Phoenix Song, Chapter Fourteen : Defensive Mechanisms

DISCLAIMER : The characters and many of the situations described in this story are the property of the incomparable J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this story, which exists as a work of tribute.

My two wonderful betas are better than a woman like me deserves; thank you LAxo and WriterMerrin.

Severus was teaching Granger the elements of warding. She had grasped the theoretical principles quickly and had replicated the complex wand movements flawlessly. Indeed, she was producing very sophisticated magical barriers, but he still wasn't satisfied. Because she still wasn't casting with the entire force of her body, her wards were weak. Although they were complicated enough that dismantling them took time and skill, forcefully breaking through them was relatively simple.

Granger stood in the centre of his office, wand in hand, casting the ward once more. Severus circled the perimeter of the room, destroying each of her attempts and critiquing her performance.

"Come on, Granger," he snarled after dismantling yet another of her efforts. "This isn't charmwork."

Granger blew a stray curl from her forehead in annoyance. "What's the difference?" she asked grumpily.

He paused his pacing and examined the young woman before him. The physical signs of her increased fitness were evident. She should be doing better than she was. "Be specific, Granger."

She crossed her arms under her breasts, uncomfortable under his long stare. "The difference, sir, between warding and charmwork. What should I do differently?"

Severus propped one hip against the surface of his desk and crossed his arms. "The best and most intricate charmwork," he responded in lecture mode, "comes from the wrist: the swish, the flick. Wandwork for Defence Against the Dark Arts, however, needs the strength of your whole body behind it." Granger still looked a little sulky, but her lower lip was caught between her teeth, and Severus could see the cogs turning. "Sit," he instructed, circling behind the desk to take his own seat.

Granger sat with a soft sigh. Severus repressed an urge to give her a shake. She had been miserable and grumpy since the evening she'd run into him in the hallway, blinded by tears. The modified seating arrangements at mealtimes were evidence enough that she'd argued with Ronald Weasley; Harry Potter was running interference between the two and looking less than happy about it. Weasely, it seemed, was drowning his sorrows over the altercation in a pool of Lavender Brown's saliva—neither the most sophisticated method nor the most discerning choice of partner, he might add. Why does she even care what that idiot boy thinks or does? he wondered. How can she let him affect her performance in class? There it was, the selfish core to his concern. He missed the energetic spark she brought to her lessons. He missed their light-hearted banter. He missed her smiles.

"Granger," he barked.

She looked up, startled, from the contemplation of her left knee. "Sir?"

"Tell me about Viktor Krum."

Her body froze, wide eyed and wary. "What about him?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

Interesting. "Everything," Severus waved one hand in an all-encompassing gesture. "How you met, what he's like, what he's up to now."

"Why?" Her body language screamed her reluctance.

Severus raised one eyebrow at her impertinence, but her tears were too fresh in his memory to push her to her limits this evening. "Because, Miss Granger, I need to know."

She flinched a little at his use of the honorific. Interesting. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her chin was slightly raised. What is it about Krum that she doesn't want to tell me? Severus sighed. He might as well tell her why he wanted to know.

"During the last war, the Dark Lord received a significant amount of support from the pureblood families of Eastern Europe," he explained. "Karkaroff was particularly useful in the recruitment process, due to his contacts at Durmstrang. Karkaroff, as you know, turned traitor after the Dark Lord's fall and was recently killed." Granger shuddered. Her eyes were fixed on his face, and she was listening intently. "With Karkaroff out of the picture, the Dark Lord is hoping to re-initiate contact, and Krum has been suggested as a likely possibility. Because of my presence at Hogwarts during the Tri-Wizard tournament, the task has fallen to me."

"You!?" Granger sputtered with indignation. "You want me to give you information about my friend so that you can recruit him to the Death Eaters?!?"

"Did I say that?" Severus' voice was cold, his face impassive. Her words hurt. "Think hard before you open your mouth."

Granger hesitated, biting down on her lower lip. He saw the uncertainty in her face as she ran the conversation through again in her mind. He raised one eyebrow. "Well?"

"No, sir. You said nothing of the sort."

Severus regarded her coldly for several moments before continuing. "Hearing of the Dark Lord's plan, Dumbledore instructed me to sound Krum out very carefully indeed. It may be possible to recruit him for the Order instead." As he spoke, Granger flushed, mortified by her previous outburst.

"I beg your pardon, sir," she ventured once he paused for breath. "I was out of line."

Severus continued as if she hadn't spoken, though he drank in the signs of her evident remorse. "Your information is crucial. The Dark Lord has heard the details of Krum's stay at Hogwarts from me and from Draco Malfoy. Krum's involvement"—Severus pronounced the word as if it were dirty—"with you raises a warning flag, although at present the Dark Lord is inclined to think it a ploy designed to keep tabs on Harry Potter."

Hermione crossed her legs viciously and folded her arms tightly across her chest. The anger that had simmered for days rose momentarily to the surface. "It seems," she commented acidly, "that the Dark Lord and Ronald Weasley have something in common."

Severus smirked. "I take it that you have a different opinion."

Granger drew a deep breath and only narrowly avoided another angry outburst. Pressing her lips together she exhaled through her nose before replying. "Yes."

He quirked an interrogative eyebrow.

"What do you want to know?" It wasn't her normal, enthusiastic tone, but she had thankfully migrated from resistant to resigned.

"Begin at the beginning."

Granger took a few moments to marshal her thoughts. "We met in the library. At first I found his constant presence annoying, or at least that of the girls who were always hanging around." She sniffed disapprovingly. "It was ridiculous! If he wasn't an international Quidditch star, they wouldn't have cared at all! It's not like he's typically handsome, you know. He has a big nose and dirty hair, and he scowls all the time." Both of Severus' eyebrows shot skyward, but Granger didn't notice. She had lost herself in the story, oblivious to the physical resemblance between the man she was describing and the man she was describing him to. "Anyway, eventually we got talking—mostly about Transfiguration. He's doing some really interesting research now, actually." Her face lit up, and Severus was surprised by the sudden pang of jealousy her words triggered. Not for Hermione Granger, he hurriedly reassured himself. No, not for a student, but for the idea of a library romance in general. The relationship she was describing sounded . . . perfect. "He's working on Animagus transformations that can encompass various animals rather than just one particular species."

Severus forced his attention back to the topic at hand. "Has he had any luck?"

"Oh, yes. I mean, you must have seen the shark transformation he produced to rescue me from the Merpeople."

"Incomplete, as I recall." For some reason, the glowing look that accompanied Granger's mention of the rescue irritated him.

"Well, yes. But that's the point. Viktor's Animagus form is an eagle—predictable really, given his talent as a seeker: flight, good eyesight, ability to spot and catch small prey. To transform into a shark—even partially—took enormous skill!"

Granger was talking animatedly now, but it gave Severus no comfort. He changed the topic abruptly, back from Krum's research to the situation in the library. "So, you talked about Transfiguration; what else?"

"It was only when he invited me to the ball that I realised he liked me like that. I was flattered, of course, and we had a nice time." Her voice took on a brittle edge of triumph. "It certainly surprised a lot of people. Anyway, then he had to rescue me from the lake, as I said before. And then he invited me to visit him in Bulgaria." At the word "visit," her body stiffened visibly. The conversational tone with which she'd recounted much of the story evaporated entirely, and the wariness Severus had noted at the beginning of the discussion was back in full force. "That's about it. Though we're still friendly, and we write letters fairly frequently."

There's something about the visit she doesn't want to tell me. "Did you go to Bulgaria to see him?"

Granger pursed her lips. She answered the question but was far from forthcoming with details. "I did."

A powerful suggestion insinuated itself into Severus' brain. "Did you sleep with him?"

She flushed. "That is none of your business," she snapped.

"Really, Miss Granger," he sneered, "I have no prurient interest in the sexual exploits of my students." He could see from the fierce look in her eye that it wasn't enough and resorted to an underhand Dumbledorian tactic: "It is my life that will hang in the balance in the meeting with Krum; I merely ask for information."

"Fine." Granger uncrossed her legs and re-crossed them the other way, wriggling her shoulders in annoyance. "I slept with him, satisfied?"

Severus felt slightly breathless, but couldn't otherwise name his response to her confession. It certainly wasn't satisfied.

Granger was glaring at him, her expression so reminiscent of Minerva McGonagall that it made the idea of her sleeping with anyone faintly terrifying. "I haven't told anyone that before. Not a single soul. I warn you, Professor Snape," she held up an admonishing finger, "that if I ever hear about this from somebody else, I will know it was you. I will track you down, and Professor or not, I will make you regret it. I have absolutely no desire for my sexual exploits"—she spat the words—"to form the topic of Hogwarts' gossip! Do I make myself clear?"

Severus admitted himself shaken by the force of her rage. Magical energy was thrumming through her body, and he was surprised she hadn't broken any of the glass jars that lined the shelves of his office. Years of training kept his face impassive. "I assure you, Miss Granger," he sneered, "I have better things to do than indulge in scurrilous gossip."

"You'd better," she muttered and looked away.

Maintaining a firm grip on his breathing, Severus returned to the interrogation. "Are you still a couple?"

"No. Not really. We're friends."

He raised one eyebrow at the imprecision of that definition. "Who broke it off?"

"I did." Granger still wasn't looking at him, and she addressed her answers to a spot several feet to his right.

His future interactions with Viktor Krum didn't really justify the depths of his curiosity, but Severus pushed on regardless. "You slept with him, you broke it off, and yet you remained friends. A remarkable achievement, Miss Granger."

Granger sighed and rolled her eyes. "Look," she said, turning to look at him directly. "We slept together after we broke up; it was my idea, so don't go thinking I was fooled by his whole international-Quidditch-star routine. Once I got to Bulgaria, it became clear that things weren't really going to work out, not in the long term. Blood purity is a ridiculously big deal in Bulgaria, and Viktor is a public figure. We were followed by reporters everywhere we went. Plus the whole long-distance thing didn't help. We decided, well, I decided that we'd be better off as friends. Viktor was very nice and understanding about the whole thing. Once the pressure was off, though," she shrugged, "sex suddenly seemed a much more inviting prospect. I enjoyed it," she added defensively. "It was fun. I don't regret it in the slightest."

Against his better judgement, Severus asked another question: "And what did your parents think?"

Hermione blinked. "That, Severus Snape, is none of your business! But for your information," she leant forwards and tapped the tabletop with an indignant finger, "my parents were fine with it. Before I left, my mother gave me a packet of condoms and told me to be careful." She leant back in her chair and crossed her arms once more. "For God's sake, I was almost sixteen."

Severus made a mammoth effort to get the conversation back on track. "Tell me more about Bulgaria. It seems likely that the Dark Lord will send me there over Christmas."

"To meet with Viktor?" Granger clearly welcomed the shift in focus.

"Yes."

"I wouldn't bother. He's coming to England." His surprise must have registered on his face, for she elaborated. "He's taking the opportunity to meet with several Quidditch managers. And," she hesitated for only a second, "he's going to spend a couple of days at my parents' house."

Any response Severus might have made was forestalled by a knock at the door. He shot Granger a warning glance as he called for the visitor to enter. The door swung open to reveal Hooch, who crossed her arms and leant one shoulder casually against the door frame.

"Severus," she remarked by way of greeting.

"What do you want, Hooch?" he snapped back.

"To see if you're up for a drink," she replied, unperturbed by his rudeness.

"As you have no-doubt noticed," he smirked, "I'm far too busy supervising Miss Granger's"—his eyes flicked to her dismissively—"detention."

Her back safely towards the visitor, Granger rolled her eyes. Hooch, however, refused the none too subtle hint that she should leave.

"You know, Severus," she drawled, "I'd heard your detentions were bad, but I had no idea you actually made the students converse with you."

Touché. Severus felt one corner of his mouth twitch upwards, and he looked up into Hooch's laughing eyes. "Hooch," he growled, acknowledging defeat. "Get out!"

She laughed. "I'll see you at ours later, then? Minerva's coming, too. Which means, I warn you, that you'd better be ready to discuss the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match in loving detail!" She waved as she pulled the door shut behind her, visibly enjoying his discomfort. As the heavy oak thumped closed, the sound of her laughter was abruptly silenced.

He glanced at Granger. She'd soaked up the interaction between him and Hooch like a sponge and was regarding him curiously. To be honest, his regular inclusion in Hooch and Poppy's monthly lesbian poker nights baffled him as much as the idea seemed to surprise Granger, but he had no intention of telling her that. Let her think what she likes.

Severus scowled and returned to the all-important topic of Viktor Krum. "Krum is coming to stay with you? In London?"

She nodded. "Yes," she acknowledged.

This could work to my advantage. "Perhaps you could organise a meeting. Coffee one afternoon, somewhere in Muggle London?"

She nodded again. "I'll write to him and find out exactly what his plans are."

"Very good." For a long moment he considered the woman in front of him, eyes narrowed in thought. "Next week, we will meet in the Room of Requirement. If you get there before I do, wait outside. Wear comfortable, loose-fitting clothes. Sports clothes." That caught at her interest, and he could see the questions forming. "You are dismissed," he said, cutting off any comment she might have made.

"Good evening, sir," she replied. Gathering her things, she walked to the door. As it closed behind her, he caught the speculative look she gave him, then she was gone.

Severus made his way up to Poppy and Hooch's quarters not long after Granger left. At his knock, Poppy opened the door by hand.

"Severus," she exclaimed with a smile, "come on in!"

Minerva and Hooch were seated around the coffee table, Firewhiskeys in hand.

"Severus!" Minerva was positively cackling with joy. She held her alcohol well, but had clearly consumed just enough to regard boasting over the recent Quidditch match as appropriate behaviour. "I have two words for you: Ronald Weasley!"

Severus rolled his eyes as he strode towards the fireplace, conjuring himself an armchair before he replied. "Nonsense, Minerva," he drawled, settling his long limbs into the chair, "Weasley looked good only because Vaisey was absent. If your team needs our top goal scorer incapacitated before you have a hope of winning, it's not much to crow about."

"Really, Severus!" expostulated Minerva. "Had Slytherin won, you would be sitting here bragging, even if the reason were that Gryffindor had fielded the first-years on school brooms rather than our first seven!"

Poppy pressed a tumbler of Firewhiskey into his hand and gave him a companionable smile.

"To be honest, Minerva, I'm not certain I would have noticed any difference in their Quidditch abilities." Severus punctuated his sarcasm with an elegantly arched eyebrow and let his shoulders relax back into the upholstery.

As he spoke, Poppy made her way around the back of Hooch's chair, trailing one hand through the soft, spiky hair across the nape of the other woman's neck, before seating herself on the other end of the couch.

"Poker?" asked Hooch, speaking over Minerva's spluttering indignation and summoning the cards from the mantelpiece so that they flew through the air in a stream. She caught them neatly in her left hand and began to shuffle, moving the cards through the air in an impossibly complex pattern; any Muggle card shark worth his salt would have had a fit at the sight.

As Poppy conjured poker chips, Minerva regained some of her composure, smugly commenting that Severus already owed her ten galleons from their bet on the House Quidditch match. With a sneer and a languid wave of one hand, he sent the equivalent number of poker chips skittering across the table to join her pile.

"You'll need more than my ten galleons if you hope to win this evening," he remarked.

McGonagall would bet on anything, and she and Severus kept a running tab that neither party ever sought to cash in for real money. At various times in their long, competitive friendship, each of them had been astronomically in debt to the other.

"We'll see about that, young man!" she replied, picking up the cards Hooch had dealt her and fanning them expertly.

At that point, Poppy dimmed the light in the sitting room, with the exception of a luminous, faintly green sphere that hung over the table, and the game began in earnest. The four friends were evenly matched, though perhaps Severus could claim the "poker face" edge, and they bickered and gossiped amicably as they played. Severus could feel some of the tension unspooling from his body, chased out by the warmth of the alcohol and the company.

By the time Albus arrived, Severus had won back a fair percentage of the ten galleons he had surrendered to Minerva. The headmaster grinned merrily as he stepped out of the Floo.

"My, my," he remarked, "if this isn't a beautiful display of inter-house unity!"

Severus rolled his eyes at the repetition of one of Albus' favourite jokes, as he discarded two cards from his hand and summoned two others from the deck with a flick of his fingers. "If by 'unity,' Albus," he drawled, "you mean united in the desire to beat each other, you need look no further than the Great Hall."

Hooch grinned at the comment. "Or the Quidditch pitch," she added.

Minerva scooted her chair sideways so that Albus could fit another into the increasingly crowded space around the low table.

"Always so cheerful, Severus," teased Albus as he took his seat.

"If you don't like this particular model of Slytherin geniality, you could always invite Slughorn instead," replied Severus without heat. He'd been ridiculously relieved that none of his friends had wanted much to do with the returned Potions professor. While all three women were perfectly polite to Slughorn's face, they hadn't once invited him to their regular evening gatherings. Since, with the exception of Hooch, who'd been playing professional Quidditch at the time, the others had been colleagues of Slughorn's while Severus himself had been but a student, the omission was one he hadn't taken for granted.

"Speaking of Horace," remarked Dumbledore, leaning forward slightly in his chair and addressing himself directly to Severus, "I must insist that you attend his Christmas party. Don't look at me like that, young man! While you may not think much of his particular brand of inter-house interaction, it may yet have positive consequences. Most of your Slytherins follow your lead implicitly, and I will not have them snub the possibility of making connections just because you do. In public, at least, I expect you to behave towards Horace with grace and propriety."

Irrationally, the good sense of Dumbledore's proposal irritated Severus even more than the sentiment. It frustrated him that Dumbledore, who had done little to incorporate Slytherin house into the larger school body, would criticise him on such a level. Luckily, Minerva began to speak, removing the necessity for him to respond.

"I'm afraid that I won't be there, Albus," she commented smoothly, "I'm assigned to patrol the corridors that night, and since Horace has invited several outside guests, security has to be much tighter than usual."

"I'll be there," interpolated Hooch. "Gwenog is coming and I haven't seen her in ages. I wonder if she's still seeing Patty Parkin?"

"No!" exclaimed Minerva excitedly. "Not that incredibly tall brunette?"

And the gossip mill was off and running. Severus sat back and cradled his Firewhiskey to his chest, safe in the knowledge that Albus had lost his opportunity to interrogate him for at least the next forty-five minutes.

A/N : I want to thank absolutely everyone who left me a review last week; your thoughts and comments were incredibly encouraging at the end of a week that in real life was pretty stressful and exhausting. I replied to those who had signed in, and to those who hadn't, I want to reiterate just how much it meant to me. I love you all!