AN: Sorry so long, I just couldn't end it properly…oh well…please, don't
worry…this story isn't going to end for a while. This may get a bit…er,
well, I don't care how it gets. Nothing's going to happen until part
two…yes, part two. The idiocy of this still bewilders me…I love writing
their arguments, though. Minerva's hard to write, seeing as she's a
teacher and whatnot, despite being "strict and fair", they never show he as
compassionate. Don't throw rocks if you think she's a little bit off, I'm
not going to make her a bitch 24/7. …er, lol ^^
Have fun
Be well and take care…
Kary
That's it! Thank you to all that review!
Keep on reading and reviewing!
Chapter Five: The Meeting
"He…wants to see me?" Emilia sputtered, her stomach churning with a mix of guilt and anxiety. She felt really bad, and this could only mean one thing…she was going to be fired…where would she go?
"Yes, Emilia," she spoke softly. "Come on." She moved aside to let Emilia out. Emilia walked slowly out, shutting the door behind her. A growing dread was forming in her mind. She felt terrible. She knew she shouldn't have done that. Disappointing Dumbledore was bad enough, but Emilia realized, she might have gone a bit overboard.
"You know what it's about?" Emilia croaked, as they descended the long flight of stairs.
She shook her head. "Haven't a clue, Emilia. We have to hurry up, though." She sounded very sad, Emilia noticed. This made her worry even more.
"I'm not…going to be sacked, am I?" Emilia whispered.
Minerva shrugged. "I don't know Emilia. You'll find out soon enough." They reached the gargoyle in no time. Emilia wondered why it was so fast…she supposed things you dread come quicker than you wish it to. Anyway, she realized, it didn't matter anymore. She was there. And the dread in her mind was full blown. Emilia surprised herself. It was amazing how scared of Dumbledore she was, or at any rate, how she was afraid to loose her job. It may not pay well, but it housed her, and it was a lot easier to be near Dumbledore, than out with the Muggle-killing Death Eaters. She didn't notice Minerva tell the gargoyle the password, and soon they were ascending the stairs to Dumbledore's office. Anxiety washed through her. She didn't even notice the faint stabbing pains of the growing bruise on her shoulder. "I'm leaving. Good luck, Emilia," Minerva whispered, and opened the door to his office. Emilia stepped in.
Dumbledore was in his chair, with his fingers folded and his elbows supporting his chin. When he had seen her come in, he stood. "Please, Emilia, take a seat," he said, waving his hand to the other available seat. The other one was taken by Severus Snape. Emilia narrowed her eyes at Snape, and sat down, trying not to wince when she bumped her shoulder on the chair. Dumbledore took his seat as well. "Now, I've asked you two here to try to explain something. I don't want this feud you two have started to continue any longer. Someone will get hurt. I want this stopped now," he said softly, raising his chin a little bit from his clasped hands. "So you two will make up."
Emilia felt her stomach lift up a bit. So she wasn't going to be fired. And, truly, she wasn't even in real trouble. But asking to get along with Snape…that was what she was trying to do all along. So long as he didn't step out of line. The two of them remained silent. Dumbledore sighed a little.
"I really didn't expect you two to be jumping out of your seats in apologetic hugs," he said dryly, "but nothing is certainly not what I was expecting. You two have been most childish. The students need role models, and I have heard of your growing popularity, Emilia. You can't expect to teach the students anything if you can't even get along. And I have heard your voiced complaints, Severus." Emilia frowned. He ran to Dumbledore? What a wimp, was all Emilia could think. Even she didn't run and tell Dumbledore about him.
Emilia breathed a little bit easier, all the same. Dumbledore just wanted them to "make up". Emilia turned her head away from Snape. She wasn't going to say anything until he apologized first. He started it all.
Dumbledore looked from Emilia to Snape. "Okay, this is a bit ridiculous. Severus, you first."
Snape looked up. "What? Me? Headmaster, don't you think that she should start first?"
Emilia glared at him. "You started it, Snape."
Dumbledore put his hand up. "Enough. First of all, I am amazed that you can't even talk to each other on a first name basis. It's been nearly half a year. End of term is in a couple of weeks. Severus, please."
Snape scowled. "Sorry," he said airily, not sounding sorry at all. Smirking, he turned to her. "Your turn."
"I guess I'm sorry," Emilia replied, just as airily, and sounding just as sorry as he did. She folded her arms (with what pain she still had) and turned away.
Dumbledore put his folded hands on the table in front of him. "Fine. You two will be working together until end of term. Madam Pomfrey needs a batch of Pepper-up Potions made quickly. You two will make a half-year supply, starting tomorrow, after dinner." He frowned at them. "I should like to apologize for this, but you two are being extremely stubborn. I don't need this rift among the staff. And you two should be on a first name basis. I can't understand your fight at all." There was a twinkle in his eyes, like he almost knew exactly what they were fighting about. "You two are excused."
Emilia stood abruptly. "Good afternoon, Dumbledore," she said quietly.
Snape followed suit. Dumbledore waved absent-mindedly. "I hope for a peaceful dinner," he added, as they left.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Emilia tutted. "I do hope you're pleased with yourself. Running to Dumbledore was the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do."
"And I knew he would do this? I was trying to get you sacked," Snape snapped. Emilia scowled at him, rubbing her shoulder distractedly.
Snape looked at her oddly. "What?" she said exasperatedly. Realizing what she was doing, she stopped at once. "I'm going."
"Wait. What was that all about?" he said, his face a little bit paler than normal.
"What was what all about?"
"Your shoulder," he said, pointing to it. "You kept rubbing it during the meeting, and then you winced when you crossed your arms."
"What, were you watching me?" she replied crossly. "What do you think happens to skin when force is applied to it, idiot? I'm going to get a brui—" Looking up guiltily, she stopped mid-sentence. "Never mind. I don't get anything." She started to walk away.
"You got a bruise, didn't you?" Snape asked softly. She stopped in her tracks.
"Very good," she said sarcastically. Turning around, she frowned at him. "What did you think would happen?" She started to walk off again. Snape walked up next to her quickly.
"Have you been to Madam Pomfrey yet?" he asked hurriedly, looking a bit paler.
Emilia stopped. "What's this I hear? Care? Concern? Maybe you should have thought of that before you hurt me. No, I haven't been to Madam Pomfrey. I'm not going either." What was she supposed to say to Madam Pomfrey? "Yes, quite, Severus gave that to me." Oh, that'd look good.
"Good," he said, breathing out. She looked at him sideways. "I mean, you should probably have that looked at," he said quickly. He's probably feeling guilty, she supposed. Serves him right.
"Thank you doc," she replied, her voicing positively dripping with causticity. "Take a hike, Snape. I don't need your advice." Emilia turned away from him sharply.
Snape thought for a second. "Black—er, I mean, Emilia, come with me."
Emilia turned. "What?" she said, confused, and a little bit angry.
"I have a remedy—the Soothing Solution—it should be of help to you. I—erm, I do feel sort of responsible for this. At least allow me to—er, help you," he said slowly. Emilia blinked. Sighing exasperatedly, he explained, "I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my shallow heart. I—shouldn't have done that to you." He started to walk away quickly. Emilia caught up with him easily. He was truly awkward about his. Then again, he should be. She didn't cause him any lasting marks. This mark, at the very least, would be a bit hard to explain.
"You owe me this much, at least," Emilia said finally, agreeing. "This solution will do what, now?"
"It will make it less visible, and at the very least, get rid of the pain," he said quietly.
Emilia furrowed her brow in thought. "Why?" she asked.
"Why what? Why do this for you? Because, should you choose to take this to Dumbledore, I can…loose my job. And the fact that I used physical force instead of verbal was totally degrading to my pride," he replied dryly. He unlocked the door to the Potions classroom, and walked briskly inside. It was very cold in here, and the rows of tables had a slight mist on them. He was in the adjourning room, getting what she needed. Trying to warm up, she glanced quickly about the room. It was as cold and dark as he was. The dungeon walls were almost deep blue, and the entire room was dimly lit. The fire was out, and it looked like it had never been lit at all, ever. Snape returned quickly with a small glass. "Here, drink this," he ordered, and she took the glass slowly. She looked inside it, and looked up at him. "What? I didn't poison it."
Emilia still looked dubious when she took her first sip, and made a face. "Ugh, dif tuff ta'tes lif' tar," she said, trying to swallow the mixture. She clearly didn't enjoy that at all. Emilia scrunched up her nose, and held the glass away from her. "I can't drink anymore of that stuff. Can sugar help it?"
Snape smiled weakly. Emilia narrowed her eyes. "You knew this would happen, didn't you? What is this?" said Emilia angrily. "What did you give me?"
Snape folded his arms across his chest. "I gave you what I told you, the Soothing Solution. And I have this gel-type healing agent that should reduce the sight of it—speaking of which, how visible is it?" He pulled out a small jar from his pocket, and opened it up slowly.
"Er, it's somewhat small," she said, setting down the glass on the desk. "What are you going to do with that?" She watched him stir the gel with a white plastic brush-like object. Emilia swallowed hard. "What are you going to do with that?" she repeated.
"I'm mixing it up so I can put it on your bruise. What does it look like?" Snape snapped, and started to scrape off the gel from the stick. He set the white stick on the desk and walked over to her.
"Let me put it on," she said quickly, reaching for the jar. He pulled it out of reach, and she stamped her foot. "Come on, I can put it on myself."
"Yes, I know you probably could, but not right," he said absent- mindedly. "Now, please, let me see it."
Emilia gripped her shoulder defensively. "Shouldn't Madam Pomfrey do this instead?" she asked meekly.
"Oh, for heavens' sake, Emilia, just let me put it on. Then I'll bandage it up and you can be on your merry way. You wanted my help, right?" he said impatiently.
Emilia looked at the jar. "I guess…" she said, her voice full of doubt. "I hear one word from you and I'm going straight to Pomfrey, got it?" she said, still looking at the jar.
"Fine," he said. "It's going to set if you don't hurry up." She forced down the urge to gulp, knowing that she couldn't prolong this any longer. She reached up with her good arm, and pulled down her robe to show her shoulder. She now noticed it was throbbing with pain. Snape looked at the bruise. It was the size of a baseball. Emilia could feel color creeping onto her cheeks. Snape dug his hands into the goo and pulled out a handful. He poised his hand above her shoulder. "This is going to be—"
He put his hand on her shoulder, and she yelped. "Cold! Ouch, that hurts!" She tried to move her shoulder from his reach to let the cold numb her shoulder, but he made her sit still.
"Emilia, this won't work if you can't sit still." He frowned at her, then started to rub the gel into her purple injury. The gel was still freezing cold, but eventually, it started to warm up. Emilia relaxed; it didn't hurt all that bad anymore. In fact, it barely hurt at all. Emilia was almost enjoying the attention that was being paid to her shoulder blade. His fingers certainly did contrast with the coolness of the gel, which was quickly getting very warm. She looked at Snape, who was totally engrossed in his work, his black hair covering half of his face. That look never changed; it was the same as when he was in school, working on a potion. Emilia felt the tension leave her shoulder completely; she was relaxing into the massage on her shoulder. She felt her eyes close, and the color continued to creep up on her cheeks. He had it up to her collarbone, and back again at the curve of her shoulder. If Snape wasn't so good at hiding his expressions, she would think he was enjoying himself.
When he was satisfied the gel was completely absorbed (which was some time later, Emilia noticed), Snape backed up and closed the lid of the jar. "Wait here a moment," he said thickly, and turned to leave. "I have to get the bandages."
Emilia shifted. She'd been standing a long time, and she needed to get the kinks out of her leg. What she wanted to do was move her shoulder around a bit, but she was afraid whatever was put on it would go all over her robes. She walked over to the table, and rubbed her fingers across it, bored. It was cold and almost dewy. Not surprising; the dungeons were always cold and misty.
He returned quickly with a small white bandage. "This would have been a lot more convenient if Madam Pomfrey would have looked at it," she said quietly, and he started to wrap her shoulder carefully, winding the bandage around and under her arm.
"I'm sure it would have been a lot easier for you, I daresay," he spoke softly, "but there were marks there that even you couldn't explain away." He stopped for a second, and finished by tearing of the last bit she needed. He pressed the end to the rest of the bandages, vaguely aware of her warmth. "And, I really…er, I do—I'm not trying to be nice or anything—"
"Apology accepted, Sna—or, rather, Severus," she interrupted, finishing his sentence. He clipped it up with a metal pin, and Emilia pulled her robes over the top of it. "I've had much worse," she said, trying to shrug this off, "and anyway, I've got to go. I promised Minerva a cup of tea at one." She pointed to the clock. "It's about time to leave."
Snape looked at the clock. He stared at it for a second, then hid his mouth in his hand in what was an unmistakable laugh. He set the bandages on the table, and stood up straight, a thin, wry smile on his face. "Go, go then…but you do realize that the clock has stopped, right? It decided to stop itself." Snape said slyly. "I would say it's quite a bit later than that."
"What?" Emilia said, looking at him. "What time is it?" Snape looked at his own watch.
"It's about one-thirty," he said smartly. "Minerva's going to be a bit mad, if I know her." He tutted sarcastically. Covering up his wrist again, he walked to the front of the room and started to shuffle his papers, leaving Emilia feeling a bit dumbstruck. She leaned over and picked up the white roll, throwing it next to his head, the roll bouncing off the wall.
Snape looked up casually. "What?" There was a small look on contempt in his eyes, contradicted with a
"You owe me tea," Emilia said in mock anger, a wide smile on her face. "Go on, gather up a kettle. I'll wait."
"Excuse me?" he said, while tapping parchment on the table to line them up properly, "I owe you tea? Since when?"
"Since you took your dear old time with my shoulder. I'm already too late," she pointed out. "I can't go meet Minerva now. So you owe me a cup of tea as compensation."
"I took my dear old time?" He stopped shuffling the papers. "What, did you think I did that on purpose? And if you want tea, you make it yourself." Emilia looked at him. Did he take his time on purpose? Yawning, she rotated her shoulder a couple of times to work the stitches of pain out. It felt better, at the very least. She yawned again. This time, he caught it. "Emilia, the Soothing Solution makes one tired. You should probably go back to your room."
Emilia tried to look at him, but he was slightly out of focus, and his voice sounded faraway, like a badly tuned radio. "I think you're quite right," she slurred, trying to keep her eyes open. It was really hard to. She yawned again. "Sev-Sev-Sev-Severus," as she yawned again, in the middle of her word. "I think I can't—er, that means to say, if I could—but really," she paused. The entire room was now a blur. "I don't feel so…wellllll…" she said, slumping against the desk. She couldn't support herself, and pain was cutting dully into her shoulder that would have brought tears to another's eyes. The stiffness of her shoulder was hard to get around, and she eventually let go of the desk, lying helplessly on the floor.
Snape was already there. He knelt beside her, and tried to turn her over. When he did, she was completely zoned out—but conscious. She looked up at him. "Hullo, you," she said thickly, but her words almost incomprehensible. She lifted her face up to him, tilting her head ever so slightly.
"I didn't think it was that powerful," he mused out loud, trying to get her to sit up, back his face away from hers. His knees were pin- prickling as they began to fall asleep. "Damn it…" he muttered quietly, as he tried to stand. He let go of her for a minute, and with a quiet "Whee", she fell on the floor again. Well, she was able to understand what was happening around her, at least.
"Emilia, do try to stay awake," he said, standing fully up. "I'm going to get you something that might throw this off." He walked away quickly, and went into his storage room. He pawed through the lines and lines of ingredients that were assorted on shelves that completely covered the small room. He finally found what he was looking for.
"The Delusion Draft," he read aloud. It would enable her to see clearly, and sort of come out of whatever she was in. He didn't think that the Soothing Solution was the cause of the reaction, and when she was completely conscious, he would find out. Snape took the large vile and poured its contents into a glass. Walking briskly, he found her exactly as he left her: on the floor, completely out of it. She was mumbling something, but he couldn't understand her at all. "What the hell did you do to yourself?" he murmured, as he bent down again (the pin-prickliness went away, finally). Supporting her back, he lifted her up and sort of put his arm around her so she would stay up. He took the glass and pulled down her jar with the hand supporting her. He tilted it into her mouth, and the green liquid splashed into it, but most of it was down the front of her.
He waited until she swallowed it, and rocked back, holding her in his arms until she awoke properly. He could see her eyes start to focus back in again. "Er, what?" she mumbled, trying to sit up. She felt someone was holding her. Her eyes continued to focus in, and suddenly, she had the urge to throw a fit. "Ack! Let go! Let go!" she yelled, struggling in his arms. He held her still.
"Cut it out, you're only going to hurt yourself!" he said sharply, holding her down. "Stop, Emilia!"
Emilia felt like she had awakened from a very long dream. "Er…Severus?" she said, looking up. She was completely aware of everything now; she was all too aware that he was holding her in the cold dungeon to the floor. "Care to explain?"
He dropped her instantly, and she fell on the floor with a thud. He stood up, and walked over to his desk. "Ow…why did you do that?" she said, sitting up and massaging her elbow. "Do you have some secret fetish for purple?" she added dryly, standing. "What happened?"
"You had some unusual side effects," he said, flipping through a textbook quickly. "Ah ha…you've said you like tea. Do you ever have it with catnip?" he asked, pointing to his place on the page.
"Why?" she asked, walking up to where he was pointing at. She stood next to him, peering into the small print of the very old book. "Yes, sometimes. I think I did last night. It calms my nerves. Old Herbology trick." She picked up the book and read the entire paragraph on the side- effects.
He stood there, irritably awake that she'd just stolen his last and favorite copy of Two Hundred and Thirty Ways to Fix a Solution, and very awake that she was thisclose to him. "Well, quite a little fun potion, isn't it? You should have asked me about this first. Er, now I really do have to go," she added, and set the book back down on the desk. "This is really unusual. I've need had a side effect before." She laughed a bit oddly. It echoed in the quiet dungeon. "Well, then, talk to you later," she said, walking a bit sideways to the door. She rounded the corner, and bumped her shoulder. "Ow, god damn it!" she cried out, grabbing her shoulder. "I need something for this," she said, her voice breaking with pain. He continued to look at her.
"What?" she said exasperatedly.
"Nothing," he said quickly, closing the book with a slap. "I think next Saturday you should have that looked at. By then, you'll be fine. Curious, I noticed a cut on that shoulder too."
Emilia turned her head. "It's nothing. I bumped it on the way out of the Great Hall one day."
He raised his eyebrow. "Fine, let that be your excuse. You seem to have a knack for getting hurt."
"I'm a bit of a klutz," she said airily, walking out of the dungeon, and up the stairs. She walked kind of quickly, and emerged in the Front Hall. She looked around, and started to walk over to the main staircase hurriedly. She though she could just go upstairs to her room and take a nap when….
"There you are!" a voice said severely behind her, and she stopped. Turning around, she saw Minerva.
"Hullo, there, Minerva," she said weakly. "Er, there who is?" She knew perfectly well who she was taking about.
"Emilia, where have you been?" she said, walking up to her. She set a hand on her bad shoulder, and Emilia tried not to wince. It wasn't working. The pain was throbbing too much.
"Er, I've been…" she looked around quickly. She never really was the one to lie. "I had to have something looked at. Severus was kind enough to make me a potion for it."
"Oh, now it's Severus, isn't it?" Minerva said with a quirky smile. Emilia felt some color creep into her cheeks. She turned around, knocking her hand off of Emilia's shoulder.
"Yeah, well, Dumbledore made us get along or…" Emilia paused. She didn't know if there was an "or". "Or I might end up fired," she finished, supposing that it was true.
"That's terrible," she said sympathetically, walking up the stairs with her. "I just wanted to let you know, Dumbledore saw me after you two. He wanted to discuss something with me. He seemed rather happy."
"And what about was he happy for?" she mused out loud, but kept on talking before Minerva could answer. "What about did he need you for?"
"Ah, yes," she smiled. "He's going to announce at dinner that the Yule Ball will be an annual thing from now on."
"Not just a triwizard tournament tradition anymore?" she asked, climbing another staircase. Minerva shrugged, waved to her, and went off her own way, down the opposite way of the corridor. Emilia continued down the hall, which was full of voices, getting louder as she got closer. She was quite curious of this, and when she rounded the corner, she caught sight of Draco Malfoy, and he was surrounded by a group of people.
"What are you doing?" Emilia said sharply, walking up to them. The crowd parted quickly; soon everyone was dispersed and the only people left were Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley, who were obviously in a fight, but surprisingly, their wands were left aside. Draco had the beginnings of a shiner, and Ron's face was cut in two places. "Okay, I think I've got the gist of it," she said angrily. "20 points from each house, and the both of you need to get to the Infirmary. Not before you see your head of Houses, though," she added. The two of them gathered their things and their wands, trying to straighten their robes. Draco Malfoy shot her a look of contempt that Emilia was only too willing to give back.
She walked Draco and Ron down the hall, and caught sight of Minerva. "Professor McGonagall!" she yelled, catching her attention. "I do believe you are Mr. Weasley's head of House? You deal with him," she said to Minerva's puzzled expression. Looking at Ron Weasley, she said, "Go on. Tell her I took care of points for you," she added softly, and pointed at McGonagall. He gave her a small smile, and started walking to the other teacher. Emilia could only guess why those two were in a fight. She has heard countless times that the Gryffindors do no do well with the Slytherins (this was an example of it); Slytherins do well to provoke, but Gryffindors do well to fight. Severus Snape was a fine example of that.
"And now for you," she said to Draco Malfoy. "I do believe Professor Snape is your Head of House, correct?" He said nothing, but stood there obediently, waiting to be taken his teacher. He shifted his things on his shoulder, like he was bored standing there. Emilia frowned. "It wasn't a rhetorical question, Malfoy," she snapped, walking forward, dragging him along with her.
The finally reached where Emilia had left only five minutes ago. "Professor Snape!" she said, opening the door.
Snape looked up. "What do you want?" he snapped.
She stepped inside, and Malfoy stood before her. "Caught in a fight," she said sharply, "with Ronald Weasley."
Immediately, Draco Malfoy burst out, "Professor, it wasn't my fault! He started off about my family, and then took a swing at me! How was I supposed to defend myself? It was lucky Professor Black was there to stop that Weasley boy before I was harmed any further." Emilia glared at him. That was the biggest lie ever. Snape would never believe that…
"How many points did you take off, Professor?" he said with a nasty undertone.
She looked at him. "Enough," she said coolly. "You deal with him," she added. "Good day, Professor." She looked right at him. So he was going to favor Draco Malfoy over Ron Weasley.
She walked out of the room quickly. Now that she was fully awake, she needed something to settle her down. She knew Malfoy was lying, but Snape would never choose to see it that way. Oh well; another one bites the dust.
Emilia looked at her watch, expecting to see about two. It read near five. He lied! It couldn't have taken that much time. How long was she out for? How long was she with him? The entire time seemed a bit hazy to her. It made her stomach curl. That only happened one other time, and she couldn't remember anything afterward. It scared her not knowing what happened when.
She walked down to the Great Hall; people were already filing in for dinner. She saw people crowded around a clipboard and quill; they must be staying for Christmas break. She smiled. Once they heard about the Yule Ball, a lot more students will be staying. The Yule Ball…it'd been a long time since she's heard of one of those.
Emilia sat down at the table. Surveying the room, she noticed that many of the students seemed really talkative. Interesting. Dumbledore walked in to the room, and took his place. Minerva and Severus must still be having a chat with their students, she guessed.
"Any better?" Dumbledore spoke suddenly.
"Pardon?" she said, turning to him.
"Are you two getting along a bit better?" he asked, pouring a glass of pumpkin juice. He passed it down to Emilia, and she took it gratefully. Taking in what he said, she eyed him suspiciously, and didn't drink the goblet he had just poured. She instead folded her hands inside of her lap. She gave him a penetrating look, and wondered just what he meant by that comment.
"I think so," she said, faintly remembering the events after his office. Those stupid drugs or, rather, "potions" he gave her made that entire hour or so a fuzzy memory. Her stomach grumbled quietly. She was hungrier than she thought. "I mean, I suppose it's an improvement," she added slowly, rotating her shoulder. It had become stiff again. The remembrance of that made her feel a bit upset.
"Good," he said happily, and poured another goblet of juice, to which he took a long sip from. "On a happier note, I must say you are turning out to be quite a popular teacher." There was a twinkle in his eye. Emilia finally decided to drink, and took a sip of juice.
Swallowing, she said, "I suppose so. I mean, it's a relief I'm not going to be fired." She put the gold cup down heavily, and it made a loud clank on the table. Emilia felt that she couldn't even hold it up. Her eyesight became a bit fuzzy. when Snape got in, she was going to ask him what other effects there was. Then she was going to smack him upside the head for offering to make her even sicker than she already was.
"You thought you were going to be fired?" he asked thoughtfully, after saying hello to Hagrid, who had just arrived and sat down. Without warning, food suddenly appeared at the tables. Emilia looked at all the food happily; maybe she just needed some extra strength. After all, she did miss lunch. And tea.
"Yes," she said, almost sheepishly. Snape and Minerva walked in, talking quite angrily and fast. She glanced at them as they walked up to the main table.
"…how could you do that to her? You didn't even ask if she—"
"Shut up, Minerva; we are in the Great Hall," Snape interrupted casually, his voice dangerously low. "Unless you wish to go to the Headmaster again with more complaints? It's rather simple, you see. He'll call you up to his office—"
"Don't make me take points away for your arrogance, Severus," she said viciously, her voice almost hushed.
"What, from my own house?" They were now in front of the teacher's table, which was the only horizontal table among the four other house tables. "Or from yours?"
"Hello, Severus, Minerva," Dumbledore said quietly, looking at them. It was amazing; they were completely at the other end of the Great Hall and she could hear them almost perfectly. It made her wonder: how loud was she when she got into a fight with him? "Having a casual disagreement?"
Minerva glanced at Dumbledore quickly. "No, no…house matters, nothing important…"
Snape snorted. Dumbledore sighed a bit, as waved his hand to his side. "Sit, please," he said. "Dinner has already been served."
Emilia's plate was still empty. What was Minerva talking about…? "…how could you do that to her? You didn't even ask if she—" She what? Who was "she", anyway?
And what did Snape mean? "Unless you wish to go to the Headmaster again with more complaints?" She was confused. Was Minerva the reason Dumbledore called them down? It would explain a lot…why he seemed so concerned on how they were fairing. She frowned, and pushed her plate away. Standing up, she quickly left the Great Hall without a word.
Absolutely fuming, of course.
Have fun
Be well and take care…
Kary
That's it! Thank you to all that review!
Keep on reading and reviewing!
Chapter Five: The Meeting
"He…wants to see me?" Emilia sputtered, her stomach churning with a mix of guilt and anxiety. She felt really bad, and this could only mean one thing…she was going to be fired…where would she go?
"Yes, Emilia," she spoke softly. "Come on." She moved aside to let Emilia out. Emilia walked slowly out, shutting the door behind her. A growing dread was forming in her mind. She felt terrible. She knew she shouldn't have done that. Disappointing Dumbledore was bad enough, but Emilia realized, she might have gone a bit overboard.
"You know what it's about?" Emilia croaked, as they descended the long flight of stairs.
She shook her head. "Haven't a clue, Emilia. We have to hurry up, though." She sounded very sad, Emilia noticed. This made her worry even more.
"I'm not…going to be sacked, am I?" Emilia whispered.
Minerva shrugged. "I don't know Emilia. You'll find out soon enough." They reached the gargoyle in no time. Emilia wondered why it was so fast…she supposed things you dread come quicker than you wish it to. Anyway, she realized, it didn't matter anymore. She was there. And the dread in her mind was full blown. Emilia surprised herself. It was amazing how scared of Dumbledore she was, or at any rate, how she was afraid to loose her job. It may not pay well, but it housed her, and it was a lot easier to be near Dumbledore, than out with the Muggle-killing Death Eaters. She didn't notice Minerva tell the gargoyle the password, and soon they were ascending the stairs to Dumbledore's office. Anxiety washed through her. She didn't even notice the faint stabbing pains of the growing bruise on her shoulder. "I'm leaving. Good luck, Emilia," Minerva whispered, and opened the door to his office. Emilia stepped in.
Dumbledore was in his chair, with his fingers folded and his elbows supporting his chin. When he had seen her come in, he stood. "Please, Emilia, take a seat," he said, waving his hand to the other available seat. The other one was taken by Severus Snape. Emilia narrowed her eyes at Snape, and sat down, trying not to wince when she bumped her shoulder on the chair. Dumbledore took his seat as well. "Now, I've asked you two here to try to explain something. I don't want this feud you two have started to continue any longer. Someone will get hurt. I want this stopped now," he said softly, raising his chin a little bit from his clasped hands. "So you two will make up."
Emilia felt her stomach lift up a bit. So she wasn't going to be fired. And, truly, she wasn't even in real trouble. But asking to get along with Snape…that was what she was trying to do all along. So long as he didn't step out of line. The two of them remained silent. Dumbledore sighed a little.
"I really didn't expect you two to be jumping out of your seats in apologetic hugs," he said dryly, "but nothing is certainly not what I was expecting. You two have been most childish. The students need role models, and I have heard of your growing popularity, Emilia. You can't expect to teach the students anything if you can't even get along. And I have heard your voiced complaints, Severus." Emilia frowned. He ran to Dumbledore? What a wimp, was all Emilia could think. Even she didn't run and tell Dumbledore about him.
Emilia breathed a little bit easier, all the same. Dumbledore just wanted them to "make up". Emilia turned her head away from Snape. She wasn't going to say anything until he apologized first. He started it all.
Dumbledore looked from Emilia to Snape. "Okay, this is a bit ridiculous. Severus, you first."
Snape looked up. "What? Me? Headmaster, don't you think that she should start first?"
Emilia glared at him. "You started it, Snape."
Dumbledore put his hand up. "Enough. First of all, I am amazed that you can't even talk to each other on a first name basis. It's been nearly half a year. End of term is in a couple of weeks. Severus, please."
Snape scowled. "Sorry," he said airily, not sounding sorry at all. Smirking, he turned to her. "Your turn."
"I guess I'm sorry," Emilia replied, just as airily, and sounding just as sorry as he did. She folded her arms (with what pain she still had) and turned away.
Dumbledore put his folded hands on the table in front of him. "Fine. You two will be working together until end of term. Madam Pomfrey needs a batch of Pepper-up Potions made quickly. You two will make a half-year supply, starting tomorrow, after dinner." He frowned at them. "I should like to apologize for this, but you two are being extremely stubborn. I don't need this rift among the staff. And you two should be on a first name basis. I can't understand your fight at all." There was a twinkle in his eyes, like he almost knew exactly what they were fighting about. "You two are excused."
Emilia stood abruptly. "Good afternoon, Dumbledore," she said quietly.
Snape followed suit. Dumbledore waved absent-mindedly. "I hope for a peaceful dinner," he added, as they left.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Emilia tutted. "I do hope you're pleased with yourself. Running to Dumbledore was the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do."
"And I knew he would do this? I was trying to get you sacked," Snape snapped. Emilia scowled at him, rubbing her shoulder distractedly.
Snape looked at her oddly. "What?" she said exasperatedly. Realizing what she was doing, she stopped at once. "I'm going."
"Wait. What was that all about?" he said, his face a little bit paler than normal.
"What was what all about?"
"Your shoulder," he said, pointing to it. "You kept rubbing it during the meeting, and then you winced when you crossed your arms."
"What, were you watching me?" she replied crossly. "What do you think happens to skin when force is applied to it, idiot? I'm going to get a brui—" Looking up guiltily, she stopped mid-sentence. "Never mind. I don't get anything." She started to walk away.
"You got a bruise, didn't you?" Snape asked softly. She stopped in her tracks.
"Very good," she said sarcastically. Turning around, she frowned at him. "What did you think would happen?" She started to walk off again. Snape walked up next to her quickly.
"Have you been to Madam Pomfrey yet?" he asked hurriedly, looking a bit paler.
Emilia stopped. "What's this I hear? Care? Concern? Maybe you should have thought of that before you hurt me. No, I haven't been to Madam Pomfrey. I'm not going either." What was she supposed to say to Madam Pomfrey? "Yes, quite, Severus gave that to me." Oh, that'd look good.
"Good," he said, breathing out. She looked at him sideways. "I mean, you should probably have that looked at," he said quickly. He's probably feeling guilty, she supposed. Serves him right.
"Thank you doc," she replied, her voicing positively dripping with causticity. "Take a hike, Snape. I don't need your advice." Emilia turned away from him sharply.
Snape thought for a second. "Black—er, I mean, Emilia, come with me."
Emilia turned. "What?" she said, confused, and a little bit angry.
"I have a remedy—the Soothing Solution—it should be of help to you. I—erm, I do feel sort of responsible for this. At least allow me to—er, help you," he said slowly. Emilia blinked. Sighing exasperatedly, he explained, "I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my shallow heart. I—shouldn't have done that to you." He started to walk away quickly. Emilia caught up with him easily. He was truly awkward about his. Then again, he should be. She didn't cause him any lasting marks. This mark, at the very least, would be a bit hard to explain.
"You owe me this much, at least," Emilia said finally, agreeing. "This solution will do what, now?"
"It will make it less visible, and at the very least, get rid of the pain," he said quietly.
Emilia furrowed her brow in thought. "Why?" she asked.
"Why what? Why do this for you? Because, should you choose to take this to Dumbledore, I can…loose my job. And the fact that I used physical force instead of verbal was totally degrading to my pride," he replied dryly. He unlocked the door to the Potions classroom, and walked briskly inside. It was very cold in here, and the rows of tables had a slight mist on them. He was in the adjourning room, getting what she needed. Trying to warm up, she glanced quickly about the room. It was as cold and dark as he was. The dungeon walls were almost deep blue, and the entire room was dimly lit. The fire was out, and it looked like it had never been lit at all, ever. Snape returned quickly with a small glass. "Here, drink this," he ordered, and she took the glass slowly. She looked inside it, and looked up at him. "What? I didn't poison it."
Emilia still looked dubious when she took her first sip, and made a face. "Ugh, dif tuff ta'tes lif' tar," she said, trying to swallow the mixture. She clearly didn't enjoy that at all. Emilia scrunched up her nose, and held the glass away from her. "I can't drink anymore of that stuff. Can sugar help it?"
Snape smiled weakly. Emilia narrowed her eyes. "You knew this would happen, didn't you? What is this?" said Emilia angrily. "What did you give me?"
Snape folded his arms across his chest. "I gave you what I told you, the Soothing Solution. And I have this gel-type healing agent that should reduce the sight of it—speaking of which, how visible is it?" He pulled out a small jar from his pocket, and opened it up slowly.
"Er, it's somewhat small," she said, setting down the glass on the desk. "What are you going to do with that?" She watched him stir the gel with a white plastic brush-like object. Emilia swallowed hard. "What are you going to do with that?" she repeated.
"I'm mixing it up so I can put it on your bruise. What does it look like?" Snape snapped, and started to scrape off the gel from the stick. He set the white stick on the desk and walked over to her.
"Let me put it on," she said quickly, reaching for the jar. He pulled it out of reach, and she stamped her foot. "Come on, I can put it on myself."
"Yes, I know you probably could, but not right," he said absent- mindedly. "Now, please, let me see it."
Emilia gripped her shoulder defensively. "Shouldn't Madam Pomfrey do this instead?" she asked meekly.
"Oh, for heavens' sake, Emilia, just let me put it on. Then I'll bandage it up and you can be on your merry way. You wanted my help, right?" he said impatiently.
Emilia looked at the jar. "I guess…" she said, her voice full of doubt. "I hear one word from you and I'm going straight to Pomfrey, got it?" she said, still looking at the jar.
"Fine," he said. "It's going to set if you don't hurry up." She forced down the urge to gulp, knowing that she couldn't prolong this any longer. She reached up with her good arm, and pulled down her robe to show her shoulder. She now noticed it was throbbing with pain. Snape looked at the bruise. It was the size of a baseball. Emilia could feel color creeping onto her cheeks. Snape dug his hands into the goo and pulled out a handful. He poised his hand above her shoulder. "This is going to be—"
He put his hand on her shoulder, and she yelped. "Cold! Ouch, that hurts!" She tried to move her shoulder from his reach to let the cold numb her shoulder, but he made her sit still.
"Emilia, this won't work if you can't sit still." He frowned at her, then started to rub the gel into her purple injury. The gel was still freezing cold, but eventually, it started to warm up. Emilia relaxed; it didn't hurt all that bad anymore. In fact, it barely hurt at all. Emilia was almost enjoying the attention that was being paid to her shoulder blade. His fingers certainly did contrast with the coolness of the gel, which was quickly getting very warm. She looked at Snape, who was totally engrossed in his work, his black hair covering half of his face. That look never changed; it was the same as when he was in school, working on a potion. Emilia felt the tension leave her shoulder completely; she was relaxing into the massage on her shoulder. She felt her eyes close, and the color continued to creep up on her cheeks. He had it up to her collarbone, and back again at the curve of her shoulder. If Snape wasn't so good at hiding his expressions, she would think he was enjoying himself.
When he was satisfied the gel was completely absorbed (which was some time later, Emilia noticed), Snape backed up and closed the lid of the jar. "Wait here a moment," he said thickly, and turned to leave. "I have to get the bandages."
Emilia shifted. She'd been standing a long time, and she needed to get the kinks out of her leg. What she wanted to do was move her shoulder around a bit, but she was afraid whatever was put on it would go all over her robes. She walked over to the table, and rubbed her fingers across it, bored. It was cold and almost dewy. Not surprising; the dungeons were always cold and misty.
He returned quickly with a small white bandage. "This would have been a lot more convenient if Madam Pomfrey would have looked at it," she said quietly, and he started to wrap her shoulder carefully, winding the bandage around and under her arm.
"I'm sure it would have been a lot easier for you, I daresay," he spoke softly, "but there were marks there that even you couldn't explain away." He stopped for a second, and finished by tearing of the last bit she needed. He pressed the end to the rest of the bandages, vaguely aware of her warmth. "And, I really…er, I do—I'm not trying to be nice or anything—"
"Apology accepted, Sna—or, rather, Severus," she interrupted, finishing his sentence. He clipped it up with a metal pin, and Emilia pulled her robes over the top of it. "I've had much worse," she said, trying to shrug this off, "and anyway, I've got to go. I promised Minerva a cup of tea at one." She pointed to the clock. "It's about time to leave."
Snape looked at the clock. He stared at it for a second, then hid his mouth in his hand in what was an unmistakable laugh. He set the bandages on the table, and stood up straight, a thin, wry smile on his face. "Go, go then…but you do realize that the clock has stopped, right? It decided to stop itself." Snape said slyly. "I would say it's quite a bit later than that."
"What?" Emilia said, looking at him. "What time is it?" Snape looked at his own watch.
"It's about one-thirty," he said smartly. "Minerva's going to be a bit mad, if I know her." He tutted sarcastically. Covering up his wrist again, he walked to the front of the room and started to shuffle his papers, leaving Emilia feeling a bit dumbstruck. She leaned over and picked up the white roll, throwing it next to his head, the roll bouncing off the wall.
Snape looked up casually. "What?" There was a small look on contempt in his eyes, contradicted with a
"You owe me tea," Emilia said in mock anger, a wide smile on her face. "Go on, gather up a kettle. I'll wait."
"Excuse me?" he said, while tapping parchment on the table to line them up properly, "I owe you tea? Since when?"
"Since you took your dear old time with my shoulder. I'm already too late," she pointed out. "I can't go meet Minerva now. So you owe me a cup of tea as compensation."
"I took my dear old time?" He stopped shuffling the papers. "What, did you think I did that on purpose? And if you want tea, you make it yourself." Emilia looked at him. Did he take his time on purpose? Yawning, she rotated her shoulder a couple of times to work the stitches of pain out. It felt better, at the very least. She yawned again. This time, he caught it. "Emilia, the Soothing Solution makes one tired. You should probably go back to your room."
Emilia tried to look at him, but he was slightly out of focus, and his voice sounded faraway, like a badly tuned radio. "I think you're quite right," she slurred, trying to keep her eyes open. It was really hard to. She yawned again. "Sev-Sev-Sev-Severus," as she yawned again, in the middle of her word. "I think I can't—er, that means to say, if I could—but really," she paused. The entire room was now a blur. "I don't feel so…wellllll…" she said, slumping against the desk. She couldn't support herself, and pain was cutting dully into her shoulder that would have brought tears to another's eyes. The stiffness of her shoulder was hard to get around, and she eventually let go of the desk, lying helplessly on the floor.
Snape was already there. He knelt beside her, and tried to turn her over. When he did, she was completely zoned out—but conscious. She looked up at him. "Hullo, you," she said thickly, but her words almost incomprehensible. She lifted her face up to him, tilting her head ever so slightly.
"I didn't think it was that powerful," he mused out loud, trying to get her to sit up, back his face away from hers. His knees were pin- prickling as they began to fall asleep. "Damn it…" he muttered quietly, as he tried to stand. He let go of her for a minute, and with a quiet "Whee", she fell on the floor again. Well, she was able to understand what was happening around her, at least.
"Emilia, do try to stay awake," he said, standing fully up. "I'm going to get you something that might throw this off." He walked away quickly, and went into his storage room. He pawed through the lines and lines of ingredients that were assorted on shelves that completely covered the small room. He finally found what he was looking for.
"The Delusion Draft," he read aloud. It would enable her to see clearly, and sort of come out of whatever she was in. He didn't think that the Soothing Solution was the cause of the reaction, and when she was completely conscious, he would find out. Snape took the large vile and poured its contents into a glass. Walking briskly, he found her exactly as he left her: on the floor, completely out of it. She was mumbling something, but he couldn't understand her at all. "What the hell did you do to yourself?" he murmured, as he bent down again (the pin-prickliness went away, finally). Supporting her back, he lifted her up and sort of put his arm around her so she would stay up. He took the glass and pulled down her jar with the hand supporting her. He tilted it into her mouth, and the green liquid splashed into it, but most of it was down the front of her.
He waited until she swallowed it, and rocked back, holding her in his arms until she awoke properly. He could see her eyes start to focus back in again. "Er, what?" she mumbled, trying to sit up. She felt someone was holding her. Her eyes continued to focus in, and suddenly, she had the urge to throw a fit. "Ack! Let go! Let go!" she yelled, struggling in his arms. He held her still.
"Cut it out, you're only going to hurt yourself!" he said sharply, holding her down. "Stop, Emilia!"
Emilia felt like she had awakened from a very long dream. "Er…Severus?" she said, looking up. She was completely aware of everything now; she was all too aware that he was holding her in the cold dungeon to the floor. "Care to explain?"
He dropped her instantly, and she fell on the floor with a thud. He stood up, and walked over to his desk. "Ow…why did you do that?" she said, sitting up and massaging her elbow. "Do you have some secret fetish for purple?" she added dryly, standing. "What happened?"
"You had some unusual side effects," he said, flipping through a textbook quickly. "Ah ha…you've said you like tea. Do you ever have it with catnip?" he asked, pointing to his place on the page.
"Why?" she asked, walking up to where he was pointing at. She stood next to him, peering into the small print of the very old book. "Yes, sometimes. I think I did last night. It calms my nerves. Old Herbology trick." She picked up the book and read the entire paragraph on the side- effects.
He stood there, irritably awake that she'd just stolen his last and favorite copy of Two Hundred and Thirty Ways to Fix a Solution, and very awake that she was thisclose to him. "Well, quite a little fun potion, isn't it? You should have asked me about this first. Er, now I really do have to go," she added, and set the book back down on the desk. "This is really unusual. I've need had a side effect before." She laughed a bit oddly. It echoed in the quiet dungeon. "Well, then, talk to you later," she said, walking a bit sideways to the door. She rounded the corner, and bumped her shoulder. "Ow, god damn it!" she cried out, grabbing her shoulder. "I need something for this," she said, her voice breaking with pain. He continued to look at her.
"What?" she said exasperatedly.
"Nothing," he said quickly, closing the book with a slap. "I think next Saturday you should have that looked at. By then, you'll be fine. Curious, I noticed a cut on that shoulder too."
Emilia turned her head. "It's nothing. I bumped it on the way out of the Great Hall one day."
He raised his eyebrow. "Fine, let that be your excuse. You seem to have a knack for getting hurt."
"I'm a bit of a klutz," she said airily, walking out of the dungeon, and up the stairs. She walked kind of quickly, and emerged in the Front Hall. She looked around, and started to walk over to the main staircase hurriedly. She though she could just go upstairs to her room and take a nap when….
"There you are!" a voice said severely behind her, and she stopped. Turning around, she saw Minerva.
"Hullo, there, Minerva," she said weakly. "Er, there who is?" She knew perfectly well who she was taking about.
"Emilia, where have you been?" she said, walking up to her. She set a hand on her bad shoulder, and Emilia tried not to wince. It wasn't working. The pain was throbbing too much.
"Er, I've been…" she looked around quickly. She never really was the one to lie. "I had to have something looked at. Severus was kind enough to make me a potion for it."
"Oh, now it's Severus, isn't it?" Minerva said with a quirky smile. Emilia felt some color creep into her cheeks. She turned around, knocking her hand off of Emilia's shoulder.
"Yeah, well, Dumbledore made us get along or…" Emilia paused. She didn't know if there was an "or". "Or I might end up fired," she finished, supposing that it was true.
"That's terrible," she said sympathetically, walking up the stairs with her. "I just wanted to let you know, Dumbledore saw me after you two. He wanted to discuss something with me. He seemed rather happy."
"And what about was he happy for?" she mused out loud, but kept on talking before Minerva could answer. "What about did he need you for?"
"Ah, yes," she smiled. "He's going to announce at dinner that the Yule Ball will be an annual thing from now on."
"Not just a triwizard tournament tradition anymore?" she asked, climbing another staircase. Minerva shrugged, waved to her, and went off her own way, down the opposite way of the corridor. Emilia continued down the hall, which was full of voices, getting louder as she got closer. She was quite curious of this, and when she rounded the corner, she caught sight of Draco Malfoy, and he was surrounded by a group of people.
"What are you doing?" Emilia said sharply, walking up to them. The crowd parted quickly; soon everyone was dispersed and the only people left were Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley, who were obviously in a fight, but surprisingly, their wands were left aside. Draco had the beginnings of a shiner, and Ron's face was cut in two places. "Okay, I think I've got the gist of it," she said angrily. "20 points from each house, and the both of you need to get to the Infirmary. Not before you see your head of Houses, though," she added. The two of them gathered their things and their wands, trying to straighten their robes. Draco Malfoy shot her a look of contempt that Emilia was only too willing to give back.
She walked Draco and Ron down the hall, and caught sight of Minerva. "Professor McGonagall!" she yelled, catching her attention. "I do believe you are Mr. Weasley's head of House? You deal with him," she said to Minerva's puzzled expression. Looking at Ron Weasley, she said, "Go on. Tell her I took care of points for you," she added softly, and pointed at McGonagall. He gave her a small smile, and started walking to the other teacher. Emilia could only guess why those two were in a fight. She has heard countless times that the Gryffindors do no do well with the Slytherins (this was an example of it); Slytherins do well to provoke, but Gryffindors do well to fight. Severus Snape was a fine example of that.
"And now for you," she said to Draco Malfoy. "I do believe Professor Snape is your Head of House, correct?" He said nothing, but stood there obediently, waiting to be taken his teacher. He shifted his things on his shoulder, like he was bored standing there. Emilia frowned. "It wasn't a rhetorical question, Malfoy," she snapped, walking forward, dragging him along with her.
The finally reached where Emilia had left only five minutes ago. "Professor Snape!" she said, opening the door.
Snape looked up. "What do you want?" he snapped.
She stepped inside, and Malfoy stood before her. "Caught in a fight," she said sharply, "with Ronald Weasley."
Immediately, Draco Malfoy burst out, "Professor, it wasn't my fault! He started off about my family, and then took a swing at me! How was I supposed to defend myself? It was lucky Professor Black was there to stop that Weasley boy before I was harmed any further." Emilia glared at him. That was the biggest lie ever. Snape would never believe that…
"How many points did you take off, Professor?" he said with a nasty undertone.
She looked at him. "Enough," she said coolly. "You deal with him," she added. "Good day, Professor." She looked right at him. So he was going to favor Draco Malfoy over Ron Weasley.
She walked out of the room quickly. Now that she was fully awake, she needed something to settle her down. She knew Malfoy was lying, but Snape would never choose to see it that way. Oh well; another one bites the dust.
Emilia looked at her watch, expecting to see about two. It read near five. He lied! It couldn't have taken that much time. How long was she out for? How long was she with him? The entire time seemed a bit hazy to her. It made her stomach curl. That only happened one other time, and she couldn't remember anything afterward. It scared her not knowing what happened when.
She walked down to the Great Hall; people were already filing in for dinner. She saw people crowded around a clipboard and quill; they must be staying for Christmas break. She smiled. Once they heard about the Yule Ball, a lot more students will be staying. The Yule Ball…it'd been a long time since she's heard of one of those.
Emilia sat down at the table. Surveying the room, she noticed that many of the students seemed really talkative. Interesting. Dumbledore walked in to the room, and took his place. Minerva and Severus must still be having a chat with their students, she guessed.
"Any better?" Dumbledore spoke suddenly.
"Pardon?" she said, turning to him.
"Are you two getting along a bit better?" he asked, pouring a glass of pumpkin juice. He passed it down to Emilia, and she took it gratefully. Taking in what he said, she eyed him suspiciously, and didn't drink the goblet he had just poured. She instead folded her hands inside of her lap. She gave him a penetrating look, and wondered just what he meant by that comment.
"I think so," she said, faintly remembering the events after his office. Those stupid drugs or, rather, "potions" he gave her made that entire hour or so a fuzzy memory. Her stomach grumbled quietly. She was hungrier than she thought. "I mean, I suppose it's an improvement," she added slowly, rotating her shoulder. It had become stiff again. The remembrance of that made her feel a bit upset.
"Good," he said happily, and poured another goblet of juice, to which he took a long sip from. "On a happier note, I must say you are turning out to be quite a popular teacher." There was a twinkle in his eye. Emilia finally decided to drink, and took a sip of juice.
Swallowing, she said, "I suppose so. I mean, it's a relief I'm not going to be fired." She put the gold cup down heavily, and it made a loud clank on the table. Emilia felt that she couldn't even hold it up. Her eyesight became a bit fuzzy. when Snape got in, she was going to ask him what other effects there was. Then she was going to smack him upside the head for offering to make her even sicker than she already was.
"You thought you were going to be fired?" he asked thoughtfully, after saying hello to Hagrid, who had just arrived and sat down. Without warning, food suddenly appeared at the tables. Emilia looked at all the food happily; maybe she just needed some extra strength. After all, she did miss lunch. And tea.
"Yes," she said, almost sheepishly. Snape and Minerva walked in, talking quite angrily and fast. She glanced at them as they walked up to the main table.
"…how could you do that to her? You didn't even ask if she—"
"Shut up, Minerva; we are in the Great Hall," Snape interrupted casually, his voice dangerously low. "Unless you wish to go to the Headmaster again with more complaints? It's rather simple, you see. He'll call you up to his office—"
"Don't make me take points away for your arrogance, Severus," she said viciously, her voice almost hushed.
"What, from my own house?" They were now in front of the teacher's table, which was the only horizontal table among the four other house tables. "Or from yours?"
"Hello, Severus, Minerva," Dumbledore said quietly, looking at them. It was amazing; they were completely at the other end of the Great Hall and she could hear them almost perfectly. It made her wonder: how loud was she when she got into a fight with him? "Having a casual disagreement?"
Minerva glanced at Dumbledore quickly. "No, no…house matters, nothing important…"
Snape snorted. Dumbledore sighed a bit, as waved his hand to his side. "Sit, please," he said. "Dinner has already been served."
Emilia's plate was still empty. What was Minerva talking about…? "…how could you do that to her? You didn't even ask if she—" She what? Who was "she", anyway?
And what did Snape mean? "Unless you wish to go to the Headmaster again with more complaints?" She was confused. Was Minerva the reason Dumbledore called them down? It would explain a lot…why he seemed so concerned on how they were fairing. She frowned, and pushed her plate away. Standing up, she quickly left the Great Hall without a word.
Absolutely fuming, of course.