CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - THE FAERIE CALL

When Snape was delivering his goblet of wolfsbane the next day to the DADA office, he heard footsteps behind him. At first he ignored it, the corridors were often busy, but there was something in the pace that was keeping up with his that finally made him slow and look around.

It was Topias Poole. Following him.

"Ah. Professor Snape," said Poole with a sly smile, coming to stand before him. He pointed at the goblet. "Professor Lupin still unwell?"

"Were you following me, Mr Poole? I am perfectly happy to come to your office if you need me. Professor Burbage is due to bring you documentation for Category Five in only half an hour."

"I was coming to see Professor Lupin again. Seems our visits keep coinciding. But perhaps its best if you're in attendance anyway."

"What do you mean?"

Students were milling in throngs through the corridor now, on their way to their common rooms. Snape should have been securely in the DADA office, but here he was with a goblet of wolfsbane being curiously observed by dozens of pupils.

"Let's get on, eh? Don't need a hundred ears listening in."

They made their way quickly to the DADA office and Poole gave the briefest of knocks before barging in and shutting the door swiftly behind him. Lupin positively jumped in his chair up at his desk, and on seeing Poole, became instantly alarmed. He looked from Poole to Snape and back again.

"Professor Lupin, sorry for interrupting," Poole intoned in his nasally voice. "Seems I'm always arriving at medicine time. Perhaps you should be in the Hospital Wing."

Snape put the goblet down on a nearby desk, but did not move from where he was standing by the door, waiting to see what Poole's visit was about.

"Thank you Severus," said Lupin, frowning hard. "Why have you brought Mr Poole back to see me?"

"Nothing to do with Professor Snape," said Poole, walking up the length of the classroom and taking a seat in the front row. "But it might be good for him to listen to what I have to say."

"And what do you have to say?"

"Since I was in London yesterday, I spoke to a couple of colleagues in the Ministry and I had them run a background check on you." Poole paused to let the dreadful inevitability of this sink in. Lupin paled. "Professor Lupin, you're no teacher. Are you?"

Lupin swallowed and he glanced frantically at Snape, who was standing, dumbstruck and helpless.

"Are you, Professor Lupin? You're no more a teacher than I am. In fact, you've only been registered about six weeks. You've been teaching here since September, illegally. Am I right?"

Lupin swallowed again, but didn't speak. "And to get onto the Teacher's Registration, you lied on your application form didn't you? You fabricated an entire qualification. You've never obtained any credential as a teacher and you've never held a job as a teacher. You're bloody lucky you didn't use Professor Dumbledore as a referee or he'd be under the spotlight too. And as for that DADA license, you obviously fraudulently applied for that as well. As soon as they've found your application form the department are going to send it to me, and this hole you've dug yourself will just get deeper and deeper."

Lupin took out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and mopped his brow and moustache. "It isn't of consequence to Dumbledore if I haven't a formal qualification, he -,"

"And why is it you don't have any teaching experience? You're clearly a clever chap – why go about this so underhanded?"

Snape stepped forward, sick and uneasy. "Mr Poole, we should - ,"

"What's in the goblet, Professor Snape?" Poole suddenly snapped, rounding on him. "What does Lupin need a cure for?"

Snape hesitated, and Poole, with uncanny appositeness, said, "I'll remind you I'm a practicing Legilimens and I am authorized to use it where necessary. Tell me what is in the cup. Take off the spill cap."

Snape remained still, but Lupin stood, scraping back his chair as he did so, and wearily came down the dais towards Poole. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and slumped his shoulders. "It's wolfsbane, Poole, as you know perfectly well. I expect you've already checked the other register with my name on it."

"Fourteenth February 1966, Valentines day to a Muggle. But to you, the day you officially became a werewolf. And you've been collecting welfare from the Department of Magical Creatures since you turned seventeen. Including the last three months." Poole reported with satisfaction. Clearly he'd been looking forward to this moment.

Snape looked at the drawn Lupin and then back at Poole. "You must find your job very rewarding."

"This is what they pay me for, Professor Snape. Not everyone can do it."

"Your mother must be proud."

"I wouldn't get cute with me, Snape. You're the one holding the wolfsbane. There is an entire collusion here and this is going to come at a pretty price for Hogwarts." He put out his hand. "Give me your DADA license, Lupin. You are stood down."

"You can't do that!" blurted Lupin. "I have a class in ten minutes!"

"Nothing has been decided, Mr Poole, and nothing will change in the next hour," said Snape. He handed the goblet to Lupin, then added, "Professor Lupin should continue with his class and you and I can visit the Headmaster immediately. You can inform him yourself of the discovery and we can decide what needs to be done this afternoon when classes are finished."

"I'm in charge here!" said Poole furiously. But he withdrew his hand. "I'd be packing my bags if I were you, Lupin!"

Ashen, Lupin stared after them as Poole and Snape stormed out of the DADA office, up the corridor to the gargoyle corridor and the Headmaster's office. "I require the Headmaster urgently," Snape told the gargoyle, who left his post with the message. In minutes it returned and let them pass, up the spiral staircase and into the round office.

They had barely crossed the threshold when Poole declared angrily, "Professor Dumbledore we have a matter of official Ministry business and I insist that you request an audience with either Bartemius Crouch or even better, Sir Byron. Please contact them by Floo."

Dumbledore stood flummoxed beside his desk. He had been on his way to the door to greet them but stopped in his tracks at the sight of the red-faced Poole. He look enquiringly to Snape. "What have you done now?"

"This concerns Professor Lupin," stated Poole loudly. "And I won't speak further until you have either gentlemen party to the conversation."

"Lupin," Dumbledore repeated, realization dawning on his features. "The audit…?"

"Please, Professor Dumbledore, I insist! If you don't arrange a connection I shall report interference with the audit proceedings."

With a sigh from the bottoms of his feet, Dumbledore threw Floo powder into the fireplace and requested connection with Crouch or Byron. Byron responded.

"Albus?! All well?" he asked cheerily.

"Erm, it would seem -,"

But Poole interrupted. "Sir Byron, can you attend a meeting here, it is quite urgent."

"Is that you, Topias? Uh, I have visitors in ten minutes -,"

"Perhaps you could ask your secretary to postpone them for a few moments. Your attendance is urgently needed here."

"I, uh, I see, uh, very well…"

Dumbledore used magic to disappear the fire that had been burning in the grate to admit access to Sir Byron, who emerged, ten minutes later, dusting down his jacket and looking extremely baffled. "Mr Poole, what is all this about?"

"I'm afraid I am duty bound to report a very serious infringement of Ministry regulations in the appointment of Remus Lupin to the role of teacher at Hogwarts," said Poole officiously, still showing a lot of colour in his face but rallied by the presence of Ministry hierarchy.

"Oh. I see. What is wrong with his appointment?"

"He does not meet the prerequisites to hold a teacher's position. Furthermore, he is a werewolf."

"Oh. Oh," said Sir Byron, raising his brows in a rather startled way and looking at each person in turn. "I suppose the audit found this out?"

"I had officers in several departments run checks for me yesterday. He has been on the Lycanthropy register since 66. He has been transforming regularly throughout. Professor Snape here makes him wolfsbane."

Dumbledore offered Byron an armchair and took a seat himself. "I am sorry to say, Bernard, it is true. Mr Poole has been doing his homework. It is a shame you didn't attend Hogwarts, Mr Poole, no doubt you would have achieved highly."

"What does Professor Lupin teach?" asked Byron.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Dumbledore and Poole at the same time. Byron nodded his head and frowned again.

"Mr Poole, you have done a most competent job, yet again. Thank you. I would like to take it from here, if you don't mind."

"Sir?"

"You've done everything you need to do here. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I should like to talk to Professor Dumbledore alone, if you would be so kind."

"But sir!" exclaimed Poole, turning beetroot.

"Severus, please take Mr Poole with you back to the auditor's office. It looks as if he may need a few minutes," said Dumbledore.

Snape opened the office door and waited for the ropable Poole to storm out before shutting the door discreetly behind him. He didn't need to show Poole the way at all – the auditor refused to acknowledge Snape as he fumed on his way down the staircase and marched off down the corridor, knocking over little Euclid Tattinger on the way. When Snape came up behind Tattinger and extended a hand to help him to his feet, the boy jumped upright of his own accord and scuttled away with eyes like saucers.

Snape continued down to the first floor to the auditor's office and was admitted by von Rheticus immediately. Poole had indeed returned to his desk, where he was now cursing and throwing things about to the intense discomfort of Matte and Dunn who sat immobilized in their seats, but it was Charity, seated by the side of Matte's desk, also wide-eyed, that caught Snape's instant attention.

Charity didn't know where to look. Poole was ranting about the categorical imperative of the audit, the irremissibility of the contract, the duty of good faith and various violations he had been witness to, throwing innocent but convenient pieces of parchment into the fire and generally having an adult tantrum having been turfed out on his ear. When Snape entered, he garbled about a web of lies and insinuating vitriolic accusations, but Snape didn't seem perturbed in the slightest. He waited for a pause in the diatribe, then said calmly, "I think you'll find everything is in order for Category five. Professor Burbage, may I have a word? In private."

Stunned, Charity rose and followed Snape out of the office and into the corridor where they were alone. She looked up at him. He said, "Charity, I'm sorry, I must speak with you. Will you please give me a few minutes? That's all I ask."

He was so commanding. It was difficult to collect her senses. She shook her head, confused. "What is it? Why?"

"Not here. The archive. Please."

She frowned. "I don't want to go to the archive."

His jaw ticked, but he evidently counted to ten then said, "I need to talk to you in private."

"Fine. Here then."

"This is a corridor."

"Do you honestly think I'll go into the archive with you again?"

Snape flinched, as if she had fired invisible arrows at him. He took a breath, closed his eyes then resumed his position of dignified repose. "As you wish." A quick glance up and down the corridor to check they were alone, and while classes were on, the corridors were free of students, but Filch or Peeves were an omnipresent possibility. He steeled himself.

"Charity, how can I show you how sorry I am? Name it. Anything. I beg of you forgiveness. That is all, nothing else, I will leave you alone, I will depart from your life, just please…say you forgive me."

He looked abject and she utterly believed him. But she said, "I'm not laying a complaint. If that's what you're worried about, don't. Your job is safe."

"No, you misunderstand," he responded instantly. "I don't care about that. Honestly. Lay a hundred complaints, I don't blame you. That's not what I seek. I want to know that you are alright, and that, that, you know how desperately sorry I am."

She held his gaze. "Tell me. What did you see?"

Something like a tremor passed through him. He blinked, but it was slow, pained. After a long moment in which she could read on his face the sorrow, the regret, where he turned inwards, opened that box in his head that he had pushed everything into, opened it like a guilty child and revealed the crime, he said, "You were telling me the truth. You were honest with me. I was jealous, I was afraid, I was weak. And I am sorry."

"What did you see?'

Sunshine, a single shaft, broke through the clouds and lit the pane of a window nearby, reflecting on the stone.

His eyes refocused, and met hers. "You have a beautiful daughter and you wanted to please her for her birthday. You'd spent days thinking about it, you had a hundred ideas about what to get her for her birthday but you were still undecided."

That hurt. So much invasion, so much violation. It was her turn to wince. "What else?"

"I saw myself," he murmured, his voice so guttural as to be almost unintelligible.

"Yes. You. So much of you."

A long, weighty silence. "Yes. I – I didn't know."

"How could you not know?"

"Because I seem to want you so much more."

Her breath caught. And when she finally had the courage to look into his dark, dark eyes, she saw the heat, a burning. The entire universe spiraled in an instant into that fire in his eyes, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

A group of Slytherin students suddenly rounded the corner at the far end of the corridor, talking and laughing, two of them were throwing a bludger back and forth.

Snape stepped back, and as if the previous five minutes had never happened, stalked towards his Slytherins in a swirl of black robes and they all halted at the sight of him, and without speaking he held out his hand and they obediently dropped the bludger into it. "Bletchley! Higgs! You should be in Transfiguration. I want an explanation in an hour in my office. What's your name? Weldon? Where are you meant to be? Why aren't you there? I'm taking ten points off Slytherin for this. Don't argue. Give me that – what is it? It's confiscated. Class! Now!"

The group dispersed in several different directions and Snape watched them go.

Charity looked on from where she was standing, and something about the scene felt terribly familiar, as if she'd watched it a hundred times, and it was very comforting, very reassuring. To her, at that moment, it was as if she and Severus had been together always, with a thousand silly quarrels and differences and arguments between them, and each of them hurt, they all stung, but somehow it reached a point where life and death stopped resting on them, and mycelium they had grown beneath the ground between them were still bound inextricably together, untouchable, unseeable, forever in a ring.

She smiled.

Over the next few days, the auditors met with the groups of random students in the cleared classroom and again the school was buzzing with talk. Peeves had gatecrashed on one group and the Bloody Baron had to be sent in to make him go before the group could resume. The auditors took notes about what the students said, but they were closely guarded and each evening the auditors took all their material with them in their briefcases to Hogsmeade.

On Thursday morning, when Snape went to the audit office, Poole glared at him from his desk by the fire. "Category Six, Professor?" Poole almost shouted. "Matte and Dunn need to get started!"

"Is there a problem, Mr Poole?"

"Yes! Obviously! Where is the material for Category Six?"

"I can get that, but why are you shouting at me?"

Poole was quivering with rage and fought with himself internally for moment before picking up a pile of papers on his desk and shaking them at Snape. He recognized them as the teacher questionnaires. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"You'll need to explain -,"

"They're not filled out!" Poole exploded, and threw them down again. Matte and Dunn busied themselves at their desks, watching furtively. "Just a line through each of them! Except one, and that's not enough to be statistically valid. Who organized this? It was you I bet."

Snape picked up the questionnaires which had been due the previous day. There were exactly fourteen, and all but one had a line drawn across the front page, or NA written on it. He himself had joined the rebellion and refused to answer the questionnaire, but he was surprised that it had gotten such sweeping traction across the faculty.

"No, you are mistaken, it was not organized and certainly not by me. It would appear the teachers have merely agreed amongst themselves that the questionnaire is not for them."

"You included, clearly, unless you're the person who filled one out."

"I think, what this response communicates, is that the teaching faculty at Hogwarts are more than satisfied and don't appreciate being asked to complain about their employer."

Poole glared at him some more, then said in a snide voice, "Aren't you just so pleased with yourself. Between Lupin and the questionnaire, you think you've got one over the Ministry but I'm here to tell you, Professor Snape, this school isn't exceptional in any definition of the word. You haven't stitched up anything. Don't take me for a fool."

At that point Charity entered carrying the paperwork for category six and seven as well, having come via the archive, and she gave Snape a quick smile upon seeing him. Then she noticed Poole and hesitated. "Is everything alright?"

"Give that to Matte," ordered Poole pointing at her files. "We have work to do. Send up tea please."

She frowned but left the room and Snape followed her out. "What's with him?" Charity asked.

"They collected the teacher questionnaires yesterday. Only one was filled out."

Charity laughed out loud. "Priceless! I did the line across the front thing myself. Who completed it? Was it you?"

"No," Snape answered. "I didn't. It may have been Dumbledore. From what I could see of the questionnaire, whoever answered it gave everything perfect scores. Anyway, Poole believed I instigated it and has taken exception."

"Thank god this is all over soon."

They were in the Entrance Hall, waiting for a kitchen elf to come out of the Great Hall after breakfast clean up so that they could order tea. The front door banged open, filling the room with sudden light as it was a bright and frosty morning outside, and Hagrid came through carrying an enormous Oregon pine, replete with an anxious squirrel.

"Ah, Christmas Tree time," murmured Snape as they stood like spectators while the giant wrestled the tree through the door and argued with the indignant squirrel.

"I've carried this blasted thing all the way from the forests on the other side of 'Ogsmeade Station," Hagrid told them, obscured on the other side of the tree. "'Ad to bring it across the lake on a boat. An' Dumbledore wants twelve! Least he backed down on the live reindeer."

He dragged it through to the Great Hall as several elves scurried out of his way carrying piles of dishes. Charity cornered one and placed an order for tea in the auditor's office.

Snape took out his wand and carefully captured the squirrel using a levicorpus spell and then levitated it outside where he released it. As he was crossing the Hall with his dangling, chattering rodent, Dumbledore came down the marble staircase and tut-tutted at the trail of pine needles from the front door. "Is Hagrid bringing the Christmas trees in?"

"He's sourcing them from across the lake apparently, so could be quite an expedition," said Charity, and using her wand, cast a quick scourgify as the needles were quite slippery.

"Let's have a look," said Dumbledore, entering the Hall. "I want them decorated in time for the Choral Festival tomorrow."

In the Hall, Hagrid propped the tree upright and Dumbledore conjured a sturdy pot to hold it. "That is a fine tree indeed. Eleven more, if you can, Hagrid, they'll be very impressive. Filius can do the trimming. Now -," he turned to Snape and Charity, "Just the people I need to talk to. Walk with me."

Dumbledore wandered out of the Hall, through the front door and out into the grounds, followed by a slightly bewildered but obedient Snape and Charity. "I am looking for holly, mistletoe and ivy – there!" he pointed to a holly tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, laden with bright red berries. They walked up to the tree, crunching across the frost and Dumbledore took out his wand. He cast a charm and branches of holly were freed from the tree and twisted and contorted themselves into a large, glossy, bristling wreath. He handed it to Snape to carry, who took it tentatively. "Like that?" he grinned at Charity's exclamation. "Made that charm up myself. Now keep a lookout as we walk."

"I thought you might like to know the outcome of my chat with Sir Byron," he told them, his eyes scanning the trees. "Fortunately he's a reasonable man and we came to an agreement. Lupin can remain at the school for the remainder of this academic year, but then he must submit his resignation. While he's here, you'll need to keep making him wolfsbane, Severus, he can't present any risk at all. He'll need to go to London over Christmas and sort out some affairs with the Ministry because he's been accepting welfare as you know. That will need to cease while he's taking a wage with us. Sir Byron will deal with Cornelius Fudge to seal and secure a ministerial exception, although I don't foresee any difficulties there – Fudge owes me a great deal – but it is to be based on three promises from us. The first is that the Board have say on future teaching appointments. The second is that Lupin assist Harry Potter in his defence studies. Apparently Harry has asked to learn the Patronus Charm, which is exceedingly difficult in one so young. I didn't commit to any particular defences, but given his recent adventures I think equipping him with some useful tools might be beneficial. And lastly, and this was the angle that turned it, Lupin will help bring Sirius Black to justice. I used your suggestion, Severus and convinced Byron that since there is history between the two men, it could be that Black still trusts Lupin."

"Why would he?" Snape demanded. "as far as Lupin knows, Black betrayed the Potters as secret-keeper."

"Black maintains his innocence to this day. He may find it easier to convince an old trusted friend than a room full of Wizengamot."

"I don't believe it for a minute," said Snape bitterly. "But Lupin offered the same deal to us. I think he knows something. I think he knows where Black is."

"Then lets give him room to do what he needs to do," said Dumbledore, "at any rate, I have briefed him on these events, he understands and accepts the reasons. I have rarely seen a man more desolate, and I'll be honest, I was crushed on his behalf. I blame myself." He spotted some ivy growing in the shadow of some birch trees. "Charity, let me teach you this wreath-making charm."

Dumbledore showcased his rather exceptional teaching skills with Charity and she mastered his spell in two attempts. Snape was freshly reminded that Dumbledore wasn't Headmaster by accident, it was something of a loss to the school that he had left behind the classroom. Brandishing a rather beautiful ivy and winter green wreath, Charity looked delighted, but her face fell when the sound of the school bell rang out. "Oh no, I forgot, I have a class. Excuse me gentlemen, thank you Headmaster." She shoved the wreath at Snape and hurried up the hill to the castle entrance as the two men watched her leave.

"Just lovely," said Dumbledore, and Snape threw him a cross look thinking he was referring to Charity, but realized the nimble old man had turned his attention to the ivy wreath and was examining it. "She's a competent little thing, a natural talent, just needs a bit of cultivating."

"She does have a strong, innate ability. She had powerful instincts as a child, apparently. A lot of uncontrolled magic."

"Yes. Flitwick had high hopes for her when she was at school here. Couldn't settle, I recall."

They resumed walking, their breath making plumes in the frosty air. They could see Hagrid with Fang setting off again to retrieve another tree. He waved at them as he passed.

"When I asked her whether she wanted to raise a complaint against you, she seemed appalled at the idea," mentioned Dumbledore. "She said it was something you two should work out between you. Have you apologized? Has she forgiven you?"

"We've talked briefly. She told me she didn't want to take things to a formal footing, which I am obviously relieved about but it was never my greatest concern. I have apologized, but I couldn't say that she has forgiven me. She seems friendlier today, so perhaps it is merely time she needs."

"Ah. That seems positive to me. And what about the Christmas Party? I assume you'll be coming together?" Dumbledore had spied some more holly and was busy charming up another wreath.

"That is, uh, less certain…"

Dumbledore paused to look at him. "You have asked her Severus?"

"Yes, sir, I have. Some time ago in fact. But she's…expressed some doubt…now."

"I don't think so," said Dumbledore, twirling his wand to make a circular shape. "I freely admit my knowledge of witches can be a bit on the light side, but I believe you still have time. She is clearly very fond of you. I think you just need to show her how serious you are about making amends."

Snape nodded and accepted the third wreath from the Headmaster.

"Can you give her a Christmas gift perhaps? I know you're not much in the habit…"

Snape almost slapped his forehead. "Of course, Headmaster, you've reminded me. I do in fact have something I intended to give her, I had forgotten it."

Dumbledore laughed at him. "Dear boy, it won't work for you if you don't give it to her."

"Thank you sir, I shall see to it as soon as we're back in the castle."

"Excellent. And now see here -," Dumbledore bade him to follow him along a dirt path a little into the forest. He stopped at a tall tree. "Look up there – mistletoe – just the ticket."

"Yes. I see."

Dumbledore cast a quick spell at the mistletoe and gently transported it down. "We'll keep this nice and fresh in time for the party." And like everyone's rather bawdy old uncle, he winked at Snape. "Make sure you take advantage of it."

A little later, Snape deposited the wreaths in the Great Hall for Dumbledore to muse over and saw that Flitwick was now busy decorating the large pine tree. "Filius, could I trouble you for some advice?" asked Snape while the Charms Professor was balanced precariously on the top of a step ladder, waving his wand about enthusiastically as white and gold baubles materialized from a box and placed themselves around the branches. "Advice from me?" responded Flitwick, glancing down. "For you Severus? Can't imagine what I can help you with, but of course, by all means."

"I have an antique contraption that need's its charm refreshing. I've tried it myself but can't quite get it. Would you have a look?"

"Certainly!" said Flitwick. "Delighted."

Snape went down to his quarters and retrieved the Faerie Call, and within a few minutes, Flitwick was examining it carefully, a monocle to his eye, most intrigued. "It's lovely," said Flitwick. "But you think the call's lost some of its power. I think I know where I have that charm in a book. Up to my office, Severus."

As they walked together up to Flitwick's tower office, Flitwick asked him where he'd come across the Call and its eventual home. Snape wasn't sure whether to mention Charity, but told Flitwick it was to be a Christmas present.

Flitwick glanced up at him, amused. "Really? I've never known you to exchange gifts, I rather thought you scorned that kind of thing."

"I, uh, haven't had much need…" mumbled Snape, relieved when they reached the office. He hadn't realized that people had viewed him as such a Scrooge.

The walls of Flitwick's office were lined with bookshelves crammed with books and he scrambled up a sliding ladder and rolled along examining the spines, pulling a few out and shoving them back. Finally he selected a book above his head and used his wand to retrieve it and lower it to his desk. "That's the one. Spells and Charms of Medieval Romania. I like it because they've done the translation in English." Once up at his desk he became absorbed in the task and for a long time simply ignored Snape, who had begun to browse the library himself while he waited.

When Snape heard incantations coming from the dais, he turned to see Flitwick in almost a trance, his wand pointed at the centre of the Faerie Call, and delicate multicoloured sparks of light and magic emitting from his wand tip as he murmured an incomprehensible spell. For the second time that day, Severus saw for himself the talents of his co-workers that had secured them their place at Hogwarts. Silly or foolish he may well describe it, but Flitwick could do things he couldn't. Really, this was what the auditors needed to see.

Presently, Flitwick seemed satisfied. "Come and see, Severus. Those cunning Carpathians, look at this beautiful magic. Now understand, I've merely enhanced the existing charm, the original magic is still there. How old did you say this Call is?"

"The shopkeep told me in the region of a couple of hundred years?"

"No, no," replied Flitwick impatiently. "The book says the original charm dates back to the eleventh century. It was still intact, just a little dusty. You've got a wee beauty here. Listen." Flitwick tapped the Call and the mechanism began revolving and from it emitted a haunting, murmuring melody that made no sense to human ears, but which Snape recognized from the evening he'd let it play. "That will attract fairies from miles around. Remarkable. Who did you say you're giving this to? It's rather precious."

Snape coughed and flushed. Flitwick, keenly observing, said, "Is it Charity Burbage?"

Resigned, Snape said, "You too?"

Flitwick sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. "I didn't notice you. I noticed her."

That surprised Snape and he raised his brows.

"Charity was a dear favourite of mine. She has a rebellious streak a mile wide and I can't resist them. I actually contacted her when the MS role came up, she was always arguing with me about science and technology compared to magic, we couldn't be further apart intellectually, but we just clicked. I knew she'd be perfect for the role, I knew she would challenge those pompous purebloods around the place, just what we needed. I must say, Severus, I approve of your taste, she is an absolute delight."

Snape didn't know what to say, but he smiled.

"Look at you, grinning your head off, I don't blame you. When she first arrived, she was clearly uncomfortable and I tried to help her I really did. But Dumbledore gave her that dreadful archive project and she just disappeared. I think she used it as a bolt-hole. For a while I wondered if I'd made the right choice, inviting her back to Hogwarts, I mean she struggled with it so when she was a student. She wanted to do science, she felt she could make a difference in the Muggle world. Frankly I was surprised when she said yes. But what I noticed, when I realized something was up, she came to dinner one evening in a witches gown, and she looked, well, forgive me Severus, but she looked like a picture, and I remember thinking, Hello – what's happened here? Then all of a sudden, she's quite the thing, isn't she? On that audit project with you. I had Kettleburn asking about her the other day, and I daresay Hooch wouldn't say no to a dinner date."

Again, Snape was at a loss for words, but it warmed him to hear Flitwick's reminisces.

"And so it was you, all along, bringing her out of her shell," said Flitwick, looking at him wonderingly. Then he turned serious. "Now listen here, young man, if I hear she's been hurt, trust me I will be onto you. I may not be tall, but I know a thing or two, don't test me. She is a bright, bright young lady and she is a responsible woman as well. Has a child I believe. She cannot be a plaything."

Snape shook his head, in some ways belatedly grateful that someone took the trouble to give him the fatherly speech he would otherwise never receive. To know that someone had seen the value, the beauty in Charity before he had was also somehow affirming, because she was not the surface, showy type; James Potter would never have got it. "Filius, she is…I can't describe…"

Flitwick smiled and relieved the pressure. "Well she's got you giving her presents, and that's a first, so it's obviously something a bit special. You have my blessing, dear boy, I couldn't think of a nicer couple."

Together they walked back down to the first floor, and while on the marble staircase, Hagrid came through the front door again, carrying another pine tree.

"Rubeus!" said Flitwick suddenly, and Hagrid stopped in his tracks, dripping melted frost onto the floor.

"Rubeus, look what we have here. Clever Severus found it. A Faerie Call."

Hagrid dropped the tree where he was standing and stared at Flitwick. "A real one?"

"Yes. Eleventh century. I've just improved it. Severus, I think you should let Rubeus play it."

Hagrid came up to take the Faerie Call in reverential hands. "Severus – why didn't you tell me you 'ad it?"

It wasn't really a question and Snape thought better of saying anything while Hagrid looked it over carefully from top to bottom as if it were made of glass. "I've seen a lot of fairy activity in the forest lately. Are you saying you'll let me use it?"

"Ah, well, it's a present -," said Snape and Hagrid looked at him directly.

"For Professor Burbage?"

"Yes!" squeaked Flitwick excitedly. "Worst kept secret, apparently!"

Snape died a little inside of pure mortification.

Hagrid continued looking over the Call for a minute longer then said, "Tell you what, I got an idea. Why don't we set it up at my hut, an' come the evenin', when there's loads of fairies around it, you bring Miss Charity down to see it. Thass a much better present than a bit of old contraption what she don't understand."

Flitwick actually beamed at the idea. "Oh yes, that's wonderful. Tonight will be the perfect evening for it. And Severus, if you don't mind my saying, I think you could take a pointer or two when it comes to romantic gestures. I can't wait to see how it works. Rubeus, can we use the catcher, I may use the fairies in my classroom for decoration…"

The pair wandered off with the Faerie Call in the direction of Hagrid's hut. As obsolete as he may have found himself, Snape didn't hold a grudge or even feel put out. On the contrary, he thought what he was currently feeling might actually be the thing they called the spirit of Christmas. "Bah humbug," he thought to himself, and drawing forth his wand, attempted to levitate the pine tree off the Entrance Hall floor.

That evening, at dinner, Hagrid leaned over to Snape and muttered as furtively as was possible for him that the Faerie Call was working like a, well, charm and even in daylight several had been lured out of the Forest. Hagrid had apparently captured these early responders in a wicker basket for Flitwick's classroom. "Bring Charity down at nine pm and rug up well, it's freezin' out."

Through dinner, Snape pondered on how to convince Charity to take a walk with him outside on a freezing winter night at a time many were thinking about having a bath and going to bed. Finally, knowing Charity, he decided to let curiosity do the work for him. As the students were leaving the Hall to return to their Common rooms and dorms, he strategically placed himself at the door ready to catch her as she left. Typically, she wasn't alone, but with Professor Sinistra, who watched everything so closely she left virtual burn-marks.

"Um, sorry, Professor Burbage – may I have a quick -,"

"Professor Snape," said Charity, rather overdoing the pretense at professionalism, he thought, since evidently any notion of their relationship being a secret was as historical as a Professor Binns class.

"If you are not otherwise engaged this evening, could you spare me a few minutes, around nine pm?"

"Nine pm? That's rather late, Professor Snape," said Charity looking concerned and glancing askance at Sinistra, whose eyebrows had shot up.

"Uh, indeed, I apologise for the hour, however it is the only time that I can show you..."

Hooked. The two women were suddenly extremely intrigued. "Show me what?" prompted Charity.

"I'm afraid I can't say." They stared at him. "It is a surprise," he added. Then he worried she might spend the interval imagining all sorts of extravagant things, particularly with Sinistra throwing fuel on the fire, so he concluded, "It's only a small thing, but I believe you may like it."

Sinistra gave Charity a little nudge at this point, so Charity said, "Well then, of course. Where shall I meet you?"

"In the Entrance Hall. And dress warmly, we will need to venture outside."

Charity gave him a small, curious smile and nodded, then she and Sinistra departed, the Astronomy Teacher making exaggerated swooning gestures as they walked. Snape found that oddly gratifying, having never before been the man to trigger that sort of response in a woman. This must be how it felt to be a teenage Sirius Black.

At eight-fifteen, and unaccountably nervous, he went out himself to check the performance of the Call, and was astonished to discover he could actually see the light of the fairies from the front steps. By the time he reached Hagrid's hut there was a swarm of them, drawn to the melodious Call Hagrid had hung from a hook in the eve of his roof. A rugged up Hagrid was catching the odd one with a butterfly net. "Severus! She ain't here is she? I'm not ready!"

"No, Hagrid, I was just worried in case it wasn't working, but obviously that's not going to be a problem."

Hagrid paused and stood straight, staring into the middle distance, clearly concentrating on something. "What's that?" he muttered. "Can you hear that? Is it ghosts?" Snape saw he was trying to hear something, so drew his wand and tapped the Faerie Call to still it. "There!" said Hagrid, "What is that?"

And now Snape could hear it too. He followed Hagrid out onto the lawn towards the castle and realized that was where the sound was coming from. Looking up to locate the source, he saw a crowd of students, many in dressing gowns, standing at windows and balconies that faced Hagrid's hut, booing collectively. Snape formed a thought about what was going on, and Hagrid confirmed it. He let out a shout of laughter and said, "The blighters think you've come to confiscate the Faerie Call! Wonder 'ow long they've been up there watchin'."

The sad irony was not lost on Snape. But he didn't want an audience when Charity came down so he waved his arm at the jeering spectators. "To your Common Rooms, now," he shouted. "Are you all Gryffindors? I'll take points!"

Fortunately he then recognized the taller figure of McGonagall appearing on the balcony, attempting to herd up the wayward students. They pointed at Snape, remonstrating, and she looked in his direction, but she was too far away to discern what she was thinking or saying. Reluctantly the students were ushered back to their rooms, and Snape turned to Hagrid, who was still chuckling away. "They'll never know the truth," he said.

"What? Tha' their favourite bat is actually a big ole softy? Nah, don' ruin it for them, every school needs a teacher the kids love to 'ate."

At nine, in a thankfully deserted Entrance Hall, Snape waited dressed in his winter cloak. Two minutes later, Charity appeared at the top of the staircase and hurried down. She wore a warm beige coat, scarf and leather gloves. With her honey-coloured hair pulled into a loose ponytail, her face lit up with attentiveness, she looked young and endearing.

She looked up at Snape quizzically when he took her hand, but neither spoke, not wanting to draw any attention, and Snape led her silently out of the door.

The moon had risen, and it was almost full, glittering on the frosty grass and spilling across the surface of the still lake. They didn't need a lantern as they descended the steps, and as Snape directed Charity towards Hagrid's hut, he could again detect the otherworldly glow of the faeries that were gathered, fluttering like sparkling moths, concentrated around the Call where the glow was at its brightest, but their shimmery pale hues were visible all around Hagrid's hut and amongst the nearby trees and garden.

As they walked closer, the hum of the Call became audible and Snape could tell from a slight squeeze of Charity's hand that she had discerned magic in the air, in ways that Muggle's barely could, witches and wizards had a sixth sense for it. Snape paused in their passage to let Charity see the hut from a short distance, as it truly was a rare and beautiful sight to see so many tiny pinpricks of enchanted light flying freely. And then she saw, and he heard her gasp softly and whisper, "What are they? What's making the light?"

"Fairies," Snape told her, looking at her now, drinking in the wonder on her face.

She glanced up at him, smiling, artless and he urged her on again. "Come and see. Hagrid's waiting."

Indeed Hagrid must have been watching them approach as he came out of the door of his hut, a huge grin on his face, arms held aloft. "Merry Christmas, Miss Charity," he said. "What do you think of them?"

Charity stood open-mouthed as the tiny beings fluttered all around, trailing glowing vapors of magic dust, their pale, phosphorescent wings in shades of pink, blue, green and violet. She noticed they were gathered around the Faerie Call, would flutter in towards it, bump into it then flutter away again, only to repeat the fruitless but irresistible task.

"Oh, its amazing!" she breathed. "Why are they here? Why are they flying to that thing?"

"It's a Faerie Call," Snape told her. "It's for you."

She looked up at him, confused. "For me?"

"It's a gift," he said. "From me. For Christmas. I remembered you asking about the fairy ring, I thought you might like to see some of the real thing."

An opalescent yellow fairy landed on her head for a moment, then fluttered away again, and a shimmery vapor of magic dust settled on her hair. "Severus," she said, her eyes warming as a smile from her heart formed. "That is the most beautiful, thoughtful present anyone has ever given me." Then she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear, "Thank you. Thank you so much." And then to his disbelief, she let her cheek linger against his then touched her lips to the soft skin. It was as if she'd branded him. The feel of her in his arms made his heart pound and his sleeping giant rolled and then stopped, abruptly, as if becoming aware. And then as if she were a mere wisp, she slipped free, and Hagrid said, "Go' one of 'em for me, young lassie?" and he bent down so she could give him a hug as well.

Still stunned, Snape could only stare in a daze as Flitwick emerged from Hagrid's hut, holding a bottle of liqueur and little crystal glasses, which he must have brought with him as Hagrid didn't have anything small in his hut. Charity laughed delightedly at the sight of him, and he began to describe the Faerie Call to her, the history, the construction, the means of stopping and starting it. As if from a thousand miles away, Snape continued to watch Charity as Hagrid caught a fairy and deposited it in her cupped hands. "Look! This one's a pixie!" he said, catching the little creature and holding it by the wings so she could examine it.

Flitwick came up to Snape, who couldn't seem to come out of his daze, and offered him a drink. "Get this down you, Severus, you look as if she's put you in a trance."

Snape threw back the hot, sweet spirit and Flitwick grinned at him. "Are you quite sure she hasn't given you a love potion?"

"Filius," replied Snape under his breath, "There isn't a potioneer in the land who could bottle this."

Flitwick nodded, eyes twinkling behind his specs. "There is no tonic for any man like the love of a good witch. You are fortunate indeed."

Then something behind Snape caught his attention, and he turned as Flitwick announced, "Headmaster! Minerva! How wonderful, do come and see this glorious sight. A wee tipple?"

As McGonagall followed Flitwick towards the hut, exclaiming that she'd seen the fairies from the Gryffindor tower, Dumbledore came up beside Snape and said with an inquiring smile, "Is this your doing? Or Hagrid?"

"The Faerie Call is mine, sir," replied Snape. "Or at least was. I have given it to Charity…a present, like you suggested. Flitwick helped to get it working properly and Hagrid offered to…well…test it."

"Marvellous!" responded Dumbledore, and took a long sip. "Look at Charity, she's like a child in a sweet shop. Severus, we may yet see the best of you. Do you think she's forgiven you?"

"I am hopeful, Headmaster."

He and Dumbledore joined the others, and as the evening progressed and Flitwick's liqueur ran out, Hagrid produced a bottle of Firewhisky and so they had tapped off the Call and entered the warmth of his hut, and all six teachers sat in an assortment of chairs around Hagrid's table, who was incredibly merry at this unexpected gathering, and they nipped whisky and laughed and told a hundred stories, and presently Snape felt Charity's fingers entwine themselves in his beneath the table and Snape turned to see her gazing at him and it occurred to him that right here, right now, in this hut, with these people, with this woman holding his hand, he'd never been happier in his life.

But as events unfolded to conspire against him, the meagre angels of his fortune who had rallied so hard to give Snape one evening of respite, to know and feel how ordinary men felt, collapsed from the effort, since it was Snape's destiny to end unloved, and he never even knew, and would not remember later, that in fact his life had peaked at that moment.