Disclaimer # 1 – not my characters. Not making any money. Just playing with them, abusing them and then putting them back together better than before.

A/N # 1 - Thanks to Excessively Perky for the term "Hunt the Snake".

A/N # 2 – Absinthe is a distilled, highly alcoholic anise-flavored spirit derived from herbs, including the flowers and leaves of the herb "wormwood." Absinthe is typically of a natural green color (which is probably why Slytherins like it so much). It is often called "the Green Fairy" or the "Green Goddess". It supposedly induces in its victim a type of lucid drunkenness. Oscar Wilde after drinking the "Green Fairy" claimed that he had tulips on his legs. It is served using a slotted spoon, water and sugar cube to help dilute the absinthe. This has been your useless Selmak related Fanfic trivia for today.

(See, you can learn more from fanfic than just anatomically impossible pron positions.)

We left Albus reassuring a rather miserable Severus that his friendship with Filius hadn't been destroyed by Severus' earlier bad behavior.


"Severus, I hope you understand that I didn't anticipate that Filius would react like this," Albus calmly stated. "Truthfully, my only intent in throwing the party was merely to remind some people that Filius Flitwick is a mage to be respected, not denigrated and belittled because of his mixed heritage and short stature. I certainly did not wish to rip open old wounds. Filius is having nightmares, which is not good. What have you given him so far?"

Severus dutifully listed the potions that he had administered to Filius, and then Albus shook his head.

"Don't you have Dreamcatcher wards in your suite? Shouldn't your wards be preventing his nightmares from occurring?" Albus' voice was puzzled as he pondered that mystery.

"The effectiveness of the wards depends on the severity of the dreams," Severus regretfully admitted that tidbit. "Some slip through but they are usually greatly diminished by the wards."

Severus' candor was rewarded by a narrowing of Albus' eyes.

"Severus!" Albus softly protested in a concerned tone. "Why didn't you tell Filius or me that you were having breakthrough nightmares? I would have strengthened the wards, as would have Filius. Never mind, I know why you didn't mention it. You have to realize that I truly desire to help you, as does Filius…"

"Yes, because I have such a hard row to hoe," Severus dryly retorted. Yes, his lot in life was a fun filled festival of misery, but why did everyone have to remind him of that inescapable fact? Why did they feel the need to pour salt in his wounds?

"Filius and I would have strengthened your wards because we're friends, Severus, and friends desire to assist their friends."

That profound premise stopped him dead in his tracks, and Severus didn't know what to say. Lily had often done that… until that horrible day he had ruined their friendship by being an utter arse. Since then, nobody had ever done anything for him without expecting something in return.

The whores slept with him because he paid them.

Albus would protect him as long as he spied.

The Death Eaters would fawn over him because they needed his potion skills.

Everyone wanted something from Severus, and he gave and gave… because then he was able to imagine that they cared for him.

Except for Filius.

Filius was a brick… had been a brick…never wanting anything from Severus. Yet that ungrateful, greasy git, Nobby No Mate Severus, had to bugger up everything.

I'm such a bloody arse!

"I assure you that I will strengthen your wards before you go to bed, Severus. You deserve restful slumber just as much as everyone else does in the castle. Severus? Whatever is the matter?"

To Severus' surprise, he felt the Headmaster's hand on his shoulder. Albus gave his shoulder a quick, comforting squeeze.

"Oh, I understand. Don't worry, Severus, I'm quite sure that you and Flitwick are still good friends. If Filius can forgive a coral Phoenix for unintentionally reminding him of a truly horrific event every time he saw him, then you have nothing of which to be concerned." Albus assured him. "Do you by chance, have any Absinthe in your stores?"

Absinthe? Albus wants to give Filius Absinthe?

"I am a Potions Master. I do brew Absinthe on occasion," Severus would admit that he did, but he wouldn't reveal how much he brewed. He certainly wouldn't reveal his recipe as Lucius Malfoy paid dearly for the brew and the Green Fairy supplemented his Hogwarts Salary. "Are you suggesting that I get Filius drunk? You believe that adding a hangover to what currently ails Filius will improve the situation? I fear that I must disagree."

"Absinthe makes people talkative. Severus, that demon brew known as the Green Fairy makes people extremely loquacious. It might be beneficial if Filius decides to repress his emotions. You're not the only one who keeps his problems to himself. Filius needs to give voice to what he's feeling, not bottle his emotions."

"But Absinthe, Albus?" Severus questioned.

"It will be the last resort, Severus," Albus assured him. "But I have it on very best authority that Absinthe is helpful in matters such as this. It has the medicinal property of deadening one's magical ability."


Filius Flitwick regretfully woke, not wanting to revisit the memories of the last few days. Yet the memories, of both the pleasant and painful varieties, flooded his mind, and he struggled to keep his emotions in check. His control was shaky and his weather sense was predicting thunder storms. Left unhindered, his emotional upset would only feed the storm.

He ran through the mental exercises to relax that Indira had taught him. First, Flitwick closed his mind and attempted to calm down.

Empty your mind, Filius.

Deliberately, he pushed all the baggage out of his mind. He pushed the Pink Toad out of his mind, and rather happily so. That achy part of his soul, where his recent fight with Severus resided and festered, was gently freed and tenderly released to the winds. Damn it, he needed more patience with Severus! Perhaps, he truly should have confessed to the lad years ago that he was Ophidiophobic.

Yes, after he admitted his fear of snakes to Severus, he probably should have confessed that he was severely Pyrophobic to boot also.

He wasn't fearful of burnt snakes, which was probably a good thing. Pyroophidiophobia was rather hard to pronounce and a rather silly fear. Who'd willingly admit that he was scared of a crispy snake?

Mentally, he was gently thwacked with a fan made of peacock feathers. It seemed his spiritual guru, Indira, was rather cross with his flippant attitude.

Empty your mind, Filius!

He did so quickly.

Done!

Times like this, Filius Flitwick wished he wasn't blessed with his analytical mind. Checking off each part of a relaxation exercise truly foiled the objective. He swept his mind clean, like a hyperactive House Elf energetically and zealously sweeping the Great Hall clean. Yet, each time he believed his mind was emptier than a particularly dense first year named Cornelius who had grown up to become the Minister of Magic, he'd get distracted by a stray thought.

If he couldn't empty his mind of all thoughts, there was no way in hell he'd achieve the state of Zen where his magic wouldn't augment the weather.

It would be best for all if he canceled his classes and hunkered down in his tower.

Actually, it would be safer for everyone if he just went to ground in the deepest part of the dungeon.

The only time he had been this emotionally distraught and it had stormed, lightning had repeatedly struck the Ravenclaw Tower. Galatea Merrythought, being a veteran of many a magical skirmish, had swiftly realized the reason behind the lightning strikes, and she had handled the distressed Filius in a direct manner suitable for such a renowned warrior witch.

Got him absolutely snockered on Absinthe and then she had shagged him until Filius was senseless and shell-shocked. In fact, due to Galatea's passionate desire to keep Hogwarts standing, she had persevered until he was a physically exhausted, though blissfully serene, pale shade of himself. It had taken him nearly a week to recover from her tender mercies before he was able to so much as swish and flick a hot cuppa.

Galatea, my dear, I miss you still. What a loving Hufflepuff you were.

There was the sound of the Floo activating, and then he heard Albus greet Minerva.

Albus? What was that meddlesome Albus doing here?

"Minerva, I've made the assessment that Filius shouldn't teach his classes today. Severus suggested that the staff can pick up his classes for today rather than just flat out canceling them. Severus has kindly volunteered to take a class, and he recommended that Dolores pick up the first year class. Minerva, can you find volunteers among the instructors to fill the rest of his schedule?" Albus asked.

Dolores Umbridge teaching my classes! Did they want the very castle to come down around their ears?

"Yes, I agree. He's in no condition to teach today," Minerva agreed.

That did it; Filius Flitwick would not let Albus Dumbledore run amuck with his classes and his students. For Severus to suggest Dolores Umbridge take over his class and for Minerva to agree to the insanity, well, it greatly disturbed Filius. Canceling his classes was one thing, but to turn his students over to the tutelage of UMBRIDGE? His displeasure gave him enough energy to sit up in Severus' bed and fiercely glare at the three younger mages.

"I can teach my classes," Filius angrily protested. "I don't want that bitch teaching my Charms students. Do you really believe she can handle a first year Charms class? I can't believe you three agreeing to this insanity! I'm perfectly capable of teaching my classes. Why do you believe that I'm incapable of teaching today?"

There was a bright, blinding flash of light that brightened even Severus' dim quarters, promptly followed by a loud crack of thunder. The castle and the ground groaningly shuddered in response. Albus, Minerva and Severus all were quite careful not to look at Filius, and instead, they all seemed to be staring at the tattered quilt on Severus' chair.

"Severus? Would you mind checking the Quidditch Pitch and the Quidditch Stadium?" Albus quickly requested.

"We fire proofed it in preparation for Masood," Minerva inserted. She was attempting to be calm, but the lighting strike had rattled her. "It should be fine."

"I saw everything; did you forget the Howler so soon?" Albus dryly quipped. "Do I need to send you another one reminding you that you're on probation due to your predilection for risky, nighttime flying? Severus? The Quidditch Stadium? Can you please confirm that Hogwarts, in fact, still possesses one?"

"I can't believe I'm being removed from my own quarters," Severus tiredly protested. "I don't remember inviting any of you to my quarters for High Tea."

Severus stormed out of his quarters, his black robes swinging behind him. As the door slammed behind him, there was an answering flash of light, and a nearly instantaneous crack of lighting.

"Minerva? He might require assistance," prompted Albus, his voice sounding slightly strained.

The witch quickly exited stage left.

"Perhaps I might suggest that we return to your suite in all due haste?" Albus politely requested, attempting to project an easy serenity. "I believe Galatea and Armando's wards are stronger there."

Another spontaneous explosion and the winds began to howl.

"I experienced the most interesting dreams last night, Albus. Hogwarts had been overrun by Death Eaters and Severus was Headmaster." Filius' voice was tightly controlled, but there was another lightning strike that rattled the castle.

Filius was staring at the wall, so he didn't see Albus' eyes narrow.

"There were different visions, but in all of them, he was Headmaster. In all of my dreams, the boy died, Albus. Once by snake bite, once by Bellatrix LeStrange…. And once…. I killed him, Albus. I bloody murdered the boy, Albus. I DEMAND TO KNOW, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOUR PLANS FOR HIM?"

Another ground shaking lighting blast occurred and Albus reached over to Filius. He put his hands gently on Filius' temples, and then he looked into Filius' blue eyes.

"Forgive me," he softly whispered. "Go to sleep, Filius."

"No, you have to tell me," Filius fiercely protested. "You gave the boy to me to watch over. I have done so willingly, but you know that I won't let you destroy him."

"I can't explain it to you now. Your distress is feeding the storm, Filius. I swear that we'll talk after the storm passes," Albus assured him. "Go to sleep, Filius. Peto somnus iam! Vigoratus vestri animus."

The Charms Master attempted to stay awake, but Albus' double casting of a sleep spell and a balm to Filius' soul was too powerful.

"I bloody murdered him, Albus," whispered Filius. "I bloody cut him down like he was a stray dog in the street."

Flitwick's blue eyes were having trouble focusing, and yet he struggled to speak.

"Better take the damn dreams… from my head… I'll have nightmares with them…." Filius bitterly insisted. "That way you can see in detail… what your merry schemes have accomplished."

"Shh… Go to sleep, FIlius," Albus softly repeated. "I'll examine the memories when you're sleeping and I'll soften them, so they're not so raw."

"Why does it always end in Fire, Albus?" Filius' voice was slow as he was fighting to stay awake.

"For some, fire is purification," Albus gently reminded him. "It refines and distills."

"Fire isn't cleansing, it burns and chars. The school reeked like a crematorium; I couldn't get the stink of it from my nose," Filius muttered. "The food tasted like ashes, no matter what spices they added. No matter how much Hari mirch, Hara miri miri or Haldi was used, the food tasted like cinders. It was dust in my mouth…The water… how I craved a simple glass of cold water. You don't realize how sweet water tastes until the only water available tastes like smoke."

Albus' gentle hands began rubbing Filius' temples.

"Why must I live through it again?" Filius tearfully pleaded. "I'm too old to go through this again…I'm so old, Albus…"

"Peto somnus iam! Vigoratus vestri animus. Peto somnus iam! Vigoratus vestri animus," Albus softly repeated.

When the Charms Master was finally deeply asleep, Minerva and Severus barged back into the room. Both appeared windswept and slightly damp.

"The Quidditch Stadium still stands, Headmaster," Minerva assured him. There was a barely contained ferociousness radiating from the proud Minerva, much like a proud cat who has been dunked in water dares anyone to be foolish enough to mention it.

"He's asleep for now, so l will take him to his quarters," Albus stated. "The storm's fury is fading, so hopefully that was the worst of it."

"I'll carry him," Severus inserted quickly. "He's sensitive to magic being used on him, and it might be better if he's physically carried rather than Spelled."

"That's very considerate, Severus," Albus assured him.

Severus' dark eyes flickered from Albus to a smirking Minerva then back to Albus.

"Considerate? Rubbish! I'd hate for the Quidditch Stadium to be destroyed before the annual Slytherin and Gryffindor game," caustically retorted Snape, steadfastly determined to maintain his well-earned reputation for being heartless.

The Slytherin growled when he saw that Minerva was still smirking.

"Naturally, Severus is only concerned about the Quidditch Stadium," Minerva promptly agreed. "We have our usual bet running on it."

Severus, realizing that he was being not so gently mocked, ignored her and instead went to his bed. With a carefulness that was surprising from the grim Slytherin, he picked up Filius as though the Charms Instructor weighed no more than a child.

"Let's get Filius to his quarters," he suggested. "You better join me, Headmaster, else Rowena may attack me."

"Naturally, I'm coming with you. I plan on staying with Filius today. Minerva? Would you mind getting his classes covered?"

"Yes, I'll do it at breakfast," Minerva assured the Headmaster. "Speaking of which, I better get down to the Hall. No doubt the Toad is eyeing your seat and debating if she should physically fill it."

After Minerva's exit, Albus reminded Severus about the Absinthe.

"In my wardrobe," Severus informed him. "Third drawer down. Considering my supplies in my stores are so often nicked by students, staff members and people pretending to be staff members, I thought it best to keep it someplace safe."

Albus' lack of response spoke volumes.

"The bloody spoon is with the bottle and the damn cup is there also. I'm sure Filius has plenty of sugar cubes," Severus stated. "He likes his tea very sweet."


Dolores Umbridge was not amused. It was almost time for breakfast, and there was no Headmaster at the staff table. While his lack of attendance suited Dolores' plans, there was no Assistant Deputy, Potions Master or Charms Master present. No doubt the four of them were plotting something.

That frivolous party this weekend!

All that extravagance for a half-goblin! That freakish Charms Master who paraded around like he was just as good as any pure blooded, full human. Once Cornelius revealed to the entire magical world that the once great Albus Dumbledore was nothing more than a barmy old nutter, Fudge would be able to initiate wide spread changes for the good of the wizarding world. No more half breeds being allowed wands, for one. All foreign mages would be required to register at the Ministry when they visited, as Cornelius had secretly confirmed her darkest fears. Less than a dozen of the mages at Filius' party had bothered to inform the Ministry they were visiting Hogwarts.

She needed to get her hands on the master list of invitations, so she could report to Cornelius who exactly had been invited to the party. Naturally, Dolores had introduced herself as a representative of the Ministry to the various foreign mages, but she had the distinct idea that more than one mage had given her a false name. One of the turban wearing Pakis had gleefully assured her that his given name was "Bob" though the rather shaggy mage had been introduced to the crowds as Bharradwatamakaj Singh or something like that. Plus, besides the numerous invitees, there had been a great many gatecrashers, as she knew that the group of rowdy Ravenclaw Unspeakables had taken it upon themselves to attend.

Hopefully, Cornelius would remember her loyal service, and let her break Filius Flitwick's wand. Once in half, and then again… and again… Laughing behind her back about failing her, would he? Let's see how he would like making his way in the world as an underpaid Gingrott's teller.

There was another lightning flash and a thunderous explosion. The very castle shook, and Dolores flinched.

"My weather sense is fading," Rolanda informed Pomona. "I thought we would have a gentle rain today. Something stirred it up."

Dolores had just decided that she would sit in the Headmaster's seat when Minerva McGonagall stormed into the Great Hall.

"Pomona, Rolanda, Dolores, Filius is ill and unable to handle his classes today. Would you mind covering? Dolores, you can take the first year Charms as that's your free period," McGonagall commanded, not politely requested. No, the witch COMMANDED her to take the little goblin's class.

Who did Minerva McGonagall think she is? Commanding her like she wasn't Dolores Umbridge!

"Whatever is the matter with him?" Dolores' tone was curt as she demanded an answer. "He seemed in fine form at his little gala on Saturday."

"It's the weather, isn't it?" Pomona quickly inserted, cutting off Minerva's caustic retort. "I know how he gets with storms. The barometric pressure change gives him horrific migraines. Naturally, I'll take his class."

"Yes, it's the weather," Minerva admitted.

Dolores returned back to her seat, and Minerva decided it would be permissible to sit next to Rolanda and Pomona. Just for today, as Severus wasn't there to buffer Dolores.

"Filius is in a bad way, isn't he?" Pomona softly questioned. "This storm is unnatural. I know how he gets and how he can influence the weather."

"Yes, he's upset and his emotional unease is whipping up the storm. He nearly took out the Quidditch Stadium… No!" Minerva grabbed a concerned Rolanda by her wrist and pulled her back into her seat. "Rolanda, Severus and I have already checked and the Stadium is fine! Albus is handling the situation and Filius is sleeping off the storm."

"What set him off?" Pomona questioned. "Do you know?"

"I think it's a variety of different issues," Minerva prayed that Pomona would be willing to let the matter drop as the Herbology Instructor had ways of getting Minerva to reveal all her secrets. Let the matter between Filius and Severus stay between the two men. "The Toad isn't helping matters."


Albus exited the Floor first, and fortunately he calmed down the Filius' very agitated familiar, Rowena, who appeared rather keen to use her razor sharp talons to rip Severus' eyes out of his head.

"Rowena, behave," Albus gently reprimanded the Golden Eagle. "You can sense that Filius is sleeping and everything will be resolved after a good day's rest."

The Golden Eagle appeared uncertain, but she decided to focus on her beloved master. Noiselessly, the eagle flew to Filius' bedroom, where she decided to perch on his bedpost so she could oversee everything. After Severus carefully placed the sleeping Charms Master in his bed, Filius' familiar began to softly chirp. Under Rowena's sharp eyes, Severus quickly undressed the Charms Master, removing his jacket, tie, shoes and socks. Then he tenderly tucked in Filius, ensuring that the blankets were just so, and not too tight.

"I don't have to be anywhere for the next hour, so I'll stay," whispered Severus.

His dark eyes fiercely glittered as he dared Albus to remove him from the room. Then deliberately, Severus sat down in only full sized chair in the room. It was located next to Filius' bed. Albus nodded his understanding and then the Headmaster created a comfortable chair that was located right next to Severus' chair.

The two men sat in silence for some time, watching the still Filius slumber.

"Your class is starting in ten minutes," Albus gently reminded Severus.

"I'd rather be here in case he wakes," was Severus' immediate response.

"He won't wake for several hours. I have a meeting at the Ministry at one. I believe that's your preparatory period? Filius will probably enjoy your company then," Albus assured him. "It will be alright, Severus. Your disagreement will rapidly be forgotten as though it had never happened."

It won't be forgotten by me, Severus mentally retorted. I'll remember this, and I will always step carefully around Filius. I've lost his friendship. I didn't value it enough until I lost it!

"Severus, you need to forgive yourself for being human," Albus gently instructed. "You also need more faith in your friends."

I don't have any friends, Headmaster. I have people that use me, and tolerate my presence only because of what I can do for them.

Instead of responding, Albus squeezed Severus' shoulder once more. At this rate, the Headmaster's comforting shoulder squeezes would leave Severus with quite the collection of bruises.

"Go, there are eager young empty minds waiting to be stuffed full of knowledge," Albus stated.

"Empty minds is right, I almost pity Dolores having first year Charms," Severus snarked. "Almost, but not quite."

Albus waited until Severus had left before he gently reached for Filius. He put two fingers on Filius' temple and then he began to gently pull the traumatic memories from Filius' subconscious. With a delicate touch, he tugged at the wispy silvery streams, gently separating the strands from Filius and then he placed them in a small basin.

"Come now my dear friend, let me examine your dreams," Albus whispered. "I'll buff the rough edges out for you so your sensitive soul doesn't bleed to death from the pain. Severus as Headmaster? Old friend, your dreams may well be portents of what will happened after I die. If Severus is promoted to Headmaster, he'll be able to keep the students and the instructors safe."


The high spirited First Years' communal good mood collectively crashed and burned once the unhappy students realized that easygoing, tolerant Professor Flitwick had been replaced by the Pink Toad.

"Good morning, children," she chirped.

How she loathed the little monsters, especially their vacant little faces.

"Good Morning, Professor Umbridge," the class singsonged. They had previously experienced her displeasure when they failed to answer her greeting and so they knew now how to respond.

"Professor Flitwick is not feeling very chipper today, so I am covering his class," Dolores explained as she walked down the aisle.

A small voice, from the front of the classroom, not so quietly whispered a fervent prayer to the various sympathetic Gods and Goddesses requesting Filius Flitwick's immediate improved health. Dolores turned and pounced on the wit even as the other students offered a chorus of enthusiastic amens.

"Detention, Gareth!" She growled. "Now, we will be having a review session. Anyone care to demonstrate 'Wingardium Leviosa'?"

No one was foolish enough to raise their hands to volunteer. While they had reviewed numerous spells with Professor Flitwick, they hadn't so much as raised their wands yet. Filius believed in his students possessing a proper understanding of the basics before he let his students flick and swish.

"Surely, Professor Flitwick has taught you that spell," she exclaimed in mock surprise. "Is no one capable of casting such a minor spell?"

"We don't have any feathers," explained one student.

"Hands, Ms. Wexler. In my classroom, one raises their hands to be called upon. Ms. Wexler?" Dolores prompted after Ms. Wexler refused to raise her hand.

"We don't have any feathers," the hapless Ms. Wexler explained. Her older brother had explained to her that spell casting would commence once Flitwick brought in feathers, and so each day, she prayed that it would be "Feather Day".

Looking back on this moment with the wisdom hard earned by traumatic experience, Dolores Umbridge could safely say this was the exact moment that she lost control of the classroom.

"Use your ink jar," she retorted. "You did bring ink for the class, didn't you?"


Severus had just dismissed his first class when Minerva McGongall swept into his room.

"Professor Snape," she announced in ringing tones. "I need to speak to you in private. It's regarding a matter of academics."

Accepting the bitter fact that he had no chance to avoid the meeting especially when Minerva spoke in that manner, he went into his office, Minerva hot on his heels. He had barely shut the door to his office when Minerva pounced on him like a ravenous lion on a fat gazelle, pinning him against the door. Her mouth was on his, and she was rather wholeheartedly kissing him.

Naturally, Severus didn't respond to her kiss as he has some pride left, but he also didn't push her off of him until he managed to collect his wits.

"Madam, control yourself!" he weakly protested, as he manfully struggled with the head of Gryffindor, who apparently had Transfigured herself into a rather randy eight handed octopus. As it was, the only thing that prevented him from giving her a good shock from his wand was the fact that she had completely entwined herself around him.

He was still vainly protesting when Minerva decided to kiss him once more. Damning himself for a fool, knowing that he was doomed to more heartbreak, he fully surrendered to her kiss.

When they finally broke apart, Minerva put her fingers over his mouth.

"I'm exceptionally sorry about Saturday night. I was a silly old bint, and I didn't mean to cry like a deflowered virgin forced to do the 'Walk of Shame'," she explained. "Please forgive me."

"There's nothing for me to forgive," Severus softly protested. "My sexual techniques failed to satisfy you. I'm quite sorry, Minerva. I am ashamed that I wasn't adequate for you."

There. He had apologized for his ham fisted technique, and now, she could leave so Severus could lick his reopened wounds.

His sincere comment stopped Minerva cold, and her green eyes grew rather frosty.

"Is that why you thought I cried? Because of your…. technique?" Her expressive voice ridiculed that thought. "Your sexual technique brought me to tears?"

"Well, it might have been the unhappy realization that you had just drunkenly shagged the Greasy Git of the Dungeon that brought you to tears," he dryly retorted. "Whatever the reason for your tears, I'm at fault."

That comment earned another passionate kiss from Minerva, and he realized that her eight wandering hands were unbuttoning his frock coat, untying his cravat from his neck and pulling his white dress shirt out of his pants.

"Madam! Your hands," he weakly protested. Merlin's scrote, he sounded as though he had just run up eight flights of steps.

"You didn't accept my sincerest apology. Now, it's time for Plan B," Minerva tersely explained before she kissed him once more.

"Plan B?" Severus questioned, wondering if he would actually survive Minerva's dreaded Plan B. "Dare I ask what it is?"

"I'm planning on playing Hunt the Snake until you truly accept my heartfelt apology," insisted the witch.

Hunt the Snake? Hunt the Snake? What the bloody hell are you talking about, witch?

"Need I jog your memory that I have to teach Filius' next class?" Severus reminded her.

It was the wrong thing to say, as Minerva smiled. His blood ran hot at the truly evil grin on her face.

"Actually, it's been canceled. All of Filius' classes have been canceled for today. Peeves drifted into the First Year Charms class, saw that they were using Wingardium Leviosa on ink jars…"

"Ink jars?" Severus repeated. He wondered if perhaps he had drunk the Absinthe instead of giving the bottle to the Headmaster. The Green Goddess could explain everything… and then some.

"Ink jars, so Peeves started juggling ink jars. It's a frightful mess in Filius' classroom right now. The House Elves hope to get it presentable by tomorrow."

Then Minerva kissed him once more, and Severus Snape's last coherent thought for some time was that he better let her win. Maybe, he'd actually enjoy playing Hunt the Snake with her.