Chris Carter and 1013 Productions own the X-Files. JK Rowling, Warner Brothers and Scholastic own Harry Potter. All I own is this story line, every Harry Potter DVD and a complete collection of X-Files DVD's.
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A/N This story is set anytime during Sorcerers Stone through Prisoner of Azkaban of HP (although it contains information in all the books) and after X-Files episode "Emily", but before "Requiem".
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Outside the office, Scully leaned back against the wall and passed a hand over her eyes.
"So you were sent along to protect me?" She muttered to Snape, who had been waiting there, alone, for her. "To protect me in my own world?"
She seemed to be challenging him, and he could tell she wasn't pleased. But rather than defend himself, he decided on a counter attack. "Weren't you assigned a partner when you joined the Bureau? And aren't you expected to defend each other?"
"No...that's not precisely how it works. You only have a partner when you go out into the field. But this is completely different. You're not one of us--not Bureau. You're a civilian."
That didn't sound much like a compliment, or gratitude. "What you fail to realize, Dana, is that the only way Headmaster Dumbledore would allow you to retrieve the data was if you were under my protection. That was our agreement."
She turned her face away from him so he couldn't see her expression.
"I'll take you back to your room," Snape said, after they stood together in silence for a few moments.
"No," she answered quickly, facing him and touching his arm lightly. "The last place I want to go is to my room. I really don't want to be alone right now."
He looked around. "We can't stand out here all night. Come along."
She heaved herself away from the wall and allowed him steer her down the numerous hallways and moving flights of stairs. It was dark, much darker than usual when they patrolled, for it was well on into the night now and most of the torches had been extinguished, but she saw (with a faint sense of amusement) that he used his wand as a flashlight. They were moving downward now, into and under the castle, she knew, for she felt the chill in the air after they'd descended a few flights. At last they were at his quarters. After he unlocked the door and propelled her inside with a hand on her back, he lit the fireplace and peered into the simmering Veritaserum. Scully sank onto the threadbare couch with a sigh and watched him.
"What do you have to do to it now?" She asked. They hadn't spoken since outside Dumbledore's office and the silence was heavy--she felt she needed to say something, make conversation.
"Not a thing. It just has to age." He sat on the opposite end of the couch.
Scully looked down at her hands, then looked up at him. "What did you think of my world?"
"It was...adequate...for muggles."
The strain of the evening was too much for her--she laughed abruptly. "That means you hated it. No, I'm not offended. Sometimes I hate it, too. And on nights like tonight I wonder if Bill isn't right and I should never have joined the Bureau."
"But it's your career. What else would you do? What else do you really want?"
Scully frowned, then gave him a wry smile. "Right at this moment? What I really want is a drink."
Faster than her eyes could follow or her brain comprehend, he produced a bottle of wine and two glasses. She didn't' t ask where they came from, just accepted the glass, drank deeply and sighed as she felt the warmth steal through her veins.
"I'm glad you don't have class tomorrow," she said. "I'm not sure I could sit through a lecture in the mood I'm in--no offence."
He nodded. "But if you had no choice..."
"...Then duty first."
He looked piercingly at her. "If you understand the obligations of duty, you should understand why I had to be with you this evening."
"Oh..." she said, with an impatient wave. "I don't care about that anymore. And I don't want to talk about it." She drained her glass and held it out to him to be refilled. "Would you be surprised to know that there are times since I've been on this assignment I've caught myself wishing I could escape to here?"
He filled her glass. "But you know by now the wizarding world is no escape and no paradise. Not that I would ever live muggle again, but..."
"Yeah, you've said that before." She grinned. "The irony is, as much as I've come to love Hogwarts--yes, I do love it here--there's so much about this place that the rational mind simply can't accept. But I'm still drawn to it."
"I don't believe I understand you. What's irrational about Hogwarts? What can't you accept?"
"This! All of it!" She waved her free hand in a circle around her. "Stairs that move, paintings that talk, Dark wizards who come back from the dead. Not to mention that whole thing you call magic."
"But you've lived with us for weeks. You should be used to our ways by now."
"I know I should. But I'm a scientist, Severus. I need to understand how you make a broom fly or chess pieces walk and talk."
"And I've explained it to you. It's magic."
"No, that's just it. You haven't explained anything at all. You just call everything magic and think that's an explanation."
He tried to be patient. "Then why don't you tell me exactly what it is you want to know. If it's not knowledge that's reserved for wizards only, I'll try to explain it to you."
Scully put her head down on her hand and thought for a moment. "Okay. For instance. Where did this wine glass come from?"
"I conjured it."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you toying with me? Because if you are, it isn't very funny. How did you conjure it?"
"With a spell--weren't you watching?"
"Watching? Watching? Watching is all I've been doing for weeks! But it doesn't begin to tell me how a spell works."
"It works because it works."
She stared hard at him and realized he wasn't playing a mind game with her. Or at least, that wasn't his intent. He really believed it when he said the cause was magic.
"Then let me put it this way," she tried. "What is magic? What does it all mean? Why can you say a certain word and make things float around the room and I can't?"
"Because I'm a wizard and you're a muggle."
She sighed heavily. "Deceive, inveigle, obfuscate."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Never mind. It's nothing."
They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts.
"I'm willing to wager," Snape broke into the silence. "That you have a theory--to explain all this."
"I do. I have two theories, in fact. But let me tell you up front--I don't believe you have an extraterrestrial origin."
"Of course we don't," he stated indignantly. "We're from Earth the same as you."
"Then let me tell you my second best theory--genetic mutation. Your ability to manipulate objects could just possibly be a function of your genes or brain structure."
"What would that have to do with anything?" He asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"With a slightly altered genetic structure, you could theoretically have abilities that muggles don't have. There are precedents in nature for this--the way every animal has certain abilities that make them unique. For instance, bees can see ultraviolet light, but we can't." She took a sip, then looked up at him quickly. "You can't see in that spectrum, can you?"
"Don't be absurd," he replied irritably.
"Don't be defensive. It's a perfectly legitimate question. And maybe some day one of your people will submit to genome mapping or CT studies."
"No we won't," he stated firmly. "But you haven't told me your first theory."
"Oh yeah. My best theory--I think your people have developed a different technology than mine have that allows you to manipulate objects in a different way than my people do. But of course, the major problem with this theory is that it doesn't explain why only your people can use this technology. For instance, why can't I say a spell and have it work?"
"Because it's magic, and you're a muggle."
"No!" She insisted vehemently. "That's not a good enough answer!"
"Why won't you listen?" He said heatedly. "I'm telling you, the answer is magic and nothing more. There is no other answer."
She shook her head impatiently. "You're wrong, Severus. The answer is out there, I just haven't found it yet."
"Good luck searching," he said dryly.
She sat silently again, staring into her wine glass. Then, "Back there in the barn, that muggle said wizarding power is stronger than muggle power. Do you suppose that's true?" He didn't answer, and she glanced at him, only to see him looking at her with suspicion once more. "What's the matter--did I say something wrong?" She asked.
"Surely you must know that's a very loaded--not to mention dangerous--question."
"I don't see what's so dangerous about it. Our people aren't enemies. In fact, most of my people are completely unaware of your very existence.'
"But we have to keep ourselves hidden from you muggles. That doesn't exactly make us allies."
"That's still no reason to react as if my question were some sort of military espionage. The way I see it, all the threats of violence are coming from your people. You Know Who and his followers want to eliminate--or subjugate--us. Not the other way around."
He frowned and looked away.
"I've been reading through Hogwarts' library for weeks, Severus. Furthermore, I've personally seen what you call magic, performed by actual wizards. Even if you didn't come right out and tell me yourself, I've been getting a pretty good idea of what your people are capable of. But," she said, leaning back against the sofa cushions and shrugging, "if you don't feel comfortable telling me, I'll respect that."
"No, I trust you, Dana. You aren't interested in stealing our secrets. And even if you did, you couldn't even begin to reproduce most of the things we can do...The truth is--both sides have certain advantages. Your biggest muggle advantage is that you outnumber us. And, your technology has advanced extremely rapidly in the last hundred years. Furthermore, muggle weapons can harm us--we're not impervious to bullets or bombs, although we can cast protective spells against them if we have enough warning they're coming. Unfortunately, the effects of these spells are only temporary. But on the other hand, our biggest advantage is the ability to blend in with your people. Some wizards live among muggles their whole lives without their neighbors ever suspecting what they really are. We also have some very powerful and destructive spells at our disposal, although their use would be generally frowned upon by most ethical wizards. On a less destructive scale, we can induce hallucinations for purposes of subterfuge or we can even obliviate your memories." He frowned even deeper, and Scully could see that concession--the admission that muggles did indeed have some advantages--cost him much.
"Of course," she said softly, "this is all academic because we're not at war."
"Not yet," he replied, equally as softly.
She swirled the last drops in her glass, then drained it. "But aren't you curious about magic? Didn't you ever wonder where this ability comes from? Or even what this ability is? What it's essential nature is?"
"Are you back on that again? Let me tell you once and for all. I don't wonder about it. I never did. I never will. Never. But perhaps you're wrong, Dana. Maybe you spend so much time worrying about how to explain this that you can't just open your mind to the possibility that there are some things you will never be able to quantify in a laboratory. Maybe there's more to the world than what your precious science has discovered."
He half expected her to become angry or even more pensive by this answer, but to his surprise, she laughed shortly. She was thinking how much like Mulder that sounded. "I'll never stop looking for the answers, Severus. But I'll drop it for now. Okay?" Then she sighed, shifted sideways, and leaned back against him. She held up her glass again for a refill.
"No, you've had enough, Dana."
"Since when did you become my mom?"
He took the glass away from her and she rose up to snatch it back, but yelped when she felt her hair yanked. Her hand flew to her head. "I'm stuck," she muttered as she tried to untangle her hair from the buttons on his waistcoat. He tried to help her, but only succeeded in pulling it painfully.
"Ow, stop it!" She implored. "I'll do it myself." She lifted her other hand and fiddled with her hair until she freed all but one button. "You'll have to get me some scissors," she finally declared.
"What are you planning to do?" He asked warily.
"Just get me the scissors. Conjure them or something. I need them."
"But..."
"Do it now!"
She felt him push a little pair into her hand, and she gingerly snipped until her head was free. She pulled away from him, fluffing her hair back into place with one hand and in her other hand was a little black button. She picked the strands of her hair out of it before she held it out to him. "It was the only way. Sorry. Wizards can sew buttons, can't they?"
He took it from her and pocketed it. "House elves' work," he sniffed contemptuously. "Of course you could have just let me untangle you with magic."
"Oh, let me guess--the Untanglio spell. Right?"
He looked at her hard.
"Was I right?" She smiled. "Is that really the name of the spell? But you should know by now, I prefer to do things the unmagical way."
"That's easy to say when you don't have a choice."
"Perhaps...except you're forgetting that as long as I'm on this assignment, I do have a choice. I'm surrounded by witches and wizards who will ungrudgingly help me with their magic--even the children. And in spite of it all, I've learned I like to do things the muggle way--even though I never knew there was a muggle way until a few weeks ago."
The strain of the evening was starting to work on him and this little declaration of her independence added to it. He didn't show it at the time, but he'd been very afraid for her when she was being followed, and afraid for her once again in the barn. He knew that she was a highly trained law enforcement officer, saw for himself that she was perfectly able to defend herself, but that hadn't stopped him from wanting to protect her with his own skills. He didn't like to think what might have happened if she'd encountered that wizard armed only with her gun. He put one arm around her and pushed back her hair with his other hand. "It's very rare," he said, "that I have the chance to have an engaging conversation with anybody. And when I finally do find an intelligent mind, it happens to belong to a muggle. I wish you had been born a witch."
"Yes, you told me that before," she answered. "But does it matter? Can't we still be friends?"
"Friends," he murmured as he pulled her closer. "Is this what you call friendship?"
The wine was swirling through her veins, going to her head, fogging it a bit. That, and the feel of his mouth on hers, his hands on her back, was making her dizzy as she melted in to him. She ran her hand down his chest, and the doctor in her smiled. Despite his cool, detached exterior, she could feel his heart pounding rapidly in his chest.
"...Dana, what are you doing?" He could feel her fingers fumbling at his buttons.
"It's very warm in here," she said softly. "Do you need to wear this coat?"
He grabbed her wrist and she looked up at him. "Besides, it needs to be repaired anyway. And you are wearing a shirt underneath."
He looked into her eyes a long time, then removed her to the sofa, stood up, and took off his coat. She watched him as he hung it up on a peg by the door. When he rejoined her on the couch, she reached up quickly and unbuttoned the top button of his white linen shirt.
"Why...?"
"So you don't look like a serial killer," she shuddered.
The allusion was completely lost on him.
She ran her hand down the sleeve of his shirt, then twined her fingers in his. "So tell me, Severus--three months ago, would you ever imagine you'd be sitting here in your quarters entertaining a muggle?"
He lifted her hand, holding it briefly against his cheek. "Considering that I don't associate with muggles, no. Of course, I thought Dumbledore was out of his mind bringing you here."
"Is that right? I hadn't noticed," she retorted sarcastically. "Well, if it's any consolation, even if I told, none of my friends would ever believe this story of how we conducted an investigation at Hogwarts, no matter how many times I swore on the Bible."
"We're real enough, even though we hide...I've spent most of my life here. First as a student. Then as a teacher. With a little...interruption...in between."
"Hmm. What were you like as a student?"
"I got high marks. I liked to study the Dark Arts. That didn't endear me to some of my fellow classmates. What were you like?"
"Kind of a bookworm, I suppose, because I knew I needed to keep my grades up to get into med school. But I was mostly well behaved, apart from sneaking the occasional cigarette from Mom's purse..."
"That's a nasty muggle habit."
"I said it was occasional...Does Hogwarts do a yearbook? Do you still have yours?"
He looked at her strangely.
"You do have one! Oh come on," she cajoled. "Show me."
"I generally don't like to..." He protested, then sighed and reluctantly got up, leaving her to go into his bedroom to find it. He opened his armoire, and on the top shelf were his most important books. He threw the unneeded ones carelessly on his bed--the yearbook was shoved to the back of the cabinet. But as he searched, he heard a creak and turned around. She had not only followed him, but had also kicked off her shoes, hitched her skirt above her knees and was creeping across the counterpane. Then she reached for the smallest book, entitled The Little Book of Little Spells, sat back on her heels and opened to the flyleaf.
"Merry Christmas, Severus. Love, Lily." She read aloud. She looked up at him, her eyes soft. "I never realized you were so sentimental--you kept this keepsake in your possession all these years."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "What makes you think it's so old?"
Scully smiled. "The pages are yellowing. She addressed to you by first name--so she couldn't be a student of yours. And grown women don't dot their Is with little stars."
"Amazing deduction," he said dryly.
"She was a good friend of yours, wasn't she?"
"Dana..." he said, warningly.
Her eyes opened wide with drunken realization. "Were you in love with her?" She closed the book gently and handed it to him.
He held the book in both hands but didn't look at it. "Sometimes things don't work out the way one hopes," he said quietly before he put the book back into the armoire. "Anyway, here's my seventh year yearbook."
Scully flipped through it, surprised at how similar it was to a muggle yearbook. There were the faculty pictures--many of the same people were still holding their posts today--only they all looked so much younger here. Then there were the activities. Lots of quidditch photos. Of course, it was more like looking at TV, with all the moving around. But the general format was the same as her own.
Then she came to the individual photos. Looked in the S's.
"Hey, where are you? Your spot is blank."
"Well you must know I have better things to do than hang around in a yearbook picture all day."
"Can you call yourself back? I'd really like to see."
He rolled his eyes, but summoned himself back into the picture.
Scully stared. He looked much younger--just a teenager--before his Death Eater days. But he looked so resentful. Even with what she knew of his history she was shocked. "I guess you were having a bad day when this picture was taken."
"I never look at that yearbook. I don't like to dwell on those days," he said abruptly. "I was grateful enough to leave home when my summons came, but Hogwarts wasn't exactly a refuge, either. It had it's own...challenges. And because I followed the areas of study that were interesting to me, rather than following the herd, I wound up fighting my share of duels."
"I understand," she nodded.
"But no," he sneered. He was regretting opening this part of his life to her, and felt the need to relieve his feelings in sarcasm. "I don't think you would really understand that. You are...pretty. And you have a respectable career--on the right side of the law--in a position of trust. Everything comes easily to you." He sat on the edge of the bed and stared a challenge to her.
"Oh, wouldn't I understand?" She retorted, snapping the book shut. "I was rather gawky as a teenager, for your information. We didn't hang out with the party crowd, my friends and I. We weren't cool enough for them. But that's neither here nor there. How can you just judge me like that and make assumptions about my life? Look at me, Severus--look at me right here and now. I'm thirty--..." she laughed shortly and smoothed down her blouse and skirt. "Let's just say I'm thirtysomething and leave it at that. I'm essentially married to the Bureau--and not a very happy marriage, to stretch the analogy. For one thing, I have an office in the basement. I'm not sure what that means in wizarding terms. But let me tell you--in the muggle world, it means my career is nearly flatlined. My days consist of investigating haunted houses and chasing after aliens from outer space. My nights? My weekends? Let's just say my respectable career has left me with precious little time for a real life. And even if I quit the FBI today, and pursued a normal, middle class, suburban life--like Bill and Tara, for instance--I can never have any..." She stopped short. The sterility that was the result of her abduction experience was something she didn't want to discuss with him. Besides, it brought up painful memories of Emily. "...any normal life. I think I've gone too far to ever have a normal life," she concluded softly. "So what could you possibly tell me about things not working out the way you planned?" Then she groaned as she put her face in her hands. "That little speech was the alcohol talking. In the morning I'll hate myself for telling you all that. Then I'll deny that I remember anything I said tonight. I would appreciate you pretending you don't remember any of it, either."
He sat, shocked, not expecting that outburst from her. He reached out and put a hand on her knee. "Then maybe we're more alike than we realize. I'm also...thirtysomething--as you so interestingly phrase it...and I'm married to Hogwarts. Although I like my office exactly where it is, dungeon and all, my days are spent teaching unappreciative little brats how to make potions they're not intelligent enough to use properly."
She put her hands down and chided him. "That's not nice."
"I don't care."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"Do you ever...do you ever wish for more out of life?" Scully whispered.
"After what I saw tonight, are you about to tell me your life is too boring?"
"That's just my work. I'm not talking about work. I'm talking about a real life--like other people have. A life where work stays at work and home stays at home. You know--a life."
"I try not to think about it."
She kneeled up, a little bit unsteady. "Don't you get tired of just reading about life, or just being an observer to other peoples' lives?" She pressed.
He kneeled up, also, facing her. "Sometimes," he said quietly.
Blue eyes locked on black, and she swayed towards him. He plunged his hands into her hair, tipping her head back, and his mouth descended on hers, gently coaxing her lips apart. And against the backdrop of the delicious unreality of Hogwarts, she reveled in the solid reality of the man enfolding her in his embrace.