't provide one with a background for handling social niceties such as party invitations. The Dark Revels usually don't require a RSVP."
He bit his tongue, wondering why he had to mention the horrors known as a Dark Revel to Minerva. Stupid, stupid fool, he cursed.
"No," Minerva agreed in a soft whisper. "I don't suppose that they do."
She let go of his hand then and foolishly, he felt rather bereft.
Dumbledore prepared the tea with a great deal of mindless humming, intent on watching Severus and Minerva interact. He had pushed Minerva toward a new role in reference to Severus, and the momentum from that single thrust had cause the witch's previous relationship with the Slytherin to careen into a new and truly unexpected direction.
He knew his Deputy Head Mistress reasonably well, though this escapade was proving that he did not know her nowhere as well as he once thought he had. Leading the teachers in a rebellion? Yes, that was Minerva. But Filius and Minerva? He had never even caught an inkling of that torrid relationship.
But her instinctive taking of Severus' hand, the gentle stroking of her thumb against his skin to calm Severus and the way Minerva was handling the boy was never-the-less giving him a great deal of concern.
Albus knew those signs rather well. At the time he had experienced them firsthand, he had failed to notice as his mind had been completely focused on the bedazzling witch. But having the benefit of living through the experience once, Albus knew that Minerva was subconsciously debating if she would take the boy to her bed or not, and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was anxious.
For the life of him, he couldn't figure out if his apprehension was due to the possible affects of their new relationship on Severus and his role as spy for the Order, if Albus was merely jealous of the lad's good fortune or a mixture of both.
Regardless of the reason, Albus was deeply concerned.
He made a loud noise, causing the two Instructors to break apart and look guilty, and he gave them a bemused smile. Sometimes, it was good to have a reputation for being whimsical as no one knew what he'd do in a fit of boredom.
He pushed teacups into their unresisting hands, and he then sat down.
"Now? Did you decide if we are having an ice sculpture?" Albus questioned.
Severus looked ready to have an attack of apoplexy, and Minerva's eyebrows were arched so high to be indistinguishable from her hairline.
"Perhaps one in the shape of a charm?" He suggested.
While they were trying to answer that question, Albus leaned forward.
"Tell me, have you decided how you are getting Filius to the party?"
It was Friday morning, the very last moment for the assorted witches and wizards to make their reservations for Filius' party. The bombardment of birds had slowed to a slight trickle, and after nine this morning, the guest list would be finalized and sealed. Then the damnable party was tomorrow.
Thank Merlin.
He wasn't terribly surprised to have five or so owls anxiously waiting at the table as there was always someone who had to do everything at the last minute. Minerva arrived a few minutes before him, and she was busy with the mail. He assisted her with the mail, and soon the owls were on their way back from whence they came.
"That was the last," Minerva whispered. She sounded relieved.
"Thank Merlin," he agreed.
Their food appeared, and the two of them began to eat, enjoying the fact that for the first time in what seemed like years, they didn't have to watch for feathers in their food or raccoons on a sugar induced rampage. Nor did they have to worry about sitting on an invisible demiguise who was still steadfastly refusing to deliver its letter in spite of increasingly exotic bribes.
To celebrate the end of chaos, he had put a little bit of marmalade on his toast and was about to savor the taste when the Great Hall erupted in noise. Severus muttered something obscene which unfortunately Minerva heard, but to his surprise, she quite agreed with him, as they both knew that the noise meant trouble. Fortunately, his finely tuned instincts for preservation kicked in, and he pulled back from the table, clutching his cuppa and his toast. Three large birds were flying in the Great Hall and he couldn't hear their cries above the deafening crowds. Two were eagles... one... one was a phoenix... and they were heading towards Minerva and him.
Minerva jumped back just in time, as the three birds hit the table edge hard, causing the china to rattle and various dishes to spill into Dolores Umbridge's lap. Umbridge shrieked her outrage over the birds' behavior and no one cared. A few House Elves attempted to clean up the mess, but still Dolores shrieked.
The Eagles appeared to be an honor guard for the Phoenix, as they glared at everyone and anyone that so much as looked in their direction. The Phoenix messenger had seen its better day as it was without a shadow of a doubt the most disreputable Phoenix he had ever seen, as it had graying feathers and a nasty scar where its left eye should be. Clutched in its beak was a green envelope emblazoned with an all too familiar sigil.
The India School.
Naturally.
The India School seemed bound and determined to ensure that their every interaction was memorable and ulcer inducing.
He bit back a surprised curse, and the Phoenix's one, lone eye gave him an all too human glare of disapproval.
"I am Minerva Marsaili McGonagall. Namasté," Minerva stated softly. She bowed to the Phoenix.
He quickly realized what Minerva had done, and was in the process of duplicating it, when she gave him a not so gentle kick in the ankle.
"Namasté. I am Severus Tobias Snape, and I welcome you to Hogwarts' School of Wizardry and Witchcraft," Severus responded smoothly, proving that he could be just as proper as Minerva, and in fact, even more so, when the situation demanded it. "You are welcome here, food and water will be provided for you and your..." He paused, trying to figure out what to call the two eagles. Guards? Flight Attendants? "Companions."
The Phoenix regally nodded his head, accepting Severus' tribute as his due, and then the two Eagles also followed suit. Minerva held out her hand, and the Phoenix dropped the green envelope in her hand. His mission accomplished, the Phoenix let loose a piercing war cry that echoed in the hall, rattled the dishes and caused Severus' head to ache.
A Phoenix.
They had to send a bloody Phoenix that looked like it was three weeks past its expiration date. It was a bloody marvel that the bird didn't decide to have its Burning Day right then and there in the midst of breakie in the Great Hall. No, no, it would decide to burn the very moment Filius arrived for breakfast.
"Amazing," Dumbledore's voice carried in the unexpectedly quiet Hall. "Do my eyes deceive me?"
He walked over to the birds, and stared at them. The two eagles, sensing an admirer, primped themselves, fluffing their wings, while the one eyed Phoenix matched Albus' stare.
"You've come a long way," Albus whispered. He held out his fingers as though to stroke the Phoenix but stopped as though seeking approval and the Phoenix gently nuzzled Albus' fingers with his sharp beak. "Severus? Minerva? Would you mind if I asked Wilhelmina to look at this particular Phoenix? He's quite a ways from home and a long time ago, his left wing was badly injured. She'll have to ensure that he hasn't strained it before he sets off for home."
The Phoenix shrieked his approval and the two eagles also screamed. For good measure, Dolores also screamed, but everyone was focusing on the birds as they were far more interesting than an old lady in pink. Meanwhile Grubby-Plank had also joined the merry party and was cooingly examining one of the Eagles who was basking in the attention.
"I never thought I'd live to see the day that an Indian Phoenix and two Andaman Serpent-eagles would arrive in the Great Hall," Albus remarked. "Come along now."
He held out his arm, and the Phoenix blinked in confusion.
"You and your fine Eagle friends can rest for a bit in my chambers. If Filius sees you, it will utterly ruin the surprise. You can visit with him tomorrow."
The Phoenix blinked once, nodded his head as though agreeing, and then carefully latched onto Albus' fist with its razor sharp talons. Since there was a captive audience, naturally, the Phoenix proceeded to extend its wings to its full wing span and let loose with another piercing, metal bending war cry.
Albus chuckled, his bright blue eyes twinkling.
"What!" Minerva snapped.
"You are not cognizant of the great honor India has bestowed upon you two," Albus explained. "You must have really impressed them when you told them off, Minerva."
Minerva began to sputter, claiming that she had done no such thing, and Albus continued to talk over her protests. "And now, these fine feathered emissaries and I need to be long gone before Filius arrives. If Filius hears about these birds, he'll be sure to ask. You are to inform him that you don't know what exactly happened to them after they delivered the message. It will be in fact true, but you are to suggest that they returned to India post haste."
For a wonder, the Phoenix and the Eagles both hissed their strong disapproval of the lie to Albus.
"I know, I know, Filius will be quite upset that you three didn't stop to see him. Tomorrow, you must be patient." Albus explained to the birds. "You don't want to ruin the surprise. He'll know something is afoot, if he sees you three."
Albus then walked over to the Floo and returned to his quarters, his avian friends accompanying him.
"I wonder what that was about," Minerva questioned.
"Albus is being Albus," Serverus retorted. "Don't think too much on it, as it's a guaranteed ticket to utter madness."
"Albus is up to something…." She slowly whispered. "I don't trust him."
"That's a very odd Phoenix," Wilhelmina quickly inserted. "He should have Burned last week, but his mage sent him here? It's amazing that he didn't molt in mid-flight. Those Eagles were also acting rather peculiar. Eagles and Phoenixes usually don't fly together… and when they do, there's usually a power struggle. No, they were most definitely sub to the Phoenix."
"Open the letter, Minerva," Severus insisted. "Let's see what India has decided."
She did so, and then she smiled. Severus leaned close to her and read the letter.
"India will attend" was neatly written in ornate calligraphy on the parchment, along with the eagle sigil and an arrival time.
Naturally, India was planning on being fashionably late, and arriving AFTER the party started.
"No guest count?" Severus protested.
"No guest count," Minerva admitted. "What do you think? Two representatives?"
"Knowing them? The entire school will no doubt show up," Severus snapped.
She patted his hand, and shook her head.
"Calm down, Severus. You'll develop a bleeding ulcer."