Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story (more's the pity--they could help pay my student loans) except for Eve Berger. Nor did I come up with the plot of PoA, and the scenes and dialogue included in that fab book, which I humbly reproduce at certain points herein. All that belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury, Raincoast, Scholastic...the list goes on!
A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers on FFN and on the Snapefic Liberation Front list; and my trusty beta, Joan (aka "HyacinthMacaw"). The reviews and comments really mean a lot to me. *sniff, sniff* I love you guys!
In case anyone is wondering, a small part of this next chapter is based on experience. The joys of living in the Eastern Ontario snow belt. Though I don't really notice it any more, until my Mum comes up to visit and whines about the snow squalls. Muahahahahaha. :-)
Music I used for this chapter was the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's "Christmas Eve Sarajevo", mostly.
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Chapter 11: The Blizzard Rescue
Eve had to admit that if there was one benefit to staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, it was that the lack of preparation and familiar family events at least meant that the letdown after the holiday wasn't quite as bad. Still, the post-holiday normalcy did have its down side. Particularly the cabin-fever-inducing monotony of days in the castle.
It wasn't until a couple days after Christmas that Eve finally felt that she had to get out of the castle and off the Hogwarts grounds, or she would go completely mad. It surprised her really, she would have thought that she'd be climbing the walls much earlier. But as her essays were either finished or at least thoroughly researched, she began to get antsy, finding it hard to concentrate. She hadn't taken advantage of her extra Hogsmeade privileges yet and she had a few things to do in the village, so she headed up to McGonagall's office one morning to make her case.
"I was wondering if I could walk into Hogsmeade this afternoon, just after lunch? I need to get a few things, as well as deposit some of my Christmas money in my account at Gringotts," Eve said, simply. She had found that when making a request to McGonagall, it was best to be concise and bluntly persuasive.
McGonagall looked a little dubious about the request. "Alone? It's a fair walk into the village..."
"Professor, I've been around London by myself numerous times and I've lived on my own for quite a while. I know what precautions to take. Even with Sirius Black out there, I feel much safer in Hogsmeade than I do in London. I'll be back well before dark; by four-thirty at the latest."
McGonagall sighed. "All right then. Please come check in with me when you get back, so I know you've arrived safely."
"Certainly," Eve said, not finding a problem with that. McGonagall's offices were on the way to Gryffindor Tower anyway.
After lunch she pulled on her boots, her winter cloak, scarf and gloves then set off down the path to Hogsmeade, hurrying past the Dementors as usual. There were a couple inches of snow on the ground and more was falling gently through the sky so that the road had a picture-postcard look to it.
The village was bustling, even for a wintry day when the Hogwarts students were at home, so she had to wait a while to change and deposit some of her Christmas money at the Gringotts branch, and the shops were pretty packed. She didn't mind the crowds. She found post-Christmas shopping rather fun, really; if she had the luxury of time to wait in lines and meander through crowds, she didn't mind doing so. Still, she finished her errands relatively quickly and managed to find a small table at the Three Broomsticks next to the large, mullioned windows, where she could sip a Butterbeer and read for quite a while.
She was so engrossed in her book that she didn't notice the time until the pub's clock chimed a quarter to four. It had taken her twenty minutes to walk into Hogsmeade, and she wanted to leave some extra time to get back, so she packed up her things and was back out on the road to Hogwarts within a few minutes.
Leaving the Three Broomsticks, she turned and started back up the road out of the village, the snow still falling gently. As she walked it began to fall more thickly, the wind picking up and blowing the snow in her face as she reached the edge of village and trekked down the tree- and hedge-lined drive to Hogwarts. The snow swirled around her, its thickness increasing with each minute. It was sticking to her glasses, making it hard to see. She had to hold her hood up so that it wouldn't keep getting blown back from her face, the wind nipping painfully at her ears and cheeks. She used her other hand to hold the front of her cloak closed, trying to keep the wind out with little success.
By the time she was halfway back she had had to slow down, walking becoming more difficult in the blowing snow, the visibility decreasing by the minute. She walked close to the hedges that lined the road, knowing from her guess at the time that she had to be a little more than halfway to Hogwarts, and that if she followed the hedges they would lead her to the gates. She had already come so far that it would be little use to turn back and so she pressed on, though the wind seemed to blow right through her cloak and gloves, making her shiver with every gust. Her fingers and toes were freezing and numbed, and it felt as though the skin was being flayed off her face by the wind. But she kept moving, telling herself that she was almost there, not yet worried about her ability to get to Hogwarts. Just a little further and she would be there, warm and dry again.
She thought she had to be only about five or ten minutes away from the school when she heard something off to her left and stopped in her tracks. Out of the corner of her eye, she could just see a dark shape speed by her through the thickly falling snow, making a whoosh noise as it passed. Like the sound of someone passing her at high speed, probably on a broom. A second later there was a soft thump. Someone dismounting? Eve didn't want to stay to find out.
The hairs at the back of her neck were standing on end, but no longer was it from the cold. She started walking again, slower this time, her heart pounding in her ears as she strained to listen for any noises behind her though the howling wind. Then she heard it--the soft crunching, squeaking sound of footsteps in the snow behind her.
She picked up her pace and the footsteps quickened in response. Her numbed fingers closed around the wand in her pocket, trying to think of a hex or curse she could throw if she couldn't get away; something that would slow her follower down. Mind racing, she tried to think of something, anything Lupin or Flitwick had taught her that she knew she could do, that would actually achieve something. Her breath coming in gasps, she was about to run when suddenly someone grabbed her left arm from behind.
Reflex took over as the fingers tightened around her arm. She turned left, toward the figure to break their hold on her, pulling her wand out of her pocket as she did so. As her wand tip pointed at her attacker, she yelled the one spell that came to mind.
"Expelliarmus!"
The spell went wild, her attacker blown off his feet--it was definitely a man, too tall for an average woman, her mind registered briefly--and falling into the snow behind her, the man's wand flying into her left hand.
She had turned to run when a voice called out behind her.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Berger!"
It was Snape.
Eve whirled around, staring at him in open-mouthed surprise as Snape sat up in the snowdrift.
"What?!" she said, too stunned for a moment to think of offering him a hand up. Not that he would have taken it anyway, she thought later.
Snape climbed to his feet, shaking the snow off his clothes before snatching his wand from her hand.
"You attacked me!" he said, stepping close so that he was looming over her. He probably meant to intimidate her, but Eve wasn't in the mood to be intimidated.
"You attacked me!"
"I did not attack you--"
"You scared me half to death is what you did!"
Snape's nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, his voice more icy than usual when he spoke. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation back at the school where I won't freeze to death? Accio broom!"
The broom appeared at his side and he mounted, then lowered it, tucking his feet up by the handle.
"Well, get on!" he barked, tilting his head to signal that she should get on the back.
She climbed on, and was getting a grip on the handle when she heard him yell, "For God's sake, hold on to me, not the handle. You'll never stay on if you don't."
Eve scooted farther up the handle until she was right behind Snape, then gingerly put her arms around his torso, trying not to hold on any tighter than was necessary. She certainly didn't want to get too close to the man; he wasn't the type of person with whom she'd like to get even as intimate as that.
As soon as her arms were clasped around him, he took off, a little faster than she thought was really necessary. Eve unconsciously tightened her arms around him as they took off, the ground disappearing beneath their feet.
They sped along the drive to Hogwarts, Snape keeping perfect control of the broom even as they were buffeted by strong winds. Eve kept her head low, partly so that she didn't have his hair blowing in her face, partly so that her face was blocked from the wind and snow by Snape's back. Her hands were numb but she managed to keep a tight hold on him as they flew past the Dementors and finally arrived at the front door.
Snape lowered the broom so that Eve could dismount before he did, then stalked up the stairs and pulled the heavy front doors open for her. Leaning the broom against the door frame he barked, "Come with me," and started heading down the stairs to the dungeons, leaving puddles of melting snow as he went. Eve followed, though she would much rather have gone back to her room and changed into dry clothes.
Snape led her to his office, where a cauldron bubbled over a roaring fire in the fireplace. "Hang your cloak there," he said, pointing to a hook at one end of the mantel. As she hung her cloak, he ladled something from the cauldron into a pewter goblet. Then he pointed to a winged armchair in front of the fire and said, "Sit. Drink this."
Eve sat, and Snape pushed the goblet into her hands before striding out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Taking a tentative sip of the potion, Eve had to fight the urge to spit it out. It was nauseatingly thick and very bitter, worse than the one sip of Guinness she'd tried one night when she was out with some of her university dormmates. But when she swallowed it, she could feel the potion's warmth sliding down her throat and settling in her stomach, feeling almost as though it was radiating heat outwards. She pinched her nose and took another gulp, the warmth starting to spread to her arms and legs. By the time she'd finished the few remaining swallows, it had spread to her fingers and toes, which tingled painfully as sensation returned.
She had just placed the goblet on the small table next to her chair when the door opened, banging against the wall. She turned and saw Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore hurrying in; McGonagall looking both worried and angry, Dumbledore just worried, Snape just angry.
"Where on earth have you been? You're twenty minutes late!" McGonagall said, her accent thickening until her words were nearly lost between the rolling of her "R"s. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, and Eve immediately went on the defensive.
"I was caught in the snow on my way back--"
"But why did you even think you could walk back through that storm?" McGonagall's cheeks were getting slightly red now, and Eve could sense an impending explosion.
"I didn't. It wasn't snowing very hard when I left and I was more than halfway home when the storm hit, it made more sense to keep going than to turn around."
"And what's this about you attacking a teacher?"
"Professor Snape saw fit to sneak up behind me--"
"I did not sneak up on you!" Snape said, interrupting.
"Well you certainly didn't identify yourself! All I heard was someone flying past me, then stepping into the snow behind me. When I started walking again, I heard footsteps following me, speeding up when I did, and just as I was about to leg it, someone grabbed my arm! To me, that counts as sneaking up on someone. For all I knew you could have been Sirius Black!"
"How did you...'attack' Professor Snape?" Dumbledore asked, giving Eve the impression that he was trying to bring everyone's attention back to her explanation of events.
Dumbledore's face was neutral, so she decided that a simple answer would be best. "Expelliarmus," Eve replied, flatly, "Professor Snape was knocked backwards into a snowdrift, and I was about to run when he finally identified himself by taking fifty points from Gryffindor."
"Fifty points?" McGonagall turned to Snape, her wrath now centring on him.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, heading off the inevitable argument. "You showed good practical use of what you have learned, Miss Berger, for which I give Gryffindor fifty points."
Eve could tell from Dumbledore's serious glance at Snape and herself that the amount of points awarded wasn't due to any exceptional performance on her part. Snape had taken them away unfairly (well, more unfairly than was usual for him), and Dumbledore was reinstating them, wiping the slate clean between them. As though it hadn't happened.
After a moment, Dumbledore smiled slightly, and continued, "Professor Lupin will be glad to hear of your practical use of his lessons. Now, both of you should get out of those wet clothes immediately. Miss Berger, you are dismissed. Minerva, I believe you had the next move in our chess game?"
Eve nodded to the professors, grabbed her cloak off the mantel hook, then walked out, not looking back to see Snape's expression, though she knew he was staring after her.
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The next day, Eve was somewhat surprised to an owl float down to her at breakfast, and even more surprised to see that it carried a note from Professor Dumbledore. It wasn't the right week for their usual meeting, though it was Thursday. He gave no indication of why he might want to see her, just requested that she come to his office at one-thirty. She assumed that it had to do with the events of the day before but couldn't think of what Dumbledore might say about it--if he was going to punish her, he would have done it then.
At the appointed time, Eve knocked on Dumbledore's office door and walked in when he called to enter. Fawkes, the Headmaster's phoenix, was preening himself while standing on his perch, his bright red-and-gold plumage standing out against the grey sky through the window behind him. She gave Fawkes a pat as she moved around the chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk then sat, looking at the Headmaster expectantly.
"Have you spoken with Professor Snape today?" Dumbledore asked, his expression and tone indecipherable.
"No." The phrase "should I have?" came to mind but she decided that would be too cheeky--she got the feeling Dumbledore respected her, and therefore deserved at least the same sort of respect in return.
"Ah. I was simply wondering if the thought of thanking Professor Snape had occurred to you." Said by most other people this would have sounded sarcastic and somewhat rude, but Dumbledore managed to make it sound like nothing more than an inconsequential thought. Eve knew that it wasn't, however.
"For what, exactly?" she replied, copying Dumbledore's unemotional tone, "I didn't ask to be rescued or need it, really. If Professor Snape felt the compulsion to act the hero--"
Dumbledore raised a hand to stop her. "Professor Snape went after you because I asked him to, and because he, like the rest of the teachers here, are concerned with the welfare of every student in this school. He was the only one of those left that was both able to go and had the requisite experience, should you have met with any...difficulty along your way."
"Still, I didn't need his rescue--"
"Does that truly matter? I asked you once to look at situations from your teachers' perspective, I ask it again now. All Professor Snape knew was that there was a snowstorm blowing outside, you were fifteen minutes late and that you hadn't been heard from since you left. Add to that the fact that Sirius Black is still on the loose..." Dumbledore spoke perfectly calmly, and paused to let her think for a moment before continuing. "His intent was to offer any assistance you might need, regardless of his own safety. That at least deserves some thanks."
Eve sat and thought about it for a moment. She certainly hadn't needed rescuing...though she had been able to get back to the castle faster than she would have anyway. Dumbledore had asked Snape to go, so it wasn't like he'd gone entirely out of concern for her and besides, this was Snape, the last person in the world she'd want to go to with this sort of message--particularly if it could be misconstrued as an apology, which it certainly wasn't. Besides, why should she bother? Snape would just give some sarcastic response or brush it off anyway, it was hardly worth saying.
You should do it because it's the right thing and Snape deserves at least a "thank you" for heading out into a snowstorm to come after you. Would you have done the same thing, Gryffindor? Eve wasn't sure that she would have--well, she would if Dumbledore had asked, but she'd have been nervous as hell about it.
Dumbledore seemed to know her changing thoughts from her facial expression, as he finally spoke again, smiling this time. "It is your decision. I simply wanted to make the suggestion. Now, was there anything you wanted to discuss with me?"
Eve declined and left, her conscience battling with her pride and desire not to spend any more time with Snape than she had to. Why the hell does Dumbledore want things right between Snape and I anyway? Harry Potter gets away with hating Snape as much as he wants, but I get prods to cuddle up to the obnoxious bastard, she thought as she passed the stone gargoyle and started for the fourth floor window nook that she had made her reading spot.
If she didn't talk to Snape, she'd have the thought nagging at the back of her mind, and she'd be disappointing Dumbledore--though he hadn't made it sound that way, she knew he would be--which was no small concern. She really did care what Dumbledore thought of her, and she didn't want to disappoint him. And she had to admit that putting aside all the animosity between Snape and herself, he did deserve her thanks for this incident at least. If he chose not to take it as it was, well that was his problem.
Turning on her heel, she changed course, walking back down the corridor to the main staircase and down to the dungeons.
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Snape glanced at the door for the tenth time in as many minutes, wondering where that ruddy house elf could be as he flipped through his potion books. Thanks to the previous day's arctic excursion he had the beginnings of a head cold, and with Madam Pomfrey gone for the holidays, he would have to brew the remedy himself. Easier said than done when one's head felt as though it was about to explode from the pressure in one's sinuses. He'd been hoping that a cup of tea with honey would help a little, but it had been ten minutes since he'd given the order to a house elf and it still hadn't arrived.
There was a soft knock at the door and Snape gave an aggravated sigh. Took them bloody long enough, he thought, removing the spells that protected his office door.
"Come in!" he barked, and watched as the door opened slightly, revealing not a house elf with a tea tray, but Eve Berger, looking slightly hesitant.
"What do you want?" he snapped, trying desperately to keep his voice as normal as possible, even with his stuffy nose. To him, even showing the signs of a slight cold was a display of weakness, and he was determined not to show any weakness to his students.
She stepped into the room, standing there somewhat stiffly. "I wanted to thank you for coming after me yesterday." Her voice was flat, her expression neutral.
"Well you can tell Dumbledore I thank him for this show of gratitude, as it's doubtless all his doing."
He could see her lips become thinner as she pressed them together in annoyance.
"Professor Dumbledore merely explained why you came after me yesterday, he left the decision to come to you up to me. The only way he'll know about whether I did or not it is if he either asks you or you tell him."
Snape had to repress a snort. Of course Dumbledore would know, whether Snape told him or not. Dumbledore always knew. But he didn't say that. Tired, not up to his usual capability for quick comebacks, Snape didn't want to argue the point with her any longer, though neither did he want to let her win the argument.
"Well I'm sure you've made the right decision to soothe that Gryffindor conscience of yours," he said in a scathing tone. He turned back to his book, hoping that she would take the signal to leave.
She gave a sharp sigh and when she spoke her tone was clipped. "Fine. I've done my bit and you can take what I've said however you like. It's not in my hands any more. Good afternoon, Professor."
Snape didn't make any movement to acknowledge her departure, waiting until the door had closed rather firmly behind her to walk over to his chair by the fireplace and flop into it.
No doubt Berger would never have come to him if Dumbledore hadn't at least put the thought in her head, and so was still more to thank for that little announcement than she was. He certainly knew about the fact that one was more likely to do something if Dumbledore "asked". The Headmaster almost never came out and asked someone to do something--he hadn't directly asked Snape to go after Berger the day before. However, the older man had a knack for letting you know what he'd like you to do in such a manner that the end was the same. You still had the choice of whether to do it or not--Snape had chosen not on a couple occasions, and Dumbledore hadn't said a word about it--but Dumbledore was the type of person who could make you consider things that you usually didn't want to, and someone that you didn't like to disappoint.
Yet another member of this staff who should have been a Slytherin. I'm not sure whether it's a good thing or not that many of the students in my house don't have half his cunning, Snape thought.
Tilting his head back so that it rested on one of the chair wings, he silently prayed that Eve Berger would be able to fast-track through Hogwarts. Even five years of this would be too long for his patience.