A/N: Buongiorno! I apologize to everyone for taking so
long to update. I have been in Rome for the last three weeks, so now updates
should come much more regularly. Also, I would like to give a warning. This
chapter contains a Greek lesson with a bit of Herodotus mixed in for Severa's
sake (a repayment, if you will), not to mention Derek Jacobi. It is mostly
invective, but if you read carefully, you may find things in here that will be
rather crucial to the plot later on.
Chapter Thirteen
He spent the next few
days in complete shock, realizing with a bit of a rueful smile that he had just
come out of the shock of learning more about Sylvia. If this was where having
emotions got him, it was no wonder that he had been alone for all those years.
He thought that it was probably a better life than this hell he was going
through now.
Christmas Day came and so
did Sylvia and Lupin, brimming over with tales of Muggle London, holding hands,
singing Christmas carols, and making almost everyone (if, when one said
everyone, one meant of course that everyone was limited to Severus Snape) feel
ill.
He heard Sylvia talking
breathlessly to Sophie in the hallway as he passed them on his way to the Great
Hall for the feast. "And then we went to see this moving picture, called Henry
V, and it was amazing! There was this incredible actor that played the Chorus…I
think his name was Derek Jacobi…"
His presents this year
had been the normal meager fare—a nice quill from Dumbledore, a small Potions
book from McGonagall, a plant for his office from Sprout. A present from
Cassandra was conspicuously absent. After all the times that they had shared
together, she couldn't have left him anything? That hurt the most.
When he sat down in the
festive Great Hall with the professors and a few of the students, he noted with
a stab of pain that Professor Trelawney was back. So Cassandra was gone for
good.
As Sylvia came in with
Sophie, followed closely by Rosamund and Lupin, she broke away from them to
approach him. She was wearing a deep purple robe and he realized, a little
bashfully, that she looked beautiful. He banished the thought from his mind. He
was NOT going to get caught up in the long list of men that she already held to
her credit.
"Sevy," she said, patting
him on the shoulder, "I've brought you a Christmas present." She handed him a
brightly wrapped package.
"Oh, yes, of course, as
friends," he stammered, thinking about how he hadn't gotten her anything.
"Friends give each other gifts. Well, yes, yours is down in my room. I'll bring
it to you…uh…soon."
She gave him a strange
look. "Sure, Sevy, whatever," she said, smiling, and rejoined Lupin, Rosamund,
and Sophie at the other end of the table.
He looked down at the
package in his hands, and slowly opened it. Inside was a copy of The
Complete Works of Plato and underneath it, a worn piece of parchment. He
unfolded it, and determined it was unintelligible. Why would she give him that?
He then opened the book
and noticed a note on the inside cover.
Sevy,
Along with the book I wanted
to give you a letter that my father once wrote to Plato. I have had to magically
seal it so that it did not fall apart, but I want you to have it now. I hope
you can read Greek.
Love, Sylvia
A
letter that her father had once written to Plato! It was in Socrates' own hand.
He picked it back up eagerly and tried to read it, but of course he didn't know
Greek. He would have to get her help in reading it.
The
Christmas feast was a blur to him and he couldn't wait for it to be over; he
practically tore Sylvia away from Lupin. He couldn't help but bestow a sneer
upon the other man when he saw Lupin's face contort in anger.
"Sylvia,
you must teach me Greek! I want to read this, and I want to read it now!"
She
looked slightly bemused by his excitement. "Sevy, no one, not even you, can
learn Greek in a day."
"We
should begin at once though," he said, taking her by the arm and leading her
down the stairs towards his office.
"What
about my Christmas present?" she asked, a smile touching the corners of her
lips.
"Yes…that…well…"
he said, looking away.
"Oh
Sevy, it's the thought that counts. Don't worry about it. Come with me to my
room instead of yours, and I might have an old textbook or at least something
up there that's in Greek. But I must warn you—"
"Warn
me? Of what?" he asked.
"I'm
afraid it may be a little boring at first," she answered, her smile crinkling
her eyes.
"What
could be boring about Greek?" he responded, trying to ignore the crinkles and
the smile.
***
He
had spoken too soon, far too soon. He had heard about catatonic states before,
but this time he was sure he had achieved one. All he could hear was the
intonation of Sylvia's voice as he slumped down in the armchair. He didn't even
understand the words anymore.
"…Such is the account
which the Persians give of these matters. They trace to the attack upon Troy
their ancient enmity towards the Greeks. The Phoenicians, however, as regards
Io, vary from the Persian statements. They deny that they used any violence to
remove her into Egypt; she herself, they say, having formed an intimacy with
the captain, while his vessel lay at Argos, and perceiving herself to be with
child, of her own free will accompanied the Phoenicians on their leaving the
shore, to escape the shame of detection and the reproaches of her parents.
Whether this latter account be true, or whether the matter happened otherwise,
I shall not discuss further. I shall proceed at once to point out the person
who first within my own knowledge inflicted injury on the Greeks, after which I
shall go forward with my history, describing equally the greater and the lesser
cities... I shall therefore discourse equally of both, convinced that human
happiness never continues long in one stay…"
She had told him what she
was reading, and he vaguely remembered the name Herodotus mentioned, but at
this point, he considered it a welcome repose when Lupin finally returned to
the room, looking angry and vaguely disappointed.
"Sylvia, may we speak?" he
asked, biting his lip nervously. She looked up from the book she had been
reading out of, and nodded slightly. Something more than Snape understood was
implied in the nod, and he had a feeling that whatever she had just
communicated was not what Lupin had wanted.
"Do you mind?" Lupin
continued, looking at Snape pointedly.
"We'll just be a moment,"
Sylvia added, smiling weakly.
"Of
course," he replied coldly, leaving the room with a smirk for Lupin. He then
positioned himself directly outside the door, to hear whatever he could make
out of the conversation.
As
he stood there, feeling a bit guilty for eavesdropping and making sure that the
corridor was completely empty, he was only able to pick up bits and pieces of
their discussion, which seemed to be degenerating into argument status.
"…you
promised me that you would wait…" That was Lupin, sounding uncharacteristically
upset.
"Remus,
I'm sorry but I can't help it if the situation…" She then lowered her voice, as
if realizing that Snape might be able to hear them, much to his own
disappointment.
He
had just heard another snippet ("It had to be this way eventually!") when
something cut into the sound of Sylvia's voice. It was an unmistakable whistle,
bright and cheery. It was Dumbledore, and it was coming towards him.
Ashamed
to be caught listening like an errant maid, but left without time to escape, he
walked swiftly towards the opposite end of the corridor and then doubled
around, to make it look as if he was coming from the other direction. Presently
he saw the long white beard and the half-moon spectacles glinting in the
torchlight.
"Ah,
Severus," Dumbledore said, bestowing a smile upon him. "I hope this Yuletide
finds you well."
"I
am not as well as I could be, Headmaster, but I suppose I am at my best for
what the situation requires," he said, with a nervous glance at Sylvia's door.
"Yes.
I am sorry about Cassandra. I should have known…I must admit, Severus, that it
may have been a measure of jealousy that blinded me to the truth." Dumbledore
looked sad and even a bit embarrassed.
Snape
wasn't quite sure what he was talking about, but this was often the case when
he was around the man. So he just nodded and murmured his thanks.
"It
must be difficult for you," Dumbledore continued. "If you ever have the desire
to talk, you know where I am."
"Of
course. Thank you, sir," he replied, and watched the older man amble off until
he could no longer see him. Then he immediately resumed his vigil at the door.
There
was now silence behind it, though, to his amazement. Silence, or, he supposed,
very soft talking. He slowly lapsed into boredom, and began reviewing the Greek
alphabet in his mind.
He
was there for several more minutes while the door yielded no more information
to him, and he continued his impromptu study session. Eventually, he heard the
sound of footsteps approaching the hall and leapt out of the way, coming to
rest as innocently as possible several feet away, leaning against a tapestry.
He
watched Remus Lupin exiting the chamber, and was about to make a snide remark
when he realized that the other man's eyes were bright with unshed tears, a
sight which rather took him aback.
Lupin
then turned those eyes to him, with a look horrible in its intensity of suffering,
of inner pain.
"You
go in," he heard Lupin say. "It's your turn now."
@@@
I
would love to highly thank all my most wonderful reviewers, both old and new.
My old chums, you know who you are and that I love you dearly. The new ones I
would like to mention by name: Ann, AndiCarmen, CIC, Sierra-Celine, Ada
Kensington, Ludigein, Snapesbabygirl, Mimi, and Helena Darjeeling. I
love you all and am so glad that you have been reading my little story!
