Wishes

By: Airelle Vilka

Chapter 5 A Lack of Shining Armor

Airelle's jaw gaped open. Snape was standing directly behind the reporter, fathomless black eyes glinting and a sneer playing on his thin lips.

Lupin's countenance suddenly grew neutral, and Alica and Tracy buried their faces behind their respective mugs of Double Fudge Juice. If Airelle hadn't been so surprised, she would have smiled at the girls' apparent discomfort around Snape after that mandrake incident…

Lockhart, who by now had turned around, did not change his saccharine expression. "Ah, Professor-- Snape, was it?" He flashed a grin at the Potions Master, who looked disgusted, and turned back towards Airelle, floating parchment and all. "Now, Miss Vilka," (another wink) "--where were we again?"

I was just about to stuff your bloated head in a matchbox, thought Airelle sourly, relishing at the prospect. She desperately hoped that Snape had some shred of human sympathy left in him…

Snape's mouth twisted. "Professor Vilka, if you will--"

"Gladly," Airelle beamed, releasing the tension in her stomach and rising off her chair so fast she nearly knocked it backwards. She did not dare look at what anyone else save Lockhart and Snape was doing, for fear of turning beet red. "Excuse me, I must go. Hogwarts business," she said curtly to Lockhart, and brushed past him towards the door. The reporter, however, seized her sleeve. Thankfully, no one in The Three Broomsticks except for Airelle's companions had fallen silent or listened to the conversation.

"But I'm not finished!" protested Lockhart.

Airelle wanted to laugh in his face. "Well, that's too bad for you, isn't it? Good night, Mr. Lockhart."

She disengaged Lockhart's hand, and they swept out the doorway. Two seconds later, the reporter, flushed, ran out after them and yelled indignantly, "You cannot do this to me… I have privilege of interview, Mr. Snape!"

The Potions professor stopped abruptly, and so did Airelle. Oh, dear, she thought as Snape turned around, slowly, long black robes making an arch in the snow of the main street. The crowds kept passing by, looking as merry as if it had been Christmas already.

"Miss Vilka," Lockhart kept saying, face contorted, "you are terribly misguided. I am sure you'd rather spend the evening in pleasant conversation with me than that—"

Snape stepped closer. Airelle only saw his profile, but she could feel the power surging from him in all directions, power he'd acquired during his Death Eater years. Uh-oh, she thought…

The Potions Master now stood a few feet from the reporter, and his black eyes echoed the smirk that had lifted one corner of his mouth. "Careful, Gilderoy," he said in a remarkable voice, the one he used only when miffed by something. Incredibly soft as a whole, but every word dangerously sharp as a needle. "Hogsmeade is dangerous at night. Who knows, there may be dozens of flowers at every corner. They might mistake you for one of them and try to pollinate those pastels…"

Airelle covered up her laughter with an unconvincing cough. Lockhart sniffed and walked backwards. Snape, apparently not wishing to bother himself, backed away. Airelle started walking, and as soon as Snape had joined her, Lockhart turned away and began to scribble furiously on his parchment.

"Ignore him," said Snape sharply as Airelle looked back. "Brainless, conceited imbecile."

"But—isn't it a little dangerous-- I mean, look what that Skeeter woman had written--"

Snape kept looking forward. "I'll have his head on a platter if he speaks a word about me. Or you," he added as Airelle glanced at him reproachfully.

"I have to give you, my 'knight without shining armor,' applause," she said as they walked towards the Shrieking Shack under the darkening sky, "for rescuing me from Lockhart. The lunatic was going on about--"

"How he was a professor?" Snape laughed bitterly. "They'd hire any moron or hypocrite, just not me."

Airelle did not know what to answer to that, so she asked, "By the way, how and why did you suddenly appear out of thin air in Hogsmeade?"

"What were you doing with Lupin?" he asked, obviously avoiding her question.

"Since when do you monitor whom I speak with?" she snapped. "So what if he and Potter were friends? We are adults, and colleagues now, Snape; give it up."

"You don't understand," muttered Snape, stopping and turning towards her. "It is for your own well-being."

"Thank you, but I'm a former Auror, remember? I can take care of my own safety."

His black eyes narrowed dangerously. "The last time I checked, being in the company of a werewolf the night before a full moon is not exactly your standard safety measure."

Airelle stepped back. So that was why she had had the constant notion that the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was ill. "Remus Lupin… is a werewolf??"

Snape's nod was barely visible. "Dumbledore had the gall to rehire him, too, after he quit two years ago. Seemed to think Lupin was needed to help us against Voldemort." He snorted. "The man's a boiling cauldron waiting to explode. I had to make a potion to help him keep his sanity the whole time he was at Hogwarts… you think that is safe? So, I let his identity slip at one point in the staff room."

Airelle glared at him. "That was not nice."

"I suppose he was better, though, than the next one," Snape said, shuddering. "A Death Eater in the form of Alastor Moody, of all people!"

Airelle sighed. Even though Alastor Moody was a fellow Auror, and widely respected in his day, he still gave her the chills. It seemed like his magical eye could look right into her soul as if it were transparent, and read every feeling she had ever harbored-- all the times when she, still young, often found herself regretting she had not joined Voldemort along with Snape, so that she would not lose him--

A shiver ran down her spine, and she looked away, towards the Shrieking Shack. It was said to be the most haunted place around, and the noises emanating from it, Airelle had heard, seemed to certainly justify it. Now, it was silent, like an abandoned shell. Still, few came near it even two years later, afraid of the ghastly atmosphere the boarded-up windows conveyed. Probably just an abandoned old house for people to play practical jokes, Airelle thought.

She looked at Snape, whose eyes were also on the Shrieking Shack, only they were unreadable. Doubtlessly, Airelle concluded, something had happened there that Snape did not wish to tell her about--

"Ah, I could forgive you anything," she mumbled softly, watching barren trees sway back and forth in the December air. It was true, basically. Snape could keep secrets from her, like he was doing now, and she did not feel a pang of distaste. Perhaps that was wrong-- to trust him again, but she admired and respected him. If he wished to tell her, then he would. At the least, she hoped he had learned from the previous mistakes.

"As could I," he said, still staring at the old house. "Although… there is one thing that I could never forgive you for."

She faced him, curious. "Which is?"

"If you joined Voldemort," he said quietly. "I do not have the power of forgiveness that you do. I would not be able to do what you had done."

"Who said I forgave you for becoming a Death Eater?" she asked with a smile completely devoid of humor. Snape just smiled back and looked away.

In truth, Airelle did not know if she had given Snape her exculpation. So many strange thoughts lately… the second time they had met again, as teachers in Hogwarts… the way she felt standing in the dungeon room… the way she had stopped blaming her friend for what had happened. But had she forgiven him, truly? Ah, now that was the ten-million-Galleon question. And the answer lurked in her soul, somewhere. The problem was that she did not know how to go about finding it.

To be continued…