Chapter Five: Complications

Severus awoke at five the next morning wishing he had had taken a dose of Dreamless Draught himself. Not only had the old nightmares of his time as a Death Eater returned, the despicable images of Veronica's ordeal at the hands of his former professor haunted him as well. And there are more nightmares yet to come.

Much to his irritation, he found himself wondering if Veronica had been able to sleep and thought he should go check on her. This is ridiculous. She's a grown witch and a Dark Arts expert—she doesn't need me looking after her. But she was also his friend and after yesterday he found himself feeling more than a little protective of her. He had to be careful not to publicly appear to like her though, especially after his meeting with her and Malfoy yesterday. He had no doubt Malfoy had indeed complained to his father about Veronica and would probably try to make trouble for her. Even as he dressed and made his way to her room, he forced himself to put such concerns out of his mind. He had a duty—a debt he could never hope to repay. That took precedence over everything, even friends. Since Dumbledore was his only other friend, the issue had never come up before.

He knocked softly on her door, hoping she wouldn't answer, but a few seconds later, Veronica appeared. She was wearing a bath cap over her hair, and had on the strangest pajamas he'd ever seen: blue flannel covered with big yellow ducks in pointed green wizard hats. Does this woman own any normal clothes? He suspected she had been up for some time as well. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying.

"So," he said awkwardly, "how are you?"

"Fine," she replied too quickly.

He could have let her answer stand and been free of any further obligation, but for some incomprehensible reason he didn't. "You are an extraordinarily bad liar."

"It depends on what I'm lying about." She opened her door all the way and gestured him in. "I'm afraid my memory isn't as blurred as I had hoped it would be. Destroying the Pensieve wasn't as effective as the Memory-Suppression Spells I had been using, but they weren't working very well lately either. I'll be all right, I just need some time."

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Severus asked, "Your not, uh, thinking about… hurting yourself, are you?"

Veronica sighed heavily. "Do you want to know the main reason why I've never told anyone before yesterday? It isn't because I thought I would be rejected, it's because I knew my friends and family would treat me like you're treating me now—like I'm a broken doll who's been put back together again, but still isn't quite right."

He folded his arms across his chest in annoyance. "So how, exactly, would you like me to treat you?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Just be yourself."

"I thought you didn't like me being myself," he said through clenched teeth.

"What I didn't like was when you bullied children who couldn't defend themselves. In the few months that we've known each other, haven't I been able to hold my own against you in an argument?"

"More than adequately."

"Well, there you are." She smiled. "Be as nasty to me as you like."

Snape was quite happy that he wouldn't have to tread softly around her anymore. He tried to think of something to be angry about, but couldn't think of anything in particular at the moment.

Veronica then shooed him out, but as she opened her door, the door next to hers—Professor Sprout's—opened. The three of them stared at each other for a moment. Snape groaned inwardly as he saw Sprout's eyes narrow. The Herbology professor looked past Snape and regarded her former student with deep disappointment and incredulity. "Oh, Veronica!" She shoved her patched pointed hat on her flyaway hair and scuttled away in agitation.

As soon as Sprout was out of sight, Veronica burst out laughing. "Tell me, Severus, what attracted you first? Was it the bath cap or the ducky pj's?"

He wanted to scowl, but couldn't help snickering.

Veronica clutched her heart. "Great goddess in heaven, you laughed!"

"You are mildly amusing on occasion," he said, trying to regain his perpetual sneer. "You don't think she'll say anything to anyone else, do you?"

"Professor Sprout?" She waved away his concern. "No! I think she'd rather stick railroad spike in ear than broadcast that one of her Hufflepuffs was carrying on with—"

Snape glared at her. "Why do I get the feeling you're just about to insult me? Tell me, Veronica, what attracted you first? The big nose or the greasy hair?"

Trying not to laugh even harder, she pulled him back into her room and shut the door. "I was going to say that she wouldn't want anyone thinking one of her Hufflepuffs was carrying on with a Slytherin—any Slytherin. I had no intention of saying anything about your hair. But now that you mention it…" Veronica reached up to touch one of his oily locks, but hesitated. "Why exactly does it look like—that?"

"It's all part of the broody and tortured ensemble," he replied.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

"It's the Macassar oil I put in it every morning. If I don't my hair looks like, well, yours."

Veronica touched the bath cap covering her long, curly hair self-consciously. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing. It's just…big."

She tried to look offended, but had to agree. "Well, at the risk of sounding like an advert, I have just the thing." She darted into her bathroom and emerged with a bottle in her hand which she gave to him.

Severus read the label. "Sleekeazy's Hair Potion?"

"I don't use it but once a year, it's such a bother; but for you I can't imagine it would be any more trouble than putting in that—what did you call it?"

"Macassar oil." He regarded the bottle skeptically. "So, I just put this on my hair?"

"Well, you got to wash that stuff out of it first. Come on." She took him by the hand and led him into her bathroom. She dragged a chair in front of the sink and made him sit, then tied a towel around his neck.

For a small woman, she was certainly able to push him around well enough. Now that he knew so much about her past, she was starting to make sense to him. She had a vexing tendency to take control of a situation—always in an irritatingly cheerful way. Now he knew it was just her way of compensating for the control of her life and body Balin had ripped from her years ago. We all have our protections, don't we?

"So, what did he say when you talked to him last night?" Veronica asked as she scrubbed the oil out of his hair—a little more briskly than she needed to, he thought.

It took Severus a second to figure out who 'he' was: Dumbledore. He sighed. "He said just what you thought he'd say, but I'm sure there's more to it than that." There has to be. "I understand why you may resent him, but it sort of puts me in a awkward spot. Please don't—"

"Put you in the middle? I won't, I promise. I'll not mention it again."

He was going to say, don't make me choose between my two only friends, but felt her promise served well enough.

He tried to look in the mirror several times while she was fussing with his hair, but she wouldn't let him peak until she was finished. Finally, she removed the towel from around his neck and turned him around. "Bloody hell," he breathed. For the first time in his life, his shoulder length black hair was smooth and mostly straight with just the slightest hint of a wave at the ends without being greasy at all.

"You're a miracle worker, dear," said the mirror to Veronica.

Snape silently agreed. He took the bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion in his hand. Where have you been all my life? "Do you women enjoy hiding these little secrets from us men?"

"Don't blame us. It's not our fault you're too proud and stupid to ask for our help. You take that bottle with you and I'll pick you up some more when I go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get Malfoy's wand fixed."

"I really wish you would let me help you pay for it," he said.

"There you go being nice to me again." She shook her head. "As much as I hate to admit it, you were right; I shouldn't have broken his wand. I'll take care of it." She combed his hair through one last time then patted him on the shoulders. "There. You're ready for the cover of Witch Weekly."

"Now, I wouldn't go that far," said the mirror.

He felt his cheeks burn.

"Just ignore it," Veronica said, "you look great."

Severus couldn't help wondering if his appearance was one of those things she was able to lie well about, but decided not to inquire further. "Thank you."

Veronica beamed. "What are friends for?"

*

After she finished with Severus, Veronica managed to get ready and arrive at the Great Hall for breakfast with a few minutes to spare. She pulled Professor Sprout aside and explained, "Nothing happened between us, I swear. We're just mates. I just did his hair for pity's sake—"

Sprout took a step back. "You touched his hair?!"

"And lived," Veronica replied, smiling mischievously. "But you mustn't say anything." Sprout looked at her quizzically, so she quickly added, "You know how people are; they'll jump to all sorts of silly conclusions."

Sprout looked relieved to not have to mention it again. "Don't worry, dear, my lips are sealed."

As Veronica took her seat at the staff table, Dumbledore caught her eye; he looked almost apologetic. "You're looking well this morning."

Angry as she still was, she could never bring herself to be rude to him. His position alone commanded her respect. She managed to mumble, "Thank you, sir," before she looked away. Only one more term and I'll never have to see him or Hogwarts ever again. She picked at her eggs, still not having much of an appetite for the pain in her heart and the lump in the pit of her stomach. She sincerely hoped that time would indeed heal this wound now that it was finally lanced.

Her mood lightened considerably while during breakfast, Veronica caught snatches of conversations regarding the transformation of Severus' hair. He must have heard them too, because he was making an extra effort to hide behind his Daily Prophet. Veronica was finally beginning to understand that his disagreeable disposition was—at least in part—his way of covering for his painful shyness and insecurity. Even though he looked infinitely better after she'd fixed his hair, she almost wished she hadn't. He seemed so uncomfortable with the attention. Oh well, it's bound to die down in a few days.

Her thoughts then drifted to the other possible reason for his behavior as she reviewed the conversation they had in the Headmaster's office yesterday. It was the first time Veronica had to really think about it since she relived her traumatic past.

"…he is once again infiltrating the Death Eaters in order to gain information so we can fight Voldemort…"

Most people would have a only a vague notion of what that meant for him. Veronica was not most people. She knew exactly what Severus would be forced to do; what he would have to sacrifice for the good of the wizarding community. The worst part was that she couldn't even show her support for him publicly. No one could know they were friends. Except for Professor Sprout, of course. She winced, but couldn't think of anything else that she could have told her old Head of House to explain why Severus was leaving her room at dawn. I think I need to work on becoming a better liar.

*

The next day was Saturday, and even though Veronica had to spend her day off getting Malfoy's wand fixed, she was almost grateful for the distraction from the dark thoughts that refused to leave her mind. Wrapped in a warm, dark cloak covering her bright yellow robes, she trudged through the snow-covered grounds, beyond the school gates and the Apparition barrier. She Disapparated and reappeared in a deserted narrow street in London, then made her way to the Leaky Cauldron and onto Diagon Alley. The place was more packed than usual due to the influx of holiday shoppers. Enchanted Christmas decorations adorned every shop.

Veronica figured it best to get the bad news over with quickly, so without so much as a peek into any of the other wonderful shops, she marched straight to Ollivander's. The old wand maker was quite upset over the condition of Malfoy's wand until he found out why she broke it. Then he told her he would charge her only a fraction of what he should for the repair and gave Veronica's wand a reconditioning gratis (she still had the same six-inch willow, dragon heartstring she had when she first went to Hogwarts as a young girl).

Despite Mr. Ollivander's generosity, the cost of repairs would still eat well into her broom fund. On her way to and from Gringotts, she went to Quality Quidditch Supplies to admire all the lovely brooms. The Bluebottle Compact Turbo was the one she wanted. It wasn't a Quidditch-quality broom, but all she really needed it for was reliable transportation. Certainly, she could Apparate as well as the next witch, but there was something about flying…she sighed. As reasonably priced as the Bluebottle was, it would still be several months before she could afford it.

Instead of going back to Hogwarts and returning later for the wand, she told Mr. Ollivander she'd be waiting at the Leaky Cauldron (after she'd picked up several bottles of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion for Severus). She sat down with a pint of ale and the latest issues of the prestigious Journal of Magic and the not-so-prestigious Witch Weekly.

She put the Journal of Magic aside and picked up Witch Weekly. She knew it was rubbish, but a little mindless reading was just what she needed right now. There was an almost pretty wizard on the cover, someone named Reginald Ridefort—"but you can call me Reggie!" (or so the quote at the bottom of his picture proclaimed). Reggie was apparently this year's recipient of the Most-Charming-Smile Award. His teeth sparkled as he turned his head slightly in order to catch the light. Well, at least it isn't Gilderoy Lockhart. Veronica had had the dubious honor of meeting him several years ago at a dinner given by the Dark Force Defense League. Lockhart had told her she would go so much farther in the world of Dark Arts research if she would just do something about her hair. And a little make-up wouldn't hurt either, dear heart. Stupid twit.

As Veronica was momentarily blinded by Reggie's brilliant smile, she thought of what she had told Severus yesterday about him being ready for the cover of Witch Weekly. If they had a competition for Best Sneer, he'd be a shoe-in. All she knew was that she would rather be looking at him sneering at her than this phony git. She giggled as she imagined Severus ("but you can call me Sev!") doing adverts for Sleekeazy's For Wizards. She hadn't even registered the fact that she was blushing when she heard:

"Professor Stanley, I presume?"

Veronica looked up and saw a pale, blond man with a pointed face, his expression dripping with disdain. His striking resemblance to a ferret positively revealed his identity: "Mr. Malfoy." She tried to smile pleasantly, but it came out as a look of mild nausea. "How did you know I was here?"

"I just came from Ollivander's to check on the status of my son's wand. He informed me that you only just dropped it off to be repaired an hour ago." Lucius Malfoy glanced at her copy of Witch Weekly and smirked condescendingly. "Please, don't let me interrupt."

Sheepishly, she put the magazine aside. Naturally, I couldn't have been reading the Journal of Magic. As politely as she could, Veronica offered him a chair at her table. Malfoy looked at the old wooden chair as if it had a pile of sheep dung on it. He forced himself to sit, drawing his fine cloak of dark green velvet around him so it wouldn't touch the floor of the shabby pub.

"I would have tended to the wand sooner," she explained, "but I do have classes to teach. This is the first day I've had free."

"And in the meantime, my son's studies suffer because of you histrionics," Malfoy retorted. "All because of a silly frog."

"Did your son tell you that he and his little friends were in fact torturing that frog with a curse he certainly didn't learn from me?"

"Professor Snape informed me of your ridiculous accusations." Malfoy waved his hand regally. "So what if they were teasing a frog? After all, boys will be boys."

"Mr. Malfoy," Veronica began, trying to keep her tone even, "I have three older brothers and never have any one of them tortured an animal."

"All Hufflepuffs, I imagine," he said scornfully. "Perhaps I should have said, spirited boys will be boys."

He was obviously trying to bait her, but she was determined not to give him the satisfaction. Veronica took a sip of her ale and wished it was Firewhiskey. It will be as soon as this great prat leaves.

"My son has been telling me all about your questionable teaching methods," Malfoy continued. "Abandoning tried and true defense techniques for your pet theories; teaching near-Squibs to use magic against one of Hogwarts' finest professors. I have registered my displeasure with the Headmaster and so have several other distinguished alumni. Don't be surprised if you soon find yourself out of a situation."

To Malfoy's obvious indignation, Veronica laughed. "Hey, Tom!"

"Yes, Professor?" replied Tom, the innkeeper.

"You wouldn't be needing a barmaid now, would you? It seems Mr. Malfoy here is going to have me sacked so I suppose I'll be needing another job."

Tom snickered, but looked away nervously when Lucius glared at him. Malfoy then turned angrily back to Veronica. "How dare you mock me!"

Still grinning, she casually took another sip of her drink. "I'm sorry, but you have the misfortune of catching me on a day where I don't give a rat's backside for my position at Hogwarts."

He pointed an irate finger at her. "You may not care for your position at Hogwarts, but I suspect you do care for your position at the Mandragora Institute for Magical Research. You are obviously unaware of the fact that I am one of the Institute's major contributors."

Veronica's look of amusement quickly faded. Malfoy was right, her research was very important to her, but she would rather have to beg for a living than plead for her job from this bastard who had 'Death Eater' written all over him. "You know, I would love to continue chatting with you all day," she said as she once again picked up her Witch Weekly, "but I hear there's this really corking article on making imitation fairy lights from old toilet paper rolls that I simply must read. It's been a pleasure." With a smile and a flourish she flipped opened up her magazine.

Apparently, Lucius Malfoy was not in the habit of being summarily dismissed, so he stood staring at Veronica, speechless, for a moment. He glared at the chuckling patrons sitting nearby who seemed to find his public humiliation entertaining, then stormed out of the pub.

As soon as he was gone, Veronica breathed a sigh of relief. "Might I have a Firewhiskey, Tom?"

The innkeeper brought her the drink and said, "It's on the house." Tom then leaned closer to her and whispered, "But you really shouldn't have done that."

*

"You really, really shouldn't have done that. He's a Death Eater," Severus told her that evening in his dungeon office after Veronica had related her encounter with Lucius Malfoy.

"I figured as much." She snorted. "He isn't even close to being in Balin's league, he doesn't frighten me."

"Perhaps not, but he will do his best to make good on his threat. The Institute is entirely dependent upon private funding, is it not?"

With a heavy sigh, she nodded. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help it. He just made me so damned angry."

"That's perfectly all right, Veronica," Severus said wryly, "you were just being yourself. If you had managed to hold your tongue, you probably would have spontaneously combusted."

She laughed. The corners of his mouth curled in a grin. She had a nice laugh.

"Not that it will make you feel any better," he continued, "but I imagine your position at Hogwarts is safe." Severus doubted Dumbledore would consider sacking her, no matter what Malfoy or his cronies wanted. She was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor they've had in recent memory—at least in Snape's opinion (though he would never tell her so). "Besides, I suspect we'll be needing your expertise as Voldemort becomes more powerful." He suddenly got a haunted look in his eyes. "I have a feeling the death raids will be starting in earnest soon."

"While we're on the subject of Voldemort…" she trailed off.

"What about him?"

Veronica hesitated. "Exactly how far have you infiltrated his inner circle?"

"Not very," Severus replied vaguely. "He still doesn't trust me."

"But you're working on it?" The concern in her voice was unmistakable.

"As I said the other day, I do what I have to do."

"Have you killed yet?" she asked, locking eyes with him.

Severus quickly looked away. "Veronica, it isn't that I don't trust you, but I just can't have this conversation. If you really are my friend, you'll let me do what I must."

"Of course," she said unhappily. "After all, it is for the good of the wizarding community."

*

Monday morning, Snape sat at the staff table reading the Daily Prophet as was his habit; not only to catch up on the latest news, but to save himself from having to speak to anyone. There was nothing worse than having to make small talk first thing in the morning. In order to prolong his daily ritual, he even read the gossip column. What he saw there today made him choke on his tea:

Malfoy vs. Hogwarts Professor

Patrons at the Leaky Cauldron were treated to some unexpected entertainment this past Saturday when they overheard wealthy philanthropist, Lucius Malfoy getting an earful from Hogwarts' plucky Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Veruca Stanley. Stanley, the first witch to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts in almost a century, took Malfoy to task regarding the behavior of his son, Draco, who has been engaged in questionable activities at the famous school of magic. When asked about the incident, Mr. Malfoy refused comment. Perhaps the wizarding world's most generous citizen should spend less time at benefit dinners and more quality time with his troubled son.

He stole a glance at Veronica and assumed she had seen it too; the color had drained from her face. He then turned his attention to the Slytherin table and saw Draco Malfoy—his face red as much from embarrassment as from anger—mouthing obscenities.

When Severus spoke to Veronica later that day she tried to laugh it off, "They could have at least gotten my name right." But the next day at breakfast when her notice came releasing her from her position at the Institute, he saw her blinking back tears of frustration and disbelief. Even after everything she had been through, she still seemed to expect the best from people and was deeply disappointed when she got the worst. A Hufflepuff to the last.

*

In the days leading up to the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor, Snape couldn't help but notice Draco Malfoy's attitude deteriorate even further. If the boy had disliked Professor Stanley before, he absolutely despised her now. Not only did he have to serve out his detention for the frog incident, he was—for the first time in his privileged life—the object of ridicule. Snape had no doubt Draco would physically harm Veronica if given half the chance. The boy was stupidly vocal about his feelings to his fellow Slytherins. He even let a few thinly veiled threats slip within Snape's earshot during Potions class, thinking his Head of House would approve.

Snape's life had indeed taking a strange turn. Not so long ago, he would have gladly leapt at the opportunity to strangle Veronica with his bare hands. Now here he was, walking on eggshells in his own classroom for fear of being hit by her Anti-Bully Charm, and at the same time barely suppressing the desire to box Malfoy's ears for threatening her. In other words, his friendship with Veronica was quickly becoming a liability he couldn't afford if he hoped to fulfill his obligation to Dumbledore in the fight against Voldemort.

On the day of the match, Severus visited Veronica in her office.

"I think it would be best if you resign at the end of the term," he told her bluntly.

Veronica regarded him with surprise. "Best for whom?"

"It's for your own safety. Malfoy has been spouting off about how he plans to 'take care' of you."

"Don't insult my intelligence, Severus," she said. "I know you don't believe that I can't handle myself against anything a fifteen-year-old boy could throw at me. What's this really about?"

"I cannot afford the luxury of friendship," he said in a formal, almost cold, tone of voice. "Ever since you showed me what happened to you and told me I was responsible for making Balin's abuse stop, I've felt obligated to continue to protect you. I can't be a spy and worry about you at the same time."

"I don't need you to protect me! I do need—I would like for you to be my friend. But if it doesn't fit into your spying activities," she said with a sarcastic edge to her voice, obviously hurt by what he said. "We're not friends, we're not enemies, we're just two people occupying the same general area. You stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours for the remainder of my time here."

"So you refuse to resign?"

"Unless you've suddenly become Headmaster, you can't ask it of me. I gave my word I would stay until the end of next term, so until Dumbledore sacks me I'm afraid you're stuck with me." Veronica marched to the door and threw it open. "Now, if you'll be so kind as to leave my office."

"I'm sorry if this hurts you," he said, trying not to seem like he was sorry at all, "but I'm only trying to do what's best for all concerned."

He left her to take his place at the match. Veronica arrived a short time later and sat in the upper Hufflepuff box with Professor Sprout across the pitch from where Snape was sitting.

The match began and it wasn't long before the team Seekers spotted the Snitch. Potter, Gryffindor's Seeker, was focused and lightening-quick. Malfoy, on the other hand had let his anger take control of his game; he and his team suffered for it. In his pursuit of the Golden Snitch, Malfoy took the opportunity to fly dangerously close to the audience. As he passed over the Hufflepuff box, Veronica ducked just in time before the tail of his broom smashed her in the face.

Severus just sat there, deadpan, so wanting to knock the little bastard off his broom, but bound by his duty not to interfere. Slytherin received a penalty for his foul, but it hardly seemed adequate punishment. Malfoy could have killed her. Not to worry, he told himself, a few weeks of practiced cool indifference will kill any feelings of friendship I ever felt for her. Soon I won't care what happens to her.

It was a surprise to no one, except perhaps Malfoy, when Potter caught the Golden Snitch and won the match. Afterward, Draco threw a tantrum, unwilling to be consoled by Miss Parkinson or flattered by his thugs, Crabbe and Goyle. Snape then watched the boy leave the pitch alone, no doubt in his mind that Draco was headed straight for Veronica's office. Severus remained sitting in the stands.

In order to perform the various parts he had been forced to play throughout his life, Severus had made it a policy not to listen to the dictates of his heart. Much better to follow the intellect, it was so much more reliable than emotion. But sometimes the heart demanded he listen, and invariably it told him to do something silly and insignificant. Right now it was telling him to look at what was happening on the ground of the pitch.

He glanced over at the Gryffindor team and saw Potter being patted on the back by his teammates. Then he was rushed by his partners in crime, Weasley and Granger. Snape watched Granger give Potter a platonic squeeze.

Severus found himself wondering what Potter and his sidekick, Weasley, would do if it was Miss Granger in peril (not that Veronica was in any, he reminded himself quickly). He snorted. The glory-hungry boys would do something stupid and reckless, heedless of any consequences. That was the danger of listening to the heart. Severus had often thought about how there might come a time when Potter will be forced to choose between his friends and the good of the whole. He had no doubt the selfish boy would choose his friends. Dumbledore had told him long ago that if forced to choose between saving Snape's life and jeopardizing the fight against Voldemort, the old wizard would sacrifice him without reservation. Severus had never disputed the logic or necessity of that stance.

Then, it suddenly dawned on him why it was he felt he had to reject Veronica's friendship. It wasn't because of how he felt about her, but how he knew Veronica felt about him—at least up until a few hours ago. She would never allow him to be sacrificed for the good of the whole and he had no doubt that she would have laid down her life for him with complete Hufflepuff loyalty. A unique situation for Severus. He had never known anyone willing to sacrifice themselves for him—even his own parents he hadn't been sure of. He would like to believe that his own mother would have died for him as Lily Potter had done for Harry, but Severus had grave doubts. Good thing it never came up. He knew in his heart Veronica would sacrifice herself for him—or for any friend—without question. Severus sincerely wished his heart would just shut up.

With a heavy sigh, he rose and made his way toward Veronica's office.

*

As Veronica sat behind her desk, she didn't need Sybil Trelawney's crystal ball to know Draco Malfoy was on his way to her office to 'take care' of her once and for all. Veronica wasn't particularly worried. She had developed a simple Stunning Spell that could be performed without a wand—it was easily blocked if one expected it, but Draco wouldn't be expecting it. She'd stun him before things got out of hand and Lucius Malfoy would be demanding her head on a plate by morning. She breathed a half-hearted sigh.

Perhaps she should resign and make both Lucius Malfoy and Severus happy, not that she had any place to go. Well, there's always Dad's curio shop. Strictly speaking, her father's Manchester business was a wizard junk shop, but he thought 'curio shop' sounded more upscale. He had been so proud when Veronica had been asked to work for the Institute, but prouder still when his little girl became a Hogwarts professor.

Veronica knew there was no way to salvage her position at the Institute. The Director had made it clear she was persona non grata. She wasn't even supposed to communicate with her former colleagues 'due to the sensitive nature of the Institute's research'. Win, Graham and Nigel had immediately sent her a sympathy owl in defiance of the Director's decree. They had planned to protest her firing, but Veronica wouldn't let them risk their positions. Researchers were expendable, Lucius Malfoy's money was not.

As much as the loss of her position hurt, Severus' behavior hurt worse. She had lots of friends—good friends. What did she need Severus for anyway? Veronica knew why. She had bared her soul to him in a way she had never done to anyone before. She trusted him and, in a way, he had betrayed her. She was saved from wallowing in self-pity any further when Draco threw open the door of her office.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," she said calmly. "Where's your entourage?"

"This is between you and me," Draco told her in his most dangerous tone.

"I see. Come to try to kill me again?" Veronica wagged a finger at him. "That wasn't very smart attempting murder in front of a thousand witnesses. Not exactly the perfect crime."

"That was an accident," he said, knowing full well that she didn't believe it any more than he did. "I wouldn't waste my time on a working class bitch who doesn't know her place. You're not worth it. Besides, there are other ways of dealing with the likes of you. You may think your job here is safe, but Father will have you sacked if it's the last thing he does. Then he'll make sure no one will hire you." Draco put his hands on her desk and leaned over in his most threatening posture. "And when you do get out of here I suggest you watch your back."

Speaking of watching your back…Veronica looked past Draco and saw a figure clad in black that could only be Severus standing in the doorway. She could have sworn he winked at her.

"Mr. Malfoy, come with me," he said firmly.

Draco spun around, more than a little surprised to see his Head of House standing there. He put on his most innocent expression. "Professor Stanley and I were just—"

Snape towered over Draco, as menacing as Veronica had ever seen him. "I said, come with me—now. Don't make me repeat myself again, boy."

As soon as the pair was gone, Veronica smiled, happier than she had been in ages. I guess this means we're friends again.

*

Instead of taking the boy to his dungeon office, Snape made a detour into the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Somehow, it seemed appropriate to have his little chat with Malfoy in here.

Draco looked confused, but even he was too frightened of his Potions professor to question why they were in here. Snape just stared him down making Malfoy as uncomfortable as Snape's old Head of House had made him on occasion.

"I wasn't going to hurt her," Draco said, chuckling nervously. "I just wanted to scare her."

Like a shot, Snape grabbed Malfoy by the front of his Quidditch robes and slammed the boy against the wall of the classroom—just hard enough to make an impression. He kept a hold of Draco, his face an inch from the boy's. "I'll say this only once," Snape hissed ominously. "Leave her alone! I hear everything; I see everything. If you so much as look at her the wrong way, you will sincerely wish you hadn't. Have I made myself clear?"

Draco nodded his head vigorously. "Y-yes, Sir."

Snape lips curled in an evil grin as he let go of the trembling boy. "That's a good lad."

"I-I don't understand," Draco stammered. "How can you care for her? She's not even pretty."

Though Veronica was no great beauty, she had pleasant features and there was a definite charm about her that was bound to be lost on Malfoy. It certainly wasn't necessary for the boy to understand it now. Careful not to let any gentler feelings for Veronica show through, Snape laughed. "Who said I cared for her? She has her uses. And when she ceases to be useful, I will deal with her, no one else. Be sure to tell your father what I've told you."

Draco nodded again, fear battling with mystification. Snape then dismissed the boy and went back to Veronica's office.

"What did you do?" she asked impatiently.

Severus shrugged. "I just told him to leave you alone. Very firmly."

"But what about the spy thing?" Veronica tried to cover her obvious joy with concern. "Isn't he going to wonder why you took my part over his?

"Well, actually, he did ask me about that."

"And what did you tell him?"

"Well…"

She folded her arms across her chest and regarded him with suspicion. "Yes?"

Severus grinned sheepishly. "I might have given him the impression that we were, uh, sleeping together."

Veronica rubbed her forehead as if in pain. Then she smacked him in the arm with the back of her hand.

"I couldn't tell him we were friends," he explained quickly, rubbing his arm. "I have to maintain the illusion of loyalty to Voldemort. Draco and his father would find it easier to accept you as my mistress."

"Mistress?!" Veronica's irritation melted into laughter. "The whole school is going to know!"

"Well, look on the bright side," Severus told her. "At least now we can be seen together without anyone getting suspicious."

"Let me get this straight. We're going to let everyone think we're, um…lovers," she said, stumbling over the word. Because of her experience with Balin she had never had a lover. She must find it uncomfortable to use the word in reference to herself. "So that we can sneak around and be friends? That's a first."

"Welcome to the world of espionage," Severus said with a crafty smile.

***

To be continued...