"The Lady and the Snape"
STANDARD DISCLAIMER: If you think the HP characters belong to me and not to JKR, you need serious help. And I'm not making any money off this, so I can't contribute to your psychotherapy. Sorry.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter will make zero sense
to you unless you've read my fic What's The Matter Here? (See? I
TOLD you that this is just a clever plot to get you to read ALL of my fics!
And YOU didn't believe me!) I actually had the idea for Cynthia's career
plans before reading Riley's fic Pawn to Queen, but I admit to getting
the idea of linking brewing potions to modern Muggle science from that
one. Thanks!
Chapter 3
Why Should I Love You?
It was Saturday morning, and Neville
was having his weekly tutoring session in the Potions classroom.
"I'm never going to get this
right!" he moaned as thick green smoke poured out of his cauldron.
"Yes you will, Neville," Cynthia
assured him, coughing and waving her hand in an attempt to dissipate the
smoke.
"Patience, Longbottom," Snape
said from behind his desk, not looking up from the scroll he was grading.
He was dressed as extravagantly as he had been the previous week at Cynthia's
party. This time he wore robes of deep green embroidered with little stars
in gold thread - and again his hair was clean! Neville sighed and picked
up his cauldron. With Cynthia's help, he lugged it over to a sink in the
corner and dumped the noxious mixture down the drain. There was the sound
of footsteps in the hallway outside.
" - husband couldn't make it
today," a female voice was saying from right outside the classroom.
"This time, I won't use quite
so much deadly nightshade," Neville told Cynthia.
"Shhh!" Snape said impatiently,
waving his hand for silence. Slowly, he rose to his feet. He put his head
to one side, listening very carefully to the conversation in the hallway.
"That's a shame," Dumbledore
was saying. "Perhaps he'd care to visit another day. Now, this is the Potions
classroom," he said.
"This is what I've been waiting
for all week," she replied, a smile in her voice. Dumbledore entered the
classroom followed by his guest, a tall woman in her forties with hair
that had faded to strawberry blonde with age. Close behind them was the
red-haired first year boy who had appeared at Cynthia's surprise party
along with his friend.
"This is our Potions Master,
Professor Snape," Dumbledore told his guest.
"Hello, Severus," she said, smiling
warmly.
"Mrs. McDougal," Snape said softly.
Cynthia and Neville looked up from their potion brewing to watch this exchange.
"You two have met?" Dumbledore
asked, looking surprised. Silently, Snape nodded.
"Yes," Mrs. McDougal said. "The
Snapes used to live in the house next door to ours."
"HE used to live NEXT DOOR?"
her son asked, sounding amazed. She smiled down at him.
"The Snapes used to live in the
Jamesons' home, Michael. Severus was about eight years old when your father
and I moved into the neighborhood. I watched him grow up." Her son looked
stunned by this information. She turned her attention back to Snape. "Ah,
Severus. Look at you," she said softly, her eyes shining with tears. "I'm
so glad - " Her voice broke. Silently, she opened her arms to him. He hesitated
for a moment, then slowly went to her and allowed her to enfold him in
an embrace. She twined her fingers in his long hair, murmuring to him in
a comforting tone.
"Well," Dumbledore said, clearly
at a loss for words. The three students looked shocked. Finally, Snape
gently disengaged himself from her embrace, looking slightly embarrassed.
"I see that Doctor McDougal is
not with you today," he finally said.
"He had to see patients this
afternoon," she explained, giving Snape a significant look.
"Mmm. How…inconvenient,"
he said dryly. His glittering black eyes held her gaze for a long moment,
and she gave him an ironic little smile. It appeared that Snape and Mrs.
McDougal understood each other very well. "So," he said, looking down at
Michael. "You did have a child after all." There was an enigmatic smile
on his lips.
"Yes, and he was quite a surprise!"
she said, beaming. "I had completely given up the hope of ever having one,
and then along came Michael!"
"Your dearest wish was to have
a child, no?" Snape asked softly, reaching out to tousle the boy's red
hair.
"Yes it was," she agreed. "He
was born a few years after…" She hesitated a moment. "Your parents just
disappeared one day," she said quietly. Snape nodded, not looking at her.
"The house sat empty for years. It was only sold about a year before Michael
was born."
"Yes. I returned one afternoon
to arrange for its sale," Snape said. Dumbledore looked at Snape sharply.
For a moment, the headmaster looked like he was going to say something,
but he remained silent.
"Severus," Mrs. McDougal began,
"what… what happened to your parents?"
"They were killed by Death Eaters,"
he said shortly.
"How terrible!" she exclaimed.
Though she had no idea what Death Eaters were, she figured that they were
probably as awful as their name implied.
"It was done in retribution,"
Snape said carefully, catching Dumbledore's eye. The headmaster looked
surprised.
"I didn't know that, Severus,"
he said.
"There are many things you don't
know about me, Headmaster," he said softly. Mrs. McDougal was gazing at
Snape sadly. She reached out and touched his arm.
"I always wondered what happened
to you, Severus. I saw the sort of people you'd begun hanging around with
when you got out of school, and I often worried that you would come to
a bad end one day. When Michael wrote to me about Potions Master Severus
Snape, I was so relieved. I'm glad you've found your place in life." Snape
was silent for a long moment, biting his lip.
"I've just remembered some things
I must see to," he finally said in a very low voice, moving away from her.
Dumbledore noted that Mrs. McDougal did not seem surprised or upset by
the sudden change in Snape's manner or his abrupt dismissal of her. "Hathaway,"
Snape said without actually looking at her, "please lock up when you and
Longbottom are done in here." Cynthia nodded. He turned to leave, but Mrs.
McDougal's voice stopped him.
"Would you mind if I wrote you,
Severus? I don't want to lose track of you again."
"I would like that," he replied
in an odd voice. He looked as though he was about to say more, but thought
better of it. "Headmaster," he said, giving Dumbledore a curt nod as he
left.
"What was THAT all about, Mum?"
Michael asked, watching Snape go. Mrs. McDougal wiped a tear from her eye
and shook her head.
"And then he just left," Neville
finished, taking another bite of mashed potatoes. "Swooped out like a giant
bat."
"He's not at dinner tonight,
did you notice?" Hermione asked, indicating the empty space at the staff
table.
"Yeah, I - " Harry began.
"I hope I'm not interrupting,"
Cynthia said as she slid onto the bench next to him. Harry blinked.
"Not at all," he said, unable
to keep the surprise from his voice. Cynthia smiled.
"I've just heard a vicious rumor
that a certain group of rather mischievous Gryffindors knows the secret
way to the kitchens," she said quietly, her eyes twinkling. Ron and Harry
exchanged a look.
"And suppose we DID have such
information," Ron began. From across the table, Hermione's eyebrows went
up in a warning, and her eyes flicked towards Snape's empty chair at the
staff table, then over to Cynthia. That was all the encouragement Ron needed.
"Yeah," he said, his tone suddenly changing. "I think we might be able
to help you out."
"Professor Snape?" Cynthia called.
As her hands were full with the tray of food she was carrying, she banged
on the door to his quarters with her foot. "Are you in there?" The house
elves in the kitchen had been very generous and eager to please, and her
arms were beginning to ache with the effort of holding the heavy food-laden
tray. At last the door opened, and Snape stood before her, now wearing
his usual nondescript black robes and looking tired and drained. "You weren't
at dinner, so I thought I'd bring you some food," Cynthia explained, holding
out the tray.
"Thank you, Hathaway," he said
softly, taking it from her. "That was very thoughtful of you." He hesitated
for a moment. "Would you care to come in?" For the second time, she followed
him into his quarters, wondering again why he kept his living space so
dark and cold. He led her to a table that she hadn't noticed on her earlier
visit, probably because she'd been so preoccupied with getting him to agree
to help Longbottom. She sat down across from him, watching as he picked
up a fork.
"Longbottom did very well after
you left this morning," she said. Snape looked up from his meal, suddenly
realizing that she too had a plate of food before her. She raised a forkful
of mashed potatoes and gravy to her mouth.
"Did you not eat in the dining
hall with the other Ravenclaws?" he asked, frowning slightly as he wondered
why she would possibly want to share a meal with… him. She glanced
up at him guiltily.
"I'm sorry, Professor Snape,"
she said, sounding embarrassed. "I suppose I did rather invite myself to
stay to dinner." She put down her fork and stood. "I'll just go back to
the Ravenclaw table - I'm sure dinner is still being served." Snape watched,
horrified, as she moved to leave. This certainly wasn't what he'd had in
mind when he'd voiced his question, and now he had no idea how to stop
her, how to ask her to stay without… He pushed that thought out of his
mind. As she reached the door, a new and quite appalling thought arrived
to take the place of the first one: he had just effectively (though inadvertently)
accused the daughter of an Earl - someone who had been trained since birth
by nannies and governesses to behave impeccably in every situaion - of
having poor manners. As the realization sunk in, he put his head in his
hands and groaned aloud.
"Professor Snape?" Cynthia asked,
pulling the door shut again and moving to stand near his chair. "Are…"
She hesitated, not sure how or what to ask, not daring to ask what she
really wanted to know. She finally settled for asking the question she
deemed most innocuous. "Are you OK, Professor Snape?"
"Of course, Hathaway," he said
without looking at her, his head still in his hands. She's concerned
about me! The thought gave him a momentary thrill of happiness before
something darker, something ugly, took over. Don't be daft, Severus, another voice - a voice that sounded very much like his late father's -
snapped nastily in his mind. Who in the world would ever care about
a useless creature like you? She only wants to be sure you'll
be up to supervising her tutoring sessions with her little Gryffindor pet.
"You left the Potions classroom
so abruptly this morning, I thought…" her voice trailed off as Snape heard
her move closer, so close that he could feel the heat radiating from her
body in the coldness of the room. "I thought…" he heard her move and he
looked up at her; she had raised her hand, clearly meaning to lay it comfortingly
on his shoulder, but now she allowed it to fall back to her side. "I thought
something was wrong," she finished lamely, looking at the floor. She
IS concerned about you! that happy voice in his mind crowed again.
Of course, the other voice in his mind couldn't leave him in peace after
that. Why don't you tell her about your Death Eater past, and see if
this lovely creature of the light is still concerned for you? his father's
voice said dryly. Why don't you tell her about the things you did, and
don't guild the lily, Severus - tell her how you enjoyed doing them!
"I am fine," he finally told
her roughly, his tone - or perhaps something inadvertently revealed in
his bottomless black eyes - only causing her to look even more concerned.
Now she did lay her hand on his shoulder.
"That's all right, Professor
Snape," she said softly, her dark green eyes full of compassion. "We don't
have to speak of it any further, unless you wish to." He nodded wordlessly,
grateful for her willingness to allow the topic to drop. She regarded him
for a long moment before taking her hand from his shoulder. Ah, see? his father's voice asked in his mind. She's got sense enough to be repulsed
by you after all! But instead of leaving in disgust as he'd half expected,
she surprised him by putting her arms around him and drawing him against
her so that his cheek rested on her chest. Not the most appropriate position
for a professor and his student, but Snape felt unable to pull away from
her. She was the one who finally broke the embrace. "I'm sorry, Professor,"
she murmured in an apologetic tone, looking embarrassed. "It's just that…
well, you looked like you could use a hug." He was quiet for a moment.
"Would you care to join me for
dinner?" he finally asked. "There seems to be plenty for both of us," he
continued, gesturing at her plate across the table. She smiled.
"Of course," she replied, going
over to take her seat. For a moment, they ate in silence.
"So," Snape finally said. "Are
you still planning to sit for the Potions Master exam when you graduate?"
"Yes, absolutely!" she replied.
"Why do you ask?" He smiled.
"I was wondering what sort of
career you envision yourself having… would you open your own shop in Hogsmeade,
or perhaps go to work for the Ministry of Magic…?"
"I could never live in Hogsmeade,"
she confided. "I'm too much of a Muggle. You'll never catch me anywhere
without electricity, telephones, televisions, radios…" she suppressed a
shiver. "And central heating," she added ruefully. "I'm a spoiled girl,
Professor Snape!" She grinned at him. "Actually, I'm thinking of college
and then Oxford Medical School." Snape blinked.
"Medical School?" he wondered.
"What would you do there?"
"Learn medicine, silly!" she
said, laughing.
"But why?" he asked.
"Best of both worlds," she said,
taking a forkful of roast beef. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then
continued. "I could treat nearly anyone for anything. As Ron Weasley put
it, I'd be a double threat!" Snape smiled slightly at this.
"That you would," he murmured.
"I have a cousin who's a doctor
in Cornwall," she told him. "She's been sending me medical texts and journals.
I'll let you borrow some if you'd like... there's all sorts of information
about biochemistry and the properties of certain drugs and compounds. Might
be useful!" He nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes. Yes, I'd appreciate that,"
he told her.
They spent the rest of her visit
in idle conversation; Cynthia couldn't remember when she'd last passed
a more pleasant evening. Unfortunately, it soon became more and more difficult
to stifle her yawns, and she finally had to take her leave of him, pleading
exhaustion rather than boredom. I don't know why so many of the other
students find him frightening or repulsive, she thought as she stood
on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He's actually quite nice. With
that thought in mind, she began to make her way back to Ravenclaw, a Kate
Bush tune running through her mind. Soon, she was humming it, hearing Kate
sing the words in her mind. Oh, of all the people in the world, why
should I love you? There's just something 'bout you.
"There's just something 'bout
you," Cynthia sang softly to herself as she reached the door to her dormitory.
"Oh, of all the people in the world, why should I love you?"
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 4, "Fragile"
