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A crashing, banging at her door shocked Celeste from a sound sleep.
"Damn poltergeist!" she swore, and covered her head with a pillow to try and block the noise. It worked only a moment, until enraged shouts accompanied the banging.
She sat up in bed. Unless Peeves had become an expert mimic, the person at her door was Snape! With the uproar he was making, it didn't seem he minded that the entire corridor would awaken. Quickly she hurried from the bed to the door, pausing only long enough to throw on a dressing robe over her night clothes. With a strength she didn't know she possessed, Celeste flung the heavy oak door open.
"Celeste!" Snape roared, and lurched drunkenly into her room.
She helped him to the chaise lounge in front of the hearth. In two movements, she locked the door and started a fire.
"You're smashed," she told him dryly.
"No shit," he slurred back. "I came here to . . . to tell you. How I-"
"First you need sobered up. Then you can tell me what was so important that you felt the need to make a tanked spectacle of yourself in the middle of the night."
She left him for a moment. When she returned, she forced two small tablets into one of his hands and a glass of water into the other.
"Wass?"
"I'm no potions master, Severus, but I can do some things. Extra special aspirin. Take them both and you'll feel better."
With no hesitation he swallowed both pills. He didn't use the water. Celeste sighed and settled on the floor in front of the chaise to wait. It was dull watching the flames dance, so she began talking to fill the silence.
"You know, I've missed you, Big Bad," she started. "I found that photo as I packed to come back here, and it got me thinking. About what we had. About how I was the one who made you come back to England to see your father, and maybe if you hadn't, Lucius Malfoy wouldn't have found you again. And then maybe you wouldn't have been tempted back to the Death Eaters . . .."
Celeste paused and glanced up at him. Flickering shadows from the fire skipped across his features. Even in the dim lighting it was obvious he was oblivious to her soliloquy.
She turned back to the fire and continued.
"I didn't believe it at first, you know. Even though you didn't return and didn't contact me, I refused to believe it. I almost came back to look for you. My friends wouldn't let me. It was safer in America.
"Eventually I knew it was true. You'd joined You-Know-Who."
She choked a bit at that, as if the pain was as fresh now as it had been then. After a deep breath she continued.
"I still got all the newspapers. Your name was cleared and I was ecstatic. I'd never lost hope for you. I heard you'd gotten a teaching position here. I wanted to write to you, but it had been so long I didn't know how. And you didn't write either. That made my friends happy, at least. Everyone says, once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."
She looked up at him again to see if the drug had affected him yet. The shadows still flicked on his face, making the hostility in his face seem greater. In a swift movement, his hand entwined itself in her hair. Celeste gasped as he yanked her head back, exposing her throat.
Snape's voice, silky smooth in contrast to the hate twisting his appearance, informed her, "Dear Celeste, they were right."
A crashing, banging at her door shocked Celeste from a sound sleep.
"Damn poltergeist!" she swore, and covered her head with a pillow to try and block the noise. It worked only a moment, until enraged shouts accompanied the banging.
She sat up in bed. Unless Peeves had become an expert mimic, the person at her door was Snape! With the uproar he was making, it didn't seem he minded that the entire corridor would awaken. Quickly she hurried from the bed to the door, pausing only long enough to throw on a dressing robe over her night clothes. With a strength she didn't know she possessed, Celeste flung the heavy oak door open.
"Celeste!" Snape roared, and lurched drunkenly into her room.
She helped him to the chaise lounge in front of the hearth. In two movements, she locked the door and started a fire.
"You're smashed," she told him dryly.
"No shit," he slurred back. "I came here to . . . to tell you. How I-"
"First you need sobered up. Then you can tell me what was so important that you felt the need to make a tanked spectacle of yourself in the middle of the night."
She left him for a moment. When she returned, she forced two small tablets into one of his hands and a glass of water into the other.
"Wass?"
"I'm no potions master, Severus, but I can do some things. Extra special aspirin. Take them both and you'll feel better."
With no hesitation he swallowed both pills. He didn't use the water. Celeste sighed and settled on the floor in front of the chaise to wait. It was dull watching the flames dance, so she began talking to fill the silence.
"You know, I've missed you, Big Bad," she started. "I found that photo as I packed to come back here, and it got me thinking. About what we had. About how I was the one who made you come back to England to see your father, and maybe if you hadn't, Lucius Malfoy wouldn't have found you again. And then maybe you wouldn't have been tempted back to the Death Eaters . . .."
Celeste paused and glanced up at him. Flickering shadows from the fire skipped across his features. Even in the dim lighting it was obvious he was oblivious to her soliloquy.
She turned back to the fire and continued.
"I didn't believe it at first, you know. Even though you didn't return and didn't contact me, I refused to believe it. I almost came back to look for you. My friends wouldn't let me. It was safer in America.
"Eventually I knew it was true. You'd joined You-Know-Who."
She choked a bit at that, as if the pain was as fresh now as it had been then. After a deep breath she continued.
"I still got all the newspapers. Your name was cleared and I was ecstatic. I'd never lost hope for you. I heard you'd gotten a teaching position here. I wanted to write to you, but it had been so long I didn't know how. And you didn't write either. That made my friends happy, at least. Everyone says, once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."
She looked up at him again to see if the drug had affected him yet. The shadows still flicked on his face, making the hostility in his face seem greater. In a swift movement, his hand entwined itself in her hair. Celeste gasped as he yanked her head back, exposing her throat.
Snape's voice, silky smooth in contrast to the hate twisting his appearance, informed her, "Dear Celeste, they were right."