Wishes

By: Airelle Vilka

Chapter 20 The Fourteenth of February

The next month and a half passed by without any special occurrence, save, of course, for the fact that Airelle and Snape were now clandestinely sharing a bed. The problem lay in the fact that Airelle had to sleep in her bedroom most of the time so as not to arouse unnecessary suspicion; thus, she could only visit the underground chambers on the weekends (Snape coming upstairs would be too risky). Not that it bothered her; as the weeks passed, she found that a full night's sleep was well worth it. Her nightmares had disappeared completely as they entered February. Most of the students, especially Neville, were doing superbly in her class; and Airelle could not have been more delighted. The morning after Christmas, Snape had informed Dumbledore of Voldemort's summons, and was told by the elder wizard to keep his ears open for anything unusual. But there seemed to be no word from the still nameless vigilante or the Death Eaters. Albus Dumbledore was looking happier and happier every day, and twinkled his blue eyes at Airelle every chance he got. A few times, the Illusions professor even had the impression the Headmaster knew of her liaison with Snape, but the feeling quickly faded. The Potions Master was still the same, and no one had guessed anything. Which was all very good, to be sure.

It was thus with a light heart that Airelle entered the Great Hall for breakfast on February fourteenth, her black teacher's robes flawlessly clean and wrinkle-free (amazing as it was, even to her) and her hair pulled into its usual high ponytail. This was another set of robes she owned; the transparent-sleeved Christmas ones hung in her closet. Even though Airelle had, as always, not worn any make-up, today she had a sentiment to decorate again, and had swapped her stone-topped headband for three shimmering blue crystals that she'd picked off her transfigured robes. They were magically pinned to her hair in a diagonal row on the side of her head, right at the base of the ponytail. Their color matched the shining hems of her robes, which radiated very thin swirls of blue that could be seen only in bright light.

"Airelle--mornin'!" Hagrid saluted her from the end of the table, and gave her a huge smile from underneath his bushy beard.

"Don't ask what's with my get-up," she replied, grinning back. "It's a Friday, so I'm feeling happy today." Also, to her, Friday meant a weekend of spending her days with Snape in their secret room next to the Potions classroom, making new concoctions from ingredients Snape had procured from heaven knew where. Not to mention that she'd spend some commendable nights downstairs as well. But Hagrid did not need to know all that, of course. No one did.

"Ah," he said knowingly, drinking pumpkin juice out of a jug the circumference of which was approximately the same as that of a wine barrel. "Good, good. I'm glad to see you're keeping yer mind off 'at Delilah Haze business."

"There's nothing for me to do…Madame Pomfrey will take care of her, not I," said Airelle. "So why must I worry?"

"That's the spirit, I say," replied Hagrid. "Oh! Almos' forgot…" He reached into one of his enormous pockets as Airelle leaned on the table opposite him, curious. Knowing Hagrid, if this was some sort of gift, it was best to be careful -- lest the present should bite.

"'ere you go." He spilled several long, cherry-red objects into Airelle's cupped hands – crackers. She pulled one, and it exploded with a small bang that was thankfully stifled by the chatter of the students at the House Tables. Red glitter showered the tablecloth, and there was a sudden hail of foil-wrapped, multi-coloured sweets.

"Wow," exclaimed Airelle, opening one, "chocolate! Thanks, Hagrid; you sure know my taste. But why today?"

"Has yer head bin on yer shoulders lately?" he laughed heartily. "Today's Val'ntine's Day."

Airelle stared at him, feeling like an idiot. "Really?" she choked. "I must have forgotten. Well, err… thanks again, that was really nice of you."

"Ah, think nothin' of it," blushed the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. "Yer a good friend, hones'ly. But you should get out mor' often—how is it you don' know about Val'ntine's Day when everyone's bin talkin'?"

"No," she protested, "I know, but—"

"I'm jokin'!" Hagrid laughed again. "I know you do, but yer always so busy!"

"But—but—ah, nevermind," Airelle grinned, "it's useless to argue with you, just like with Professor Snape. Speaking of him… where is he, anyway?"

"Late, like you," answered Hagrid. "Missin' a holiday, too, shame. And the latest Daily Prophets that're comin' in."

"What's this about?" asked Airelle.

"It's an out-of-the-ordinary edition," cut in Professor Flitwick, who had apparently been listening. "I'm very excited, it's about Hogwarts—ah, here they come now!"

"I didn't know the Daily Prophet was delivered to the students, too," muttered Airelle as a hundred owls swooped into the hall, dropping letters and packages down to the tables. Many were newspapers, and almost all of the teachers received one. Airelle was no exception; Avalon was frantically flapping her wings, trying to both stay in the air and hold the giant Daily Prophet in her claws. Upon finally reaching the professor, the little owl dropped like a stone, along with the newspaper, into Airelle's outstretched palms. Her black feathers were ruffled and stood on end, and Airelle let her drink from a juice cup. After doing so, Avalon nearly collapsed back into Airelle's hand and rested there. Gently placing the tiny owl onto her shoulder, the professor unwrapped the Daily Prophet and leafed through the pages.

What she saw nearly made her faint.

On a subtopic column of the major Hogwarts story was written the following:

Valentine's Day Special: An Unlikely Romance By Gilderoy Lockhart

DP Special Correspondent, Best-Selling Author,

Order of Merlin, Third Class, Winner of Witch Weekly's Most

Charming Smile Award and Witch Weekly's Most Charming Media Wizard,

Defense Against the Dark Arts Crusader, and Former Hogwarts Professor

It seems as if love is in the air for two very unusual people at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as yours truly has had the pleasure to witness in person. One is Professor Vilka, who has returned to teach Illusions at the school after spending nearly two decades as the leader of the famed "Suicide Squad," an elite group of Aurors who fought off You-Know-Who's forces when he was alive. Ms. Vilka, or Airelle (as she likes me to call her), is described by her peers as brilliant, but somewhat paranoid. Omar Fauks, the current Head Auror of the squad after Ms. Vilka's resignation, was very surprised to find me at his home in Edinburgh one January morning. "She loves her work very much," Mr. Fauks said with a heartfelt quaver in his voice that perhaps signified a deeper longing for affection than he'd revealed. Could it be that the slender, white-haired beauty has captured more than You-Know-Who's supporters, but the hearts of her colleagues as well? It certainly seems so, considering her behaviour at Hogwarts. She is well liked by most people, and can even be flirtatious, as I witnessed during my time at Hogsmeade in early December. As soon as I walked in the door, she stood up and shook my hand with a smile that could have melted the snowy caps of Mount Everest.

But currently, Airelle Vilka is very protective of her new interest, which brings us to our second half. That person is none other than Severus Snape, the man they call 'cold as ice.' Could Ms. Vilka have succeeded in dissolving that ice? Maybe, maybe. Professor Snape, who is the head of Slytherin House and teaches Potions at the school, is "not exactly Witch Weekly material," says a source, but perhaps that is precisely the reason for Airelle Vilka's affections; it is well known that the lady likes a challenge. Of course, it could also be the fact that the two were at school together years ago and were known to be inseparable until Graduation. Mr. Snape left to work on a project with some house-mates, and Ms. Vilka took up her job as an Auror for the incomparable Ministry of Magic. I speculate that she had longed to be reunited with him for years, and now that they are both professors at Hogwarts, Ms. Vilka has taken advantage of the opportunity. It may very well be so, since both of them are so reluctant to admit anything. Moreover, Professor Snape seems to be very jealous of any man who gets close to Ms. Vilka. For example, he said, "Careful, Gilderoy," when I attempted to have an interview with Ms. Vilka at Hogsmeade; and the rebuttal was in a voice that, frankly, scared me out of my wits. It happened again during the Yule Ball, when he pulled Ms. Vilka onto the dance floor so I could not continue my interview with her. Very possessive treatment, if you ask me personally; brusque.

In conclusion, I speak of this unusual pair: it pays to be careful. No matter how experienced or lovely a lady may be, some men are just not made of the fabric of love. Of course, not to brag, but I would not know; thanks to my wonderful admirers, I've never had trouble in love matters.

And right below the story was the winking countenance of Lockhart in his lilac robes and matching wizard's hat.

"I'm going to hurt him," whispered Airelle under her breath, abandoning her breakfast and standing up.

"What was that, Airelle?" asked Dumbledore pleasantly from his chair, his own newspaper lying (still untouched) next to his plate of eggs and fried ham.

"Ahem, I said…excuse me, Headmaster," she replied, not realizing she was mutilating a piece of toast in her hand. Looking down, she smiled sheepishly and set the rest of it on the table, shooing Avalon off towards the Owlery in the process. Just wait 'til the rest of the school reads this…and Snape… oh, boy…

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Remus Lupin called after her as Airelle walked out the door very slowly, trying with all her might not to storm out instead.

As expected, Snape was furious.

"That does it! Dig Lockhart a grave and call him dead, because very soon, he will be," he snarled, rolling up his sleeves and heading out the door. Airelle, however, having regained her sanity by then, latched onto her friend's arm and would not let go.

"Come on, do you think the publicity will be better if you go barging into the Daily Prophet headquarters like a raving lunatic?" she asked, pulling backwards with all her might. "And really, no one in the school will probably believe that story anyway. Like you said, we haven't them given any reason to. So, they'll have a good laugh and forget about it."

"That's not the reason I'm angry, Airelle," he replied slowly, turning around and disengaging her hand from his robes.

"Then why?"

"Voldemort," was the response. Snape turned and walked back into the otherwise empty classroom, and began pacing in front of the desk. "Even if he won't believe everything that selfish git Lockhart wrote, this story will make him watch you more closely. This means trouble for the both of us. I do not want his attention focused on you, for any reason."

"Hmm… then you are possessive," she smirked. "However Lockhart may have twisted our words, some of it is true."

"That is not funny."

"I'm just trying to make you less tense," said Airelle, placing her hands on his shoulders to stop him from pacing. "Now, listen: you said it would not matter if I were your lover or not. Our friendship is enough. So… whether Voldemort believes this or not doesn't matter. And about his keeping an eye on me… let him."

"This isn't a game," warned Snape, facing her. "I know you're tough, but I do not want to take chances anyway."

"I'm a big girl," she answered. "And I know how to use a wand. Look, allow me to take care of the problem, with your help. Voldemort may go after me, and if he does, he'll do it no matter what Lockhart writes, because I am your friend. If he realizes that—which he probably already does—nothing will stop him. So, we only have to be alert, that's all."

Snape looked at her for a moment, then sighed. "You've altered your tune since Christmas," he said softly. "You were so afraid of what would happen if Voldemort found out about us—but now, you're being nonchalant about it."

"You were the one who helped me change my mind," she replied, grinning. "And it was for the better; if Voldemort strikes, we must be ready no matter what sort of news is out there. And as for Gilderoy…he'll get what is due to him later. You and I shall make sure of that."

Snape was looking somewhat calmer now, and his face stretched into a thin smile. "Hopefully, it'll come off as you say," he said, lowering his voice even further. "But just in case, as far as Hogwarts is concerned… let's keep our nocturnal trysts to a minimum for now."

"Will do," answered Airelle promptly. "My limbs haven't been this sore since my Auror training."

The Potions professor arched his eyebrows, and Airelle began to snigger. "God, I love it when you look puzzled," she said between laughs, breaking her friend's ensuing sneer by a deep French kiss. It was the first time she'd ever done it outside of bed-quarters, and in the back of her mind, two voices suddenly began to make their presence known.

-Wow. You should try this on the stairs next. Although who knows what that can lead to? Heh…

You cannot be serious, Airelle. Stop this at once; what if someone comes into the room?

-Ah, don't listen to her, 'Relle. We both know you find the idea thrilling. It's the risk that brings half the pleasure.

Professor Vilka! AHEM! Are you a complete idiot? Just imagine…IF PEEVES WERE WATCHING! It'll be all over the school in half a second. Then, Lockhart will truly have a field day with you two!!

Airelle severed the kiss with a reluctant groan. "This really is getting out of hand," she said shakily. "Perhaps the secretive nature of this affair is precisely what is making me so drawn to taking chances with it. I mean, honestly, I'm thinking of the comfort possibilities of the dark wardrobe in the staff room right now."

Snape's resultant smile was sinful. "Naturally. It is one of the facets of the human psyche. Danger is attractive, you know. People love reading about it or watching it from a safe position… but only a few choose to really delve deep into it."

"Like myself," smirked Airelle.

"Indeed," he said. "After all, you're my friend, not to mention my paramour. That in itself is hazardous to your health."

The ex-Auror laughed. "Come to think of it, you're right. I've been running around with danger all my life—first you as a friend, then my job, now you again. Frankly, I need a vacation…"

"Wait a minute," Snape interrupted in a whisper, raising a hand. "Did you hear that?"

"No."

"Someone's coming," he said quickly, and crossed the classroom towards the door. Airelle chose to inconspicuously stand next to the desk.

Yes, there were definitely footsteps coming swiftly down the dungeon corridor. A shadow made its way across the wall, and a person in black student robes waddled by the classroom door. But he stopped in the middle, peering into the room at Snape and looking startled. It was Neville.

"Professor!" he squeaked.

Snape looked relentless. "What are you doing down here, Longbottom? Your place is in the Gryffindor common room."

Neville's eyes shifted from Snape to Airelle, and he suddenly looked much happier. "Oh, Professor… I was looking for you."

"Yes, Neville?" she asked, stepping forward and fighting an urge to elbow Snape in the ribs. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, n… nothing much," said the boy quickly, looking at Snape again. "It's just that…Harry wants to see you. I believe it's about a spell…"

"Where is he?" the Illusions professor inquired, ignoring the lethal look on Snape's face.

"I think he is outside… somewhere near the lake."

"Tell him I'll be there shortly," she said, and Neville nodded.

"By the way," he said, walking off, "happy Valen—" He abruptly cut himself off, seeing the Daily Prophet clenched in Snape's hand. "Uh, never mind," Neville added, and ran, leaving Airelle smiling gently behind him. Snape was scowling, but…then again, what else was new?

Spring was coming; Airelle could feel it in the air— the cool breeze sang of it. Soon, it would be warm and green again; some stubborn grass was already peeking through the thawing ground. The lake rippled in the afternoon sun, and looked magnificent. Not even the tentacles that stuck out of it here and there could ruin the image.

She found Harry Potter sitting underneath a tall tree on a sloping hill overlooking the lake. He had a book strewn across his lap, but didn't seem to be reading it. Suddenly, Airelle wondered what he'd really called her there for. It was just a vague notion, but—

"Ahem," she said.

The fifth-year looked up, as if shocked that she'd actually arrived. "Hello, Professor Vilka," he replied, looking down at her as she ascended the hill.

"And greetings to you, Potter," she answered. "Do you want to have a little chat?"

"Uh…sure, of course. You can sit down, if you like."

"Thank you," said Airelle, and lifted up her robes slightly so she could join him on the grass. "It's a lovely view from up here, indeed."

Harry nodded, barely. Airelle knew he wanted to ask her something, but was too afraid to tell Neville, so he made up this story to get her here.

"I take it you don't want to discuss spells, eh?" she inquired warmly.

There was no response for a long time. And then--

"Professor?"

"Yes, Potter?" She felt almost as if she were addressing James all over again. Only this time, it was not in a negative fashion.

"Please, call me Harry," said the boy, looking slightly pink with embarrassment.

"All right then," Airelle gladly conceded. "Harry. Therefore, it's only fair to tell you not to be surprised if I call you James by accident. You resemble him a great deal, you know."

"I know," said Harry quietly, staring at the grass. "I've seen…pictures… of him and my mother, Lily. Did you know her, too?"

"Yes."

"So then… that's what I've been meaning to talk to you about all the time, but never had the chance, not even at Hagrid's place."

"Something bothering you, Harry?" asked Airelle, propping herself up against the tree to be more comfortable.

"Not really bothering," he answered with a shrug. "It's just that… well, Professor Lupin was friends with my parents, but he's always busy, and Sirius Black—" He trailed off. Airelle looked sideways at the boy for just a moment, and wondered what he would've thought if he'd heard the conversation between Lupin and Snape on the night of the Yule Ball. Snape had accused the other of sneaking Black into Hogwarts. Airelle had also discovered that for some reason, Dumbledore trusted Black. But just how much of this did Potter know?

After a while, the conversation picked up again, and Harry said, "If it doesn't bother you too much… could you tell me about my parents?"

Airelle sighed. 'Well, I don't see why not… Let me think. I suppose we should start with your mother, yes-- Lily Evans."

Harry's eyes lit up, and he stared at her ravenously. Airelle knew that she could never hope to understand what was rumbling through his brain. He wanted to cling onto the past, as much as he could get of it. Having been orphaned at such an early age, and treated horrendously by the Dursleys, Harry had been secluded from his family history. It was true; one's ancestors helped get a better sense of oneself.

"Lily Evans," repeated Airelle slowly. "She was a beautiful young lady, I must admit… hair as red as the very inside of a burning candle, and emerald green eyes just like yours. Very intelligent, too—she beat me out for Head Girl." The professor laughed. "I still envy her for that one. But anyway… I did not know too much about her family, save for her Muggle sister--Petunia, was it?"

"Yes," replied Harry morosely.

"I often heard Lily telling stories," continued Airelle, "about how Petunia hated magic and the tricks she used to play on her for mock revenge. Your mother was very enthusiastic, full of energy and vitality. It is a shame that you never had the chance to know her."

"Were you friends?"

"I'll tell you the truth, Harry—no," said Airelle. "But we were not enemies, either. Just intellectual rivals, that's all. I actually learned much from watching her persuasiveness. It's helped get me to my leadership position in the 'Suicide Squad.' The main reason, however, for us not being friends, aside from our rivalry—" Here, Airelle paused, not knowing whether to go on. Finally, she decided to do so. "—was the fact that Lily Evans was a friend, and later a girlfriend, of a boy named James Potter."

"You really hated him, didn't you?" asked Harry boldly. Airelle sighed.

"You know, not really," she said, "not in the way you think. I could've lived with James Potter; we were in different houses, and for all his pranks, he had a good and brave heard that he passed on to you. Now that I reflect back on those times, I realize I did not despise him. Harry, I'll be sincere—he annoyed me sometimes… quite often, actually… with the things he and his gang of Marauders did. However, I would have never wished a fate like his on my worst adversary. I've gotten over my childhood hostilities… which is why you won't see me trying to duel with Remus Lupin every chance I get."

She looked at him, and discovered in his eyes that they were somehow both thinking the same thing-- You may have left the past… but someone else hasn't.

"Professor Snape," said Airelle suddenly, jerking Harry out of his trance, "is a very interesting person. Believe me, Harry," she added, seeing that the boy looked a bit revolted, "I have known him over the period of more than two decades. He is my best friend; I shall not deny it. And I will readily give my life for him if, heaven forbid, it is necessary."

"But how could you," Harry whispered, probably not even noticing that he was voicing his thoughts aloud, "be friends with someone… someone like that? Someone who is so mean, and he…"

"Hated your father with a passion," finished Airelle gently. "That I shall not deny either; you know it already, I see. But as I said in Hagrid's cabin—Professor Snape is a good man—with his own twisted sense of justice, true—but a good man nonetheless. Who knows, there may even be something righteous in your own rival, Draco Malfoy."

Harry snorted.

"No," said Airelle. "Trust me on this one. The time will come—maybe sooner than we think—when the real cowards are separated from the brave. And I assure you, Severus Snape is probably the most valiant person I have ever laid eyes on."

Harry lowered his head; it looked like he understood, at least.

"Can you tell me more about my family?" he finally asked, and Airelle smiled.

"Certainly. What do you wish to know?"

"Well… I have so many questions—I don't even know where to begin—what were they like? What kind of food was their favourite? What was their best-liked class? What—"

"Slow down!" laughed Airelle good-naturedly. "We'll be sitting here until next year if you keep talking. Now, I do not know of their preferences for cuisine or education, but I do know this—your father was an excellent Quidditch player, and Lily was a devoted spectator. James was a Chaser for the Gryffindor team, as you may be aware."

"Have you ever seen him play?"

"Of course," said Airelle. "I played against him myself, seeing that I was a Chaser for Ravenclaw back in the day—took loads of practice on my old Cleansweep to catch up to him. Everyone knew James was good. Sort of like you. Except you are a Seeker, and that's even tougher. You are a natural crowd pleaser, Harry, and you take after him in the sport. Your moves on that Firebolt are unlike any I've ever seen. You should consider doing it professionally. Either that," she grinned, "or use those superb flying abilities to help you become an Auror."

Harry smiled back. "Moody—or, the fake Professor Moody, rather—told me and Hermione about considering it."

"And Death Eater or not," she chuckled, "I don't think he was joking. Lord Voldemort would not be too happy to see you on the battlefield, I bet."

Harry looked up sharply. "You said his name."

Airelle shrugged. "I see it this way… if Voldemort has me cornered, he'll kill me whether I call him You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Voldemort, or the Dancing Daisy. It makes no difference… so why make it sound like you are afraid when what you are really wary of is the real thing? A rose, by any other word… well, you get the picture."

"Oh," said Harry.

"Now, let's see… what else can I tell you?" Airelle continued. "James and Lily, James and Lily… it was the talk of the school when they began dating. 'Someone had actually snagged the elusive, dark-haired dreamboat,' they would whisper. I knew before anyone else did, honestly—because news travels fast throughout the Quidditch teams. Those two went everywhere together…Hogsmeade, especially. Lily and James gave the infamous 'Romance Hill' its name, you know."

The boy blushed. "Seriously?"

"Mm-hmm. They were the perfect couple, had everything going for them… after I left Hogwarts to become an Auror, I heard about their wedding. There were even pictures of it in the Daily Prophet. I owled them my congratulations." She paused. "Some time afterwards, I was in the hospital recovering from a Death Eater encounter… and I heard about… what happened."

The afternoon sun was beginning to set behind the horizon… how long had they been sitting there? Airelle looked out towards the lake. The giant squid had subsided and gone to rest as well.

"Harry," she said softly, "if I could change anything in my lifetime, it would be that I had another chance to know your parents better. They were good people, just like you. They're watching everything, I know; and I'll bet anything they wouldn't want you to waste away dwelling on them. Harry… live the way they'd want you to, and tuck the memories away in your heart."

"It's not that easy," he replied. "I wish they could be here with me."

"We wish for much," Airelle said, "but we just have to make do with what heaven grants us. I have wishes, too…" She paused again, feeling a stabbing pain in her heart. Even after all this, after she was Snape's paramour…she still could not forget what happened at Graduation. But like she said herself… it did not need to be forgotten; just put away. "I want to be a student like you again, young and carefree. But time catches up with everyone, and just as it takes us away from the past, it also heals our wounds. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Professor."

And there was silence.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Thanks."

She gave him a smile he couldn't see. "You're welcome. Anytime."

Airelle did not know how much longer they sat side by side watching the lake. However, the swish of robes and her own inner sense snapped her out of her evening daze. Someone was coming up the hill, and she didn't even need to look up to know who.

"Potter," said Severus Snape coldly, his feet stopping a few meters away from them. "Get back to your common room, now."

"Why?" asked Airelle, finally glancing up at Snape. "He isn't doing anything wrong—"

But she regretted her words when she saw her friend's face. It was even more deathly pale than usual; his lips were thin and drawn-looking.

"The Headmaster has ordered all students to return to their common rooms immediately," said the Potions Master, while Airelle stared at him oddly. Tearing her eyes away for a moment, Airelle turned to Harry.

"Go on, then, Mr. Potter," she urged him gently. Harry blinked, then stood up and left without another word or backward glance. As Airelle watched his retreating figure, Snape came closer.

"What was that all about?" she asked. "What's happened?"

"Dumbledore has called an emergency staff meeting," was the reply. "We must come immediately."

Airelle was almost afraid to ask. "Why?"

Snape's black eyes glittered, and not in a good way. "There's been another attack."

To Be Continued…