Dear Readers:

Thank you for all the time you took to review! I'm glad that you are still enjoying the tale, too. :)

In the last bit – Confusion.

In this bit – Meeting challenges. New teacher trauma. Volume issues.

Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Sincerely,

Chaos

~

Like Cats and Dogs

Chapter 14

~

Emily Mayborne, for all her considerable intelligence, seemed to be unable to protect herself from herself.  Severus regretted not going to the Sorting Feast, it was quite evident that Miss Mayborne would need a chaperone, or fall prey to the werewolf.

Intellectually Severus knew that those werefolk who were bitten before the onset of puberty matured with a very strong mating drive – as would any wolf in the wild. The pathogen altered the genetic structure very thoroughly, enhancing the developing body's sense of smell and taste, even hearing quite beyond what it could to an adult. Remus was responding to a healthy, receptive female at a very basic biochemical level.

Emily was responding to an increased output of the same biochemical components. Her mate was unavailable, she was tense, in an unfamiliar situation. As Severus well knew from his own experience, sex was not only greatly enjoyable, but also an excellent sedative and tension reliever. As Lucius had taught him, there was little in the way of tension, stress, irritability or just plain old stroppy temper that a good hard shag couldn't cure.

With all the factors in place, there was only one conclusion.

Severus slept across the bedroom doorway.

In the morning, he awoke at his customary time. Severus was so attuned to the school year that even now, just before the clock struck five, he was wide awake.

Slipping out the door, he made for his usual spot and took care of his morning needs. The acrid smell of cleaning solution stung his nose – showing that Filch had been very busy. He'd have to think of a way to make it up to the old man. It was embarrassing to be so caught up in one's animal nature.

Severus was so busy ruminating that when Filch caught him up, he gave a surprised, "Meerowp!"

Filch was wearing the face that Severus remembered from his own student days, the one usually employed for mucking out dungeons for forays into the Dark Forest.

"Well, laddie, it seems you've not outgrown your gift for mayhem after all. I was up half the night in Gryffindor tower. Can you guess why?"

Oh, I am in big trouble…

"Every fireplace, every stove in the tower, all of them liberally anointed with tomcat piss." Filch gave him a solid shake. "It's as bad that time you and Evan Rosier ground up all that stinkweed and put it in a hollow Yule log! You'd be in detention with me for a month, were you on two legs, me boyo. That Crookshanks of Miss Granger's had better not catch you, either. Now, you are going to owe me – terms when you're two-footing it again, but if I catch you jigglin' your tail anywhere but the green grass, I'll be treating you like any other moggy. Got me?"

Severus felt his fur flatten tight to his body in utter embarrassment, made worse by Filch's chuckle as the man set him down. 

"My Mam used to say that the man were but the boy grown tall. Seems she was right enough. Off with you, I'll be seeing young Professor Mayborne about some potions tonight."

Once back in his rooms, Severus was annoyed to find that the girl was still in bed, curled up in the blankets and looking unlikely to wake any time soon.

That would not do. It was five-thirty in the morning – and he owed Miss Mayborne a bit of payback.

"Yow!"

The blanket-bundle did not stir.

"Myow!"

No.

"MEEEOWOWOWOWROW!"

"Shushup!" A pillow whipped with speed and accuracy made him leap into the air – cat reflexes were really amazing.

Severus began the next part of the plan. Leaping lightly to the foot of the bed, he padded to where Emily had pulled her head under the covers and gone back to sleep. 

He walked across her head.

Once.

Twice.

"AHHGH!" She came thrashing up from the blankets and swore at him, hurled another pillow, then lay back down.

A very tough case. Drastic measures were called for.

Severus walked into the bathroom, jumped up on the sink and held his nose to the cold water tap until it ached.

Racing back into the bedroom and onto the bed, he found his target.

Severus pushed a cold, wet nose to the sleep-warm flesh right between Emily Mayborne's shoulder blades.

"GYAHBLOODYFUCKINGHELLYOUBASTARD!" She shot out of the bed like a cork popping out of a bottle, taking the sheet with her.

Severus simply stepped into the freshly vacant warm spot and curled up, ignoring the tirade directed at him by the witch. Laying his tail over his cold nose, he sighed and dropped off to sleep for a bit. One of the wonderful things about being in feline form was how well he was sleeping lately. No nightmares came to carry him off into darkness, depositing him at dawn in a bed of sweaty sheets, leaving him to wonder if he screamed in the night.

His cat-dreams could be disturbing, though. Several of them had been very confusing, and he was not certain about what they might mean. Severus was used to the contents of his own head – his nightmares were of the things he had done in Voldemort's service, observing his younger self taking the fast track to hell, right along with his friends and their mentor, Lucius Malfoy. Every charge of atrocity leveled at the Death Eaters and even some that had never been spoken of; he had been a direct participant.

Really, Dumbledore's biggest challenge had been to keep twenty-year-old Severus alive and sane once he had him – something Severus still occasionally hated the old man for doing. He Evan and Charles once liked to joke that at the rate they were going, they'd self-destruct before they ever saw Hell. Dark magic, forbidden knowledge, things banned for not mere centuries but millennia were offered to them and they drank deep - the cup spiked with promises of dominion over the ever-breeding, destructive Muggles and the bleeding-heart Mudbloods who defended them. It was like refusing to cast a fumigating charm to rid one's house of rats!

Only the Cause turned into something… else.

Evan Rosier and Severus had been close from their first month in the dorms. Both with appalling and sticky nicknames, both advanced for their age, the two were called 'Sun and Shadow' within Slytherin. Where one was, you could find the other.

Evan was now dead along with Charles, killed by Aurors, but before his death he had come to Severus – whose own doubts were growing with every rape and murder, with every bit of research that Voldemort directed for him to pursue. Where was the Cause in his research into immortality? Where was the motivation in exotic euphorics and hallucinogens? How was the preservation of wizard-kind insured by aphrodisiacs? Any wizard or witch of power never lacked for prospective bedmates as to some power itself was the most potent of aphrodisiacs.

There was something going on here, and what was in the sack was not the bill of goods they'd been sold.

Thoughts segued at some point into dreams of sunshine, tall grass, warm wind and leaping after intriguing rustles and smells. His soft-furred she was elsewhere in the grass, hunting with her she-mate and the day was long before them…

A puff of steam announced Miss Mayborne's exit from the shower. Severus kept his eyes virtuously shut – or perhaps not so virtuously considering what his brain obligingly projected on his eyelids. What possessed the girl to buy knickers with no back to them? Didn't her bum get cold?

The sounds of dressing and the mutterings of a caffeine-deficient brain were audible – and somewhat amusing. Miss Mayborne was damning everyone from Albus and himself to Reginald MacGuffin and back.

Then, "I can't do this. No. Not me. A teacher? A professor? Hah! I'll scar those children for life! That's it. I'm going home."

Right on schedule – the panic attack.

Albus and Minerva had actually knocked Severus over and sat on him in a similar situation all those years ago. It had taken them most of the morning and a few applications of calming charms to talk him out of entering a hermitage for the life of an anchorite.

Severus opened his eyes to find packing activity in full swing.

Letting her work herself into a fine froth, Severus waited until she dashed into the next room for something before jumping down from the bed. It was truly edifying to see what, exactly, could throw an Acquisitor into a tizzy - pretty much the same thing that could throw a former Death Eater into a tizzy.

When she came in through the door, books piled haphazardly in her arms, Severus made his move. With a quick figure-eight around her ankles, he dodged falling books and woman and zipped back in to land right between her shoulder blades – and extended his claws.

Now you listen to me, Emily Rowan Mayborne, I taught you for six years, put up with your obstreperous nature, your everlasting cheek and your willful obduracy to turn you into one of my best, most capable and most accomplished students. You will not, will NOT I say, turn tail and run from a lot of infants! You will give them the full and comprehensive benefit of the efforts that I - and others - have generously expended to your benefit. If you can face down a nest of dark wizards puppeting Quetzalcoatls about, you can handle this - and if you think to balk me in this, so help me Albus Dumbledore, I will take your wand away and spank you with it until the mere thought of sitting makes you howl like a toddler!

It would have been much more effective in English, but Emily appeared to be getting the point – or, rather, all ten of them as his claw-tips had penetrated that ridiculous Quidditch jersey and were now resting against the skin of her back. She could dislodge him, but it would be bloody.

"Look, please, just go to the bloody dog and… and… damn it!" She shifted and Severus pressed the sharp points of his claws hard enough to indent her skin.

As much as I would like to damn him, that happy ability is not in my hands. I will not – ever again – knuckle under to the benefit of the bloody fucking Gryffindors. I have had enough. I have compromised, enough, reversed the field enough, swallowed my pride, my principles, and my self-interest to the point that I would rather eat shit-and-broken-glass sandwiches for the rest of my life than do so one more time. As sorry as I am to have you in the middle of all of it, I will not stand down. Not for anything. Now, I am going to get off your back, and you are going to put on your robes and go to breakfast, you have a quick orientation with the Slytherin first-years before class.

"I wish I knew what you were saying, blast it." She wiggled underneath him and swore when his claws sought a further purchase. "All right! All right! I won't run away! Fine! You're a sadistic bastard to want those children subjected to me! On your own head be it!"

Spare me! There's so much on my head that I'll scarcely notice this, you silly girl-woman.

Severus dismounted and began to lick his claws as Emily got to her feet. About time the girl saw sense.

He chose not to quibble about the choice of attire – her professor's robe over the Acquisitor's boots, trousers and heavy black cotton jumper. The deep brown curls were forced into marching order and made a single braid down her back. If she was trying for some intimidation factor, all well and good, she'd be needing it against the older Slytherin students who could carry House pride to extremes. It would only take a few rounds with a brassed-off Akkie to set the youngsters right.

And breakfast proved him right.

The older Slytherins – sixth and seventh years – stared and attempted to engage their putative Head of House in a minor contest. The fifth years all seemed unusually subdued, as did the fourth and third years. The second and first years were wide-eyed and silent. Draco looked exhausted, but was in full belligerent mode – the sixth and seventh years seemed wary of him, and angry with themselves for that wariness.

It looked to have been an interesting night in Slytherin. If Severus read the situation correctly – and he had been a Slytherin for all but ten years of his life – Draco had cowed everyone from the fifth-years down. The sixth and seventh years were obviously reacting to an abrupt shakeup in Slytherin student hierarchy as well as the sudden new Head of House.

If Emily did not use her whip hand quickly and decisively the situation, she would be mauled by a pack of young predators.

Severus fretted through his smoked cod and eggs, worried that Miss Mayborne seemed utterly oblivious to the warning signs. Did Ravenclaws have a 'pecking order?' How did they determine position within the House? Would Emily have enough second-hand knowledge of Slytherin to keep herself whole and on top?

The morning post arrived in a barrage of owls and the hall filled with a rustling of paper. Emily had a letter from Artemisia, and surprisingly, one from Narcissa Malfoy.

Interesting.

Breakfast concluded and Draco intercepted Emily on her way out of the hall.

"Professor Mayborne? I need a favor." The delivery was perfectly Malfoy, Severus thought. "I have a letter for my sister. If you have correspondence going her way I'd like to send mine along with it, as my owls seem to be… going astray."

Oh, bloody… Lucius could not have been fool enough to set intercept spells on Draco's post, could he?

Oh, yes he could.

Lucius, I thought you had better sense than to tick off three women at the same time!

Still, it was a good thing for Lucius to be occasionally reminded that he was not God. With only a distant acquaintance with humility, elder Malfoy's infrequent collisions with same could be quite fun to watch.

"Of course, Mister Malfoy, I'd be happy to do it."

Draco patted his robes and smiled. "Silly. I seem to have left it in my room. You're going that way, yes?" He glanced down at Severus, "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that you had a familiar."

"Ah, yes. This is Pamiu." The Prudiserro kicked in, preventing any further speech.

Crouching, Draco offered a finger. Severus offered a token sniff and nosebump – he was fond of Draco and thought that he might actually salvage the boy from his father's intent. Draco was still at the age when he wanted desperately to please his father, but fast approaching the age when rebellion could be carefully cultivated.

"He's rather a Slytherin fellow. Quite grand-looking." Draco inclined his head slightly, "Good morrow to you, Master Pamiu," and chuckled at Severus' regal nod in return. "Thinks he runs things, does he?"

The students were well gone before Draco looked around and grabbed Emily's hand. "You're in trouble, Emmy. I can handle everyone in my year and down, but the sixth and seventh years are going to get nasty. Camilla Nott, Edward Pucey, Duncan Ablesworthy – the three of them are the most outspoken, but not the most vicious.  Zenobia Macnair, Holly Ainsley, Connor Thirlwall and Bertram Avery, were planning to actually hurt you. You've got to…"

Severus felt deeply alarmed. All of those named were the ones on his 'watch list' as Death Eaters in training. While none would take the Mark while at Hogwarts, Severus would bet that all would have the Mark on their left forearm within a week of leaving school. Could they really be so far gone as to attack…?

The smile on Emily's face chilled his blood and apparently took Draco the same way.

"Draco, speaking as Emily – not Professor Mayborne – I will tell you one thing. If that pack of snot-nosed, puling infants think that they can run me down, they are in for a very rude and abrupt revision of their perceptions." The smile widened and became more of a show of teeth. "I'm not going to be the easy ride that Professor Snape was, and I don't care if I have to grind every sacred cow into hamburger to get my point across."

Severus was not so easily convinced, but Emily's scent now held an undertone like scorched earth.

Draco's relief was transfiguring, "I'll walk you in then, just to give you the letter."

With a nod, Emily fell into step next to him, Severus between both. They descended into the dungeons, Emily twitched her wrist and her wand landed in her hand as they went through the common room.

The tension in the air was thick enough to slice, Severus felt his hackles begin to raise. It was too quiet.

Draco ducked into his room and came out with a roll of parchment. "I'll walk you back out again, Professor."

"No, Draco, you won't." Emily tucked the parchment into her robe. "I have an orientation to give and a lesson to teach. If one helps reinforce the other, so much the better. You may walk with me, if you will."

Severus had gone through something very similar upon his return to Hogwarts. Slytherin rankings were based on power over one's peers – an individual's rank and cadre grew within the House. Station was determined by alliances – who was whose lover, follower, friend. Severus' own rank as a student had been very high, Lucius was his patron and lover and Lucius had ruled Slythrin from his fifth year. Draco looked to be following in his father's footsteps and - if nothing disastrous happened - Slytherin soon would be jumping if Draco thought 'frog.'

Emily was coming naked into the serpent's pit. Her Malfoy lover and the backing of Draco would be weighed against the enmity of Lucius. Her own abilities would have to save her.

The common room now held only a terrified huddle of first years and the group named by Draco.

It was quick, and it was done at a level of ferociousness that Severus had not seen in a while.

The seven conspirators were howling and on their knees by the time it was over – after being flung about the room like rag dolls. Emily held their wands bunched in one hand, her breathing harsh from the pain of either bruised or cracked ribs. Severus had his teeth and claws sunk deep in Connor Thirlwall's right forearm. Draco was standing very still and keeping very quiet, his eyes seeming to flicker as he reassessed the situation.

With the Malfoy arrogance and grace, the boy came forward and laid a hand on the spot where Emily had taken the chair leg to the ribs. It was as if he were petting a tigress, not as a pet, but as an ally in the hunt.

"Rescariossus." Emily took a deep, free breath. It seemed that Draco had inherited his father's talent as a healer. "Well, Professor, it would seem I was mistaken. Here I thought that nobody would ever be so stupid as to attack a field-trained Acquisitor. I apologise for my House."

Emily gave a nod and shifted her wand, tucking it into her armpit and wrapping both hands around the bundle of seven wands. Severus caught his breath – if she broke them…

Connor Thirlwall sobbed and the others were transfixed with terror. Expulsions did not happen often at Hogwarts – perhaps one every fifteen or so years – but this would be a record. If asked to pick death versus expulsion, most students would choose a quick Avada Kedrava to the ignominy of having their wands broken before they were Flooed back home.

"Professor, a moment?"

Emily arched an eyebrow – Severus was quite amused as it was a mannerism borrowed from him. "Draco?"

"I think that – perhaps – my… associates were hasty. Simply being hotheaded and not thinking things through – most un-Slytherin of them." Draco moved to stand in front of Emily, keeping a respectful distance, using mannerism and formal tone to communicate the subtleties of rank. "If I may, I will vouch for their behavior, if you will trust me to do so. We of Slytherin often handle such things within the House. Professor Snape can assure you of that, if you have a way to contact him."

That's stretching it somewhat, Draco. However, I need this pack of idiots where I can keep an eye on them. The situation is far worse than I thought.

"This merits expulsion, Draco, as well as criminal charges. I want very much to know where they learned some of those spells – and so will the Ministry." Emily's tone could have frozen steel. Severus reassessed his measure of her – the soft curves and guileless expression hid a very dangerous little hellcat. It wasn't just temper – that he had experienced from her before – nor was it her stubbornness, but a streak of almost feline ruthlessness that he had not seen before.

Connor Thirlwall fainted. Holly Ainsley and Camilla Nott broke into hysterical tears. Zenobia Macnair appeared transfixed with sheer, white-faced terror. Ableworthy, Avery and Pucey threw what little dignity they had left to the winds and groveled, all but kissing the hem of Emily's robe.

Draco was more like his father than Severus had ever thought possible. "Perhaps, you might be convinced of their repentance," Draco gestured gracefully to the sprawled bodies. "It seems genuine to me."

Draco was engineering a coup d'état. Not even Lucius had been able to seize the reins so thoroughly. With the children of seven prominent families saved from disgrace – and Ministry questioning - the personal and familial debt to Draco would be enormous.

"Yes, quite genuine indeed. They are genuinely repentant that I beat the snot out of them. They are not sorry for the assault, Draco, they are simply sorry to be facing the consequences."

Severus had to hand it to Draco – he'd really been paying attention to his father's politicking and cultivating his mother's light touch. By the end of it, the seven were all but kissing the hem of Draco's robe as well.

Through it all the first years were wide-eyed and quiet as mice at a meeting of cats.

Hmm. Just had breakfast. Why am I hungry?

Emily handed back the wands one by one. Their owners were so limp that it looked as if someone had removed their spines. When she smiled at the first years, they nearly dropped dead on the spot. "Since these uppers have taken the time that I was supposed to spend with you, why don't you come by my office for tea? Three forty-five, please."

~

The first class was Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years.

There was no reason to panic - Ravenclaw was her old House and she'd had a good few friends in Hufflepuff.

If she left now she could be Apparating from the gate and at home with Missy in fifteen minutes.

"Breach of contract. Can't do that. It's breach of contract."

She wasn't a Potions master. She wasn't a teacher or a lecturer, much less a professor – who the hell was Dumbledore kidding?

"Yow!" Snape was seated regally on his high desk, eyeing her with some ire.

"Right. Right."

Inanna's tits! Her insides felt like jelly!

With trepidation, she approached the desk, mounting the steps to the dais. A symbol of Snape's inapproachability, his authority – the desk was imbued with an almost mystical power. The stool felt too high for her, so she placed a small lifting charm on the first rung.

There it was. The legendary bottle of blood-scarlet ink and the smaller one of black. The raven quills neatly in their racks. The House Book for the addition or deduction of points. The lessons, grade book, and journals. Behind her were the Potions tomes most often used in class and the racks of common remedies to classroom disasters.

The door opened and a very young face peeked in, following with the rest of him, classmates in tow.

The children sorted themselves into tentative groups as Emily watched. She well remembered her first time in this classroom. Professor Haversham had been looking forward to nothing more than retirement and bugger a bunch of snot-nosed kids who were standing between him and his retirement cottage. It was through sheer luck that anyone got anything out of his classes. He passed everyone – even those who hadn't a clue as to what they were doing. Then, for second year, they had a new Potions Master – Severus Snape, a sneering, evil-natured Slytherin alumnus who became cause of more nightmares and tears than any other teacher – and the sole source of every last one of Emily's detentions through the six years he'd been her teacher.

The students settled, parchment and quills at ready, looking around the dim room with evident nervousness.

Showtime.

~

Emily was a natural. Rough around the edges, but she had the class from the moment she opened her mouth.

Some of the children here were younger siblings of old classmates - she asked after older sibs and parents, and the children began to relax and respond. There were dread-laced questions about his own whereabouts; however, with the Prudissero in place Emily could not fully answer. She did manage to make it sound desirable that he should return and take up their teaching; after all, such a prominent Potions Master was vastly preferable to someone of her relative inexperience.

She encouraged questions – What would they be able to do this year? What was it like to be an Acquisitor? Would they get to make real potions that really did things? How did classes go? Did she give detentions often?

It helped that she was female – wizarding children were most often schooled at home by their mothers, governesses, or hired tutors.

At the same time, Emily was using the questions to find out how much her students knew – and that was very little indeed. It was Severus' despair that it took two years to get the children up to any proficiency at all.

Emily then rearranged the children in pairs of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. "Outside of Hogwarts we have to work with people from different backgrounds and techniques. This is a good way to get started. We Ravenclaws are quick-witted, but sometimes we need to slow down and take things step by step before moving on to the next thing.  Hufflepuffs often need to learn to vary techniques – what works for one potion can ruin another. This way you'll learn from each other, as well as from me."

By the end of the class, the little ones were taking notes and on the books like Seeker after a snitch.

And Severus was very suspicious.

The little ones filed out and Severus turned a stern gaze on Miss Mayborne.

What are you planning, little Ravenclaw chick?

The wretched girl simply made notes in the class record and smiled.

Well, the next class was not so easy as her first one. The fifth year Slytherins and Gryffi –

No. Oh no. Oh no, you don't! You will not! I forbid it!

His yowl was still echoing off the stones as the door opened and Draco Malfoy came through – stopping with a look of some concern.

"Come in Mister Malfoy, Pamiu and I have frequent differences of opinion, and this is just one of them." She then turned to Severus, "I don't recall needing your permission for this, and when you are teaching the class, you may do as you see fit. Until then, belt up."

Belt…?! I remind you, miss, to whom you are speaking! You will not take that snippy tone with me!

"I have neither the time or the patience to deal with your objections. Second warning, Cat. If you can teach the class, then by all means, go right on ahead."

The rest of the class was filing in and began to separate into their accustomed groups. In Gryffindor; Potter, Granger and Weasley – the Terrible Trio. Neville Longbottom hiding in Granger's shadow and looking as if he'd rather be anywhere on the great green globe than here – the feeling was mutual; Snape would rather have the menace that was Longbottom there, too. Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas – arguing earnestly about the new All-England Quidditch team. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were already twittering over the latest pseudo-mystical flot spouted by Sybil Trelawney – they'd stopped bringing their Divination work into his class after he'd incinerated it. Sally-Ann Perks and Melissa Moon – the wallflowers of Gryffindor with their shy smiles and giggles.

On the Slytherin side, Draco was quickly flanked by his knuckle-draggers, Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstode, Blaise Zabini, Tracey Davis – all came in a giggling girl gaggle. Stephanie Griengrass and Thomas Nott were seemingly attached at the hip and quietly observing all around them. Lucille Hainault slipped in last, joining her dormitory mates with a giggle and whisper.

Severus arched his back and felt his ears lay back. You listen to me, girl. You will not do this. It will cause endless mayhem and possibly serious injuries. I will not permit you to upset the established order of…

The class was listening, wide-eyed as their new Potions Mistress apparently engaged in a scorching argument with her familiar.

"I am not going to stand here and argue with you all bloody day. I have a class to teach, and if you can't stop howling like an air-raid siren –"

You will listen if I say you will listen you little –

"Petrificus totalus." Severus' legs snapped together, tail pointing skyward, chin straight out and ears up. He fell with a clunk to the desk blotter.

-bitch.

Mortifiying. Just humiliating. Oh, this was so beneath her! Really. He was simply voicing his objections, calling upon his years of experience, and the stubborn girl stooped to this? He was very disappointed.

Picking him up, she had the effrontery to rub his ears before she propped him against a pile of books atop the desk.

I'll have my revenge. Oh, don't you even think that you'll escape retribution. The sudden image of Miss Professor Pretty tied to his bed whilst he dripped icy cold water on her sensitive parts was quite engaging. She'd wiggle and curse and plead…

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR BLOODY MIND?!"

Ronald Weasley's Howler-volume question snapped Severus out of his planning. The Gryffindors were all on their feet, shouting en masse. His Slytherins were stone still, but every one of them looked furious.

Emily stood calmly before the storm of outrage, arms folded, weight on one leg. When the noise died down, she said, "I don't recall asking for opinions. I don't recall asking your permission. If I say that Slytherin and Gryffindor will pair off and work together, you will bloody well do it and I don't care what you think of it."

The howling broke out again, and Emily flicked her wand. "Confutomnis."

Mouths moved but nothing came out. Severus was pleased to see Potter's everlasting mouth running to no effect whatsoever. Granger simply looked stunned – not furious, but Longbottom's rabbit-face finally held an expression other than terror – the boy looked ready to take bites out of something he was so angry.

"The next outburst from anyone chops twenty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor – each." Slytherin moved to protest, but stopped at an upraised hand. "In the world outside these walls you are going to have to work with people you don't like. You're going to have to work with people who do things differently, have different ideas and beliefs – and are going to learn to start doing that here. I know all about the Slytherin-Gryffindor feud, I know how it continues even after graduation – I have seen it delay or scuttle projects, erupt into petty squabbles and even endanger lives. It's beyond pranks and foolery and into stupidity and malice." The derision took everyone including Snape aback – he'd never really given much mind to what those of other Houses thought of Slytherin and Gryffindor's mutual grudge. "Snape can put you all back when he return, but until then, you will work together and succeed together, or you will fail together."

The Gryffindors and a few of the Slytherin banged on the desks  - Snape wanted to shut his eyes but the bloody Petrificus held them open. This was either going to be a roaring success or an unmitigated catastrophe – and his bet was not on the side of success.

"Potter, Granger, Weasley, Finnegan, Longbottom, Patil, Brown, Crabbe, Zabini, Parkinson, Griengrass, Nott – detention. See me in my office before lunch to arrange it. Twenty points each from Slytherin and Gryffindor." The gasps from the students made to torches flicker, they hadn't thought that she'd really do it – and neither had he. "Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen, you have just slapped your Houses into negative numbers on the first day of classes. I think that might just be a new record! I will release the spell, and what you do after that is up to you – but it will be up to me to decide how many points it is worth. Eloquomnis."

The stunned – and silent - students paired off. "Patil and Davis. Griengrass and Brown. Crabbe and Finnegan. Bulstrode and Weasley. Granger and Parkinson. Nott and Perks." The students took their desks together, sitting as far apart as possible, regarding each other with loathing. "Moon and Hainault. Longbottom and Zabini. Goyle and Thomas…"

The last two students looked at each other in horror.

~

"Potter and Malfoy."

Harry gawped at Malfoy and Malfoy gawped back at him, then…

"THE BLOODY HELL I WILL - !" "YOU ARE A BLOODY MADWOMAN IF YOU THINK - !"

"Confutomnis." A flick of a wand and what he was going to say became silent air. "Detention and another five points from Gryffindor and from Slytherin."

Malfoy's lips were still moving and Harry would bet his Firebolt that what he was saying would earn him a good bit more than one detention. He wished he could hear it - this bloody woman was a nightmare! To think that he and Ron had actually thought that she was pretty! Even if Ron did mumble something about his dad not much liking 'her kind.' Wherever Snape was, he needed to get back here – after this Harry and the entire class would fall to their knees and kiss the hem of his robe!

The sudden thought struck him that Snape might be doing something much more important and dangerous that presiding over Potions classes. Headmaster Dumbledore had asked Snape to do something that – Harry thought – had scared him. What could scare Snape was something that Harry wanted very much not to know.

Fine. Just. Fine. He could deal with Malfoy. The spawn of a Death Eater, and all around prat, git, prick…

With jaw clenched and teeth grinding, Harry took his seat. And when he'd seen Remus he had thought it might actually be a good year!

Hermione and Pansy looked about to start pulling each other's hair out by the handfuls any moment. Ron seemed ready to faint with horror as Millie Bulstrode towered over him. Neville and Blaise Zabini both looked as if they had made a wrong turn and wound up in hell. Draco took his seat and sat as stiffly as if he'd been hit with the same Petrificus as Professor Mayborne's familiar.

"Eloquomnis."

Harry grunted – just to make sure that his vocal cords were working - and pulled out his Potions journal and quill. Draco was muttering under his breath as he did the same – the blond boy's language was enough to guarantee detention until he was thirty. Then came the two words that never failed to make Harry's eyes roll – "My father…"

Professor Mayborne's smile was simply scary. It was like watching a tiger smile – at the thought of dinner. "Pardon me, Mister Malfoy?"

Draco's sneer was muted for some reason, but the strutting confidence of his words was still enough to make Harry want to hit him.

"When my father hears of this…"

Even the Gryffindors looked at little hopeful – damn near everyone knuckled under to Lucius Malfoy and that family had been Slytherin since Salazar!

"Ah. Lucius." Professor Mayborne leaned on Harry and Malfoy's desk. "Been a while. I haven't crossed wands with Lucius in a few years now – your mother or sister can fill you in on the details." Draco had a sister? "But honestly, Draco, one of the last things in this world that I fear is Lucius with his bits in a twist." The tiger-smile deepened – a tiger wanting to develop a close, personal relationship with dinner. "As the Yanks say – Bring it."

The woman was insane! She looked like a soft little thing, but she was just mad! The whole class evidently thought so, too. Even the Dim Twins – Crabbe and Goyle – had the wits to look scared.

"Now that we've spent precious class time dispensing with this stupidity, can we now continue the lesson?" Mounting the steps, the Potions Mistress took a place behind the lectern. "Today's lecture is first in a series on the uses of minerals, metals and gemstones – a subject that is very complicated and hence will consume the larger part of your lab time this year. Today we will begin by covering the best-known gemstones – ruby, diamond, sapphire, emerald, pearl - and their general properties."

By the end of the lecture, Harry was dizzy and even Hermione looked a little daunted. Malfoy was still scribbling frantically in his notes. From Actinolite to Zircon there were hundreds of different stones, a good many with subcategories. Fourteen types of emerald? Thirty-five types of sapphire? Eight types of ruby? How different colors of diamond could affect the potion in which they were used? Why only natural pearls – never cultured - should be used in potions? Why the properties of gemstones could be changed by heating and when they should not be heated? The reasons to use raw or 'rough' gems or cut gems?

Setting up their cauldrons, the class was silent. Everyone knew that fifth year brought more in-depth explorations on subjects, but this…!

"Your laboratory unit for today is a simple purifying potion. The pearls are each standardized for weight and size." With a flick of the wand, the specification and formula appeared, along with a large chalkboard. "Feel free to ask questions. As a matter of fact, if any of you are at any time uncertain as to a particular step or method, I would encourage you to do so. Especially as, if steps two through five are not done correctly, this potion has a marked tendency to explode."

With that, she turned back to the desk, settled on the high stool and opened a ledger on the blotter. "Oh, and one more thing, students, when I said succeed together or fail together, I meant it. You are being graded as a team in your laboratory units, and since that is half your grade, it would behoove you not to sabotage your partners just for a shot at a rival house. You may begin."

Squabbles broke out, but were squelched by detention and deduction of House points. Before long, Harry was taking notes in a lab journal and Malfoy was cutting, chopping, grinding and brewing. The blond boy had fast hands, and a very sure technique. Harry had to grudgingly admit that Malfoy earned his marks in Potions – Snape might favor Slytherin, but he gave no one an easy ride.

"So, your dad's going to hit the ceiling over this one, Malfoy?" Harry murmured, keeping a very sharp eye on the witch at the desk.

"What's the Muggle expression? He'll go ballistic." Malfoy shook his head in equal parts anger and admiration. "She's mad. Nutters." Then, slyly, "She's potty."

Harry flushed and was about to retaliate when…

"Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, do you really want to be spending all your free time with either me or Master Filch?"

"No, Professor Mayborne." "No, Professor Mayborne."

"Then keep your attention on your work and not on pushing each others' buttons - Draco."

"Yes, Professor Mayborne." "Yes, Professor Mayborne."

How the hell did she do that? She wasn't even looking at them, she was writing in the ledger and occasionally rubbing her cat's ears!

The class did a credible job on the potion, and had time to test it on corrupted samples of different things. A glass of sour milk was returned to drinkable state. Fouled water was made potable. A botched potion was made useable. Harry was quite impressed.

"Very satisfactory. Five points to Slytherin and to Gryffindor. Your assignment for the week is an essay on the possible uses of the potion you just made, and alternate ingredients that would have the same effect." The professor picked up her petrified familiar, tucking him under one arm. "Those of you with detentions to arrange please see me in my office immediately after class. To the rest of you, good day."

She left in a swirl of robes that would have done Snape proud.

~

The office door banged shut and Emily collapsed into a chair like a puppet with strings cut.

Severus was bloody furious. She'd petrified him and left him sitting on the desk like a furry paperweight! In front of the whole class! She'd violated the unspoken rules that kept Slytherin and Gryffindor segregated – and the school standing - then she had the effrontery to… do things… to his ears!

Severus' visions of revenge were glorious.

Professor Pretty would get everything that she had coming to her and then some – and Severus would enjoy the delivery of six long years of frustration upon her wriggling, pink, squealing self.

"Now, Pamiu, we need to have a little talk. You behaved abominably today, and I am not going to stand for it." Her light tone hardened, her expression grim. "This fucking quarrel between the houses has had some very nasty consequences in the world outside. I'm going to release you and tell you about them, but if you start squalling at me, you'll go back to being a paperweight until you calm down. Mulceo."

Severus shook, blinked and fluffed everything out, just to let her how annoyed he was before settling into Bast posture.

Talk girl, there's not a lot that can change my mind.

"In our second year as Acquisitors Missy, Susan and I were assigned to a new site found on a warded island in the Adriatic. It was the ancient domain of a dark wizard, who apparently died at the teeth of his own creations. The place was loaded with artifacts and writings – and the descendants of those creations that hadn't eaten each other." She settled back in the chair, keeping her eyes locked with his. "Missy, Susan and I and another team were a assigned section of the dungeons and were clearing it for the archaeological teams. The former owner was brilliant, but it's very easy to see how he died – he'd been experimenting with making guardian beasts out of venomous snakes."

Severus felt his hackles raise – altering the properties of the being also meant in many cases that the properties of the venom were altered and that the administration of antidotes could have unforeseen side-effects.

"We had asked, and been told, that the workroom area had been cleared – it hadn't. The snakes were little, but they were leapers and the venom was formulated along that of viperidae. Missy, Susan and I received bites on the hands and face." She held out her hand, and showed Severus what appeared to be little paired pinpricks of white scars. "The mediwizard in training who was supposed to be trailing us had instead left his post to go complain to his superior about having to work with a Slytherin. They found us in time, but when they administered the antidote in the field kit, Susan went into convulsions - she was allergic to the venom. I remembered the emergency potion to halt anaphylaxis, you taught it to us in sixth year. I had to mix and administer the potion myself. He refused to even listen to Missy. Because this boy carried the feud with him, Susan nearly died."

Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees. Severus sat mute and chilled, stunned that anyone could take the grudge to that length. But should he have been? The rivalry had been open warfare from the time James Potter dragged him unconscious and bleeding into the infirmary. Severus' mates, worried when he hadn't shown up after dinner, had gone looking for him – with Evan Rosier spotting Potter hauling Severus in.

Blood had been spilled – his. Even if Severus could not speak of the events of that night, Slytherin avenged its own – blood for blood. By the time he had returned to teach, the feud was institutionalized – the cause forgotten, the mayhem continued. It was only six years ago that Slytherin and Gryffindor were even put back into classes together.

"Susan never made a full recovery. The nerve agent in the venom, the convulsions, hemorrhages, and swelling from the reaction left damage behind." Emily's eyes glimmered and a rainy scent that must be sadness rolled from her skin. "The firm placed her in gemstones acquisition, splitting her between Bangkok and London. You know… what we were to each other. In time, we grew too far apart. Missy and I were in the field. Susan was traveling. It wasn't a bad ending, we're friends, but…"

You'll never know what could have been. That I understand.

"Do you see now what I'm trying to do?"

"Yow." I do, but you are working against something that had become institutionalized - not only on the part of the school, but outside of it as well. Lucius and the other Slytherin parents might blow their top over this, but it's going to be a tea party compared to what the Gryffindor parents will do to you.

A rap at the door signaled the first of the detainees coming for their disposition and Emily wearily pulled herself back together. Severus took a position on the desk at her side, looking stern.

"Enter!"

~

Sirius was perplexed.

He nudged the girl's hand again. Her scent was so washed out that it was almost watery.

Same reaction.

"Buhbuhbuhbuh…"

He looked at Snape. "Woof?"

What in the hell's wrong with her?

Emily Mayborne sat in a chair in the staff room and stared haggardly into space. From what Sirius had been hearing through out the day, she'd earned it. Mixing Slytherins and Gryffindors! Minerva McGonagall had pitched a fit that was soothed only by Dumbledore's patient applications of Strachan's Single Malt.

There were a few other things he held against her, too – things much more personal than mixing the Houses. The way Remus looked at her. The scent deliciously unique to a healthy, receptive female – even if she couldn't help it. The way Remus' clothes smelled of her last night. She kissed him. Kissed Remus!

Snape shrugged. "Meow."

The tone was rather matter-of-fact. Was this normal? Certainly Snape was taking this rather too well – Slytherin partisan that he was. Though Sirius supposed a petrificus might have a way of settling a man – or a cat. Either way, Sirius wished that he'd been able to see it.

Remus came in, carrying a cup in one hand. Tea? What the hell did he thing he was going to do with tea? The woman needed a psychiawitch!

Remus kicked a hassock in front of Emily's seat and set himself on it. Other teachers were peering in the door, and then withdrawing with smiles that were either sympathetic or vindictive, depending on their relationship with Remus or Mayborne.

"Here now, Emmy." Remus picked up one limp hand and pressed the cup into it. "Drink this up, just toss it on back."

The Cat snorted and Sirius agreed - it would take more than a cuppa to revive her!

In slow motion the cup lifted to lips and she tossed it back.

"That's a girl," Remus propped the bottom of the cup with his fingers, "tip it all back."

"URGHURK!" The cup was thrown across the room. Emily spluttered and coughed herself off the chair and onto the floor. "That *coughcough* wasn't *cough* bloody *kaffhack* tea!"

"No, it was the best damned whiskey in all of Scotland. Desmadidus." The sobering charm made Sirius shiver in sympathy. The charm wrung the bespelled through all the stages of drunkenness in five seconds flat – including the hangover.

Ooh, Moony, that's rough!

Emily evidently agreed, glaring at Remus from the floor and suggesting some unusual sexual positions. Sirius committed a few of them to memory, as they were quite lyrical.

"Sorry Emmy, but," Remus laughed, "if you could have seen yourself! Look, it's a normal reaction. I'll even bet that you want to go find every teacher you've ever had and kiss the hems of their robes in humble apology." Offering his hand, he helped her to her feet. "I felt the same way after my first day, and I have it on good authority that Severus begged to be permitted to enter a monastery."

Snape in a monastery? Maybe to bugger the monks! Slytherins were a lusty and precocious lot, and some were quite versatile in orientation. Lucius had seen to Severus' education and sent the little git on his merry rounds – Snape and his cohorts had been bouncing from bed to bed from fourth year, the Slytherin sluts.

Emily eyed Whisp with a grin, "A monastery now, is it?"

Snape did that His Majesty The Cat posture again, ignoring with dignity.

"Then again, neither Severus or I ever decided to, oh… say… set off bombs in the dungeons?" Remus raised an eyebrow and firmed his grip on her wrist. "You've some explaining to do."

"Oh, shit fire and save matches, you're not a Gryff too?" Emily wailed. "Look, the whole school turns on the fucking Slytherin/Gryffindor feud, and it carries over in unexpected ways after school is left behind. I might have to explain it to Snape and to Dumbledore but I will be fucked, buttered and painted blue if I'll kowtow to anyone else and that is bloody final!"

The last word was roared at full voice an inch from Remus' nose.

Remus blinked.

Sirius blinked.

Severus squeezed his eyes closed, whiskers turning up, the scent of contentment rolling off of him.

WHAT? Okay, fine. Sirius could see Whisp enduring, dealing with or tolerating Miss Mayborne's frankly wrongheaded edict, but acceptance? Remus seemed to be likewise buffaloed – the scents and stance of the quiet-looking woman were more appropriate to a big carnivore protecting her territory.

In a blink, Emily was back to her friendly-looking, sweet-scented self. "Now, gentlemen, we're going to be late for dinner. Are you all coming?"

~

Harry and Ron looked up as Hermione came into the Gryffindor common room just before curfew.

"Well? What did Remus say?" "Did you talk to him?"

Hermione nodded, her face grim and gestured to a corner by the fireplace. The room was filled with students stumbling back into school routine, and the trio went unnoticed.

"He didn't want to tell me, I know that much. Harry, I'm not sure that he was right to tell me anything. We could be putting both Professor Snape and Sirius in grave danger."

"Is there any other kind, 'Mione?" Ron got an elbow in his ribs from her for that one.

"Shush, Ron, this is serious." One hand unconsciously closed around her prefects badge as if it could be used for a shield. "All he would say about Sirius was that he had no idea how long he'd be gone, but that the Ministry is still hunting for him. Snape…" Hermione took a deep breath, "Remus said that he could be in a lot more danger if anyone was to interfere, and that the best way to help them both is by staying put."

Ron and Harry both grimaced at that. Time to get out the invisibility cloak and have a look about, just to see of they could find anything. Sirius could need help, and so could Snape – even if Snape in need of anything from anybody was the last thing the three could imagine.

"What about the mer- the Acquisitor?" Ron changed tone at a pair of hard looks from Harry and Hermione. He'd had his prejudices rammed down his throat and hadn't liked the taste one bit. From werewolves, to Muggleborn versus Pureblood, to same-sex pairings, to Acquisitors the wizarding was more tolerant in some areas and less in others.

Hermione's voice was a little stiff. "Emily Mayborne is a former advanced student of Professor Snape's and she did not exactly volunteer for this. She's got a mate…"

Ron muttered, "A Malfoy mate…"

"… and a life that have been interrupted. She's not a Gryffindor or a Slytherin, but a Ravenclaw. Remus seems to think… quite well of her." The last sentence was brittle and there were hard streaks of red under her cheekbones.

Harry nearly fell over in astonishment. Hermione… Remus…oh… wow.

It was going to be an interesting year.

~

Breakfast the next morning was very interesting, to say the least.

This morning saw Draco Malfoy get a double Howler from his parents. Two brilliant red parchments flanked him, roaring in French loud enough to shake the tables. More Howlers arrived for other students about the same time. The Gryffindor fifth and third years got the most, with their Slytherin counterparts taking second. A few Ravenclaw and a single Hufflepuff took the brunt of their parent's outrage.

It was nothing to compare to the head table, where Remus Lupin and Emily Mayborne looked to be getting showered with overlarge rose petals. The staff looked amazed – and a few looked angry. Minerva gathered herself and went to speak quietly to the pair and returned to her seat shaking her head as Remus popped the seals on his Howlers one by one.

The children of the people in question cringed in utter shame. Professor Lupin was a good teacher! He was fair and knew what he was doing a lot better than the other hacks who'd been tapped to teach Defense. The epithets in those Howlers guaranteed that the authors had never intended them to be opened at breakfast, either. Through it all the man simply sat and ate his eggs, drank his coffee, and chatted with Professor Mayborne. Their familiars – the black cat on the table and the brown and white dog under it – were the ones having fits.

Finally, the last of Remus' Howlers went off.

Mortified silence filled the hall, the usual morning sounds smothered under the weight of the occupants' embarrassment at having witnessed such a stunning display of bad manners and bigotry.

"Are you going to answer?" Emily buttered a scone and slipped some bacon to Toffee.

Remus shrugged, "Nothing they called me or threatened me with is anything that I haven't heard before. It's not worth the energy to fight with them. It won't change their minds and just makes me tired and frustrated. Sometimes you get to pick your battles – I'll sit this one out."

Emily nodded and broke open her first Howler, careful to copy the sender's name and address in a little book pulled from a pocket on her cargo pants.

It was… worse. Some students got up and ran from the hall. A good few later composed Howlers to their own parents. Others put their heads on the table when they recognized their parent's voices.

The staff, to a one, looked stunned.

And yet, the young professor calmly opened each envelope.

They called her names that a Knockturn Alley streetwalker would consider offensive. They insulted her sexual orientation. They called her a mercenary, a profiteer, a pirate and a thief. They threatened her with bodily harm in terms graphic and violent. They threatened action with the Ministry.

The cat gave up his yowling and took a place in her lap. Even the dog managed to look horrified. Remus simply asked Emily if she'd like to try the cheese rolls, they were quite good.

Finally, the last owl came forward; a Malfoy eagle owl with a red envelope in his beak.

Draco pushed his breakfast away and buried his head in his arms.

Emily broke the seal.

"WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING – TRADITION -- SOUND REASONS NOT TO MIX HOUSES – MUDBLOODS – CORRUPTION – GRYFFINDORS – SHOULD HAVE VOTED AGAINST YOUR EMPLOYMENT – GO BACK TO BEING A MERCENARY – UNFIT TO TEACH – UNFIT FOR POLITE SOCIETY – SACKED IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY ABOUT IT AND I DO – FLOUTING YOUR DISREGARD OF PROPER WAYS SINCE THE AGE OF FIFTEEN – HOYDEN – UNMARRIED AT TWENTY-THREE – NO HEIRS – DISREGARD, NO, UTTER CONTEMPT FOR THE OBLIGATIONS OF YOUR SEX AND HERITAGE – LED MY ARTEMISIA ASTRAY -- MADE THE WRONG STEP WITH ME FOR THE LAST TIME, YOU SAPPHIC STRUMPET!"

The Howler disintegrated in a flash of green fire and the hall was silent though that the faint creaking of timbers in the rafters could be heard.

"Well, Lucius, always good to hear from you, even if it is repetitive." Setting down her mug, she gently deposited her familiar on the table and petted him. The handsome beast's tail was corkscrewed and his ears twitching. "Don't take on so, P- Pamiu, I'm used to it by now." The cat howled. "We'll discuss it later, I need to answer these before class. I'll be back in a few minutes." Glancing at occupants of the table, many too stunned to move, much less speak, excused herself and left.

The hall sat silent. Minerva McGonagall leaned over to whisper to a very grim-looking Albus Dumbledore.

Minutes passed. It was getting close to class time, but not one teacher or student moved from their seat.

Emily came back through the door, two scarlet envelopes in her hands.

Only two? There had to have been thirty or more Howlers between her and Remus Lupin!

She blinked to see not one person had moved in the ten minutes she'd been gone. "Well, since you're all here, I'll show you some practical little spells that my partner and I learned in America."

Laying one envelope on the table, she tapped it with her wand. "Xeroxio seventeen."

Pop. Pop. Pop. One by one seventeen scarlet envelopes appeared next to the original, identical down to the blob of sealing wax impressed with the Mayborne oak, peregrine, and crossed lances.

Remus looked impressed. "Xeroxio? That's a good one! But are you sure you want to do this? It's not going to change anyone's minds, you know."

The dog barked in what sounded like affirmation. The cat walked over to the heap of defunct howlers and mimed burying them as he might his waste, shaking a paw in dismissal as he walked away.

Emily opened her little notebook and tapped an address, "Here's another one. It's good for when you have to address a large amount of documents to individuals. Dragondrop." A tiny winged dragon flew from the tip of her wand, clutching a small card it its talons. The hummingbird-sized dragon dropped the card onto the Howler and the address appeared on the envelope before the little lizard flew back to Emily's wand. "I know it's not really – dragondrop - going to change – dragondrop -anything, I just – dragondrop - feel compelled – dragondrop - to respond. Dragondrop. If someone wants – dragondrop - to critique my – dragondrop - performance, - dragondrop - profession, - dragondrop - personal habits, - dragondrop - morals, - dragondrop - ethics, - dragondrop - manners, - dragondrop - or breeding, - dragondrop - that's fine, - dragondrop - but leave my she-mate out of it."

She summoned waiting owls and distributed the Howlers. The birds departed in a thunder of wings, bearing her response back to their owners. Emily then summoned the Malfoy eagle owl.

The entire Slytherin table stood up with apprehension and outright fear on many faces.

"Sit down and finish your breakfast." Emily looked up from addressing the envelope. "Sit."

They sat.

Offering the owl a treat, she said, "Now, take this to Big Daddy right away, wherever he is. There's a good fellow."

Things, however, did not go as planned. Instead of winging for the open window, the huge owl flew the length of the great Hall and swooped out the doors that led into the entry hall.

"Ohbloodyno."

There was a pause and then…

"WHO IN THE HELL ARE YOU TO TALK TO ME THAT WAY – SAY WHAT YOU LIKE ABOUT ME OR MY PROFESSION BUT LEAVE MISSY OUT OF IT, YOU WHITE-HAIRED HYPOCRITE – AT LEAST I HAVE OTHER ACCOMPLISHMENTS TO MY RECORD OTHER THAN BEING BORN – TWOFACED – ARROGANT – FULL OF YOURSELF -- FULL OF SHIT – HEAD UP SO FAR UP YOUR ARSEHOLE THAT YOU CAN PLAY YOUR VOCAL CORDS LIKE A KAZOO – IF YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY TO ME YOU MAY COME TO MY OFFICE AFTER FOUR O'CLOCK AND SAY IT DIRECTLY TO MY FACE –"

The cat buried his face in his paws and moaned in horror. The dog's tail was thumping merrily on the floor and Remus - desperately trying not to laugh – failed dismally and fell right out of his chair.

"FURTHERMORE, LUCIUS, IF YOU REALLY WANT TO GET PERSONAL - AT LEAST WHEN I WAS IN SCHOOL, I MADE MY REPUTATION FOR SCHOLARSHIP AND NOT FOR BANGING LIKE A SHITHOUSE DOOR!"

Emily cursed.

The hall exploded with laughter and shouts of doomsaying. Albus choked on his tea, "Oh… dear."

The crisp sound of shoes on stone echoed into the hall, and each step marked the reduction in volume. Utter silence reigned as Lucius Malfoy - impeccably attired in a deep green wool frock coat, snowy-white silk shirt with a green cravat, and green-embroidered black silk waistcoat - appeared in the doorway. A vein throbbed in one temple, the muscles of his jaw bunched and his color was far from the usual aristocratic pureblood pallor.

"Well. Good morning to you, Emily," he smiled.

Emily returned with a smile of her own, "Lucius, good morning. Lovely day."

"Indeed. Indeed. You seem in good voice as well." The man was absolutely cheery!

"Why, thank you, Lucius. It was a delight for me to be graced with your dulcet tones over my breakfast."

Tucking his swagger stick under one arm, Lucius Malfoy executed a courtly bow and purred, "Jusqu'à une autre heure, ma chère jeune dame, et alors moi vous enseignerons la leçon ce que vous devriez avoir appris."

Hermione and many other young ladies – and more than a few young men - resolved to study French.

Emily rose and gave Lucius a deep curtsy, "Mon plaisir et honneur, monsieur, pour rencontrer l'enthousiasme votre enseignement."

"Until then, my dear." Lucius made another leg and exited the hall.

~

Lucius to Emily: "Until another time, my dear young lady, and then I will teach to you the lesson which you should have learned."

Emily to Lucius: "My delight and honor, sir, to meet your teaching with enthusiasm."