Wishes

By: Airelle Vilka

Chapter 9 The Yule Ball Blues

December 17th was looming closer. And that was exactly the thing on Airelle Vilka's mind as she was showing her sixth-year Ravenclaw class the correct way to handle a Mesmerizing Illusion.

"Now," she said, flourishing her wand at a thirty-degree angle from her chest level, "please watch closely." Triple light beams of a maniacal shade of indigo erupted from her wand, and circled the student in front of the blackboard.

"As my victim-- I mean, volunteer -- has graciously demonstrated," said Airelle as the class sniggered, "a Mesmerizing Illusion is extremely difficult to distinguish from a Bond Charm. The same light rays hover around the person, imperceptible to him or her, but visible to the rest of us, and encase that person in a reverie. It proves to be excellent for confusing your opponent, thus giving you time to attack or run. This is why the Mesmerizing Illusion is used so often in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The main difference between the Charm and the Illusion, of course, rests in the fact that no reverse spell is needed to free oneself from the Illusion…" Airelle kept on talking in this fashion, reminding even herself of Professor Binns, whose very own dullness had probably been the reason he was a ghost. The phrase "bored to death" took on a whole new meaning when dealing with the History of Magic professor.

Her thoughts were, of course, not all there. For almost a week now, two nasty little one-syllable words had ransacked her mind worse than El Niño ever could: Yule Ball.

And why was she so worried anyway? Some nervous fifteen-year-old boy with hair resembling an electrocuted chihuahua, dress robes that were too small, and a face full of blotches from yet another Dungbomb incident -- he had a reason to worry. Certainly, there was no logical explanation to draw from the jitters that had shot through her at odd moments all during the week, except for the fact that they were giving her massive indigestion.

Airelle dismissed her class vaguely without giving them homework, and sat at her desk as the students, whooping and cheering, went off to lunch. Less than a week… only less than a week to go until the dance. Why couldn't it have been a little later, on Christmas Day, like she knew it had been last year at the Triwizard Tournament? She'd have more time to think… Airelle concluded that she was acting like an obsessive teenager, just like she always did when nervous. A faint smile, so thin it was almost imperceptible unless one looked carefully, crept over the professor's face as she remembered the last Hogwarts dance she had witnessed…

"How do I look?" came a voice from behind her, and she turned around.

Snape tilted his head sideways. Airelle had helped him, early that evening, slick his black hair back over his head, revealing the shape of his angular face, high cheekbones, and his dark eyes.

She walked over to her best friend and smoothed out some wrinkles on his ember-black robes. "You look fine, at least I think so, but you sound like a model getting ready to strut."

He stared at her. "What?"

Airelle grinned and put on a high-pitched voice. "Oh...do, like, tell me, how do I look? I must look, like, simply perfectly gorgeous for, like, the dance!"

Snape's thin mouth lifted in a smirk that he put on for her, and her only. "Airelle, you are an incurable maniac."

"Thank you," she said. "Now, get in there, and make me proud!"

"Now YOU're sounding like a Quidditch coach," Snape replied, walking to the doorway.

Airelle crossed her arms. "Just go."

It took several loud bangs before Airelle realized someone was knocking. Crawling off her chair, she walked across to the door and opened it. And came face to face with Tracy Patts.

"Hullo, Professor," she said, smiling.

Airelle smiled back, albeit wanly. "Hello, Miss Patts. What is it?"

The girl pushed her black ponytail from her shoulder and extended a hand. "Sna—err, Professor Snape… wanted me to give you this."

A suspicious thought passed through the former Auror's head as she took the parchment. God, she was becoming more like Moody every day. Pretty soon she'd be looking for Voldemort in her trash cans. "Since when is Professor Snape sending you on errands?"

Tracy beamed, dark eyes shining. "Since he amplified mine and Alica's detention to the end of the month. Now he tells us exactly what will happen to us if we try and open his letters, like this one. I think he enjoys torturing us," she added brightly.

Airelle rolled her eyes and grinned. "All right, Miss Patts, thank you. You may go."

Tracy turned to leave.

"Oh, and Miss Patts?" called Airelle as she closed the door. The Ravenclaw student turned about in her tracks.

"Yes, Professor Vilka?" she asked pleasantly. A little too pleasantly.

"You just try and pull any Cupid-like bits on me," said Airelle, poking her head out of the door frame, "and you'll find yourself becoming familiar with my favorite personal creation -- the Lip-Stitching Potion."

"Will do," Tracy saluted, and turned on her heel, marching away nonchalantly as if all she was missing was a halo. Some angels these people were…

Airelle smiled after the retreating student and shut the door.

Potions was Hogwarts' least favorite class. Of course, everyone knew why -- Snape. In a way, Airelle was happy some things about him had not changed. He was still as nasty and horrible as he'd always been around people-- not your social butterfly. But he was his true self, and Airelle was willing to accept. And he could sometimes, after all, even be-- dared she think it? -- kind?? Respectful, honorable?

Nice? Well, not today, to be sure. Airelle had heard people complaining in the hallways earlier; something about a surprise exam. Yep, definitely the Snape she knew. Very exacting, ambitious, unrelenting-- and brilliant…

The professor shook her head and shifted her attention to the slightly slimy steps leading towards the dungeons. Cold air wafted up at her from the staircase, and shadows danced in the dim torchlight. Just what exactly had attracted her to the dubbed 'snake haven' for seven years as a student, Airelle still could not fathom.

Something caught her eye up ahead -- a lone sheet gleaming on the stone wall, dark green ink seeming to move in the deceptive light. Upon walking closer to it, Airelle groaned loudly. Couldn't she find refuge anywhere from her thoughts?

Attention, (the paper read) all Hogwarts Students, Faculty, and Staff:

The annual Yule Ball shall take place at eight p.m., December 17th. Dress robes are required for everyone; no exceptions. Faculty may sign up in my office to monitor specific areas between the hours of eight and eleven. I strongly remind all students that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds, even on the night on the dance. Spells will be in place as reinforcement, since a few of you have a tendency to wander there somehow, so I give you fair warning. Choose to ignore it, and I am sure that Mr. Filch shall be happy to provide you with some interesting holiday workload.

Albus Dumbledore,

Headmaster

Airelle had to smile as she kept walking towards the Potions classroom. Unbeknownst to even her closest Ravenclaw friends, Airelle Vilka the bookworm had had a surprising degree of temerity as a student. Countless hours spent in picking tree thorns from her dress robes at dances could vouch for that. The Forbidden Forest had been a haunt to a lot of students, but she'd bet half her Gringotts account that none of them frequented it for a stranger reason than she and Snape…

Potions, Potions. It was all about Potions, she thought.

A creak emitted from the door to the classroom as she opened it. No sounds were coming from the fireplace, but Airelle wasted no time in crossing the floor. "Open Sesame," she said, and the fireplace slid aside, granting her entrance.

"You wanted to see m--HOLY MERLIN, WHAT IS THAT??"

Snape turned around. Behind him, the huge cauldron bubbled and fizzed furiously, but that was not the cause of Airelle's shock. Beyond the cauldron stood something that looked like a transparent, glowing silver aquarium, and inside lay a giant orange, black-striped rope. Except it was moving. And it had three heads.

Airelle stood gaping by the entryway. Snape, however, looked very nonchalant and motioned for her to come inside.

"Oh, that?" he asked, as if having a seven-foot snake endowed with three heads was the most ordinary thing in the world. "It's a Runespoor."

She stepped closer, bearing an appalled expression. As if one head on a snake was not enough…

"A what?"

The Potions Master stirred the cauldron, jet-black hair falling into his face again. He looked at her disapprovingly through the ebony curtain. "I thought Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was one of your favorite books."

"You expect me to remember something I read twenty years ago-- no, wait, don't answer that," sighed Airelle, staring into the stewing cauldron. "What's this Runespoor doing here?"

"It's about to give birth," declared Snape. "Hand me that vial of distilling solution, if you please."

The Illusions professor did not move. "Did you say… give birth?"

"Yes, yes," said Snape impatiently as the serpent banged against the walls of its confining space, "now give me the vial before this blasted thing explodes."

Her hand dragged across to the table and grabbed the glass tube. Snape took it from her and poured it gently into the cauldron, which by that point looked about ready to erupt. However, it thankfully slowed down and began to simmer softly without overflowing. Airelle drew another breath and said, "Please don't tell me you're using that thing for a potion." Just thinking of having to pick the snake up bothered her. Snape had always chided her for being afraid of the Slytherin house symbol, and thus Airelle, slowly but surely, had dissipated her fear. But that had been a snake with one head. Two more made a difference. Cerberus might have been cute if he only had one set of teeth, after all.

"We are not using it," said Snape. Airelle breathed a sigh of relief.

"We're using its eggs."

Airelle stared at him. "Oh, great. Even better. And it'll be sure to let us have them."

"We shall just have to see," murmured her friend, leaving the cauldron and walking closer to the dry aquarium. The right head of the serpent hissed and spit, while the others remained completely stationary.

"The Runespoor will give the eggs through its mouth," said Snape, as if he were reminding himself of what he'd read in the books. "So, all we need to do is grab one while the creature is still disoriented from the birthing process. Hopefully, the right head shall be the one to get the egg, since it's the most venomous and will produce eggs with more… kick."

"Kick?" repeated Airelle, having subdued her fear of the snake and walking a little closer. "How do you plan to use these eggs, anyway?"

"Mental agility potion," answered Snape without turning around. "So many idiots think the only thing Runespoors are good for is being a pet of a Dark Wizard. Ridiculous. It's not even that vicious. The rumor has grown so large that I had to get this magnificent creature off the black market."

"Black market? When?"

"Earlier this week. Thankfully, my contacts still feared me enough to grant me passage to a trading sector in Burkina Faso."

"I see," said Airelle. She knew Snape had had connections as a Death Eater, but just how many of them had been fully severed? The black market was dangerous, but she supposed she trusted Snape enough not to bring anything like a basilisk egg into Hogwarts. Right?

Snape flexed his shoulders and suddenly said, "I think it's starting--"

Airelle looked around her friend's black-robed form to see the Runespoor begin to writhe. It stood up precariously on its tail, and then dropped again. The two watched as the right head swelled horribly and spat out three orange eggs too large for its jaws. Moving incredibly fast, Snape scooped up the first two eggs and threw them to Airelle, who caught them and quickly placed them in a cup, because the shells were burning hot. After the third had joined its fellows, Snape rolled down his sleeves and said, "I must give the Runespoor to a buyer tomorrow. Dumbledore won't like its presence here if he finds out."

Inwardly, Airelle was glad to be rid of the creature. It was pretty, once you looked at it for a while, but then the heads began to fight with each other and caused a nasty mess. Not good.

"So," she said as they sat down while the eggs steamed in the cup, "signed up for the Yule Ball list in Dumbledore's office yet?"

Snape looked at her, and something odd passed over his face briefly. "No, why do you ask? You've never been too fond of dances."

Airelle licked her lips and thought hard. Was she afraid to go to this dance? And if so, why?

"I'm just wondering," she said, "if I'm the only one left who doesn't have a group to watch."

"Those hormone-ridden teenagers are the reason that we have to break our backs and wander around giving them detention when we could be doing something else," muttered Snape angrily, making Airelle smile. He had disliked Sirius Black for many reasons, and hormones had been one of them. Black was a regular Casanova with the girls, and to see him dateless was like seeing the Tower of London dance -- impossible. Snape had never been as popular. Though there was that one time with Eola Jedkins--

Airelle burst out laughing, and Snape frowned.

"What's with you?"

"N… nothing," she lied badly.

"I think I'll sign up to keep an eye on the fourth years outdoors," said Snape, black eyes still looking at her strangely. "They tend to fall asleep and go off to bed early. That means I leave early as well."

Airelle had to agree; it was logical. "Yes… I'll…" She paused for a second. "I… will think about where I'll sign up. Probably outdoors too," she added quietly. "The Great Hall is too noisy. No privacy."

Snape's eyes narrowed, in the same way she had seen them a couple of weeks ago, when she had returned to Hogwarts. It was that exact same look, the one she could not interpret. She'd tried everything. But seeing it through another pair of eyes was not as easy as it seemed. Although now, with the dreams and nightmares she'd been having, it was a little less hard. That scared her, in itself.

"Why would you need… privacy?" he asked, teasing.

Airelle's grin extended to her ears. "Well, sign up for outdoors, and you'll find out why," was her response, and Snape laughed.

"As horrible as always, Miss Vilka," he said.

"Of course," she replied. "Although I think it's this room. It makes me frivolous for some odd reason. Perhaps it is because I remember all the things that happened here with us."

Snape looked at the walls, as if he were too recalling the events of nearly two decades ago. Why couldn't things ever be consistent? This little dungeon room had witnessed sadness, laughter, fights, sarcasm, drive, and ambition. All emotions experienced by the same two people sitting in it now. Except they were adults, but were still feeling the same types of emotions. Nothing changed in the end, really.

Airelle put her arms over her head and yawned, stretching herself over the chair. How many times had she fallen asleep over a book here as a young girl? Too many to count.

To heck with it, she thought. She was going to go to that dance. And act with Snape as she would have had they been students again. Screw what people would say; it was not like they were going to hold hands. If her acquaintances and students had enough sense to see past superficiality, they would not care about Snape.

And, Airelle had to admit to herself, it was going to be fun. She had never been to a dance with her best friend before. Both had been there, in the Great Hall, separately, but never as a date--

But she had to ask him first. Here is where the problem lay. What if he refused? How much, exactly, did she know about him since her seventh year at Hogwarts?

It's stupid anyway, she thought. Why would Snape agree, and ruin his reputation with the Slytherins? I'm just a fellow teacher; he could still talk to me without us being on a date. But still, for some odd reason I wish--

"Airelle?" he suddenly asked.

She looked at him, blinking as if she'd just been pulled out of water. "Err…yes?"

His smile was very knowing. But unlike Dumbledore's, Lupin's, or Hagrid's. It was a different kind of knowledge.

"What is it you really came to talk to me about?"

Airelle emitted a mock gasp. "Potions, of course. There isn't anything. I mean, you called me--"

"I did nothing of the sort."

She stared. "What? You didn't?"

"No."

"But I got a message from--" Then, she realized something. Tracy Patts and Alica Tylon. Oh, I'm going to kill those two…

"In any case," Snape cut her off, "if you want to ask me to the Yule Ball, feel free to do so. You've been sitting here for a while, and I'm wondering what's taking you so long."

Airelle's jaw nearly dropped. "Wha--"

"Look," said Snape, "Dumbledore is going to force us to come anyway. Thus, at least we shall have a pretext to talk to each other if we both sign up for the same thing. Or do you want me to be stuck talking to Trelawney all night?"

"Oh, no," said Airelle truthfully. "I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Well, except maybe that git Lockhart…"

Snape smiled. "Good. Then we go together, we leave together, and anyone who dares to ask questions--"

"--shall be promptly dismembered," Airelle finished for him with a laugh.

Was that so hard? said a voice in her head. God, you're pathetic, Vilka. Snape had to say it for you. He knew already what you were so worried about asking. Yeesh, some confidence we have.

Oh, be quiet, Airelle snapped. But inside, relief flooded through her. And like she had said a while ago-- what was to come, would come. And face it, she must, whether it be the Dark Lord or the Yule Ball. Same principle…

The cauldron to their side began to hiss again. Snape rose and took the cup with the Runespoor eggs. Removing one, he handed it to Airelle and said, "Crack it in the dish on the table, but mind none of the insides touches you, it is very poisonous to the skin."

Airelle nodded and walked towards the Ingredients table, where a large and empty silver dish stood among scales and jars of slime.

"Snape," she called, cracking the egg, "do you think--"

But she did not get to finish her sentence. Because out of the corner of her eye, she saw the glass in the aquarium crack as the Runespoor thrashed wildly against it. The left and middle head had apparently joined in an effort to bite off the remaining one, and it was fighting against itself. Airelle watched in horror and stunned silence as thin cracks inched along the glass like a spider's web, and then--

BANG. The aquarium now had a hole in it, letting loose a painful shower of glass bits. She could see the Runespoor hissing madly, unexpectedly, one head missing, and slithering straight towards Severus Snape.

Airelle instinctively reached for her wand, but tipped the dish over, and a white-hot liquid seared over her hands, sweeping like a conflagration across her veins, into her very being. She squeezed her eyes shut as she had always done during an onset of fever, and heard shouts over the noise, and then someone supporting her in their cool arms, and fingers sweeping her forehead. And then, there was nothing but blackness.

To be continued…