Disclaimer: It's Christmas, but not by much, which means that I'm in America, not England, which means that I'm NOT JK Rowling, and thus would be foolish to claim this as my work, as it its British and I'm not and there we go…
I hate long waits, I know you do to…one of my reviewers informed, to the effect that, I had lost virtually all of my readers with my lengthy breaks between updates. I'm sorry, but if it helps, as soon as I was done with my family Christmas eve activities, I began to slave over this chapter. It will be re-posted, beta-ed (hopefully) and with review replies later- for now, please just understand that every time someone sends me a review, I pore over it and treasure it, good or bad, or critical. But I really wanted to get this out as a Christmas present. Merry Christmas, or simply Happy Holidays- and a very good New Year's to you all.
He was surprised. He hadn't ever believed in the old saying about how 'getting things off your chest is good for the soul', but it was true. Ever since he had confided in Harry, he had felt better. He'd been sleeping more regularly, and eating more, and it seemed as though he was well on his way to recovering from his small bout of…infatuation. Not that there had hardly been anything to recover from, he thought with a sneer. He discounted the shots of pain in his chest whenever he thought of Hermione. He probably just had heartburn. And perhaps he did- just not the sort he thought.
"Severus, have you thought about those honors classes we were thinking of adding on last year? You know that there are several students well qualified for advancement, and the parents and even the Board is all for it. There has never been a better time, and besides, it will be a great chance to- oh, wow." Remus trailed off as he began to look through the thick sheaf of bound parchment his superior had roughly thrust into his hands, which had been waving in argument moments before.
He silently perused the compilation of plans and research. By the time he looked up, Snape was staring out the window with that very odd expression on his face. The one that had nearly gotten Lupin's head bitten off when he had inquired after his friend and employer's health…and happiness.
Lupin still had a rather tenuous relationship with his employer. They existed peacefully with the other, respecting rights and abilities and jobs, but leaving all personal aspects rather alone. Which was why he had resorted to informing Harry about the odd behaviour of Snape. The problem with him now, though, hardly seemed noteworthy at first glance. And yet the sharpness which had so categorized the man as he stepped into an unexpected role of leadership and threw his teaching persona seemed to have dulled. His enthusiasm, if not his tenacity, in performing his duties had followed suit. And although Remus knew that he was hardly eligible for the Know Snape Best Award, he knew a man who had got into a rut when he saw.
It was true that the man had undergone enormous changes in the past two years, as he slowly relaxed from the crushing stress of a double agent into the almost equally crushing stress of Headmaster of one of the most prestigious magickal schools in the world. The difference was that the stress was now that of a man involved in a difficult job, rather than a repentant wretch intent upon some hope of salvation. And, Remus thought humorously, it had helped that Hooch and Pomfrey had refused to let him act as Headmaster until he did something about his appearance; something he had refused to lend time to for the majority of his life.
With a little dedication, and some very useful charms, Snape was a new man. In fact, he caused not a few eyebrows to lift in lustful appreciation….generally up until the caustic bastard opened his mouth. While the man had allowed his fastidiousness with potions to extend to his personal habits, and thus greatly improved his form, he bluntly refused to mitigate his harsh manner.
After years of the soft spoken, albeit powerful, Dumbledore, Snape was like a bitter winter wind. You hated it while it was there, but it sure as hell got you moving. Many changes that Dumbledore, with the threat of You-Know-Who hanging over his shoulder, had never been able to even think about had already been implemented. Even the students, though they rather feared the new Headmaster, were forced to admit that he was a fair bastard, and did his job well.
Which, Lupin grinned, unwisely, wasn't to say that there weren't a hell of a lot of complaints from parents who felt their precious kiddies ought to be coddled. Lupin managed to intercept most of the owls bearing messages of this sort, and had quickly realized that the complaints were very rarely legitimate, but rather from parent's of students who weren't truly fit for a prestigious magickal boarding school. Though Snape had been rampantly unfair while a teacher, he no longer needed to worry about repercussions from his students' parents at the next Death Eater meeting, and he now forced himself to take a few steps away from issues or situations and make fair decisions. He was a good man, and he clearly liked his job.
"Lupin, you moron- get back to work and wipe that sorry ass grin off your pathetic lupine face!" Arrogant bastard…
As Snape watched Lupin walk away, he realized that he had been, perhaps, a little unfair to the man. He wasn't sure why, but it had been getting on his nerves, lately, that everyone was having more…fun in life than he was. Well, no, fun wasn't the right word. He had never truly aspired to 'fun' in his life, but was simple enjoyment too much to ask? It had gotten to the point where even a quiet evening by the fire, with a book of whatever genre he was currently plowing through, was no longer enough to quiet his mind and content his soul, as it had been for the entirety of his adult life.
Ever since that…girl (what the sneer here denotes, perhaps not even Snape could say) had gone to lunch with him, he had been restless. Although what he had told Potter was rather fuzzy in his mind, he was fearful that that was because his subconscious was trying to block from him just how much he had told of his pitiful, and bizarre, longings. Why, he thought that he might be forced to avoid the man when he came in on Monday for what had become their habitual poring over the latest political news.
He had discovered a fascination for dabbling in the politics of the wizarding world, complicated and often entirely nonsensical as they sometimes were. Harry shared his liking, he had found out, and although their conversations were fraught with insults ("You fool! If that Law were passed, every pureblooded witch and wizard in Europe would rise up in anger. Only a complete incompetent would support it, Potter. Oh, right- that is you."), and arguments ("If you weren't such a stupid bloody prick, Snape, then maybe you'd be able to comprehend that clause 56 specifically guards against that case, and reassures them all that their fucking precious properties are well protected."), they did, sometimes, come to a consensus on issues (" ").
Well, he had Sunday to worry about what would happen, but today he would enjoy the wrapping up of summer projects. Maybe…maybe he'd give himself a break, just this once, and go somewhere other than Hogwarts or Hogsmeade for a change. Maybe that would curb this feeling inside him. Yes, that was it. That was exactly what he needed to do. Leave this dusty castle and all of its cares. That would do the trick Exactly…
***
With each successive day, Hermione looked with a mixture of dread and eagerness towards the moment when she would receive either acceptance into college, as well as, hopefully, a hefty scholarship, or denial into the life which she so coveted. The suspense was making her edgy, and today proved it.
Irritated with her boss's shady manner, his endless propositions, and his ceaseless prodding to 'do a little side-business' (with him as the broker, of course), she had come so close to snapping that the words to an incantation had been on her lips, and her wand in her hand, pointed at the man. The foolish, fat slob, not realizing just who he was dealing with, simply glared, a little startled, at the girl who had dared draw a wand on such a powerful and influential man as he. He'd never know just how close he'd come to being trapped in an isolated world with only his own nightmares to keep him company.
It should have bothered Hermione that she had chosen such a spell as that to curse her boss with. Sure, he was a slime, and sometimes a downright jackass, but was that truly reason enough to do something like that to him? Then again, what was? When your life is in limbo, lines between right and wrong and good and evil and day and night, they get blurred. Escape and redemption become too closely intertwined with the degradation and entrapment that help you get there.
***
Edouard was worried about Hermione. Not merely that she was absent-minded when she was around him; he could have expected that, as her entire life rested upon the outcome of those tests, but sometimes she was downright mean. She was not at all the Hermione Granger that he had come to cherish as his closest friend. He would have liked to devote more time to her, but things were just beginning to hit it off with Amandine. Mmm. Just the name sent a little shiver of pleasure straight down his spine.
Yesterday, he had taken Hermione's advice. It was the Monday after his dinner with Hermione, and, invigorated from his friend, he had been determined to take that first step. Imagine his surprise, however, when his shy and innocent Amandine had dropped a paper, right as he was about to say hello to her, and gave him the sort of look interested women have been lavishing on their chosen men for time immemorial, as she bent to pick it up.
He had been almost too shocked to respond, but the thought of what Hermione would say if she knew he had blown this big chance urged him to hurry and beat her to that blessed feuille de papier. His hand brushed hers, and he could have sworn that he'd heard strains of sappy love ballads parading through his mind. Unfortunately, those had soon been tuned out with her whimper of pain, and he looked up to realize that he had stupidly treaded upon her dainty foot.
Crimson with embarrassment, the man who had been so dignified before he had met a dull-haired imp on a boat at a wedding now stuttered in asking the object of his admiration to eat lunch with him in his cubby. If the blush she returned her affirmation with was any indication, she had never intended to make her interest in him known. In fact, she had told him rather haltingly and with adorable flushes over egg salad sandwiches (oh, be still, heart; they had the same taste in luncheon foods!), she was so used to being ignored by people that she had become accustomed to doing and acting quite as she liked, without anyone ever realizing it.
Edouard didn't think he'd ever seen a more becoming shade of red as that deep hue which graced her fragile face as she, rather reluctantly, admitted that she had had a crush of her own for a few weeks now. He floated on cloud nine at work, but every night, when Hermione came over for at least a few minutes to talk about how their days had gone…something was changed about her. He even thought he knew what it was.
Just as he had warned her, living her double life was wearing on her. She made sure that whenever she wasn't working she played the part of Calypso, but it didn't make her happy. Despite the fact that it was the door of exit from her current life, there was something too false about it. He knew it, and she knew it. The only thing that mattered, he guessed with a sigh as he gazed at the door, which had closed moments ago behind Hermione, was that the rest of the world…didn't know it.
***
"No, no. That simply isn't possible!"
"Page 182. Ha!" Severus allowed himself an arrogant smirk (his favorite expression, after his patented 'supercilious glare of doom') as he threw the Potions journal across to his old friend, Dilbert Humperdink. Chuckling to himself, over in a corner of the fire-lit room (wizarding fire, hot in winter, but cold, like now, in the summer), was Alby. He'd known the younger man would come out the winner in this match of wits, though the Dean of the Oxford University of Magick was no Fudge (after the war, and once Fudge had been gotten out of office, his name became a synonym for 'a complete failure who doesn't even know that he is one' and was adopted into slang accordingly.). Together, along with the Minister of Magick ( Arthur's sixth grandchild had decided to enter the world a week or two early, and he was holding Percy's hand over the birth of his third child), and the Head of Magickal Law Enforcement (big green stuffed armchair, observing the scene with great amusement), these men held the greatest amount of power in the wizarding world.
They met for drinks and discussion every other Saturday, but Severus had never accepted the invitation. Still hadn't, come to think of it. But Dil had found the man browsing a bookstore in Knockturn Alley, and had lured him into the house with promises of a rare book on Potions and Arithmancy. It was only the fact that the tome was one of three existing copies in the world that caused Snape to forget his customary wariness (just that, and nothing else; certainly not sad brown eyes and lusterless brown hair on a face that ought to shine forever…) and accept the offer to view it.
Entrenched in the fascinating book, and though he would never admit it, in thoughts of the last person with whom he had discussed the theories espoused in it, Snape did not notice the hours ticking by, or the light fading. In fact, he was all but oblivious to the world until Alby, the first to arrive for the get together, knocked on the door.
Instead of being greeted by the rather silly looking house elf employed by Dilbert (Frunzle, he believed the creature's name to be), as was customary, the door seemed to open by itself. Alby shrugged, and entered his old friend's house with ease. With ease, that was, until Snape slithered out of the shadows with twelve inches of powerful ebony in his hand-pointed right at Alby's heart, which damned near stopped for a moment. Snape's dark eyes were wide with a paranoia that somehow reached beyond Mad Eye Moody's bluster, to a life spent being unable to trust almost anything or anyone. However, Snape soon realized who it was, and where he was, and the fact that, quite frankly, it was not his house and his host (who had been overseeing the preparations of the hors d'oevres, frightfully delicate little buggers, they were) was standing in the doorway giving him a look that bespoke amusement, bemusement, and a little bit of worry all at once.
The wand was lowered, and silence hung over the large house for a while, when, suddenly, a banging sound interrupted. The three men looked around in bewilderment, but could see nothing. Then, Dil looked around the corner, winced, and pulled the creature away from the solid wood door against which he was banging his head against.
"Frunzle", the large, and intimidating, man boomed, "what HAVE I told you about punishing yourself ?" It was easy to see how this man attracted the fear, and respect, of every student at Oxford Magickal. The house elf seemed to shrink.
" Not to…sir."
"Precisely. So, you are just going to have to give yourself a day off, aren't you?" The house elf looked so comically glum that the other two men in the room could barely hold their laughter.
"I suppose…so…sir…"
"Oh, come now; who was that pretty…er cute…er…well, who was that female house elf I saw you talking with? The one who came to deliver the message?"
A cheered up house elf, it may be imagined, is a good site more amusing than even a downcast one, and mirth was bubbling under the currents of the room.
"Ah, yes, sir…Algabrie. Sir, may I go get the appetizers for your guests?" A gracious nod from his master, and the house elf hurried off to attend to his domestic duties. Again, silence hung over the room.
Laughter broke loose upon the foyer like a tidal wave, beginning fairly loud, reaching a roaring crescendo, and finally trailing off into hearty chuckles as the men, all in accord, sojourned to the study.
It wasn't until about an hour later, during a pause in a conversation ridiculing some commercial enterprise or other that was attempting to 'leave its mark on the wizarding world' that Severus realized precisely what he'd just gotten conned into. By then, however, he was forced to reluctantly admit that there was nothing wrong with having a little companionship of an evening's night, and had given in with as good a grace as, well, ever a Slytherin did. The others managed to tolerate his sourness.
***
Friday again. He was beginning to loathe Fridays, if only for the reason that they reminded him that he really loathed Fridays when school began (weekends taunted him, seemingly denying the existence of the coming, bedamned, school week), and the further they got into August, the closer they got to that infamous August day: The First Day of School. Which left, all in all, just one thing to be said. Damn.
***
Fridays. Busiest day of the week for her, and, while the most lucrative, most certainly the most degrading. And this Friday was the worst of all, because in exactly one week, she was due to receive her owls from colleges across the world. Thinking of the future, of the (hopefully) coming school year, gave her goosebumps. And a headache. She stubbed her toe as she walked off the stage, struggled to avoid an overexcited bussinesswizard with more cash than brains or common sense, and nearly ripped her costume as she stumbled into a splintered wooden doorway. DAMN.
Thanks, and I'm sorry that this chapter is shorter, and is missing review replies. I hope to shorten time between updates by putting less pressure on myself to achieve a certain length of chapter, I hope this is ok, cause it suits the muses, as well as the Gods of my Terribly Busy Life. Again, much happiness during this season, whatever religion or nonreligion you are, and if you care to review, it would be a wonderful Christmas present to me.