A/N: This is my first chapter to be Beta-read by my dear
Anna. *applause* I think you'll notice spelling and grammar
are much better this time around. Yipe,
Mallory has a lot to say!
Chapter 8: Quid Pro Quo
"It's not healthy. What if she got like that in the middle of a lesson? I always said she was unstable. She's a harm to herself and maybe to others."
"Severus, you're jumping to assumptions again. She never threatened herself or anybody else."
"Never?"
"Well, a couple times, in her youth, but not since then."
Snape nodded smugly. He and Dumbledore were discussing O'Kenly's situation from the night before.
"I really didn't expect you to hold such prejudices over her like you did with our last few Dark Arts teachers."
"What prejudices?"
"The ones involving how you get upset because I refuse you the job."
"I don't give a damn about the bloody job," he hissed, "but it doesn't do much for you or the school when the Ministry catches wind that we're knowingly harbouring a psychopath."
"That is enough, Severus!"
The doors opened and, late as always, Mallory came up to the high table. Her eyes never left Severus. She took her regular seat next to him. She looked different somehow. Yes, her hair was in its braid, countenance pale, but there was something certainly off. He studied her a little while when he suddenly realized it. She seemed more stoic than he had ever seen her. She didn't fidget; nervousness didn't lie behind her eyes. There was a confidence that hadn't existed before. "Severus."
"Yes?"
"I wanted to thank you for helping me last night. I really appreciate it."
"Please don't mistake my concern for this school's integrity for any concern for you."
That's when lightening struck, and the thunderclap resounded throughout the Great Hall. He brought his hand up to where she had slapped him across the face. It stung like hell. He looked at the reaction around him. The entire Hall had heard the loud contact, and everyone stared, shocked. His eyes made their way to the doors just in time to catch Mallory's backside slipping through.
Without a second thought, he bolted out of his chair, causing it to fall backwards, and raced out the door. What the hell are you doing, Severus? You're chasing after her! This is not you at all! "Mallory!"
Damn him. To hell with him! "Mallory!" Ignore him. Keep walking. "Wait." No, don't listen.
"Oh, bloody hell, Severus!"
He had caught up to her. He grabbed her by the shoulder and pinned her to the wall at arm's length to keep her from getting away. "Now, listen to me."
"Let go of me, Snape."
"No, shut up and listen to me." He bent his head, unable to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry."
She cocked her head. "What was that?"
He lifted his head and looked straight in her eyes. "I am sorry, all right? That was extremely . . . and I wasn't thinking – "
"You got that right."
" – and I'll do anything to make it up to you."
"Are you begging for forgiveness?"
Damn you. Damn you for driving me to this. "Yes."
"Anything?"
"Your heart's desire."
He finally let go of her shoulders and took a couple of steps back. She took a moment to size him up and decide what his penance was to be. "Dinner."
"What?"
"You buy me dinner," she said slowly. "My forgiveness is something that is bought."
He considered for a second. He smiled slyly. "All right, it's a date." With that, he headed back to finish breakfast. It wasn't until he was about to turn the corner that he heard her call, "It's not a date!"
Saturday evening:
Tap tap tap. Drum drum. Check. Drum drum. Tap tap tap.
She sat in a small but classy restaurant in Hogsmeade called The Red Moon. Severus was late. Mallory was on her last nerve. She could tell that her constant finger drumming and anxious foot tapping was annoying the other patrons. She checked her watch again. The agreed-upon time was eight o'clock, and it was already quarter after!
She was just about to get up and leave when two hands clapped her shoulders and pushed her back into her seat. Severus slid into the chair across form her. "What did you do, get lost?"
"I know, I know. I'm sorry."
"Another apology? I think this meal is now going to include dessert."
"Whatever you wish, my dear." He called over a waiter, they ordered, and they sat in silence, each holding a glass of wine. She was scrutinizing him with narrowed eyes over the rim of her glass, making him uncomfortable. "What?" he sneered.
"There's something different . . ." She took a moment to wander over his features again. Her face lit up with realization. "Your hair. It's washed!"
His face went dark. "Of course it is. Do you think I neglect my personal hygiene?"
"But it's always so greasy . . ."
"Look, I can't help it, okay? It's heredity. My father had hair like it. Despite popular belief, I do shower on a daily basis, including washing my hair, but by midday, it goes limp. So, got it?"
"Okay, yes, I'm sorry. Sheesh, sensitive." The two of them leaded back with their arms folded across their chests.
"Well, since you forced me into sharing something personal, it's your turn."
"What do you want to know?" she said suspiciously.
"Nothing much. How about your days in school?"
"Well, let's see, I was a Ravenclaw, top of most of my classes, extremely shy, graduated in 1989."
"'89? But that's the year I started teaching. I never had a student – "
She went red. "That's because I didn't take any potions my seventh year. I completed every course in my sixth, even the advanced."
"Impressive."
"Yes. After school, I moved back to Ireland. There, I got a job at the Irish Ministry. Soon I became head of Experimental Potions and Research. Are you familiar with the Wolfsbane Potion?"
The corner of his mouth flickered in disgust with what and whom the potion reminded him of. "Yes, you could say I am."
A smug smile crossed her face. "Guess who co-founded it?" The look of surprise on his face made her smile broader.
He shook his head in amazement. "You are out of sorts today. What happened?"
"How do you mean?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's the uncharacteristic happiness, or the fact that you seem to no longer mind human contact."
She cast her eyes down and didn't speak for a while. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked at him. "Last night I had a dream, no, a revelation. I saw that I couldn't live my life the way I was any longer. Why do I realize that now? I don't know why. I guess that's what life-changing relations are all about." She picked up her glass and took a drink.
"I know I've been asking a lot of question – "
"I don't mind."
"And if you truly don't mind, I have one more."
"Go for it."
He hesitated. He had always wondered, but how to word it? "Why are you – were you – the way you were?"
She blew out a deep breath and took another drink. "It's a long story."
"I have time."
"All right, I suppose I need to start with a bit of family history. My mother, Gerridwen, died giving birth to me, so my father, Eamon, raised me. He loved me very much, and I loved him as much as a daughter could. He was my whole world, he could do no wrong, he was supposed to always be there for me. Anyways, he was an Auror, you see. He taught me everything about Defense Against the Dark Arts. He used to say that I could disarm an adult wizard before I could walk!" She stopped, smiled, and took another drink. "When I was ten, we moved to England. He was transferred to work for the British Ministry." She stopped again. He could tell that what she was going to say next was going to be difficult. "It was my first year at Hogwarts. January. During breakfast, my house head came and told me that Dumbledore needed to see me. I should have known from Dumbledore's expression when I first entered . . ." Her voice broke and tears threatened to escape. Her hand shook as she reached for her glass.
"It's all right, you don't have to continue if you can't."
"No." She regained her composure, her brows furrowed in determination. "I will tell you. I haven't talked about it in seventeen years." She swallowed hard and continued. "Dumbledore told me that my father had been killed while on duty by a Death Eater. My entire world came to an apocalyptic crash. I had my first attack then. The world spun around, I hyperventilated and almost fainted, but I didn't. I just ran out of his office in tears. As you can probably imagine, I didn't cope well. All the love I possessed was buried with his remains. I was empty." Another pause, another drink. "Everyone else made it worse. I was being constantly hugged or patted on the back; being told that 'they understood.' It was making me sick. They didn't understand, they didn't know me or my father. They pitied me out of obligation. They felt that just because now I was an orphan, they had to be my friends. It was all a farce, they were only patronizing me. I couldn't stand it any longer. I hated them, I hated them all. All I wanted was some time for private grieving, but I was never allowed that. 'This is a time to be with friends,' I was told. I didn't want to be near them. I wanted them all to die. Ironically, it was I who died. I cut myself off in order to protect myself from loss, to make people leave me alone. I wanted it so that they didn't even know I existed. It worked. I was content – until I came back here, and everything has been turned upside down. I don't want to be alone anymore."
He reached across the table and took her hand. His cool black eyes burned into her sapphires. "You don't have to be," he whispered.
She smiled again and slid her hand our from under his. "Well, I just gave you a huge piece of me. Now it's your turn. Let's start with school – go."
"House: Slytherin, if you haven't already guessed; best subjects: Potions and Dark Arts. Not well like, is it a wonder I'm bitter? Graduating class: 1979."
"After school?"
He gave a casual shrug. "Just a few odd jobs here and there before I landed myself right back at Hogwarts."
"Any harrowing childhood stories?"
"Not really. Parents were workaholics who didn't have time to care for their only child – that's not traumatic. Since I barely know them I felt nothing when they died; it was their own fault anyway."
"That's horrible."
"It's true. Oh, here comes our meal."
After their interesting dinner, the sallow Potions Master and the pale Defense Professor walked down the corridor together, still in conversation. They stopped.
"Here's home," she said, leaning back on her chamber door. "Now it's your turn to 'fess up."
"About what?"
"You commented that I was out of my character, what about you? Why is the dark, bitter, brooding dungeon dweller doing begging for forgiveness, taking care of a broken woman you stumble across in the corridor, then taking her to dinner?"
"I promised I would."
"You're making promises! Why, Severus? Why are you doing this for me? Tell me."
Damn, the clever witch. She set him in the perfect trap. What should he tell her? An obvious and pathetic excuse, or the truth? While he still decided, the truth came spilling from his lips. "Because I'm fond of you."
She blinked a couple of times and her eyebrows rose. "'Fond of me'? That can mean too many things, and I am in no mood for euphemisms."
"What I mean by 'fond' is that . . . I find you smart, interesting, enjoyable company, and rather attractive." All of that came out rather fast, hoping that she didn't catch it all.
She remained leaning back on her door, expression impassive. She carefully reached up and took a lock of his hair between two fingers. "Hmm, you're right, it doesn't take long for it to get greasy again." She sighed. "You know, if that's the definition of 'fond' that we're going for, then . . . I'm fond of you, too." Before he had time to completely register that, she pushed herself off the door, stood slightly on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Good night, Severus," she said softly by his ear.
He could feel his face getting hot, and he said a short good-bye, and turned to leave before she could tell that he was blushing. Watching him go, she had a smile that could only be described as impish. She reached behind herself for the doorknob, opened her room, and went to bed, still smiling.
The
Divine List of Reviewers:
Anna (There, I made him blush, are you happy?)
[Yes, I am, thank you!], Iphigenia (seriously, the singing is getting on
my nerves), Potionsmaster (Hey, nutty! Keep those solicitors on their toes!), Soul Seeker (I think
antidisestablishmentarianism fits this story rather well), Firebrand (I
don't think I can write the students well, so they don't get involved often), Ginger
Donahue (I can't promise when they will "get together." You realise these are the kind of people
that don't rush into these things.), Miss Prongs (Sadly, all things must
come to an end . . . ), Sierra-Selene (Merci! Je suis heureuse que tu te sois amuser l'histoire. J'èspere que le français est correct!), Bunny
(My feet feel better.), Kim Rushumble, Melissa Ivory, and Snidget.
