Author's note: My profoundest thanks go to—as always—my almost twin, my most loyal and exuberant reviewer and the fastest reader ff.net has ever seen: Blaise! BTW, as you like the flashbacks so much, there's a scene in this chapter you haven't seen before. Enjoy!
Chapter 8: Broken Pieces
… I'm busy mending broken
Pieces of the life I had before
—Muse: Unintended
"Where is Sariss?" Severus asked the headmaster after breakfast. He tried to sound casual, as though the answer to that question didn't really matter to him. But it did.
Sariss hadn't turned up. That wouldn't have been much of a surprise if she hadn't started attending meals regularly again after they'd sort of sorted out their row. She wasn't speaking to him very much but it was a beginning. At least she had stopped carefully steering around him.
She hadn't been at breakfast; and she hadn't been sitting at the lakeshore, either—she liked it there; Severus had often seen her sit there, even when it was cold and raining—when he had overlooked the grounds from the top of the Astronomy Tower. It had become his favourite place to think, by now mostly about her. Inevitable, when you could see her hair fly all around her, her cloak catching the wind, when she made her way back up the gently sloping lawns towards the castle. He'd spent the early morning hours up there, watching as dawn crept over the mountains, when he couldn't sleep any longer. And then, sooner or later, she'd always come. He'd caught himself waiting for her to arrive and sit down near the shore or farther up on top of the cliff.
She had been there almost every weekend, Saturdays and Sundays, sometimes standing at the edge of the cliff in a way that he almost thought the late autumn or early winter wind would sweep her up and—. But it never had. It never would. For the sole reason that she didn't allow it. She stood there, firm as a rock and yet pliant, much as a willow in the storm would be.
And that very day, Severus had also been waiting for her to come—but she hadn't. He hadn't thought anything of it; she might have overslept. But when she hadn't been at breakfast…
"I haven't seen her, Severus," the old man replied. "Why? Is something wrong?"
"Probably nothing."
"You look pale. I take it you had to attend another meeting last night?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"I didn't want to disturb you. He called late and it went rather late, too—or perhaps I should say early. I didn't even bother to go to sleep…" Severus began. "His interest in her seems to grow beyond what's reasonable. In fact, I am sure—."
"Perhaps we should talk this over in my office," Dumbledore interrupted. "As it is, we can't trust anybody who might overhear what you're telling me. My office."
"Yes, sir."
A few minutes later, Severus was sitting on the one side of the headmaster's desk, while the older man stood and began feeding Fawkes, the phoenix. The bird's feathers glittered in all shades of red and gold. They reminded the Potions master of Sariss's hair. It, too, seemed to glitter in all shades, save that her tresses were brown and coppery-golden. The latter only when directly hit by bright sunlight. He wanted to see that hair, touch that hair, kiss that hair in any lighting. In the light of the fire when Sariss and he would be sitting at the fireplace, in the light of the fire that burnt beneath a cauldron when she'd come to him and—just like in the dream he'd by now grown accustomed to having from time to time—ask him to hurry because she wanted to be with him. He was imagining her hair by the light of the moon. It would be almost black when it slithered over her white and certainly very smooth and very soft skin; and Severus would play with it and brush it away so he could—.
"Now, Severus, stop daydreaming and continue your report, please."
"Yes, headmaster, as I was saying," Severus said, blushing slightly because Dumbledore had caught him drifting away into thoughts that had better not be read, "he plans to go after her. However, there's something going on that I can't yet put my finger on. It's more like a feeling than fact. Secrecy. It's as if the Dark Lord were handing out very precise instructions."
"In what respect?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"Difficult to explain. It's as if the right hand didn't know the instructions the left hand received. The oldest strategy there is, and quite effective. He's preparing something. I know it. He's done that before. He tells a few of us at a time what to do or where to be and none of the others must be told. We're working in independent groups. If one member is caught and spills the beans, he or she only endangers his or her cell."
"That's clever. We do the same."
"Yes. However, I have a bad feeling. Very bad. You should talk to her and remind her to be careful when she leaves the castle, perhaps not to leave it at all…"
"That is very vague."
"I'm sorry, but I can't enquire any further. I tried. I don't want to arouse any suspicions on account of appearing too curious instead of merely vaguely interested."
"I understand, Severus. If it is as you say—."
"Believe me, it is exactly as I am saying. Care for one of my suspicions?"
"Of course."
"He never stopped. He was merely biding his time. He'll strike. I know it. He hasn't told anyone yet, I'm fairly sure about that, since he'd boast with it—."
"Indeed," Dumbledore threw in.
"I don't know when it will be or where, but I'll be there when it happens. From the way he's speaking about her, he'll want everyone to be present if he gets hold of her alive. She's a marked woman."
"Are you sure you're not exaggerating?" Dumbledore asked tentatively, but his eyes had narrowed in suspicion, a sure sign that the old man's brain was processing the information and getting the answer Severus would give on its own. "Your thoughts are not clouded by—?"
"Definitely not," Snape interrupted sharply. "One has nothing to do with the other."
"Alright then, keep your eyes and ears open. Thank you, Severus. I am very grateful that you chose to bear the burden of serving the cause as you are. Never forget that, no matter what you do in his service, everything you do is for the Light side. And the Light always rewards its servants."
Severus didn't answer. He merely sat there, while the headmaster continued taking care of his pet.
"Is there anything else, Severus?"
"What? No. No, there isn't." He got up. "I should, maybe, go look for her… See if she's fine."
"Your concern might be completely unnecessary. Perhaps she's only visiting Hagrid. It has reached my ears that he wanted to introduce her to the unicorns he intends to show the students in his lessons later this year. Beautiful creatures. Kettleburn never let her near any of his creatures after he'd spent hours trying to calm down the Hippogriff. He never brought those beasts here again after that," Dumbledore mused. "So don't worry too much, Severus."
"How can you be so calm when they could already have caught her?"
"I think we'd know already about it if they had."
That was a logic Severus couldn't argue with. However, he'd prefer to know her safe inside the castle. He'd like to know where she was.
"Excuse me," Severus said and turned to leave. The only thought on his mind was to know where she was and that she was unharmed.
First, he went back into the Great Hall. She wasn't there and hadn't been. Her plate and goblet were untouched. But Hagrid was there. So she hadn't been with him.
Then he went to her office. No one answered.
The same it was with her rooms—which he found at the second floor instead of the third. Those rooms must be among the ones that were moving more than was good for them. A quite annoying feature.
He even looked for her in the Owlery and then in the dungeons. She might have needed some kind of potion… But no one had been in any of the Potions dungeons since they had been used for a lesson.
Then he hurried up to the platform on top of the Astronomy Tower to see if she was somewhere on the grounds. It was a rather windy and very cloudy morning. It looked like it would be raining later that day.
And there was no sign of her to be seen. Her favourite places near the lake were still devoid of her presence. Had she gone off to Hogsmeade for some weird reason? She had been there only the day before. Severus had seen her there when she had been in the Three Broomsticks chatting with Hagrid. How he envied the gamekeeper for being able to get her to act so naturally around him. She had been visibly relaxed, so very unlike the way she acted around the Potions master…
Where was she?
Severus slowly made his way back down the staircases, intending to head back down into the Great Hall. There, he could wait for her to come back and check on her. However, as he approached the marble staircase, he could hear the unmistakable sound of the entrance doors being pushed open and then falling shut again.
She entered the castle, hair dishevelled as well as her robes, broomstick in hand.
"Miss Ravon!" Severus shouted down the marble staircase, his voice resounding in the Entrance Hall, as he rushed down the stairs towards her. "Where've you been?" he asked sharply, actually a bit too sharply, but the worry about her and the overwhelming relief that she was fine were swept away by some kind of fury that originated in the fact that she had unknowingly endangered herself and had neither an idea of that danger nor did she care that she'd driven Severus mad with concern about her whereabouts.
"First, don't Miss Ravon me. Second, it is none of your concern where I spend my days or nights or the time in-between for that matter," she said curtly and in a tone of voice that sounded as if she'd learnt it by heart and been made to repeat it a thousand times. While she spoke, she made to walk past him and leave him standing there like an idiot. Well, he would have felt like one at least. Why was it that, when she wasn't near, he kept having the most pleasant fantasies about her, and that, when she finally was near him, he simply couldn't manage to do or say—or even feel—anything that would not provide enough reason for her to… well… to do what she did?
He snatched her arm.
"You haven't even excused yourself from Dumbledore. No one knew where you'd gone. What if something happened to you? You would have broken his heart if something had happened. How heartless are you?"
"But something didn't happen to me. I was completely safe all the time," she said turning her head so she presumably looked at his hand that was still clutching her robe. He could only imagine the glance she was giving this intrusion of her privacy, since her dark-auburn hair was so completely dishevelled and thus falling down all around her that he could only guess her expression. She must have flown past the wards at breakneck speed. They had meanwhile been extended to include Hogsmeade station.
Severus relaxed the grasp he had on her and rested his hand on her elbow instead.
"And where is this oh so safe place?" He found he sounded like the sarcastic version of a jealous husband. He simply couldn't overcome this streak of his character. Much less when he desperately wanted to. She prevented it somehow.
"Come on," she sighed. He imagined her rolling her eyes at him. "I'm merely a bit late for breakfast. I forgot the time when—."
"When what?"
"I was visiting my friends," she said harshly.
"You went away at the crack of dawn to go to see friends of yours? Who are they? Vampires that can't be visited when it's daytime?" He fought the urge of calling her a silly girl. But she had indeed no idea of the danger she might have been in. Whereas Severus had considerably more than just a vague idea, she had none at all, because she couldn't know. Severus needed to remind himself of that. She was not foolish; she merely didn't know the danger. And she mustn't know the full extent of that danger or else she'd change back into that scared little girl Dumbledore had brought to stay at Hogwarts a very long time ago. Severus didn't want that scared little girl; he wanted this fiery and fierce woman standing not two feet away from him.
"They…" she began, but broke off, shaking her head.
Severus tried to catch her gaze and realized that her eyes were red and swollen—she must have been crying—and that she was on the verge of doing so again. Her eyes were much too bright.
"Where have you been?" Severus asked much more gently than before.
"None. Of. Your. Business," she repeated shakily.
"Mi—Professor Ravon, you must be more careful. I don't think I have to remind you that these are dangerous times," Severus said. "You're not invincible. You cannot simply run off to visit someone who lets you leave in a state like—."
He saw her trying to blink back the tears. She was not completely successful as her eyes overflowed nonetheless. She didn't even move to wipe the tears away. How used did you have to get to the sensation of tears running down your cheeks that you didn't get the urge to wipe them away to put an end to that annoyingly prickling and stinging sensation?
"It's not the first time you've been there, is it?" he chanced. It was cruel of him to use the state she was in to his advantage. She was vulnerable and he used it for the purpose of getting information from her.
"Every Saturday morning," she admitted softly. "Sometimes more often." He hadn't really expected her to answer.
"Why do you go visit those friends when they—," he hesitated. Would it be too insensitive if he told her straight out that he'd noticed her tears despite her considerable efforts to hide them? "—when visiting them leaves you devastated?"
She didn't answer. She merely sniffed softly.
He wanted nothing more than to draw her into his arms and comfort her. He found he liked it better when she was angry and inaccessible than when she was vulnerable, an all too easy prey, too easily hurt. He didn't want that.
"What have they done to you?" he asked very softly. He suddenly didn't trust his voice. "Where've you been?"
"For heaven's sake!" she merely croaked—although he could see that she wanted to scream—her voice full of tears. "If you must know, I was at Rick and Rory's grave! Happy now?"
She briskly shoved him away from her and dashed up the staircase; a small sob escaped her when she stumbled over the topmost step. But she caught herself and ran on, regardless of the Potions master who was staring after her, in shock and terribly sorry that, when he'd merely wanted to display his concern, he'd instead caused a scene like the one he'd just been part of.
There had been a time when he'd have loved to see her cry like that, run out of the room like she just had. However, that time was long gone. Now he merely wanted to make her smile. He'd never managed to make her smile. Had he ever made someone smile?
It seemed that all Severus was capable of was hurting other people. And why not? He was good at hurting, so he should be a master of making others feel the same way.
But he hadn't wanted this.
Everything was so wrong. The Fates seemed to be constantly plotting against him, twisting and turning his intentions until the result was tears and death.
Severus suddenly wished he were a Gryffindor. That way, he'd at least have the guts to walk straight into her room and say that he was sorry, that it had come out completely wrong. That he had merely been concerned about her safety. That he wanted to make it undone. That he wanted to try and be everything she'd want him to be.
But he couldn't. He couldn't even say sorry, no matter how sorry he was. Those words had lost their meaning to him. They didn't make anything undone. They were empty.
I'm sorry…
They were useless.
~*~*~
Sariss ran into her chambers as fast as her feet would carry her there, as fast as her blurred vision would allow, glad that no one else had been there to witness the display of her inability to cope with the loss of her friends.
In mid-stride, she dropped the broomstick and her cloak right in the middle of her study and proceeded into the bedroom where she threw herself onto the four-poster, curled up in a ball and cried like a little lost girl, hating herself with every fibre of her being for doing what she did, for having said what she had said, for not having had the guts to shove Snape out of the way in the first place. But they had only made up a few weeks ago, hadn't they? Well, at least sort of. She couldn't simply give him another reason to be mad at her. It had been bad enough the first time. The way she saw the whole affair at the moment, as she lay on the bed, clutching the pillow and sobbing miserably, she felt that everything was her fault and her fault alone. If only she had died alongside her mother. She would have been spared so much…
She wouldn't have had to cope with what had happened as soon as her mother's dead body had hit the ground, not with what had happened to Rick and Rory… There was so much more that she couldn't put in words.
And now she could add everything related to Snape to that list.
Trust Snape to find exactly the words that would make her act the way she had. Trust him to not stop bothering her until the truth about her weakness, her incapacity to cope with something as simple as loss, had spilt right out of her tearstained mouth.
She had so desperately tried not to cry. Not when he had been standing less than a yard away from her. She had hoped she could wriggle out of everything by—at least to her recent standards—diplomatically telling him to get lost. But he had refused. And he'd sounded so gentle all of a sudden, so genuinely concerned…
Why did he have to be the first person she'd come across on re-entering the castle? Any other teacher or even student and none of what had occurred would have happened.
And Snape, for reasons that were beyond her, save that they had to do with his mere presence, had been exactly the way she hadn't needed him to be. The wall he usually guarded his feelings with had somewhat flickered and made her catch glimpses of some sort of inner turmoil, a multitude of swirling emotions that had dreaded to grab hold of her, before it became solid again, the emotions again guarded carefully…
Sariss found she'd have liked it better if he had continued to scold and yell at her, if he told her that she was a foolish person to travel across half of Britain to say good-bye over and over again.
'You're not invincible.'
You've never said something that was truer than that. I'm not unbreakable, but that you need not know.
Never let them see you bleed.
'What if something happened to you?'
Well, then it would have happened.
What if they'd caught you by mere chance and killed you?
I don't care about ifs. Unfortunately, I seem to always wriggle out of it somehow—unlike others. And now Snape knows my weaknesses. If only he had made me angrier, if only he had been… different.
But the way it had been…
She hated him for making her feel so helpless. If he'd kept up being the git she had become used to, she could have been properly mad at him. But the way it was now, she merely felt ashamed that she had lost her composure. If she'd merely lost control and made something break again, she could have taken it. But no. Not this time. She felt ashamed. Terribly ashamed.
He mustn't tell Dumbledore. He mustn't know. The man had enough on his mind already what with the recent Death Eater activities the Daily Prophet was filled with day after day was not in the least unheard of. Dumbledore had more important things to take care of. Sariss knew he was one of the key figures in the war. Without him, Voldemort would have taken over already, Sariss was sure. Dumbledore was the only one the wizarding world needed to rely on. His mere presence was enough to strike fear into the heart of any Dark wizard and light a small candle of hope in every good witch's or wizard's soul.
He couldn't be bothered with such minor matters as another small breakdown of Sariss's. She'd already bothered him enough to last him—and herself—a lifetime.
As she lay there on the bed, sobbing all her misery and sadness into the pillow, she wished for nothing more than to be dead. She wished that what Snape had so obviously been dreading had happened…
But somehow, she would have to live and ask Snape not to involve the headmaster in these minor matters. The thought of herself standing on one side of his desk with him staring at her from across piles of essays and glasses of indefinable content was humiliating. She could only guess how bad it would be as soon as she did it in reality… Would he taunt her? Or worse, would he be so gentle again?
Tomorrow. Let's put it off till tomorrow. Thank the gods that it's Sunday.
She could not possibly go down to breakfast now. She'd certainly see him there. The next time she'd see him, it had to be alone with him, no matter how much the thought scared her. Why did any encounter with him always end bad unless she quickly disappeared when he entered a room?
No. Not today. She didn't want to see anyone today.
Not a single living soul.
~*~*~
There was a knock at the door. A very tentative knock.
"Enter," Severus muttered irritably. Despite the fact that it was his birthday, he didn't feel particularly cheerful. And why should he? He had been sitting in his office since three in the morning because he couldn't sleep if his life depended on it, grading essays for the sole purpose of driving her out of his mind. He hadn't seen her since that cursed incident the day before. He tried not to think about anything related to her. As could have been expected, he had been not entirely successful.
The door opened and his visitor shuffled inside with light steps and closed the office door.
Severus didn't even look up.
"What is it?" he snapped, expecting some annoying student who hadn't managed to finish his or her homework or wanted to ask him something about Merlin knew what. Or a first-year having gotten lost…
Whoever it was, they said nothing.
Severus made the flourish of his signature under the essay he had just finished grading.
"Professor Snape…" came a soft and melodious voice.
He almost dropped the quill.
"Sa—Miss Ravon? What are you doing here?" he said the first thing that his mind would provide.
"There's something I need to talk about with you," she said cautiously.
"And what?" he prompted, gesturing for her to sit down. She didn't.
Why should she? The last time she sat there… Do I need to go on?
"About yesterday." She fidgeted. "Have you, by any chance, spoken with the headmaster?"
~*~
"Have you found her, Severus?"
"Yes."
"Is she alright?"
"She's alive."
"Severus—."
"Later, headmaster. Tomorrow, if you don't mind. Now is not a good moment for this. I must leave."
"I understand."
~*~
"Not yet." But I think I really should. "Why?"
She visibly breathed a sigh of relief, but sobered quickly again. "Then… then I must ask a… favour of you."
"What kind of favour?"
Yes, indeed, what kind of favour?
If it's in my power, I'll do it.
"Please do not mention my—." She hesitated. "Breakdown—," she all but spat the word, "—to him."
Ashamed to admit that you're not made of stone after all, are you?
Are you asking her or me?
Actually…
"Why not? He ought to know. He cares very much about you." As do I.
"I don't want him to worry about me." Her voice had become considerably steadier and more normal than before. "He has more important matters on his mind."
But I don't. As if I could think of anything but you. If only you'd leave my mind.
When he didn't answer, she, if only for a second, glanced at him, and he nodded. She nodded in return and quickly looked away again. Although Severus didn't quite understand why she wanted her grief to be kept from the headmaster, he felt it would be good to heed to her wishes. She'd actually asked a favour of him. She'd come to him and asked him to do something for her despite the problems and misunderstandings between them.
"Thank you, Professor," she said and turned to leave again.
"Wait!" said Severus, remembering something.
"What's wrong?" she asked with her back to him. "I didn't—."
"I'll do you this favour, but in return, you must promise to do something for me."
"And what is that?" she asked suspiciously.
Not what you might think.
Tell me you don't hold a grudge against me any longer. And if you still do, tell me how to even it out. Sit down and speak to me about anything but the Dark Lord and what evil the future might have in store for you, for me, (for us!) on account of him.
"Let the headmaster know where you're going when you leave the grounds. Or tell Hagrid. Or leave a note. Anything. You can't have any idea how dangerous your little journeys could prove to be," Severus said. She'd turned around to face him. "Do it for Dumbledore," he added softly but insistently. If not for me.
For a moment, she merely stared at him—or he thought so, since he had lowered his eyes to the quill, which he had been clutching in his hand all the time. A blotch of ink was spreading over the desk. Fortunately, he hadn't stained the essays. He only hoped she hadn't noticed. Or did he rather hope she had noticed? It was difficult to tell what Severus was hoping for when she was near.
"Okay," she nodded her consent. "All right." She sounded surprised, however pleasantly.
Well, she should be.
"Is there anything else?" she asked.
"No." Yes, and much more than I thought at first. "That will be all."
"Well, I think I had better go then," she said nervously. "Now that we finally sorted out this abysmal start we had, I'd better leave quickly before my temper gets the upper hand again."
"Yes." No, please stay. You don't have to talk to me. Just be with me without one of us shouting or crying for a change. I could get used to that. But as to your temper… Somehow, I'd love it to get the better of you…
She turned the door handle and made to leave when her gaze fell onto the calendar that was hanging next to the door. "Oh, and happy birthday, Professor Snape," she gave him a shy smile over her shoulder. "Thanks again." And out she went; the door fell shut after her.
"No, thank you. Any time," Severus muttered. "Any time."
She knows my date of birth.
You haven't written something like 'My friggin' birthday' on today's date, have you?
No. She simply knows. This might not be another ordinary day after all… And she actually smiled.
Oh, come on. It wasn't much more than a twitch of the corners of her mouth.
But it was directed at me, no matter what it was. It was the closest thing to a smile I ever got from her.
Severus chanced a look at the clock and found that it was just about time for breakfast. He felt almost cheerful when he cast an Erasing Charm on the ink blotch on his desk and realized the prospect of breakfast was suddenly looking very much nicer.
"Happy birthday, Severus Snape," he muttered under his breath. "You've been presented with a smile."
Aren't you going to see the headmaster first?
Yes, of course.
She asked you not to tell him—
I won't. I'll merely tell him where she was, what she's been doing. I'm not going to betray her trust. She might expect me to do just that, but I won't.
~*~*~
"Put away your books," Professor Ravon said cheerfully when she swept into the room. "Today's a very special lesson. We'll do something we've never done before—at least not consciously. Wandless magic."
Wandless magic. Dumbledore did it all the time, Harry remembered. It would be cool to be able to do that too.
"Remember when you were children, when you didn't even know that you were magical? Perhaps the Muggle-borns among you rather remember what it was like to make things change shape, disappear or move unwillingly…" She looked around. "The point is, you did this completely by accident, without a wand or any other magical object that would have allowed you to do these things. You weren't even concentrating on making them happen. Now, imagine what would be possible if you could do magic with a wave of your hand instead of your wand! As soon as your opponent disarms you, you're helpless. When you can do wandless magic consciously, a simple Accio, wand! would make it soar back into your outstretched hand! And the more talented among you won't even need to summon their wands. They'd be able to perform the more simple sorts of spells without it—although this requires a great deal of concentration."
She spoke in a tone of voice that hinted she was still fascinated with that idea—and that fascination could almost be called contagious. The students were paying close attention to her words, scribbling down notes on their parchments furiously.
Indeed, she seemed to be much more cheerful than ever before. Her eyes didn't seem as sad as usual, the smile a little more present than it was known to be.
She continued. "All of us, all of you, have it in them. We all can do it—some more, some less. But every single one of you has the ability; even those who may not do so well with a wand. It's not important. Your talents might be hidden in the sector of wandless magic. Muggles would call it PSI-Factor, Telekinesis or simply: psychic powers. Even they—if only very few of them—are able to use that power. Well, if they can, why shouldn't you—magical as you are—be able to perform some of it?"
She paused for a moment and leaned against her desk again, the way she always did.
"By developing your psychic powers, hidden as they are, you could reach stages in which you would be able to communicate by telepathy. This has happened before. In extreme circumstances people closely connected to the one suffering or experiencing a traumatic event felt what the respective person felt or could even reply if the connection was strong enough. Often this happens accidentally, even though the person who does it has never known that they were capable of doing this and had no idea what happened to them at that moment."
She bent down and picked up a small box that had been sitting next to the desk. A small unobtrusive box.
She opened it. There was a whole bunch of white fluffy feathers inside. "Professor Flitwick was kind enough to lend me these. Very light. By the end of this lesson, you should be able to make them come to you. Then we can proceed to larger objects—although size doesn't matter in here. You'll see."
Ron snorted softly. Indeed, most of the people present sniggered a bit, whereas the Professor was completely serious, as if the words held no double meaning for her. However, as she handed out the feathers—one to each student—Harry saw a little dimple in her cheek. She must have realized what she'd said when it had had its effect on the students.
"Alright. Now close your eyes—and no cheating. It'll do you no good. Imagine the feather with your Inner Eye."
Harry felt as though he were having Divination in a room, which was hot, but not as terribly stifling as North Tower.
"Can you picture it? Can you see it hover? Imagine it to hover," she whispered. "Then reach out with your wand hand—it might give you more confidence to use that hand instead of the other one—yes, that's very good. You must be a natural, Mr Longbottom."
Neville let out a gasp and Harry opened his eyes to look why that was so. Harry's feather floated back down. He hadn't even noticed that it had actually hovered.
"Careful," Professor Ravon said. "Keep up the concentration, Mr Longbottom. Make the feather move to the left a bit. Concentrate everyone."
It seemed to be a miracle. It was a rare occasion that Neville managed to do magic properly with a wand. Harry shuddered inwardly at the results of Neville's transfiguration projects. But this was entirely different. It looked so easy as Harry watched the other boy sitting behind his desk, wand hand pointing at the feather… and the feather moved everywhere he willed it. Neville smiled with his eyes closed. And Professor Ravon positively beamed down at him.
Harry concentrated on his own feather. But he wanted to see it being lifted. Thus, he squinted a bit as soon as he thought it was hovering. The feather shuddered as he moved his hand closer towards it. Get up! Rise! Fly! Harry mentally prompted it.
"Ten points. Very well done, Neville," he heard Professor Ravon's strangely distant voice say. It was as if only Harry and the feather existed.
He willed it to rise higher to move in ever expanding circles.
"Wonderful! This is getting better and better. Good work there, Mr Zabini. And Messrs Potter and Weasley managed it, too… Just a little more effort, Miss Granger… Yes, now you've got it. Careful there…"
She went on about in the same fashion for another few minutes, here and there giving a bit of advice, awarding points, and—from the way her voice sounded—exultant about the talent some of her students possessed. However, Crabbe and Goyle had slight difficulties. But Harry didn't pay any attention to them. He, Ron and Hermione had invented some sort of game. They let their feathers circle each other, trying not to accidentally make them collide. It was a straining thing, but also very much fun.
After a while, Harry heard Professor Ravon's voice ask drawlingly and amusedly, "Enjoying that little game of yours, Miss and Messrs?"
All three of them jumped slightly, startled, as they had been deep in concentration. The feathers floundered towards the ground, but they never touched it. They came flying right into the Professor's hand. She put them back into the box.
"I didn't want to disturb you," she said with a smile. "But the lesson is over. As I've already said, there will be no homework. I'd merely like you to practise a bit. You might want to try to lift quills or parchment or the like with your mind. I think you're ready for something that you're used to being a bit heavier and seemingly harder to control. By the way, next lesson I'm going to make you lift your books." She winked. "So just you know."
They scrambled to get their bags as the chuckling Professor locked the box with the feathers in her desk. Then they muttered quick good-byes and went on their way to their next lessons.
"Books? I'll never be able to lift a book!" Ron exclaimed. "It was straining enough to lift that feather. But a book is an entirely different matter. What will be next? A desk, a carriage, other people?"
~*~*~
Sariss couldn't help but chuckle when she heard Ron Weasley's voice. The boy would learn that magic was always about mind over matter. It was easier for Muggle-borns or those who hadn't had too much contact with magic before Hogwarts because they were fascinated by the power mere words could have… Well, in Sariss's case, words weren't necessary…
~*~
"Look at that! The schedule for this term says we're going to be duelling for the next few DADA lessons!" Aurora exclaimed. The fifteen-year-old girl beamed at Sariss and Rick who had been bent over a cauldron. "The whole DADA stuff can get lost for as much as I care. But duelling… I just love that!"
"Watch it, Rick! Careful there. You must add them one by one—."
"I'll never gonna get that right, Sariss. Professor Snape will have my head if I cause another one of what he refers to as 'remarkably stupid accidents'. The way he says remarkably and accident makes me feel like such an idiot."
"But it was an accident. You were just a bit… er… lost in your thoughts," Sariss said, actually meaning 'You were too busy staring at Aurora to pay attention to what you were throwing into the cauldron.' But that she didn't say. "There, that's it. Finished."
"Already? That wasn't so hard after all." Sariss and Rick quickly cleared the table.
"Told you."
"I hate to interrupt you, but the free period is almost over and we really have to hurry to not be late for our duelling lessons. I so love duelling!" Rory was exuberant. "Think Professor Steele will let us duel our own house? I'd like to give that Malfoy bastard—."
"Rory, we're going to be late. Stop babbling already and come." Sariss pulled out her wand and Summoned her own and Rick's bags.
The three of them hurried out of the Slytherin common room, along the corridor, up the staircase and right into the Great Hall. The furniture—meaning the benches and tables—had been moved apart and redecorated. Each one of them was to be a duelling arena.
"Come closer." Professor Steele shouted from among a throng of students. He was standing on one of the tables. "Good, everybody here? Very good. As you've already learnt the basic and some pretty advanced spells last year we may start having fun immediately. Now you may ask a fellow student to duel you. We'll keep tabs on your performance. And I'll have an eye on you from here. Madam Pomfrey has been kind enough to grant us with her precious presence," Professor Steele smiled at the nurse, "although I dearly hope that none of you is going to actually need her treatment. And now…"
"I challenge you, Ravon," Seth Malfoy stepped up to Sariss. "This will be pure pleasure for me."
"I fear the pleasure will be entirely mine," she answered coldly and slipped the wand out of her sleeve. "Shall we?"
"I've been waiting for this a very long time. They'll send you up into the hospital wing in a fruit bowl. You'll be goo once I'm finished with you."
"Resorting to empty threats, Malfoy?" Sariss said, clambering up onto the table and walking into the middle.
Malfoy and Sariss performed the standard greeting gestures, turned their backs to each other and began to count their steps.
"Eleven… Twelve…" Sariss muttered and turned around. Too late.
Malfoy had already shouted "Waddiwasi!" and sent a large vase at Sariss. It crashed into her before she could react and sent her flying to the far end.
Cheating bastard.
Sariss unceremoniously slid to a halt, gathered herself up, jumped to her feet, aimed in mid-movement and muttered "Mimblewimble!" It soared towards Malfoy faster than light and hit him straight into the chest—but he seemed unaffected. Malfoy grinned, starting on another incantation—but he couldn't get it out because of the Stuttering Spell. It backfired spectacularly and sent him flying and crashing down the same way he'd done it to Sariss before.
"Detrimentia!" Malfoy finally managed to get out. Sariss dodged the spell and sent her version of it his way. It only brushed his arm lightly but sent him a few yards backwards. He sat on the table and cradled his hurting arm. The pain would pass. The spell didn't inflict the wounds on the body of the wizard or witch. It just hurt a bit.
Rick and Rory who had been watching cheered like crazy. "He couldn't see that one coming!" Rick shouted.
"Good one, girl!" Aurora exclaimed, giving Sariss the thumbs-up. Sariss grinned at them and bowed, not realizing that Malfoy had jumped to his feet again.
"Expelliarmus!"
The spell's hit came as a complete surprise to Sariss. Her wand was ripped from her little hand and disappeared to… somewhere… and Sariss went flying backwards again…
No, the wand hadn't disappeared. Malfoy had caught it. Sariss saw it when she looked up. Malfoy was standing over her, pointing his wand at her.
"Fine, Malfoy. You win. Happy?" Sariss said.
"The hell no one's gonna need Madam Pomfrey's treatment," he said softly, pronouncing each syllable with deadly precision. "I already have a candidate. You." He smirked maliciously. "Well, what am I going to do to you? Ah, yes. Chloe is going to kiss my feet for that one. Furnunculus!"
Sariss stared at him, stared at his wand, stared at her wand in his hand, stared at the dirty green colour of the spell as it began to emanate from the wand's tip…
She didn't know what to do. All she could do was to lift her hands to shield her face from Malfoy's spell. She'd not provide Slytherin House's gossip for the next few weeks. 'Have you seen Ravon? Are the boils getting smaller already?' No, she wouldn't. She crossed her arms in front of her face, huddled into a strangely cowering position for as much as she could tell, and—lacking any better ideas—shrilly cried "Noooo!" before she screwed her eyes shut.
The spell never came. When Sariss opened her eyes, she could see Malfoy crash onto the surface of the table.
Sariss exchanged a confused look with Aurora and Rick and found that they were both pleasantly surprised and very much in awe. "Wow…" Rick mouthed.
"What happened?" Sariss whispered to herself and went to pick Malfoy up—or not.
"Give me back my wand," Sariss said, breathing hard, and held out her hand. "My wand, Malfoy! Give me my wand!"
And—as if out of its own volition—it slipped out of Malfoy's still firm grasp and leapt right into Sariss's outstretched hand.
"Why didn't you tell us that you could do wandless magic?" asked Rick who had run towards her, Rory following at his heels.
"I didn't know," Sariss whispered.
"This is cheating!" Malfoy complained, moaning exaggeratedly when he got up. "It's not fair."
"Life's generally not fair," Sariss spat and looked up into his cold silvery eyes. She felt so small and scrawny compared to Malfoy. The boy was almost a head taller than her. He was almost as tall as Professor Dumbledore or Snape. But then again, he was almost a year older than Sariss. Apparently, she was a bit late when it came to growing. "Everyone sooner or later gets what they deserve. About time you learnt that, too, Malfoy. Just so you know, I had no idea. You just be glad that you weren't hit by your own spell. I hear Furnunculus isn't pretty to look at."
He stepped back and raised his wand to the level of his eyes. "One day I'll get you."
"I'm waiting." Sariss mimicked his action, and they both performed the traditional greeting.
Then Malfoy went away, his pride more hurt than his body.
"How did you do that?" asked Rory, her eyes very round.
"I don't know… But I'd better see Dumbledore on that matter…"
"We're coming with you," Aurora said.
"As eye-witnesses," Rick added. "Gotta convince him you're not imagining things. Wandless magic in a fifteen-year-old. That's wickedly impressive. So cool…"
~*~
Sariss held the remaining lessons for the day and then went to attend dinner.
Snape, for one, wasn't attending dinner that day.
~*~*~
"Welcome to the first Quidditch game of the season!" shouted Hufflepuff commentator Owen Cauldwell. He had taken over from Lee Jordan when the latter had graduated, and still needed practice. But he had been doing quite well the year before already. "Today it's Ravenclaw versus Slytherin! Ravenclaw have a new Seeker, as top-Seeker Cho Chang graduated at the end of last year. It's up to third-year Ewan Dane to catch the Snitch for his house-team. And there they come. Terry Boot, Captain and Keeper, Turpin and Ackerley, Beaters. Fawcett, Quirke and Weinberg, Chasers. And, of course, young Ewan Dane!"
Harry sat down among his team. They had come to watch, although they wouldn't play against either one of those teams before the Christmas holidays had come and gone. It was good to see their opponents in action before facing them themselves. Otherwise, Harry would've preferred staying inside—well, that wouldn't have been possible as the practice schedule he'd set his team didn't allow it. The spirit of Oliver Wood seemed to be still present in the locker rooms—if that was possible for a living person.
A slight drizzle was coming down from the cloudy, greyish sky, slowly drenching their robes.
"And there are the Slytherins. Crabbe, Goyle, Miles, Pritchard, Yagher, Hayes and Malfoy." Remarkable, how Cauldwell could sound like Lee Jordan when he spoke of the Slytherins.
The stands of the other houses were also crowded with people. It was the first match of the season after all. Everyone seemed to be starved for Quidditch.
When Madam Hooch blew the whistle, the players rose in the air and the game began.
Frankly, Harry agreed with Cauldwell when he said that the Ravenclaws didn't stand a chance against the Slytherins, as became obvious after merely a few minutes of playing.
Lucius Malfoy had once more opened his immense wallet and provided the Slytherins with top-of-the-range broomsticks. Seven Firebolts II. And that when Harry had always believed in not buying anything Malfoy thought was good.
Anyway, their broomsticks outstripped the Ravenclaws' by miles. Not that Harry would trust Dane to catch the Snitch before Malfoy did, anyway. It was fairly obvious that he was much more nervous than was good for him. His first real Quidditch game. Harry remembered that his own first game had felt not so good—until he'd been high up in the air. Dane's nervousness didn't dissolve that easily.
Well, he's no Cho Chang. Cho would've spotted the Snitch by now and be tearing after it…
The Snitch was hovering slightly to the left of the Ravenclaw goalposts—and none of the Seekers saw it. Indeed, no one seemed to be aware of it but Harry.
The reason for that might have been that the Slytherins complained loudly that Weinberg had deliberately cobbed Yagher and the teams were discussing the matter with Madam Hooch…
~*~*~
Severus sat down among his students. The game had just started and the commentator droned on and on. He drew his cloak tighter around him. This weather did not agree with him at all. It was wet. He'd be soaked within a couple of minutes if that cursed rain didn't stop.
"Professor Snape? I assume this seat is not taken yet?" Sariss asked. She had crept so silently towards him that he hadn't even noticed her approaching.
"No, 'course not. Sit down."
I think I don't care about getting drenched and catching a cold anymore.
"Thank you." She sat down right next to him, so close that their elbows were touching. Severus would have loved it if she'd moved a bit closer. He would have loved to put his arm around her, perhaps to protect her from the cold—which didn't bother her at all—perhaps to simply draw her closer… "Exciting, isn't it? My first Quidditch game in years, well, at least when off duty. It's much more enjoyable when you don't have to keep up 'constant vigilance'."
"Constant vigilance, huh? Been too much around Moody?"
"He does have a point. But he's been overdoing it a little. His paranoia led him straight to the bottom of his trunk," she said dryly. "Oh! That must've hurt big time." She winced when one of the Ravenclaw players was slammed into by a Bludger that had been sent his way by Vincent Crabbe.
The game went on. Slytherin were clearly the better team. It was awfully obvious.
They might as well go back inside and wait for the students to come back inside, too.
"And Slytherin scores again," the commentator droned on. "The score's eighty to ten for Slytherin. If only Dane would catch the Snitch soon—Yes, Professor, I am trying to commentate in an unbiased way…"
Sariss stood up and leaned over the balustrade to get a better view of the far goalposts where most of the players had dashed. Her robes were soaked already, as was her hair. Oh, but the clothes that were clinging to her body now revealed her narrow waist and gently curved hips much more clearly than he'd ever seen her figure before. He'd love to put his hands around that waist one day and draw her near…
She returned to her seat when the green and blue swishes that were the players came soaring back to the centre of the pitch.
"Ghastly weather," Severus heard her mutter and curse under her breath.
She does have a way with words, you know?
Severus paid hardly any attention to the game, from time to time catching a piece of commentary about what the score was. But other than that, he was much too busy watching her out of the corners of his eyes. It was a pity that it was such a cloudy day. The sun would have made her hair glow and sparkle; it would have made her hair frame her face in gentle waves instead of smoothed out lank strands that clung to her skin. The breeze would blow it into all directions if it weren't so heavy with water…
"That's cheating!" she shouted, scandalized, at one point and, a few minutes later, jumped up when a Ravenclaw Chaser had cobbed a Slytherin one. "That was deliberate! Penalty shot!" she demanded.
"Temper getting the upper hand?" Severus asked fairly amused when she grudgingly sat back down and crossed her arms in front of herself. Madam Hooch hadn't awarded Slytherin the desired penalty shot.
"What? No. I just felt like participating in the general discussion about Quidditch tactics," she smirked.
It was incredible how different she was now. It must have something to do with the Quidditch game. The general happy excitement that the Quidditch season had started must have something to do with it. Roundabout everyone was cheering and spurring on the teams. Apparently, it didn't matter to her that three quarters of the crowd were supporting the Ravenclaws. It didn't matter where the positive feelings came from. She sensed them and visibly enjoyed being where she was—which happened to be right beside Severus.
Severus, in turn, paid lesser and lesser attention to the game the longer it went. No, the only things he could pay any attention to were the way her eyes seemed to sparkle when something exciting happened down at the pitch; the way she smiled, much more of her pearly white teeth visible than he'd ever seen before. She was like a child in a toyshop.
Somehow, Severus envied her for being capable of being so carefree in the middle of the mess the wizarding world had become, even if her care-freeness only extended from the first blow of Madam Hooch's whistle to the catching of the Golden Snitch.
Severus completely forgot that it was raining and hardly noticed when Slytherin won the game.
He couldn't seem to care about another victory of the Slytherin team. He expected his house to win. Always. However, it was nothing special to him.
But she was.
And as the meanwhile thoroughly soaked students left the stands and went back up into the castle, the smile left her face and the glow disappeared from her eyes, much in the same way as the stands emptied.
Severus trailed after her, also heading back inside the castle, wishing that new side of her—the happy and kind and carefree side—to come back and stay.
~*~*~
It was two in the morning and Severus couldn't sleep. He wasn't even tired. Not in the slightest. It was a pity since he could have slept in. The Christmas holidays would start tomorrow—no, today—and Severus would have been grateful for a good night's sleep. The Dark Lord had called much too frequently during the previous weeks. Everything seemed to be wearing much more than usual on Severus, not letting him fall asleep so he could stop worrying and simply forget…
Groaning and grunting he turned from one side to the other, rolled over and back again, punched the pillow into a more comfortable shape and turned the blanket over and so on and so on. It was no use. He was wide-awake and it wasn't even close to dawn.
With a heavy sigh, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, got up and dressed. If he couldn't sleep, he'd at least do something useful. He should check the inventory of—Wait a second. Since when did he need a reason for being up and prowling around the castle at night? He'd simply while away the rest of the night. Perhaps he could go up to the Astronomy Tower? Oh, if only it weren't so ghastly cold outside. Christmas was approaching fast and snow covered everything from the frozen surface of the lake to the windowsills and rooftops of the castle.
Nonetheless, perhaps the cold might make him tired. He left his chambers and walked in direction of the Entrance Hall when he saw light in the dungeon adjacent to his office…
Severus managed to open the door almost soundlessly. However, his footsteps were clearly audible over the soft sizzling noise of a cauldron fire and the equally soft rustle of someone's robes.
Sariss was bent over a desk, preparing the ingredients for some kind of potion. By the smell of it as it was now, it was something with nightshade in it. Some sort of Sleeping Potion it must be, if she was brewing it in the dead of night.
She looked up for a moment when she grew aware of his presence, but quickly returned her attention to the task she'd set herself. She looked tired and her hair was down for the night.
She meticulously weighed powdered bicorn horn and added it to her witch's brew. Indeed, that night she looked more like a witch as Muggles would imagine one, than she'd looked at the Hallowe'en dance… Brewing a potion, bent over a cauldron, in the dead of night with her hair in gentle waves and all around her, Severus had never seen someone who resembled his ideal of a witch more than she did—in every respect imaginable.
She seemed to hardly acknowledge his presence, so absorbed was she in her work. And she wore the same expression on her face as she had done when she had been the student and Severus the teacher. Her brows were furrowed in concentration.
She put on a pair of Dragonhide gloves because of some nasty ingredient… Acid fungi, perhaps. Yes. A tiny amount, squished, so that they looked like some sort of brownish-green slime, belonged in a strong Sleeping Potion. She threw it into the simmering cauldron and gently stirred for a few moments, before she added some ginger roots.
But she hadn't taken off the gloves yet. Something else that had better not be touched had to go into the cauldron…
Aconite? Then she'd be brewing Dreamless Sleep Potion to ward off nightmares…
"Still up?" Severus whispered after a long while of merely watching her.
"Didn't dare fall asleep again without a considerable amount of this," she replied equally softly and indicated the gently simmering potion.
She added the highly poisonous Wolfsbane, jerking her hair back, as a strand of it had developed a will of its own and its tip threatened to drop into the simmering potion which she stirred with one hand, slowly adding the last ingredient with her other one. She tried to get rid of the curling rebel strand by jerking her head to the side. It wasn't entirely effective, since it worked for mere seconds before the curling strand came slithering back as though it refused to stay put.
She mouthed a curse.
Severus smiled inwardly. Her relationship with that stray curl reminded him strongly of his relationship with her. As she didn't get the curl to obey, unable to touch it, he couldn't get to her either. Perhaps…
He stepped closer, reached out and slowly tucked it safely behind her ear. The sensation was exquisite. Her hair was rebellious but smooth and soft. Wild but controlled, at least for now. Just like her.
She should wear her hair down more often. It gave her a much more sensual air, as it brought thoughts to his mind that consisted of not much more than her bare skin and her hair being the only material to hide it from view…
"That's better, isn't it?" he whispered.
~*~*~
"That's better, isn't it?" Snape asked.
"Yes, thank you," she forced out. He had startled her with his action. Indeed with his mere presence. It was the middle of the night. She had been so sure no one would turn up—as usual.
And then, like a ghost, he had appeared in the room and watched her. For several long minutes. Wordlessly. She could feel his gaze on her skin, penetrating her. His eyes seemed to do that on their own, smouldering and dark as those much more frequently cold and almost empty eyes could look sometimes…
She was feeling highly insecure with him already, alone, in the Potions dungeon, in the dead of night, working on a potion that he might not find well done—she felt like a student, and she hated it!
And sure as that, he took a look at her potion.
"Another Dreamless Sleep Potion…" he mused. "Now I know why I'm constantly running low on Wolfsbane…"
"Sorry, wanted to replenish it as soon as—," she began in a small voice lest he might be yelling again and if there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was being yelled at. But on the other hand… How come he scared her even more when he was speaking so softly?
She couldn't seem to decide what she wanted him to be like.
"Still having those nightmares?" He sounded almost concerned. It seemed she couldn't stand that either. Was it pity that made him sound like that? She didn't want it! But how could he ever forget that embarrassing scene she'd made when she'd come back from one of her little journeys? "I should have thought of that and prepared some for you."
"I think I can take care of that myself," she stated, her voice soft but firm and steady—at least she hoped it sounded that way—and shifted her gaze back towards the potion that had turned a pleasant shade of dark purple—Sariss loved the colour—which indicated that it contained enough aconite and nightshade and wasn't toxic anymore. She removed her gloves. Then, after taking the ladle that Snape had handed her ("thank you"), she unstoppered some of the small bottles she had set onto the table before brewing the potion, and started pouring the purple liquid into them.
"Apparently, you haven't forgotten what I taught you. There might just be hope that others will remember just as well," he said with a smirk, but in the case of Severus Snape that might even have been a small smile.
With a few waves and swishes of her wand, she cleaned the table and cauldron, ladle, knife, mortar and pestle and sent them to their respective places along with what was left of the ingredients she'd used.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable still, she forced a smile, that however couldn't have reached her eyes even faintly and bid the Potions master goodnight.
She'd drink a whole phial of the Potion to rid herself from those nightmares. She'd made a strong potion. It would ward off the dreams long enough to allow her to sleep in. Sariss hadn't slept in for ages. It would be nice to take up that habit again, even if only for a few days.
Next chapter:
Some snogging, Christmas presents, mistletoe, someone gets to be kissed and everyone else is amused about that. Severus attends a meeting. Draco thinks he knows something and Sariss has a nightmare—or dream. Another Quidditch match. Sirius has a little cameo. And Snape can't stop staring at Sariss. How unnerving…