Author's note: Big thanks go to Charlsie and Blaise, my most loyal reviewer and soul-sister. I hope you'll like this fairly long chapter just as much as I like it myself. I just love Severus when he's annoyed…
Chapter 6: Wanted
Don't you
know this tale
In which all I ever wanted
I'll never have
—Nightwish: Beauty & the Beast
A week later, it was a Hogsmeade weekend and the sun was shining so brightly and warmly that one was almost reminded of summer. Sariss sauntered along the Main Street, a bag of Honeydukes chocolate in her hand. She had cast a Cooling Charm on it. It would have been a pity if the chocolate melted. It just wasn't the same afterwards.
The street was filled with Hogwarts students who hurried here and there. Even if she didn't know all those children, she could have told the third years from the others. Their eyes were large with amazement and their bags were even larger. Filch would have one hell of a time confiscating those things—if he ever got hold of them. Sariss chuckled. Even years ago it had been so. If you were careful and looked as if you couldn't swat a fly you got your stuff into the castle, no matter if it was on top of Filch's list or not. Fact was that after you'd pulled your prank, you could be sure that it was right on top.
Sariss went to the Three Broomsticks where some of the seventh-year Gryffindors were apparently celebrating a small birthday party at their table. They finished their song shortly after Sariss had entered the pub. The bushy-haired girl that was Hermione Granger blushed but grinned broadly.
There's Hagrid!
The half-giant occupied a table near the celebrating students. A huge steaming mug stood in front of him. When he saw her, he lifted a large hand and waved at Sariss, gesturing for her to join him and shouting for Madam Rosmerta to bring another—although much smaller—mug of Butterbeer.
"Thank you, Hagrid," Sariss said, as she sat down at Hagrid's table. The innkeeper brought the Butterbeer within a matter of moments. "Mmm. This is nice."
"Thought yeh'd like it," said Hagrid. "My, have yeh grown up, li'l girl. An' such a pretty lass yeh've become."
"You say that all the time… Thanks, Hagrid," Sariss said sheepishly. "How are your lessons? Going well?" The question was unnecessary, as a broad smile spread across Hagrid's hairy face.
"All I ever wanted. Great man, Dumbledore," he replied. "How's yer teachin' goin'?"
"Oh, it's still alright. Easier than I thought. I think I like it. Glad I came here, really."
"An' there's nothin' ter complain abou'?"
"What do you mean?"
"Heard yeh had quite a row with Professor Snape—."
"Oh, please, Hagrid. I don't want to talk about it."
"Why not? Since when don' yeh wanna let ol' Hagrid in on what's botherin' yeh?"
"I'm… Hagrid, it's… It was an accident."
"How can a row be an accident?"
"It was… I don't know how it came about. It just happened. I didn't want it to happen. And not that way."
"How then?"
"Not at all. You saw him at the feast. He loathes me."
"Don' take it personal. Professor Snape doesn' like mos' people."
"I'm not talking about liking. I'm not asking for him to like me. I just want to be treated like another teacher and not like a disobedient student."
"Perhaps yeh should tell 'im tha'?" Hagrid suggested.
"That was actually part of the row we had," Sariss said hesitantly. "A small part of it, but I think I brought it to his attention quite clearly. Besides, even if I hadn't, I wouldn't point it out to him now."
"Why's tha'?"
"I'm not talking to him. Much more than that, actually. I'm ignoring him completely—."
"Still mad at him? How long's it bin?"
"Two weeks and counting," Sariss said. "And I'm still fuming that he doesn't even seem to care that to me he's not much more than solid air that has to be steered around."
"Well, if yeh wanna hurt Snape, yeh've got another think comin'."
"I don't want to hurt anyone," Sariss said softly. "He's hurting me. He could at least notice that. Insensitive git. I'm just giving him what he deserves for first making me freak out and then making me feel miserable."
"I don' get it. Yeh never had problems with him when yeh were li'l."
"Dumbledore warned me before I came here. It was just I hadn't expected Snape to be so… cold. Most of the time, I can't even sense what he feels, that he feels anything at all. And if I catch a glimpse, I merely sense something like anger. But mostly it's as if he weren't even there. Unlike you and your huge golden heart. You're present to me; he isn't," Sariss shrugged, unable to explain it more clearly, and sipped some Butterbeer. "Mmm. I sure like Butterbeer." The subject of Snape was closed. She only hoped Hagrid got it.
With some effort, Madam Rosmerta brought him another mug. It looked more like a bucket to Sariss but was just the right size for Hagrid's gigantic hands. "There—you—are, Hagrid. Care for another bottle of Butterbeer, Miss Ravon?"
"You remember me?"
"'Course, I do. The amounts of Butterbeer you always took up to the castle…"
Sariss smirked and shrugged. "Well, yes, I could use another one."
"Thanks, Rosi," said Hagrid and with glittering and clicking heels Madam Rosmerta was on her way.
"Bin a long time since yeh've bin here last, ain't it?" Hagrid asked after he'd had a large sip of the content of his mug.
"Yeah, a very long time…" Sariss felt her face fall. "And I won't ever be in the same company again…"
~*~
"You go on inside. Order a Butterbeer for me," Sariss said. "I'll be with you in a couple of minutes."
"Why?" Aurora asked. "Where are you going?"
"Yeah," said Rick. "We'll accompany you if you—."
"Not necessary, thanks. I'm a big girl. And there are some things a girl has to buy on her own. I'll just grab a few things and I'll be with you before you can even say, 'Where the heck is she?'"
"Well, if you're sure…"
"I am."
"Just watch out for Malfoy, will you?" Aurora said.
"I will, Rory. See you in a few minutes. I'll hurry. Wouldn't want my Butterbeer to grow cold, would I?"
And she hurried indeed. It took her merely a bit longer than five minutes to get everything she wanted, since she'd spied everything out when she'd passed the shopping windows with Rick and Rory by her side. Thus, she merely had to get inside and buy the things she wanted. First, she went into Gladrags to get herself some new underwear (only imagining Rick's expression if Rory and Sariss had dragged him there to buy what Sariss had bought made her shudder); then it was into Talismans and Trinkets, a shop that sold exactly what its name implied.
Sariss went out with her purse considerably lighter and her heart bursting with excitement about what her friends would say to what she'd bought.
She headed in direction of the Three Broomsticks and went inside. Rick and Rory were already sitting at a table at the far wall. Madam Rosmerta was just serving them the Butterbeer. They waved when Sariss came towards them.
"What did you get?" Rick asked curiously, when Sariss joined her two friends at the table. "Other than pounds of chocolate, I mean."
Sariss wrinkled her nose at him. "It's not that I'd eat it all now, is it?"
"Good thing, too," said Aurora. "We'd have to roll you up the way to the castle if you did. What's in that little bag there?"
"A box."
"I can see that," Rick said, only to be nudged in the ribs by Aurora.
Sariss pulled it out of its container. "Got it from Talismans and Trinkets. Early Christmas presents. Well, sort of."
"What is it?" Rick reached for the box, only to get his hand slapped away by Aurora. "Ouch! Rory, what did you do that for?"
"Really, it's okay. I want to give them to you as soon as they're done. I've got to do some… adjustments first."
"See? She wants us to see them," Rick said triumphantly, nudging Rory in the ribs.
"Hey! Stop that!"
"Children," Sariss scolded their good-natured bickering, "may I have a bit of your attention?"
"'Course, Mum. It's just that Rory keeps annoying me," Rick mock-whined and pouted.
Sariss rolled her eyes, whereas Aurora tsked.
Then she opened the box to reveal a set of three delicate silver necklaces and a full-moon-shaped pendant, also silver.
"Why three chains?" Rick asked.
"I have done some thinking," Sariss explained. "And I want the two of you to know that you're the best friends I ever had—."
"No, no, no. You're not thinking you have to give us something in exchange for our friendship, do you?"
"I just want you to know that the two of you mean very much to me. Without you, I wouldn't be who I am. And that's why there are three chains. One for each of us."
"I almost thought so," Aurora drawled lazily.
"Shut it," Sariss said quickly but smiled. "That's where the pendant comes into the play. I intend to split it in three parts. One for each of us. Two half moons—one slightly larger than the other one—and a smaller-than-it-is-now full moon."
"I'll take the full moon!" Rick exclaimed. "Ouch!" Aurora had nudged him in the ribs again. She did that a lot. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
"You do take everything you're offered, don't you?" she said reprovingly. "You greedy—."
"Of course, lest someone else gets it," Rick grinned.
"Rory, Rick, please. It's okay. They're yours anyway. It's not as though I couldn't afford it. Money's worth nothing when you can't make someone happy… And it's more of a symbol anyway—but that doesn't mean that it can't be pretty, does it?" Sariss mused. "Anyway, it's a symbol for the three of us. Individuals who form something greater. Is a half moon okay with you, Rory?"
"Er… sure," she said a bit sheepishly.
"Great! I'll ask Professor Dumbledore if he helps me with the splitting part of the moon as soon as he's got a little time for—"
"Sariss, you've definitely spent too much time in the library. Have you read every single spell and Muggle fantasy book that you had to switch to philosophy now? Note to self: Keep Sariss occupied with other things than library." Rick nodded determinedly.
"I'm not that bad." Sariss giggled softly.
"Last week we had to literally drag you out of there. The O.W.Ls are ages away! I don't even want to imagine what you're going to do as soon as the N.E.W.Ts are coming up."
"It's only five months!"
"As if you were studying all the time," Rory muttered. "Little hypocrite! You read novels instead of spellbooks. I saw it."
"And the week before, Madam Pince almost threw you out because she wanted to close the library."
"But the book was good!"
"You could have read it in the common room."
"But the library is such a peaceful place. So quiet. And some time after dinner, it's almost empty. I like it best that way and you know…" Sariss trailed off. She sensed something. There was…
"What?"
"Oh no," Sariss mouthed.
"Now look at that! Where do we have to go so we don't have to see that shame for Slytherin House?"
"Go away, Malfoy. Stop stalking me," said Sariss, busying herself with her Butterbeer. Unfortunately, the mug was empty already. If only he'd go quickly and take Rosier and Wilkes with him. It seemed he went nowhere without them on either side of him, almost like it was with Sariss, Rick and Rory. As if that weren't enough already, there came Susan and Chloe into the pub. Great. Now all people who could make her really freak out were assembled.
"Malfoy, really, do you prefer spending your valuable time," Chloe's voice was sickeningly sweet, "with those losers instead of your equals? I always thought you could do better than following Raving Ravon everywhere she goes."
"Suitable nickname, really," Sariss muttered, trying to sound casual even though she had to dig her nails into the palms of her hands to manage that. "Malicious Malfoy and Choleric Chloe, that should get on like a house on fire. Now that we established that, would you mind if I asked you to stop pestering me?"
"I'd like to sit at that table," said Susan. "You may leave, threesome. This is no place for people who hang out with Mudbloods."
"I'm not!"
"You don't know that. And as you can't prove the opposite…" Susan continued. "Anyway, we just have to look at you to know that your blood is polluted by magicless folk."
"You evil—! You vile… person!"
"Honestly," Aurora cut in. "Have you run out of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs?"
"But it's so much more fun that way," sneered Malfoy. "They're not much of a challenge. You are."
"I take it that this is not meant as a compliment," Sariss hissed.
"It's a miracle you haven't gone up in flames already, Ravon," Malfoy said casually. "The sun's shining much too brightly—even for my taste."
Oh, great, now they were starting on the vampire thing again. They just loved to do that. Sariss could almost see herself as Carrie—Rick had made her and Rory watch that Muggle movie the previous summer holidays when Sariss and Aurora had been staying at the Allens' for a few days. (Rick's mother was a Muggle-born witch, which explained why he knew so many things about Muggles and the way they lived.) Anyway, they'd watched the movie together. It had been appalling. But on the other hand, Sariss had found herself intrigued. It had terrified her that she had been thinking at one point, 'Well, I could do that much better…' That she had only had a thought like that! Sariss knew she could do it for real. She wouldn't even need special prompting. She could do what the girl in the movie had done right at the spot. Even at this very moment. She could kill and destroy everyone…
If only she had the guts to run amok. Sometimes she wished she could do that. But there was only one life she'd always seriously wanted to take. And he was still around. Somewhere. Waiting…
"Oh, and by the way, I always wondered where you keep your coffin—"
"Or, for that matter, your sample of soil from your native country. Care to fill someone in on it?"
"I had no idea they sell blood in here…"
How she despised them for saying those things! If only she were a vampire. Merely a vampire. Her life would be easy if she'd been born a vampire. Well, easier than it had become…
"Leave us alone," said Rick. "I always knew you were myopic. There's a table right over there, awaiting your presence which is rather wearing on me at the moment."
"We were what?"
"Myopic," Rick repeated. "If you want to know what it means you'll have to ask Sariss here. She's my personal encyclopaedia and can explain it much better than I."
Sariss meanwhile had to clench her teeth together; her whole body felt tense; every single hair stood on end; her skin prickled. If they didn't leave soon, she'd lose control and something would break; someone would be hurt… Sariss screwed her eyes shut, trying to concentrate on something nice and peaceful, trying to block out the viciousness that was all-encompassing… It weren't Malfoy's words that stung. She didn't even listen anymore. It were the feelings emanating from him. They went like fists into her stomach.
"I can, too," said Rory, apparently having noticed that Sariss was in no state to talk right now. "Narrow-minded, intolerant, idiotic, stupid, prejudiced, self-centred… Have I forgotten something, huh, Sariss?"
"Let me handle this," Sariss heard Rick say. "Now what was that spell Flitwick taught us last lesson?"
"You mean the Tarantallegra spell?"
"No, that's an old one—but good idea. Anyway, I meant the one that makes leeks sprout out of your ears."
"I believe that one only works with someone who's got a brain for the leeks to hold on to."
"No better opportunity than to test that now, isn't it? What were the words again…"
"Sariss," whispered Aurora, "come on, snap out of it. Breathe."
Sariss hadn't even realized that she'd forgotten to breathe as she'd been much too occupied with trying to be somewhere else.
"Sariss, come on…"
"Rory…" Sariss began softly, horrified as she felt the surge of magic rush out of her, seeking… looking for a target… "Put down that mug," she whispered breathlessly, trembling, desperately trying to prevent the by now unstoppable from happening. "Put down that mug. Put down…"
Aurora set it down on the table extremely quickly. It wasn't the first time that they had this problem. She knew what would be happening in a matter of moments…
The Butterbeer inside began to boil violently, making the mug dance over the table, and then it flowed over, splashing onto the surface of the table, still bubbling and steaming. It would have burnt Rory's hands if she'd still been holding it. Thank the gods that she had so good reflexes.
Sariss buried her face in her hands trying to get a grip on herself.
"The show's over," said Rick, who—if Sariss had perceived correctly—had been fighting a verbal duel in the meantime. If it had also involved a curse or two, Sariss hadn't noticed. She took deep breaths, slowly regaining a certain calmness.
"She's a freak," said Chloe's hard voice.
"Drop dead, Lestrange," snarled Rory, who kept patting Sariss's shoulder and rubbing her back.
"Make them leave," Sariss kept muttering barely audibly.
"You want to be in that mug's place?" said Rory. "Your wish could be granted if you stay here for much longer."
"She's a freak," said Chloe.
"We heard you the first time," said Rick. Sariss could hear him sit back down. The other Slytherins retreated into the far corner, and Sariss felt enmity, loathing, fear and the like seep out of her, leaving her with Aurora and Rick's friendship and concern and her own tremendous relief that it had only been a pint of Butterbeer.
"Better?" asked Aurora.
"Yes," breathed Sariss, looking up. "Listen, sorry for that. It's… I'll—I'll… I'll buy you a new Butterbeer." She felt she sounded shaky.
"It's not important. It's only a sticky liquid after all. Tastes good but not much more." Aurora shrugged. "But if I were you I'd jump up and give them a few boils to worry about. Your hexes can't be countered so easily. And you'd have a very good excuse."
"Yeah, I'd have loved to hex them into oblivion," said Rick. "And you don't even need a wand to do that. You just have to lose it. The best of all excuses."
"Rick, I can't do that."
"But they're never going to stop if you don't defend yourself."
"I can't. I could hurt them. I could hurt them badly. But, you see, the thing is I want to hurt them. I'd love to. I'd enjoy it. But I mustn't. I don't think I could stop once I'd started. It mustn't happen. Not even accidentally. You saw it. I mustn't lose control. I can't fight back. I mustn't," Sariss rambled on and on.
"I don't think they know what they're doing to you," Rick said softly, cautiously patting Sariss's icy hand that was still balled into a fist. "If they knew—."
"They know it," muttered Aurora, "and they like it."
"Yeah, I seem to make Malfoy's days."
"He's been a bastard since the day you met. And ever since, you've been too calm."
"Maybe he wants you to fight back? Ever thought of that?" said Aurora.
"Sure he does. He wants to get me expelled."
"But you do take it much too calmly," said Rick. "You should at least give him some boils to worry about."
"I assure you, I'm am not taking it calmly at all. I just don't let it out—well, I try. But, you see, the thing is, at a certain point, I can't think of something to say, because I have to concentrate on not losing it, and then they get the upper hand. And when they do that, they get vicious and then I lose it. That about sums it up, doesn't it?"
"Be that as it may," Rick continued. "They only pick on you because you're an easy victim for them. Do you want them to bully you around for another two years?"
He might as well have said, 'You chose to be the attacked instead of the attacker, the prey instead of the predator. How long do you want to keep that up?'
"Yeah. If you didn't have us to stand up for you—."
"For which I'm eternally grateful, guys," Sariss interrupted her best friends.
The two of them blushed and shrugged. Apparently, the subject was closed. "Let's have another Butterbeer," Aurora said and waved to Madam Rosmerta who bustled over to the table the three friends were sitting at, a smile on her face and three mugs of Butterbeer on a tray in her hands.
"You look like you could use another round," she smiled.
"Oh yes. You know, I could drown in it. It's the best thing I've ever tried, even better than chocolate. It's so warm and… I don't know… does it make any sense when I say that it's kind of comforting, like bottled happiness?"
"Um… if you say so… in a certain respect…" Rick said, taking the Butterbeers from the tray Madam Rosmerta had put down on the table and handing them to the girls.
"Here you are, my dears," the innkeeper said.
"Thank you, Madam Rosmerta," the three of them replied, and Madam Rosmerta took the empty mugs away and went to take care of another couple of customers.
Sariss took a sip. "Mmm… I feel better already."
"Sariss. Sometimes you're really strange…" Aurora muttered.
"I know," Sariss sighed and sipped some more Butterbeer. "That's part of my charm," she added with a wry smile. "Raving Ravon. That would be me now."
The other two snorted into their Butterbeers.
"What did I say? It wasn't that funny."
"But it was."
"In a way…"
"You two are so annoying. Sometimes I believe you must be twins. Such a strange sense of humour…"
"That's part of our charm," they said in perfect unison.
And this time it was Sariss who shouldn't have raised her mug to drink, since it was her turn to snort into her Butterbeer.
She grinned sheepishly at them and said, "See? I told you."
It was as if they'd never been disturbed by Malfoy and the others…
~*~
"Sariss?… Li'l one?… Professor?"
Sariss snapped out of it. "What is it, Hagrid?"
"I bin wonderin' if yeh'd like ter pay the unicorns a visit," he said.
"I'd love to—I'm sorry, Hagrid. I don't think that would be such a good idea. I don't do so well with animals—or rather, most of them don't do so well with me."
"Worth a try, ain't it? Yeh never tried yer luck with 'em. They just might like yeh."
"Unlike the Hippogriff, you mean?"
"I remember. Ol' Professor Kettleburn had a field day with yeh when the Hippogriff took flight an' refused ter come down to the groun' till yeh were gone."
"It had one good thing as a result."
"That would've bin?"
"I was able to spend the free time with you and Fang—although it's a pity I never got near Kettleburn's creatures again."
"Well, Fang liked yeh immediately. Why shouln' some other beasts too?"
Sariss smirked. "Guess I could try my luck one day or other, huh? Worst thing that could happen would be for you to have to catch them again, right?"
"Don' yeh make tha' face. Unicorns are cleverer than mos' people think. I bet they like bein' cuddled by a pretty lass such as yeh."
"They're supposed to like women better than men—"
"They really do."
"Well, looks like a point for me then. I'll come back to your offer soon. But you've got to stay with me. We wouldn't want them to panic and get hurt. I don't think I could take something like that."
"They won't panic."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Yeh've one thing in common with 'em. They like Malfoys no more than yeh do," Hagrid said brightly. "That should count fer somethin', right?"
"That's a comfort," Sariss muttered wryly.
~*~*~
When almost everyone who was allowed to visit Hogsmeade was there having a good time, drinking Butterbeer, refilling their stocks of Honeydukes' chocolate and Zonko's jokes, Severus Snape was prowling around the school, along the corridors, up and down every single one of the one-hundred-and-forty-two staircases, through doorways he'd never even laid eyes upon (which was strange, considering the fact that he had hardly left Hogwarts for more than a few hours in almost two decades…), thinking and pondering about… well, life, the universe, and everything…
Still thinking about the highly unpleasant argument he'd had with Miss Ravon. The way she'd countered, stood up against him… She had developed a pretty fiery temper…
He'd been thinking about her in that manner for days by now…
He hadn't spoken to her since term had started (save perhaps 'Good morning' and 'Good day')—and when he'd wanted to talk to her, simply ask her to cease undermining his authority the way she did (and she had! He had to keep reminding himself of that…) both their tempers had prevented a calm discussion. She had made him freak out so easily, and he was exactly the man to react to this in the way he had: with a bit of sarcasm and a glare. Had they been children, it would have ended in a physical fight and not stayed a verbal one.
As a consequence of all of this, they had been avoiding each other during the days following the fight and ignoring each other when an encounter couldn't be avoided such as at mealtimes and in the staff room. Indeed, it had happened more than once that she had left as soon as he'd entered the room. Wordlessly. Without even throwing an angry glance at him. Nothing at all.
Her recent behaviour had awarded him with many a raised eyebrow or curious glance from his dearest colleagues.
And as much as she ignored him… well, it seemed that by doing so, he paid more attention to what she did, how she looked, how she moved, how melodic her voice seemed to sound all of a sudden when she spoke to everyone but him, or how she smiled—this, too, at anyone but him… He paid more attention to her than before, waiting for something… a look, a glance, a word. This silence irritated him in a way. Had he gotten so used to hearing her say 'Good day' or 'Good evening' or something like that?
Impossible. She had been at Hogwarts for only a few days as of yet.
But she was most irritating.
Even more so, since he'd been expecting an apology from her. And that very soon.
Instead, there was only silence…
And it was this utter silence that he found most irritating. He didn't want to be ignored! Not even by her! Least of all by her, when there should be such tension between them. They had had an argument. Fine! But such things needed to be sorted out sooner or later, didn't they? Strange that a thought like this should roam through his mind. But it was fact: Severus didn't want to be ignored. Despised, yes. Yelled at, yes. Hated, maybe. But ignored? That went against everything he regarded himself as. And to be ignored after such a display… Well, he thought the least he deserved was an apology from her. A single word would do. Not that it ever slipped over Severus's lips without him being forced to do so.
Nonetheless, he wanted the status quo to change. If she kept up ignoring him, Severus would start doubting his own existence. No one could keep up ignoring someone else remotely as long as she dreaded to…
Where had his couldn't-care-less-attitude disappeared to?
Why was it that she simply refused to leave his mind? Why was he constantly thinking about her? About the way her lips had curled, her full, cherry-red lips… the way her eyes had blazed in her fury, staring back into his so defiantly, without so much as a blink? No one had ever dared to even try to do that, let alone succeeded… He couldn't deny that he was impressed. Very. It sounded no longer ridiculous that she could stare many a Death Eater down with her mere gaze…
They were of a light green, those eyes. He had never noticed that before, which was strange. Her pupils had been dilated with anger. Large and black they had been. The green only a narrow circle, framed by another thin circle of dark grey. They'd been blazing like green fire. Like Absinthe, the green fairy. Amazing… One could get drunk on those eyes.
As a matter of fact, he'd begun to see those eyes when he closed his. And it annoyed him to no end that she was there too!
To him, she was everywhere all of a sudden! And to her, he didn't even exist, or so she made it seem—and was very convincing.
Again: Severus couldn't stand being ignored. If anyone was to ignore anyone else, it was Severus who would ignore her! And not vice versa! But how could he even start as long as she kept it up?
She was being stubborn and annoying and… cruel? Where had that expression come from? Why would he regard the way she treated him as cruel? She meant nothing to him, did she? She was merely a girl, for heaven's sake! Since when had he developed a taste for little girls? (And what kind of thought was that, that it crept so unbidden into his mind?) And why would he regard her attitude towards him as cruel?
'Why does self-loathing become cruelty?' she'd asked—or something fairly similar. He couldn't remember her exact words. But that was practically what she'd said.
Quite a philosopher, that one, isn't she?
Well…
And that when I remember clearly that you told me you thought she didn't think properly?
My opinion on that matter hasn't changed.
Then I take it that it has changed on certain other matters instead?
I have no idea what you're talking about. She's a naïve and—.
Wait a moment! Your thoughts of a few minutes ago were quite the opposite. Would you mind sticking to one train of thought at least for more than a couple of moments?
What I wanted to say—before you interrupted me—is that she's still a silly girl, no matter how many wise things she may have heard somewhere she throws at me. She'll always be a silly little—.
Well, if you really think so…
Did he really think so? Well, from an unbiased point of view, she had never been exactly silly. On the contrary. Although she had been a little girl—and… well… at second thought, she wasn't exactly little either anymore…
Strange. Now that he tried to remember the little girl, he seemed unable to recall her image. If he strained his mind, a faint ghostly shadow appeared before his mind's eye, but it was almost instantly overlapped by a picture of the woman Sariss whose eyes had blazed so…—Miss Ravon, that is, whose eyes had been glowing with anger.
A big oops there, right?
A slip of the mind, so to speak.
When she had rushed out of his office, her extremely long hair had fanned out behind her, those few long tresses that she always wore loose, flying and brushing him. Beauty hair. He suddenly wished he had paid more attention to that little sensation. It must feel awfully soft. If only he could take a strand of it in his hands and determine if it was really as soft as that faint touch suggested… How he'd love to—.
Severus shook himself. Where did those thoughts come from now?
He didn't want to have those thoughts! He didn't need them! In fact, he could think of a thousand things that he'd rather think about than anything connected with her!
But one thing he couldn't deny. Somehow, the more he thought about her… Somehow, in a way that he could not quite fathom, he suddenly found her incredibly—.
Severus snapped out of his thoughts as he found himself in another chamber he had never been in before. Perhaps it hadn't been there before when he had walked into that direction?
A large, gloomy chamber it was.
And somewhere in the depth of this room, there was a faint glowing. His curiosity got the upper hand. He stepped forward and headed in direction of the light, his eyes trying to penetrate the darkness that surrounded him otherwise.
The glowing emanated from a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. A familiar inscription was carved around the top. It read: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
I show not your face but your heart's desire.
Severus knew this mirror very well. It had been a long time since he had last looked at it—and he didn't want to see the image again that had presented itself to him. An image that couldn't have been any farther from truth and mere likelihood if a writer had thought it out.
He didn't want to see it. He shouldn't even ponder about it.
Or—should he? Just a glance? A single glance?
He stepped forward, slowly and cautiously, until he stood in front of the mirror. All the time he'd kept his eyes firmly on the floor. Now he raised them and looked into the mirror.
He felt the little colour he had drain from his face at the sight he beheld. What he saw was—too put it mildly—surprising. This was not what he had expected, not what he had seen all this time ago—although it was just as unlikely to come true. He hadn't been prepared to see this. He hadn't even had the slightest idea that this could ever be his heart's desire… This was ridiculous—yet…
She was so…
Different?
He couldn't deny this. And she was also…
Temperamental?
Out of the question.
And she's pretty when she's mad at you, right?
Well… All right, she is pretty, too.
I've been trying to tell you she's a beauty. But you had to nip everything in the bud—what do I say?—you had to crush the seedling.
It was strange. Now that he saw her in the mirror, he was suddenly almost painfully aware of every detail about her. Had he not looked at her before? It was as though a veil had been ripped from before his eyes, like a light had snapped on inside him. He had seen her every day, hadn't he? Had he never really wasted more than an 'Alright, pretty she might be, but she's an annoying girl'-thought to her? He felt incredibly stupid all of a sudden. Had all of this been lurking in the back of his mind all the time? He couldn't tell. He was in a state of shock as he stood there, frozen.
Can't bear to see the truth thrown at you, can you?
He managed to tear his eyes away. He felt he shouldn't see this. It brought back too many sad memories and thoughts of what might have been, and stirred awake the demon of wishes and wants that he had thought he had put to sleep for all eternity. He wouldn't start longing again. He wouldn't fall in love; he knew he was on the verge of it. He remembered what it had felt like…
But not again. Not with someone like her. Least of all with someone like her. And even less than that, with her!
Was that the reason why he had reacted the way he had? Had his subconscious tricked him into being mean for the sole reason that it didn't want to be rejected again?
Perhaps it wasn't too late to renew the vow he'd made a long time ago. Never fall in love again. It can only lead to pain and loss. Severus knew perfectly well that he was not the kind of man a woman like this would ever fall for. He didn't have any illusions about that. He knew himself too well for that…
And he knew women like her all too well, didn't he?
That he only dared to think what he thought now clearly confirmed what Dumbledore had once warned him about. The Mirror showed you what you—deep, very deep inside—desperately wanted—as if Severus could already believe that this was it!
But was it really that absurd that she was what his heart desired? Was she whom Severus desired?
'Men have wasted away gazing at it, watching what they wanted but might not get…'
Might not get? No, in my case it's certain, Severus thought cynically.
Until the moment it had been thrown into his face, he would have denied it; he denied it even now although he knew that the Mirror did not lie… And yet, she wouldn't leave his mind.
She was like migraine. He wanted her to go away, to stop bombarding him with who and what he was. He wanted her to stop making him feel as if he had been weighed, measured and found wanting.
"Get out of my head," he whispered. "Get out of my sight."
The Mirror. It was cruel. The image didn't fade. It was as persistent as the thought of her was in his mind. She was still there. Her arms were still around his neck. Her lips were still lingering on that of the mirror-Snape.
Like perfume, into Severus's mind crept the unbidden thought of what that must be feeling like…
No. He'd look away from that disturbing image.
He had perceived a delicate scent of strawberry and vanilla around her when she'd swished past him. Indeed, she always smelt faintly of strawberry, didn't she? Or was his memory deceiving him on account of the image of a tender and lingering kiss?
He'd never look at it again.
What would her lips taste like? Certainly intoxicatingly sweet and succulent. How he envied the other Severus Snape, his reflection, that possessed a life of its own and dared to show what might have been if it hadn't been for the real Severus to mess up his whole life from the beginning till, presumably, the end. The reflection shamelessly dared to brush its lips over hers and entwine its fingers in the softness of her hair. And she kissed it back with such abandon, pressing herself against it, the long and wide sleeves of her robe slipping back to reveal her slender white arms, which she still had around its shoulders, caressing its neck, drawing him ever closer towards her…
Severus experienced an eerie mixture of unabashed fury and utter longing.
In general, something like that might very well be called 'Jealousy'…
But the real Snape had to suffer the consequences of everything that had started decades ago—things that he had started.
No, he wouldn't wallow in self-pity now. He refused to.
Some things were simply not to be. Period.
And what he saw in the Mirror definitely fell into that category. It was an illusion, the chimera of a troubled mind. An all too beautiful figment of imagination. Severus felt he might get lost in that vision if he stared at it for much longer—
"Severus, what a surprise to find you here."
Severus jumped, startled out of his thoughts, and turned around to face the intruder. "Headmaster," he whispered.
"Come with me, Severus. You look like you could do with a glass of nice old Brandy…"
The Potions master nodded and followed wordlessly. Was it possible that Dumbledore had seen what Severus had seen? Was it possible for another person to see what your heart's desire was when it was shown—supposedly—to your eyes only?
The analytical part of his mind said no. But with the headmaster you never knew…
Severus followed him all the way to his office, still a bit shaken, but recovering…
And an hour later, he was still sitting in Dumbledore's office, talking about important matters and ones that weren't of any significance at all. Simply put, it basically came down to this: The old man had managed to draw him into a conversation, a chat, in essence: small talk.
It hadn't taken him long to gently but unmistakably steer the conversation into a direction that Severus was at first not pleased with. The topic of their conversation had become a very tender subject.
She.
It was she. And that when he wanted to squeeze every bit of thought about her out of his tortured mind.
"She's driving me mad," Snape finally said to Dumbledore and meant it in more ways than the other man could ever have thought of. "In every way imaginable," he added and mused, "Why is that so? What's happened to this woman?" And what's happening to me on account of her?
"You mean, what happened to the shy small girl that was constantly trying to keep a low profile?"
"Well, yes! This woman is driving me mad!" Severus found himself quite comfortable with that phrase because it said everything in as few words as ever possible. She was driving him mad indeed, although not only in the way he would have said it some days ago anymore. But Dumbledore couldn't know the slight double-meaning that phrase had developed only a little time ago.
"Life happened to her—or rather reality. She never had much of a life. I don't think I have to remind you. And then, when she'd already lost her family at such a young age, she lost the few people who had become a second family to her."
"Yes, I saw the article in the Daily Prophet. When was it? Three months ago, four?" Severus mused, pouring himself another glass of Brandy, although he wasn't very fond of alcohol anymore. It drowned out pain, regrets and guilt but it also blurred his mind. That led to colossal hang-overs and even more misery. It did not do to drink alone.
Now this Brandy… It was excellent. Even more so since he was drinking it in company, with Dumbledore.
"Yes, some time around then it must have been…" the headmaster sighed.
"I remember quite well. But you never told me why she has always been like… this. Where do all those… talents… that she has come from? I mean, sure I know what the Dark Lord did to her, but how did it work? Such a great amount of magical ability in a girl as small and frail as she was… It has been such a long time—and I'm still curious. It goes against me that I never found—."
"It's not your fault, Severus. None of us found a way." Dumbledore sighed. "But I would think it not fair towards her to tell anyone about my… presumptions… as to the real quantity of effects it possibly had when I haven't even told her. Even if the greater part of it consists of vague theories and suspicions, I fear she'll try to find out more again and slip back into her little obsession with the library. She's always reacted that way."
"I take it she never found anything?"
"Well, none of us did. But things like these tend to be found by accident. She might not like what might come to the light. She's too important to lose."
"You still haven't told her of any of your suspicions? Has she never asked you?"
"No to both of your questions. I haven't told her. And she did ask. Quite frequently. Sometimes in words, sometimes with a mere look."
"And you never—."
"No. No one. Well… The only person I had to let in is Minerva. She's deputy headmistress after all… Just in case that something should have happened to me. It still could. Dangerous times once again."
"And you didn't think it necessary to let me in on the facts even though I was Sariss's Head of House when you told McGonagall?"
"That sounds almost as though you cared for Professor Ravon…" the old man mused.
"Certainly not," Severus replied indignantly. He hadn't given himself away, had he?
"Is that so?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
The man knows a lie when he hears one…
"I don't know what you might be implying with—," the Potions master began, only to be interrupted by Dumbledore.
"You… like her, don't you?"
Severus stared at the old man, thunderstruck. "I beg your pardon?"
"Somewhere deep inside you, do you feel something for her?" the old man asked lightly. "Do you—perhaps—and forgive me for asking you so directly now—fancy her?" Severus couldn't bring his glare to its usual intensity. "Really, I could understand you quite well if you did."
"Headmaster, she has been your ward, and as far as I can tell you're still regarding her as your protégée—thus I don't think that this is a suitable topic for conversation. I feel as though I were talking to her father."
"Surely not," Dumbledore said. "But—forgive me for what I say now—it is quite obvious to me that you feel more than indifference towards her. Why else would she manage to drive you up the wall so easily? By merely ignoring you, that is."
This time, Severus managed to glare at the headmaster, who only smiled knowingly.
"I wonder how many people around here noticed that," Severus muttered and heaved I sigh. It was no use denying, was it? And even if he did, Dumbledore would know the unspoken. "If you tell anyone about this I'll deny we ever had this conversation," Snape said sharply.
"I understand. And what's your answer?" Dumbledore's smile hadn't so much as faltered. His face must be aching already.
"My answer!"
"I request an answer from you. Do you… want her to… like you?" Maybe it was only Severus's imagination, but had Dumbledore's ever-present smile turned into a suggestive grin?
If he didn't know better, he would have thought that Dumbledore must have seen what he had seen in the Mirror… But that couldn't be, could it? It wasn't possible. One saw only what oneself wanted…
Severus groaned. Why did the old man always have to hear things spoken out loud that he already knew? It took Severus a while to find the appropriate words to only try and state something that could be remotely called an answer.
"Tell me, Severus, what do you think of her?" the headmaster prompted. "Really. Forget that she's a teacher here. Think of her as merely a visitor. A stranger even whom you've only just met. What impression does she make on you?"
Severus groaned again. He knew when he had lost a struggle of wills. And he hated it. But Dumbledore's eyes still twinkled. The expression on his face hadn't so much as faltered.
Should Snape grow suspicious? Was the old man trying to match him and Sariss—no!—him and Miss Ravon up? Dumbledore a matchmaker. The mere thought! Ridiculous!
Is it?
Let's face the facts. Dumbledore would never do something like that. It's like one of those Muggle soap operas Lily was so fond of… Lily liked them…
Lily is dead! You haven't even seen her in the Mirror anymore! As if you'd ever seen her like this… You didn't even dare go this far in your mind.
No. I saw her instead.
Professor Ravon.
No, not Professor Ravon.
Excuse me! Who exactly was kissing your reflection with such abandon then?
Sariss.
"Have you ever really looked at her?" Severus asked not explicitly Dumbledore. "She's… I can't say those things. I feel so not like myself when it comes to her all of a sudden…"
"So she left not merely an impression but rather impacted on you? Figuratively, of course."
A grin escaped the Potions master as Dumbledore said this. But he sobered instantly. The discomfort that this man could read him so easily returned. "Well… coming from me, this… this may sound completely out of character…" he began hesitantly, desperately trying to find the right words to string his sentences together.
Dumbledore nodded, prompting Severus to continue, which he did.
"I myself only realized that a very short time ago," the Potions master confessed. "She's… I don't think there's really a word for it so I must use one that doesn't do justice to her at all… She's simply beautif—that word doesn't do her justice—she's not beautiful in any conventional way I can think of. She's extraordinary. She seems almost translucent, and yet there's a fire in her that only shows when she gets angry, I suppose…" Severus thought for a moment. "She's like a snowstorm in the middle of June. She's an oxymoron, a contradiction in terms."
Dumbledore nodded again.
"And she's also," Severus again tried to find the right words to describe her with, "highly intelligent, eloquent, brilliant even when it comes to certain matters. She always caught on very quickly… But she lets herself be carried away so easily, and she's so stubborn, too. The way she fought when we were quarrelling. She wouldn't give an inch if her life depended on it."
Dumbledore smiled when Severus fell silent, but he didn't laugh at him, as Severus had feared. It was more a smile of agreement than anything else. "Stubborn, yes," the old man said. "That's exactly what I was thinking, too. I'm even tempted to call her a bit ruthless—and I mean it as a compliment. She's quite a handful. Fletcher's been here to see me recently because of some… business." Severus nodded. Business always meant underground work against Voldemort. Dangerous missions that, if successful, would result in a huge advantage over the Dark Side. "You know, they worked together for a few months before her life got messed up again."
"And?"
"Well, Sariss was never very vocal about her work. She always spoke about it in very abstract terms, if you know what I mean. She never wrote 'I did this' if she could avoid it. It was always 'We had to do this and that'. Fletcher's very sorry that she left. He was there when—"
"I know."
"Yes, well, what I'm trying to say is that he's known her just as long as you or me. I think he's always been somewhat like an older brother to her—a very much older brother." Dumbledore smirked. "Anyway, he tells me that my little girl has turned out to be one hell of an interrogator, too. Kept on praising her skills, how she got the most obdurate confined Death Eater to confess."
"You don't have to advertise, you know?"
"I'm just telling it like it is. If you think it's advertising…"
Severus rolled his eyes. "How?" he asked.
"Excuse me?"
"How did she get them to talk? That's what you wanted me to ask you, isn't it?"
"Her mere presence. He said she merely stood in the room watching the confined person. She always requested that there be only one other person present—there have to be more than just the interrogator to make sure no violence of any kind was used to get to the confession. Anyway, Fletcher was there numerous times. And the man—twenty years her elder!—tells me that he actually got frightened of her when she did nothing but stand there! Can you believe it?"
"Actually, I can imagine. When she loses it, it's quite startling. I can only imagine what it's like when she does it on purpose. If I could think clearly in her presence, I think I'd be frightened too."
Dumbledore chuckled. Severus, too, felt a smirk ache to be allowed to crawl onto his face.
"He describes this distinct crackling in the air, that we both know so well, don't we, Severus? And it occurred to me that she was doing the cleverest thing possible. She revealed her immense power, thus telling the person to be questioned that they had no chance to escape anymore—or rather their subconscious was tricked into believing that it was not entirely illogical for her to come swooping down on them and tear them apart with her bare hands. She had to do nothing else but be there and let her shields down for a few minutes to make them imagine their worst nightmares—or so Fletcher phrased it. I must admit I was quite impressed."
Severus stared. He'd never exactly seen her like this. He kept imagining now what being questioned by her would be like. He didn't like the thought. All of a sudden, he was very glad that some people he had at first not been comfortable with knowing he was acting as a spy knew of that fact and would clear him—hopefully—if he ever got arrested because of his alleged Death Eater activities.
"'She was never vicious, you see?' Fletcher said to me—and Merlin knows if that girl had a vicious streak in her she'd be a real fiend, I can tell you. 'She didn't hurt them at all, she didn't shout, she didn't even scowl. When she asked them a question, it sounded almost timid. And when she didn't get the answer she wanted to hear—she knows when she's being lied to, Albus. I guess that's why she wants to have as few other people around as possible—when she didn't get the right answer, she waited again or asked an entirely different question, thus confusing them further. I've seen men confess I never would have thought they would'."
"Quite clever of her," Severus threw in, growing more and more impressed by the minute. Nothing about her betrayed that she had been roundabout the worst thing that could happen to a Dark wizard after they were caught.
"Impressive, don't you think, Severus? I, too, was impressed. She never showed off with it, you see? 'She knows how the minds of those bastards work, Albus. When she enters that room and looks into their faces, she's a completely different person than the Ravon we know. And then when it's over with nothing more in the protocol than any of the other interrogators have in them if they're successful, she walks out again and says 'Let's have a cup of tea, old friend,' and suddenly I can see the little girl in her again. It's amazing. And she isn't even totally aware of what she's doing. She was virtually stunned when I asked her about it…"
'How are you doing this?'
'Doing what, Fletch?'
'Getting them to tell you everything they know.'
'I don't know what you mean.' She actually looked confused.
'They're afraid of you.'
'Everyone is.' There was a slight hint of sadness in her voice that I could understand very well.
'I don't mean that. It's like… I can't describe it in terms that wouldn't sound offensive to you, little one.' I was struggling for words. My apt vocabulary ranged from 'dangerous' to 'downright murderous', but none of those expressions came even close.
'Stop calling me little one and say it like it is.' She looked at me expectantly. Again I was struck at how fragile she looked, how such a little thing as she could get a long-time Death Eater to confess every crime they'd ever committed.
'They couldn't be more frightened if they looked Death in the eye,' I said, and when I saw the expression on her face I felt inclined to say—and I really meant it—, 'Listen, I'm sorry, I didn't want it to sound like that…'
'I'm… Fletch, I… I don't know what to say… I merely want to hear the truth… They hate me, you know? Maybe it's that when I sense their hatred, I experience the same towards them? I don't know. I don't care about them. I don't think I feel anything when I'm questioning them. Come to think of it, they cloak their emotions very thoroughly, Death Eaters…
Albus, she has no idea what it feels like for them when she's questioning the Death Eaters'."
"Interesting," Severus said.
What happened to 'You don't have to advertise'?
"I think so too, Severus. She's grown up. She hasn't changed much in her appearance, but somehow she's grown up. She'd found something she was really good at, something that provided her with the all too necessary opportunities to let the powers flow—if only a little. It must have been a relief unimaginable to any of us when she could do that. She was making herself useful in the only way she could think of, coping with everything in the only way imaginable to her. Being useful."
"And then she quit."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You know what happened, Severus. And it went against her sense of justice not to be held responsible in the slightest when she clearly felt like it. Survivor's guilt, I think I can call it. Or at least a great part of it."
"And you—"
"I asked her to join us here as soon as I got news of her resigning. She accepted—with a little prompting from my side. The memories are wearing on her, I'm sure, especially when she's here—but that can't be helped. I only hope she remembers some good times, too."
"The memories are wearing on all of us," Severus muttered. It went against her sense of justice not to be held responsible…
"She's seen too much death and destruction," Dumbledore said. "Nothing special, these times, actually. But whereas most of us had fourteen years of peace…" The old man sighed heavily. "Too much destruction in too short a time. Too many scars on her soul. I hope being here will take her mind off those things. Don't get me wrong, Severus, I'm very proud of her for what she achieved. If it hadn't been for her to fight as recklessly as she did, we might have lost many more lives. But now that her life's gone to pieces—you should know how the deaths of some people can affect you more than that of others—she needs other things than this appalling, bloody, cursed—I think I could go through the whole alphabet that way—war against the Dark Lord."
"I'm sorry for her," Severus heard himself say.
"Everyone who knows her is—very few people. But you'd better not let her notice. She hates being pitied."
"I'm not actually pitying her, headmaster. It's more that I… I'm somehow… in a way… impressed, I think. Although aghast might be just as appropriate a term."
"You admire her, don't you?" It was not a question.
"I think so."
"Maybe you should tell her that."
"No way. I could never actually say that to anyone I really admire."
"So you'd rather admire her from afar? That's something one usually only does when one has a crush on an actor or actress in our cases."
"It's safer than admiring them from close-up, you know?" Severus couldn't help a small smile.
"And why shouldn't you admire her from close-up? She has her charms. It's about time someone acknowledged her for them and told her she has them—other than me, a very old man." Dumbledore chuckled again. "Why not you?"
"Maybe."
"I'm not even sure she knows that she has as many charms as her mother had—she's very much like her in appearance—if not more. No, I'm sure that she's been trying to conceal everything about her personality during the last months, even more than I've been used to. It's a pity the two of you don't get on too well with each other which is quite strange to me. If there's anyone who can come close to imagining what she must be feeling like, it is you, Severus."
"The thing is that up to a certain moment only a few hours ago, I had that image of her before my eyes, the image of her as a girl."
"And that when she was already a young woman when she left here."
"To me she was merely a student."
"I take it that now she isn't. Not anymore."
"Yes. Quite right. I must have been blind. I've been forced to think very much about her. She won't leave me alone. The more she ignores me or avoids me, the more I want to make it undone. And that when I always thought I could bear it."
I always thought I could bear being despised.
But she doesn't even despise you. She's taken to ignoring you instead.
"Not when it's she who ignores you, right?" Dumbledore smiled ever so slightly. "You do adore her." He sounded amazed.
"Maybe."
"Don't blame yourself for—as you might phrase it—weakness. It's hard not to as soon as you've grown accustomed to her sometimes brutal honesty. And that when she—if she wants to—can be so diplomatic… Who would have thought you could be baited with that?" Dumbledore mumbled the last part as though to himself.
Severus mentally jumped and then gave him a glare.
Baited with that?
She's no Lily. Definitely not.
I'm not sure if he was referring to—.
Alright then. Deny it. You don't have to admit it to me.
Severus chose to consider that part of Dumbledore's speech not to be paid attention to. He wouldn't grace that slight insolence with a reply for the simple reason that he wasn't quite sure how Dumbledore meant what he'd just said to be taken for.
"Brutal honesty," he repeated instead. "Yes, that's what one could call it."
"But you still haven't answered my question."
"That's because I don't know the right answer to the question you asked."
Oh, but as a matter of fact, I do.
"But if you asked me if I could find it in me to…" Severus shook his head, rolling his eyes at what had almost passed over his lips. "I think… If I were given a chance…" He stood up and walked towards the window and looked out at the few clouds that were hovering gently in the still blue late-summer sky. "But look at me. I was a Death Eater and I'm still pretending to be one. I did things that are too horrible to be even mentioned in passing and I still do—out of different incentives, yes, but the result is the same. I am everything she has hunted down the last years and even killed. She despises me. She must. And the recent incident wasn't a very clever idea either."
"She doesn't. She never did. Not you. I don't think she has it in her heart to despise someone who has never severely hurt her, never given her a reason to hate him or her. She's not like she likes to present herself. It is some sort of protection, her own as well as that of others. I taught her control and she learnt to control herself better and more completely than I could ever have imagined. It has become almost an obsession… She doesn't want anyone to get under her skin. And thus, she's pushing the people around her away, even those who are not initially repelled by her very aura. Especially now that she has lost her best friends… She doesn't want to lose anymore, although she herself is not aware of all of this. And I won't tell her that; she'd deny everything I just said. In a certain respect, she's very much like you…"
"Headmaster, this conversation won't get us anywhere. I wouldn't dare even consider in earnest—."
"And why not, say I. A man like you—in his prime—she'd be a most fortunate young lady—."
Severus turned around to face him and interrupted him briskly, saying, "Sariss Ravon would no more think of me than she would of you, headmaster—."
"Severus, do not think of yourself so meanly—."
"—and all the better for her." The Potions master shook his head, almost laughing at himself for taking part in this conversation at all and at Dumbledore, too, who seemed… very intent on pairing him off. "And I have no idea what kind of man she would consider to be—."
"You sound as though you think something like love can be controlled. You should know better."
"I have stopped believing into something like—," (Somehow, Severus recoiled from the word 'love'), "—that a long time ago. And to think someone like her could ever… love someone like me…" There. He had managed to force it over his lips. "That would be the ultimate arrogance. It hasn't worked once already and was even farther from working out on several other occasions. Why should I try my luck with yet another woman who is just too…" (Too good for you?) "Well… simply out of reach?"
The headmaster said nothing.
Severus leant against the windowsill and began to speak again after a long while. "Even if there weren't so many reasons speaking against it, past as well as present… I don't think I ever could…" Severus sighed. "I don't know how to handle her. Sometimes I could strangle her; she makes me furious. She makes me hit the roof. The way she looks at me, or rather not looks at me now, the way she reacted to everything I said—it's so—I don't know…"
"You make her feel uncomfortable, insecure, just like you feel. It's much easier for her to be in a room with an enemy than with someone who—when it comes down to the end—is actually an ally. Allies must be treated with much more care. She might have gotten the impression that you'd regard her as an enemy from the moment on you greeted her the way you did. It hasn't escaped my notice."
Severus looked at him, puzzled. "But that was never what I intended. I was just… unprepared for… I didn't intend to… And then the damage was done and I found I didn't even care. And she knows it."
"That is not unlikely. There seems to have been quite a misunderstanding from the first minute on."
"It wasn't deliberate…"
"And she doesn't do what she does deliberately. She's like an echo. She throws back what's thrown at her. Emotionally, I mean. She can't analyse it first because it's too elusive, so she told me. And when she's really gotten worked up… well, she tends to be completely honest—and I think we all know that nothing hurts more than being told the truth from someone whom we thought didn't know us as well as they then prove to. It's brutal."
"An echo. Reverberating…" Severus became thoughtful. "Then it's beyond control."
"I'm afraid this seems to be so. Especially since you've never been very good at handling the truth."
"Perhaps." He might as well have said, 'Yes, of course. I confess. I admit it. I admit everything. I know it, but I can't bear to hear it spelt out.' But it wasn't necessary.
"So if you'd appreciate to not forever have it the way it is now, you had better be more careful," Dumbledore advised. "I know we already had a similar conversation once, but I thought it inevitable to remind you that the circumstances haven't changed as much as you might think. I'm still very fond of those castle walls. I wouldn't appreciate if they were… redecorated by one of her outbursts. Besides, it's never made her feel better to accidentally break something. It makes her feel guilty. She thinks I'm disappointed when that happens."
Severus nodded. "I understand," he said softly.
"Believe me, this situation the two of you have gotten your relationship in is wearing on her as much as on you—although she seems not to suffer from being in… er… love." Severus could have sworn he heard the old man add a sly, "Yet." But he couldn't be sure.
"Alright then." The Potions master turned to leave. "I'll try to handle her with as much care as I can manage—if she apologizes."
"You could be waiting for a very long time. You should know that, now that you have encountered her temper, her persistence."
"Oh, yes, she does have a temper, fiery and uncontrollable…" Severus murmured absent-mindedly. "She does look even more beautiful when she's angry, do you know that?" He shook himself mentally and spoke up, his temper getting the upper hand before he could rein it in, "But I refuse to even consider approaching her as long as this argument hangs in the air between us, as long as she hasn't given in for once in her life—because I definitely won't. And even if she did apologize, I'm not sure that…" the Potions master trailed off, thinking he had said too much already.
But Dumbledore merely laughed heartily.
"What's so funny?"
"You and your pride."
"It's all I have. The only thing that has not yet been taken from me completely."
That said, Severus bid Dumbledore a good evening and left the office, leaving a slightly thoughtful headmaster behind.
"Pride can be one's downfall. I hope at least one of the two of you can forget it for once…" Dumbledore muttered to himself with only Fawkes to hear it.
Next chapter:
Dumbledore speaks to Sariss, Harry seeks a new Chaser and catches his very own Golden Snitch, Snape gets to be apologized to, Sariss and Harry share a nightmare; a bit of Quidditch, a childhood memory and a Snape who can't believe that he's thinking in those terms. Loads of stuff to look forward to, eh?