Minerva and Severus

That day's early afternoon saw two professors frantically cleaning the East Wing living room, side by side, without words, without eye contact. Both, Severus and Minerva had an infallible system of ignoring the obvious and keeping up pretences at all costs, and therefore, when Morgana found them some time later, everything was absolutely and pointedly as it had been before. A normal and healthy late afternoon's spring cleaning shared by two perfectly reasonable adults, who had no reason whatsoever to discuss perfectly obvious matters. Being teachers, both, Minerva and Severus had developed a number of unfailingly reliable methods of how to deal with unforeseen events. Both were perfectly able to keep their emotions entirely to themselves and, at any given situation, completely under control. There really was no need to fuss.

"Are you two playing hide and seek?"

This was Morgana. Minerva took a deep breath and straightened up, thus moving into Severus's eyesight for the first time in several minutes.

"Just a bit of late spring cleaning, dear. I find it very relaxing from time to time. Severus has been a great help…"

"Anyway," interrupted the younger woman, "I've been wanting to tell you something. Toksey and I, that is."

Behind Morgana, half hidden by one of the room's heavy double doors, Minerva noticed the figure of the blonde nurse lurking awkwardly in the shadows, obviously not quite prepared to show himself in full light yet. She remembered this morning's encounter with a pang of embarrassment, clearing her throat as her daughter pulled the young man into the room. Against her will, she took notice of the fact that he was now shackle-free.

"Mr Toke," she managed, "you are still here, I see."

"Well, that's exactly what we came to talk to you about," said Morgana firmly.

"Think twice about whether you really want to hear this, Minerva," remarked Severus from the back of the room. "We don't want you obliged to press charges against young Toke for child molestation before he has even started a proper career."

Morgana threw him a look of pure venom.

"I am warning you, Snape," she said slowly, taking her hands out of the pockets of her robes, "I might want to demonstrate to my new boyfriend here just how little magic is needed to knock you unconscious these days." She turned back to Minerva. "Put the man in his place, will you? He's got hardly more magic than a Muggle."

The young nurse, who had seemed on the verge of protest only seconds ago, stopped in mid-movement, dropping his hands in surprise. "Now, really, Morgana, don't you think that's unnecessary..."

Even Minerva felt compelled to admonish this time, fully aware that Severus could give her daughter a run for her money when it came to impoliteness. The two were like fire and water, but what could you do but try and sort things out as diplomatically as possible? To her mother's surprise, Morgana took all criticism without the usual proclamations of innocence. She seemed to realised that she had crossed a line, although vaguely uncertain as to what the purpose of this line was and whether or not the crossing would have been a good idea in the long run.

"I just wanted to tell you," she continued eventually, breaking the ice once again, "er… officially, so to speak, that Tokesy and I are going steady now." She put a proud arm around the nurse, who turned red again and buried his hands deeply in his pockets, but still seemed considerably more comfortable than he had during their encounter in the morning. Minerva felt that she shared this impression.

"Well, I am glad you are…" she began and stopped, finding her own vocabulary lacking for the situation at hand.

"…starting to form adult relationships," Severus helped. Morgana gave him another death glare.

"Look who's talking, Mr Social Outcast. Mum, can we use the dungeons for a while?" She side-glanced at Severus, clearly hoping to catch a sign of unease. The Snape remained astonishingly calm. Perhaps, Minerva thought hopefully, what with him lacking a Toke-Morgana shackle encounter, his mind was linking the word "dungeons" more with the concept of potions rather than the kind of doubtful pre-marital activities Morgana was doubtless going to pursue.

"I shall inform your grandmother that the lower levels will require some heating," she then answered, pretending to get busy with the dusty carpet. "You may want to clear out all possible Viking guests first, though. They do like the closets at the West end of the corridor."

Her daughter grinned. "Oh awesome! I'll see you later then!"

And she dragged Toke outside, who Minerva hoped had a clue of what was going on. She had had The Talk with her daughter about responsibility and, well, marital activities, of course, but it lay back a while and now that she came to think of it Minerva wasn't sure if she had mentioned the necessity of the boy's consent to her pre-pubescent daughter at the time.

"Is there a problem?" asked Severus after a moment's silence, as formal as ever, no displaying any signs of having found the encounter disturbing or even in any way unusual. Minerva sighed and turned.

"I am feeling a little overtaxed with the whole situation, I suppose," she said quietly. "Or rather, the... various situations." And then, suddenly, driven by a sudden impulse, "Severus, shall we take some lunch? I am getting a little hungry."

"Any time," said Severus politely and, continuing without interruption just a few minutes later in the adjacent East Wing kitchen, "You are worried about Morgana, are you not?"

"Naturally," replied Minerva, absently gazing out of the window, "she is my daughter."

"Your concern is always very perceptible," said Severus to effect a compliment. Minerva gave him a weak smile.

"I'll be happy when she is out of puberty, I can tell you."

Severus frowned. "Out of puberty? But Morgana is roughly my age, is she not?"

Minerva gave her friend a smile, thinking that, despite all his expertise concerning pureblood society, he did retain traces of blissful innocence with regard to what growing up pure-blood actually meant.

"Yes, Severus," she therefore said gently, knowing that this was a touchy subject with him, "but pure-blood wizards and witches age differently from Halfbloods and Muggleborns. The more Muggles you have in your ancestry, the quicker you age. You, being a descendant of the Prince family on one side and of a Muggle line on the other… – it is a Muggle line, is it not? Not just a forgotten squib branch?"

"My father could never do any magic," said Severus stiffly. "I know little of his background, though, let alone his distant ancestors."

"Well, your speedy development during your teens suggests a considerable amount of Muggle blood," said Minerva cautiously, "no offence intended. If I remember correctly, you were out of puberty quicker than most of the students in your year."

Severus's lips thinned. "How long does pure-blood puberty take then?"

Minerva scratched her chin thoughtfully. She had thought about this very often, of course, for professional reasons, but it was hard to pinpoint exact ages, since most students these days did have some Muggle blood running through their veins. "It varies greatly. Mine, I think, lasted well into my forties. Although I have to say that Topaz was quicker, and so were most other people in my year. Slytherins usually take a little longer than Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors vary greatly, house-internally."

"I don't remember having being confronted with someone as immature as Morgana when I was in my twenties," Severus mused, not seeming as though he intended to provoke for a change, but sounding quite serious. Minerva crossed her arms.

"Severus, please. You were part of an underground gang who used a skull and a snake as their secret sign of recognition. If that isn't puberty at its highest…"

"You think the Death Eaters were nothing but rampant pureblood adolescents?" Severus cut in. Minerva thought about this for a while.

"Well, it certainly looks like it from a certain perspective," she said slowly. "A large part of the older pureblood population will likely see it that way. And I must say that, from your accounts and Potter's, I got the impression that most Death Eaters who fought in the battle of Hogwarts were, in fact, in their late thirties and early forties, which would make them nothing but irresponsible young adults from the perspective of most of the people who hold wizarding society's highest offices. Let me see, in Muggle terms a Lucius Malfoy would, for instance, be no older than… why, he would be a mere twenty years old, it seems."

"I don't need you translating wizarding age into Muggle terms for me!" Severus snapped. Minerva resolved to be more careful in future.

"I know, Severus," she therefore said, hoping to sound complacent. "And I must apologise. I continue to underestimate your adjustment to pureblood society. – Oh, but do you know what is very interesting? This kind of calculation of a biological age, so to speak, brings the two of us quite close together, age-wise, which does explain a certain overlap of interests…"

She stopped and blushed, realising that she had perhaps allowed herself to speak a little too freely.

Severus did not reply, but stared out of the window, apparently lost in thoughts.

"You seem tired," probed Minerva, if only to not let the conversation freeze.

Severus considered this for a moment. "It is more of a question of sleeping rhythm than actual tiredness," he then said thoughtfully. "I have never slept much, but my days were usually filled with more excitement than they are now. Not that I miss the actual warfare," he added quickly, seeing the puzzled expression on his friend's face. "I am just not this much of an inside person, if you know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean," said Minerva quietly, suddenly thinking that she had always rather liked his pale complexion. And there they were again – a nasty bunch of adolescent thoughts, which had began to crop up, one by one, during their discussion of wizarding and Muggle age – and at certain points before that, of course. Foolish, superficial thoughts concerning Severus's looks, his mannerisms, the air of mystery that surrounded him still, his no longer being a Death Eater spy notwithstanding…

The deputy headmistress cleared her throat rather more ostentatiously than necessary and handed her former colleague a bowl of grapes.

"Try these," she said. "They are not particularly fresh, but very sweet and completely magic-free. Mawly got them for us yesterday."

Severus took one grape, delicately, and turned it in his hand.

"Beautiful," he said to Minerva's great surprise. "Although I suspect most people won't see it. Rather odd, don't you think?"

Minerva stared at him in sheer amazement.

"Understandable, perhaps…?"

"Not at all," said Severus absently. His gaze was still directed at the grape in his hand, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. "It is a mark of grave negligence."

"Not noticing a grape's beauty?" Minerva asked slowly, feeling that she was missing a point. Severus looked up.

"Perhaps," he said quietly, as pensive as before. "My mother always said that the true purpose of magic lay in the recognition of real beauty. You know, not the kind of beauty any teenager can see, such as the application of standards of regularity on the human body, but the beauty of coloured mist rising from a magically infested well, of red and green spells shooting through the dark during a fight – the beauty of life that is changed by what we do with our bare hands – and with the help of wands, of course," he added as an afterthought.

"I thought your mother always seemed rather reserved towards magic," said Minerva tensely, willing herself to keep the conversation in safe waters.

"Mother fashioned herself according to her surroundings," Severus replied darkly. "She must have been very invested with magic when she was still at school – a very talented witch, I am told. Then, to avoid certain… debates with my father, she kept her distance. Although she did show me one or two things at the time, just to be prepared, should I develop signs of magic at some time – which I did, of course."

"What then?"

Severus leaned back in his chair and put the grape into his mouth as though sampling it for future use in potions.

"Then nothing," he said after a moment's pause. "She seemed to be under the impression that my magic was threatening the good atmosphere she had previously created, so she flatly banned magic altogether in our house. Not that I didn't have my problems with that – you know what early magic is like."

"I do," said Minerva quietly. "You couldn't have helped it."

"I did learn to contain myself," replied Severus thoughtfully. "My mother was very… thorough in her punishments." He pulled a grimace, which Minerva recognised from his days as a student. "Very educational."

"This explains a lot," said Minerva, driven by a surge of openness, "if I may be so bold as to freely associate. Your mother's refusal to do magic, your father's inability, your using magic and magical status as a means of belonging. You know, I have always wondered why the Sorting Hat didn't put you in Gryffindor at the time, but considering that its job is to do what is best for the student at the time of the Sorting, I am beginning to think it had a point in making you part of the most fiercely loyal of all four houses."

Severus shrugged. "I suppose the Sorting Hat has a tendency to be right."

"Yes," sighed Minerva. "Although I do wish it had put you in my care nevertheless. You could have done without a Death Eater past."

"Believe me," said Severus with an expression as though he had just bitten into a salted lemon, "I am perfectly content to be doing without a Gryffindor past. And you are forgetting Pettigrew."

"Ah, yes," said Minerva quietly. "It seems as though I have always done too much of just that."

"He always used to be the first to end up on the floor in fights," Severus reminisced.

"It was his strategy of survival, I believe," said Minerva quietly. "You each had your own ways, of course, although yours in particular were very… inventive, if I may say so."

"It is reading people's behaviour that makes it easy to push their buttons and consequently get in trouble with the authorities for it," Severus explained. "I discovered early, for instance, that instinctive wand-pulling when you are but capable of shooting a few sparks is one of the few disadvantages that comes with having been raised in a pureblood household."

"You do read people well," mumbled Minerva, "now more than ever."

"Speaking of which," Severus said suddenly, straightening up, "I have been meaning to suggest that you talk to your mother again, if possible, even if you think she overstepped a line."

"She overstepped a line?" Minerva said sharply, tensing instinctively at the mentioning of her mother's name, "rather, she bent down, took the line, whipped out a pair of scissors and SNAP! catapulted our relationship right back to where it was fifty years ago – onto the edge of breaking."

"I am sure she had no choice," said Severus quietly. "From her point of view."

"How do you… have you spoken to her since yesterday?" asked Minerva suspiciously.

"Spoken is not the exact word you want to be using," replied the younger man, not quite meeting her eye. "We are talking about accidental traces of returning magic here. Very powerful. Much like a pre-Hogwartian's first signs."

"Which you pride yourself to have had under perfect control," replied Minerva waspishly. "So you legilimenced my mother, did you?"

"I perceived traces of what was going on inside her head," said Severus, looking strained. "Minerva, I am not trying to be intrusive. I am trying to live up to my promise and help you wherever possible. What exactly was happening with your mother this morning, I dare not estimate, but she is convinced that she is doing the right thing for everyone. She thinks that it is absolutely necessary for you to re-marry, for what reason I can only guess at. That is also why she decided to formally reintroduce you to wizarding society, by the way. Did she tell you that?"

"She did what?!"

"Ah. So she did not."

"I have not spoken to her since yesterday," Minerva said, her voice suddenly hoarse, "but if this is another of her insane marriage plans, I swear to Merlin I'll pack my belongings and will move out of this house tomorrow."

"Well, as far as I can tell she has not formed any plans... as yet," Severus said slowly. "If I were you, however, I would expect a great amount of possibly unwanted attention from all kinds of unexpected directions these next few days and weeks."

Minerva heaved a sigh. Nothing ever ended. Nothing ever turned for the better. Her mother's unbending efforts, Morgana's wear and tear relationships – and, of course, the question of 'Minerva and Severus', which had been hanging heavily in the air since this morning, but which none of them had been bold enough to address ever since, particularly after the incident involving Severus's Patronus. What was its background? Was it new or old? Did it have anything to do with her or not? Lots of people had cat Patronuses, of course, but she had noticed that Severus's had exactly the size and shape of her own, despite the many options you got with hundreds of potential breeds.

With difficulty, she decided to take a first, tiny step in a direction which seemed completely uncharted territory – as yet.

"Severus," she said slowly and she heard her own voice as though from a great distance. It seemed weird and alien more than anything, "your Patronus…"

The Potions master turned his head, not 'away' as such, but so that eye contact was suddenly made impossible.

"It changed," he said flatly, no emotion in his voice, no recognisable sign of affection. "I was taken by surprise."

"So was I," whispered Minerva. "Severus, I think it… it might, perhaps it would be prudent to talk about certain issues."

"Perhaps," said Severus evasively, and then, still not looking at her, he outstretched a hand across the table, took hers, and pressed it lightly, creating two completely contradictory effects with his facial expression on the one hand and this awkward gesture of what seemed to Minerva like a display of very vulnerable, yet honest affection on the other. All in all, she thought, Severus appeared to be showing her everything that was 'Severus' now. The mask, as well as the man. It was fascinating and touching at the same time.

"We have time," she whispered eventually, not knowing what else to say. "Severus, you can have all the time that you need."

And they sat for another while, quiet and content, until Minerva could no longer postpone her preparations for a return to Hogwarts and the world of teaching.

~ Aaand sunset.