Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Elrin Danse is my own creation and the story is my own.
Distraction Thy Name is WomanIf an observant student had watched two people: one male and one female having breakfast at the High Table, they would have seen them mirror imaging one another, though one was at one end of the table and one at the other, with the Headmaster as pivot in the middle. They exhibited identical behaviour and were islands of inner contemplation, gazing vacantly into their untouched food. Neither spoke to their neighbour and neither looked in each other's direction: not one glance did they dare to take, as it might have been too much to bear: both frightened of the consequences of doing so. They might have crumbled, turned to salt or fused together on the spot. It was as if each were in an inner whirlwind, while outside reflected calm and peace. Flashes of the evening before came up before their eyes in multi-coloured cinematography but as neither of them had the other as a reflection, did not know if last night had truly existed or not. It was not inconceivable that both of them were under a Dream Spell. Fortunately she was sitting next to Hagrid, who apart from an initial greeting in which he received a blank face and then a half-bewildered smile, tackled his mixed grill in tactful silence and left her in peace.
She could feel Severus' presence at the other end of the table as surely as her own, but at the same time he might also have been a world away. Indeed, her body and emotions had felt as if they had moved through a combat zone and she could still feel all the parts that he had touched as if he continued to do so. She could still feel the wetness between her legs, and was proud that she was a woman because she had a tangible reminder, and he would not. It was a comforting feeling to carry his essence around for a while and later she would need to go to Poppy for a Morning After Spell. At the thought of doing that, she felt just a little uncomfortable, like wiping him from her body.
On her arrival at her room in the early hours of the morning the mirror in the bathroom had squeaked loudly that she wanted some of whatever she had had. However, she had nevertheless felt far from blooming, more like windswept and bewildered, a tangle of emotions and fierce memories. The gap between last night and this morning was like an uncrossable ocean, the physical absence from one another painful and more than physical. Like amoebas, they had joined and then sprung apart – but left some of their own substance behind, and she could feel it, not just in her body, but also in her heart and in her head. The absence of him and the presence of him were almost identical pains. What would happen when she had to face him in public, or just as difficult, in private? Last night they had stumbled out of the library exhausted, and were so busy attending to the practicality of getting back to their separate rooms without any ghosts or humans discovering them, that they had not resolved their embarrassment and confusion.
What am I going to do? What is he going to do?It felt to her that her world had shifted. Everything around her seemed different. She noticed Hermoine talking to Draco, and blinked, and suddenly it did not seem such an improbable pairing after all. She saw secret interactions amongst the students, subtle and not so subtle; those avoiding and those being drawn towards. Both of these instincts could have the same face. She noticed Hagrid's hands tenderly holding his toast, her own hands and the worn submission of the great wooden table beneath them. Looking up she saw the way the tapestries hung proudly over the assembly, the way Xiomara bent down to talk to one of the first years and the wispy winter light coming down through the windows. Everything appeared very beautiful with a meaning that was not clear, but which reached the very heart of her. The observer from the front would have noticed that the still figure on the opposite side of the table had come out of his coma and had at last come to a specific decision about a particular problem. He had taken a deep breath, put his napkin down with a graceful and a deliberate movement and glanced briefly to his left before getting up.
Hagrid had tapped her arm to get her attention as Albus was talking to her, but she did not hear anything he said. Struggling to rise up from the waters that engulfed her, she heard something about his office, and as soon as she could.
If only he knew what use they had put the library furniture to.Before he left she felt his frail hand pat her on the shoulder and saw his tender smile, before she turned to contemplate her coffee. Almost immediately, she heard Severus begin to pass behind her to leave, recognising the pace of his walk and the distinctive sound of his robes, and she held her breath at the sound, wanting him to stop, to hear his voice, to be lit in his dark presence, but was not courageous enough to turn and greet him. In fact he hesitated, and she thought he was going to bend down and speak to her as he often did, but he continued on.
Which was she more afraid of, the rejection or the acceptance?Asking Hagrid what Albus had said she found that the Dumbledore wanted to see both her and Severus in his office, as soon it was convenient. Immediately guilt rose up in her face and Hagrid laughed.
"What yew bin doin' then eh?" as he polished off more toast. There was still a large pile for him to finish. He looked slightly abashed when she rushed off past curious students.
As Albus asked her to enter, she did so with trepidation but it did not appear that she was in trouble, judging by his face and since Severus had not arrived, she relaxed a little. Since the Head was busy writing a letter, she went to say hello to Fawkes, who put his head on one side and regarded her with one of his black eyes. "How are you Elrin?" he asked.
"I'm.."
Was she about to be honest or was she going to lie?"I'm, not sure what I am at the moment. I think the world has just turned upside down"
He nodded slowly, satisfied.
"We still haven't found out the answer as to why the first potion went wrong," she said, hoping for another hint.
"It may take a little time. It approaches. "You will do it, both of you.
"Will we? It seems like we are going backwards."
"That is when you make the most progress, but you can't see it. Patience, dear Elrin. All in good time."
The least patient person then arrived, closed the door and she could feel him standing behind her back and was afraid to turn around.
Just like her first day.
At that time, she had spun around to see that manifestation of power standing there, arms folded: that critic, that black-eyed bird of prey and he had seized her soul then. In hindsight, it was easy to recognise it.
Fawkes had said that he was her – something or other. Had he felt the same then? No, of course not, he had been livid.
"Ah. Good. Severus." Albus said, blotting his letter. "I will be with you in just a minute."
Then she turned around, as Severus loomed over her, close. Her heart leapt at the sight of him, but there was a look on his face that immediately worried her.
"Good morning, Elrin. I trust you had a good night," he asked smugly, not lowing his voice, one hand negligently placed in his jacket pocket, looking down at her, delighted by her look of alarm on her face.
Turning quickly back to Fawkes, she madly thought of burying her face there as it rose in colour not unlike the feathers before her.
Die. Die.
"Good morning. Yes, thank you," she replied, trying to keep the tension out of her voice, but since she was determined not to let him disconcert her, but knowing she was making things worse added, "We worked well into the night."
"Yes," he said silkily suggestive, "we did, didn't we?"
Bastard. He was a master at this game: not a good idea to join in. What does he think he was playing at?Her hands were shaking, and she gave them something to do by fiddling with Fawkes' water bowl.
In front of Albus of all people.
As she struggled to gain control of her composure, she turned towards him, while he stood there boldly appraising her, making her more and more uncomfortable. He looked at her with recollection in his eyes and it seemed to her as if it what was there was visible for all to see. Being bound up was nothing: this was torture.
None of this was right. This was not how it was supposed to be. As if she were – as if she were – a mouse and he the cat, only he was the serpent and she the – what? The serpent and the –
Something echoed in her mind, but the thought vanished as it came.
If he was trying to distance her, he was doing a good job.
Albus was still ferreting amongst some books, his back to them, so she mouthed 'stop it' at him and pushed his chest with her hand and he jeered at her silently.
The Headmaster had finished with his business and was walking towards them.
"Let us all have a seat. I would like to discuss a few things if you don't mind," he said with a casualness that betrayed the critical subject matter. Immediately they all made for a chair. She wanted the seat beside Severus so that she would not be facing him, but Dumbledore was nearer, and she had no choice. All outer coolness herself, she sat facing both of them and crossed her legs, the Potion Master's eyes following their motion beneath her long skirt.
He was against her breasts, moaning, not a few hours ago.
"I wanted to inform you that Lupin is much better," he began, stroking his beard and eyeing both of them. "His spell in St. Mungo's will soon be coming to an end. As always, Severus, the usual potion that you supplied has done the trick. It was a little touch and go, but he has pulled through. When he is discharged, he will come here to you for his usual dose but – discreetly. Unfortunately, and he paused, "he will be unable to continue teaching. At least until I have addressed the governing board."
"Do you think it is likely that he will be reinstated? After all, it wasn't his fault," she asked.
It seemed so unfair. He was such a good teacher.
"No, it was my fault," Severus observed, serious now.
"It was mine as well," she countered.
"It was my responsibility," he said bitterly. She couldn't argue with that. Then Albus put his hand up for silence.
"I truthfully cannot tell you whether they will accept him or not. However, I will do my best. Which is all of us can ever do," he said sternly, looking at both of them.
"We don't know why it went wrong," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the old man. "Neither of us."
"My children," he said, "This is an enormous undertaking. Do not underestimate it. Give it time."
"We don't have time," growled the Potions Master.
"We are always given the time we need."
Dumbledore was giving her a similar answer as Fawkes. How odd. Well, they were both very old. Perhaps that's you got like at that when you were in your old age. Not her Aunt Dorothy though, definitely not.
"It is important," he emphasised, "to slow down."
Severus frowned, raking his hands through his hair, but he wasn't a potions expert for nothing. He knew the value of evaluation and consolidation.
She had thrust her hands through that hair, and pulled him to her.
The rise and fall of his steady breathing made her ache to lie on his chest and she could feel her body immediately respond.
For heaven's sake listen to Dumbledore.
"Voldemort is getting itchy," the younger man growled.
"No doubt," Albus replied, " but it will not help to drum to his tune." "We," and he nodded to include Elrin in this, "will make our own way," and tilted his head up, to scrutinize them resolutely through his glasses.
"What about Draco Malfoy?" asked Severus turning towards the Headmaster. The sensual movement of his body caught her off guard.
Just a small movement, and it sent her rocketing into outer space. Pull yourself together woman.
"Lucius is going to be livid."
"Yes," said Albus dryly. "He probably is. Though we could hardly blame him in the circumstances."
"Stupid boy shouldn't have been out of bounds in the first place," Severus replied scornfully, "What did the boy think he was doing in that tower? Up to no good, no doubt."
Hypocrite.
Albus shrugged lightly. Her guess was that he already knew.
The old boy kept an awful lot to himself.
"Possibly. If you had not been around, I do not like to imagine what might have happened. How is your leg by the way?"
"Poppy sorted it. It wasn't significant."
Humph. Enough for Poppy to fuss around him.
"Good. Good. Now, I want you two to just continue as you are."
Since that had a double meaning for both of them, both averted their eyes from Dumbledore, and since neither of them was looking at him, did not see him raise both his white eyebrows at Fawkes.
"Oh, and I nearly forgot, there is the Valentines Day Ball to be arranged," he said gleefully, clapping his hands.
Severus groaned.
"I know it's not easy my good friend. Bear up," he said mischievously.
Bear up indeed.
The time that she dreaded most, being alone together as they both entered the corridor outside the office, was upon her. As soon as they started to walk along together, he turned to speak to her.
"Severus," Elrin spoke to cut him off, her voice hiding her hurt but not the fury that was rising in her.
"I don't think, he said brusquely interrupting her in turn, mocking her anger with one eyebrow raised, "that we can afford distractions. Do you? ?" and glared at her, not wanting any other answer.
Distractions? He had cried out her name.
He continued speaking but she did not hear. Instead she heard the slamming of bolts and the rattling of shutters in her ears.
But he had opened himself. She had felt him. She knew his heart, or did she?
She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it.
Things were fitting into place. He had plundered her, spent his damned up passion, and now he wanted nothing.
What could she say? Then the anger rose within her, blocking out her humiliation.
"We have a lot of work to do," she said, fuming.
"We do indeed," he agreed. "I will expect you at 2 o'clock this afternoon," his voice precise and silky cold.
Dismiss her like that would he? She would bring him to his knees. She would have him crying out again for her, like it or not.
Then she stormed off, her boots echoing in the empty corridor, leaving him standing. What she didn't see was him lean against a side pillar, bow his head, and then turn to watch her retreating back as her robes billowed out behind her.
Deliberately staying away from him for most of the day should have helped, but it didn't: the draw of him pulled her towards the dungeon as urgent as ever. Well muffled in scarf and cloak as it was still fairly cold, she walked out on the grounds that was soaked with the rain from the night before, trying to clear her head and her heart, both having the properties of lead. He had dismissed last night abruptly, had banished it as a 'distraction' and the ghost of the potion that didn't work hovered between them. He had started the second potion from the second parchment in between classes. The third part was the next piece to be translated and she dreaded it; to be seated so, so near, yet to be so far apart. Her body ached inside and there appeared to be no treatment for it.
Had he felt anything at all? Was she fooling herself?
She stared at the grey lake, dark shadows appearing and disappearing frequently, with odd glints on the water's surface. The high mountains that surrounded the school had only some snow on them now, as the season gradually changed, for she could smell the dank wet smell rising up from the earth and the vegetation, rich and fertile. It would be a good day to ride, and remembered the day of the snow and her heart fell down another step. There had been no indication from him that he wanted her, ever, except on that day. Then she had felt his desire, the magnetic pull between them. There was no mistake about that. And then last night, with him in a fury, breaking the tight control he always had on himself, his horse bolting.
Fool. It was just a one night's stand, that's all. So deal with it.
There was nothing there but her dreams, and it was time to wake up.
"Hello Elrin." Came a deep voice, and when she turned her head, found Hagrid standing there beside her with concern on his bushy face. She greeted him, glad for a little company, and he sat down on a nearby rock, so that he was more on an eyelevel with her.
How often did he have to do that?
It was better to be downwind of Hagrid if he had been dealing with Blasted Skrewts, but today was not one of those times.
"I hear yeah a researcher for Phoenix?"
It seemed the usual useful greeting, and she was grateful that she had some sort of positive label to be identified with.
"Yes, I am."
"Ay, top birds 'em"
"Top birds indeed," she agreed.
"I got summat for yeh," he said as he pulled out the most beautiful small bat from inside his gigantic clothes. It was nodding and shaking and it was in the palm of his hand, so tiny and delicate, she was amazed that someone of Hagrid's size could handle it and not harm it.
"It's so beautiful," she cried, delighted. "Is it ill, to shake like that?"
"It's fine, just sunlight an' it'll be fine soon as it's inside my coat."
She remembered his predilection for dangerous creatures.
"Is it a vampire bat?"
He laughed. "Nah, just an ordinary one. Can't do much. Goin' ta be devoured by Fang, so thought I'd look after it for a while."
"They give the impression of being so ancient don't they? Like a remnant from the beginning of the world: like little dinosaurs with tiny, tiny legs and fingers and a furry body."
"Thought you'd like tha'," he said, stretching his enormous beard into a wide grin." Would yer like 'im?"
"Thank you Hagrid, I think not. I would love it, but my future is very uncertain. It wouldn't be fair on the little guy," and looked at it wistfully.
So far away was her old life and seemed so many centuries ago, that it was if she had come from the dark, from nothing, from nowhere.
"I'm not sure if I really belong here," she said quietly. "I'm not sure if I should be here or not. I feel at home, but don't know if at any moment, I will be whisked away, just as I came. Then I would be back with my people." Hagrid looked at the droop of her shoulders.
"Muggle upbringin' yeah?"
"That's right," she said with a little distaste, thinking of her family.
"Muggles are not so bad, some of 'em. Yeh've got the Dursleys, but yeh've also got the Grangers. Nice, good people.
"I know," she sighed. "Mine were more like the Dursleys than the Grangers, and in fact, truth be told, less interesting. I'm so sorry. I'm here moping. I'm so lucky to be here," she said, with a tight smile, thinking that in a few minutes she would have to go to the dungeons. "I'm to continue to do research with Severus." She must have leaked some sadness or pain, because he paused in stroking the bat with his massive little finger and looked up at her.
"You've got a thing 'bout him haven't you?" he said. She gaped at him in surprise.
"Nothin' much gets past me yer know," And tapped the side of his nose. She giggled.
"I thought so, but I was mistaken. It's not exactly reciprocated, " and made a noise that could have been a laugh.
The way he had gently moved up above her onto the table when she wouldn't let go of his arm, so that he wouldn't crush her.
"He's a bit of a strange one, our Severus. Grant you that. Very knotty. Seen 'im go through some stuff I 'ave."
Knotty. Good one Hagrid.
"What stuff?"
"Well, I can't really say, yer know, have ta keep 'is privacy, if yer see what I mean," he said. "Just he's bin through the mill he 'as. He snaps and bites a bit – like a Hippogriff when angry." A faraway blissful look appeared on Hagrid's face. "Yeah don't wanna mess with 'em. Very proud. Wonderful fliers. Ye hafta look em straight in the eye and respect em otherwise they'll have yer head off!" Then laughed, rubbing his arm as if nursing the memory of an old wound. "But, then, when they're sure of you, they'll be the most faithful o' pets."
Nice idea, a Potions Master for a pet.
"He's bin on 'is own for so long, like me I suppose, then fer someone beautiful like you ta be around a lot must trouble him. In fact, I've noticed he gets very troubled around you. I've never seen 'im so disturbed before, never."
"Beautiful!" she laughed, slapping her knees. "I think you are very kind, Hagrid. I don't think so. I was always the scrap of the family, some sort of alien."
"Yea, well there's naught so blind as those close ta yeah, that's what I always think."
Perhaps everyone looked beautiful to Hagrid. Mind you, he was pretty beautiful himself with his gigantic hair and his loving heart.
"Oh, by the way," she said, remembering, " I don't have much to do with the trio, Harry, Hermione and Ron, how are they?"
"Well, they've bin goin' though a sticky patch at the moment, but they'll be fine. Jus' fine. Why d'yer ask? He asked, panic in his voice. "D'ya know somethin's wrong?" He looked at her alarmed.
"No, no, I was just asking. I know you keep an eye out for them. It's just that I don't have much to do with them – being in Slytherin House."
"Aww. Right." Relief from the big man.
"You don't think it's a strange thing for a Slytherin to ask – about Gryffindors?"
"Nah, I don't. It's a difficult house: always powerful, and as yer know, power can corrupt.
"What about all those dark wizards that came out of it?"
"There've bin only a handful. Mind you, them's enough. Most of 'em come out as people of influence (good or bad) and sometimes geniuses in all sorts of professions. But when they makem twisted, they makem very dark indeed. It's a warp of what it should be, in my opinion."
"You don't think I'm a spy for Severus, asking about Gryffindors?
He gwarfed into his beard.
"Severus thought I was a spy," she said, "for Volde – for You Know Who. His hostility came from his suspicion that my integrity and my loyalties were not as they should be.
"Did he? How incredible," he said with astonishment. "Anyways, Dumbledore trusts you."
"Severus said he couldn't read me."
"He's good at that, I'll say 'at fer him. He usually sniffs out summat out o the ordinary. He likes rules, does our Severus, 'cause I suppose he's seen a world without it. That's is his safety. Summat ta cling onta in times o' trouble. What makes him mad is – I dunno - something irregular – summat not in his rulebook. An he has seen a whole lot o trouble he has. He usually ferrets out someone whose hiding somethin' or summat he don't understand. He's like a female Hippogriff with little 'uns! Dangerous beasts they are.
"I don't have anything to hide."
"We all got sumpin' ta hide, Elrin. You tell him 'bout how yer feel, eh?"
It was enough for her to just look at him without speaking, but added "Though I think he knows by now."
"There yar are then. Stands ter reason."
"Or praps it's somepin' yer don't know yer hidin."
"Then I wouldn't be hiding it would I?"
"Nah, but he would smell somethin' if there was summat he couldn't understand it. Enrages him. Very sensitive nose he has, no doubt 'bout that."
No doubt about that. She blocked the image quickly.
"Hiding what?"
"Oh, I dunno. "Well, I can play my tin whistle now. Not bad I am. But didn't used ta. Didn't know I could. So I could have, but didn't know it, see? I' just talki' aloud suppose. Nonsense really."
"Anyway, I don't really think he is suspicious of me now, at least not too much anyway."
Doesn't have much choice does he? He's just contemptuous of her.
"Should think not indeed." Still," he said putting the bat inside his coat "I got the feelin' there's more to it than that."
"What do you mean?"
"Jus' a feelin," he said, as they could hear a 'plop' in the water in front of them.
"Doesn't want his world turned upside down," as he remembered when his own had turned topsy-turvy.
'His' world upside down?
"I am afraid I think you are seeing more than is there," she said, pulling at a piece of grass.
But Hagrid was getting well into his philosophical mode now.
"He's like a soldier in a way. Yeah, gun at the ready, sleepi' with it under 'is pillow – ready at a moments notice, waitin' for the call. Reckon he'd like ta shoot a few students eh?" and laughed, coughing and wheezing.
"Or – or, like a priest, yeah, with those priest-hood robes of his, all encased in black, all chaste, kinda pure, yeah know?"
Banging against the bookcases, almost knocking the books off their shelves.
She was laughing so much that she was beginning to revive. Hagrid went on.
"Yeah know, all those brews and mysterious signs and secret symbols. Dedicated. Never much good at it meself mind," he said, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "But he's good. Brilliant they say. The best. Then you come along and yeah shift the world for him."
At that she had to suffocate herself in her scarf to stop herself laughing.
"Not easy, having someone around, moving your things, questioning you, messing up your whole routine. Don't know where you are. Yeah think you know where you are, and then – suddenly – you're all over the place!" he said, throwing his arms around, thinking of the mighty Madam Maxine. Like losin' control. He wouldn't like that now would he? I know, I bin there! Just fer a short time mind. But I remember. And it were a nasty shock I can tell yer." Then suddenly he got up, realising the time.
"Ah well, Gotta go now. Put some fencin' up over in the back paddock'. Are yeh all right?" And he heaved himself up from the rock. She was very all right, and smiled gratefully.
What a gem. Hagrid the philosopher.
"Thank you Hagrid, you've been a great help. I will see you later," she said as he patted her on the arm and went away whistling with the tiny creature stuffed somewhere amongst that moving circus of clothes and hidden items. Cheered, she headed back over the bridge and saw a V shape of swans fly past, thinking that life was too short to be sunk in a quagmire. Besides they had work to do. She wasn't going to let Dumbledore down by reneging on her part of the task.
When she entered his office, he did not appear to be there at first.
"You're late," he growled silkily from behind her, hands in pockets, moving towards her slowly. She was about to give an excuse, but didn't think it was wise.
"I'm sorry," she said as she turned around, his spirit and his physical presence shifting her emotions into turmoil again. All that Hagrid had spoken about whirled in her head. She needed time to process it.
"I expect," he said, his voice shifting into a snarl, "that those with whom I am working, obey my instructions and be on time." And she thought she saw his eyes flick over her and her stomach turned over, but she had to pull herself together. She wanted to try and read what was going on there in him, but this time it was she who avoided looking straight into his eyes. Thinking that the best thing to do would be to remain silent, she went and fetched the third parchment.
At least he wasn't embarrassing her in front of anyone.
Settling herself in her usual chair, she took a deep breath and began to concentrate. She could hear him moving about in front of her, heard the rustle of scrolls and material.
This time the parchment was different, and it took her aback.
"Oh!" she said opening her eyes fast.
"More delays I presume? Somewhere else you wanted to be?" he said, sarcastically as he flipped through his notebook.
"It's just that I have to make – a sound with this to access it. "
"Well, make it then," he snapped, enunciating every word.
Don't push me.
It took her a few minutes to work out what kind of sound it was, and whether she could do it. It was a bit nerve-wracking without Fawkes. Perhaps she would need to see him. While he tapped the end of his quill against the edge of his chair, she thought about it.
"Excuse me, do you mind?" She asked, raising her eyebrows at him questioningly. Irritated, he did as she requested, and started to read one of his scrolls.
Gradually, she began to understand what was needed for the text, as she closed her eyes and concentrated. A strong sound issued from her chest – a long drawn out AAAAAAAAAAAAHH, vibrating from the centre of her chest and out through her throat and around the room, getting louder and louder, stronger and wider. It came out all in one endless sound, as she breathed in a subtle way, so that it carried on, and on and on. This mystery of this vibration spread up and down her body, bathing it in its purity. With an openness and surrender to this pulse of life, she felt the dissolution into the beauty of those coming together, a meeting of all things in relationship, one to another in completeness. This energy radiated a harmony one could only call human love, human connection and the pain and beauty of togetherness. As it spread its power to everything around her, bottles and jars rattled faintly on their shelves.
Jarring her out of this involvement, she felt a tug at her skirt and reluctantly opened her eyes to witness Severus on the floor, one hand clutching her skirt and the other grasping his head, his notebook on the floor, and his robes all over the place. She blinked, and did not understand, He signalled for her to stop, so she did, surprised. Immediately she knelt down to him to try and find out what was wrong, but he waved her away.
"Severus? she asked, puzzled. "What's wrong?"
He did not seem to be able to speak at first, his fingers over his face and a deathly white.
"Do you want me to get Poppy?"
He shook his head adamantly, furiously. She then had no option but to watch him the middle of the throes of some inner pain. She desperately wanted to do something, instead of having to stay still, as the instinct that flooded her was to rock him and hold him until the pain had gone away. Again, she put one hand out tentatively, but he growled, just like an animal when it was hurt. Fleetingly, she thought that Hagrid might be a better person to deal with him. Slowly, however, whatever it was subsided and he took his hands away, dragged himself up and threw himself into his chair, gasping.
"Would you like me to get you a drink?"
He nodded. Since she knew where he kept his rum, she slopped a small glass out for him. Relieved, he slowly regained his composure, drinking, sweat running down his forehead.
Had he had a heart attack? But then surely he would have clutched his chest. Really strange.
When he had his breath back and a little colour, that he didn't have much of to begin with anyway, he stared at her in shock.
Anyone would have thought it was her fault.
She sat in front of him, leaning forward, anxious, waiting for him to tell her what was wrong. His eyes contained a potent mixture of disbelief, puzzlement with a dash of his usual anger and something else - what was it – almost – respect?
"Severus, please tell me, are you still in pain?"
"No, it has ended," he said, his voice taut, taking another gulp from his glass.
"What was it? What did this to you?"
He looked at her with his lip curled. "You did." And finished his glass.
Then it was her turn to be puzzled. "How?"
"That sound. It was disorientating. It went through me as if it were some kind of fire. It passed through my body and scorched it. It searched me out and…" He did not want to say more, and looked away.
She found it difficult to believe, but if he claimed it had…
"I am really sorry," she said, feeling that it was a lame apology.
He snorted.
"I think you should go and see Fawkes and see what you have got wrong."
There he goes again. That made her so mad. Yes, she might be wrong, but he always assumed she was wrong.
Then there was a sharp bang on the door, an imperative type of knock, with the air of one that expected the door to be immediately opened.
"Shall I tell them to go away?" she asked, getting up.
"I'm not an invalid, and this is my office," he snapped.
In total frustration she glared at him as he barked "Enter."
In front of them stood Lucius Malfoy.
There was no doubt about as to who he was, but what he was, was also evident: Lucius was a very different order of things. He carried with him an unmistakeable aura of power and menace and sexuality like an entourage and his deep black cloak, immaculate and made of the most magnificent of materials, accompanied him graciously with his own smooth deliberate movements.
"I see," he said languorously, and ignoring the Potion Master, tilted his walking stick towards her, and crossed towards her, "And what do we have here?"
Who, not what.
She had had enough of insults.
Slytherins!
Then when he stopped in front of her with his haughty conceit, she swore he was about to use his walking stick to caress her as if she were pedigree stock. She blazed back at him with fury, despite his superior height and intimidating manner, daring him to cross an invisible line she had just invented.
He smiled, a warped crooked smile: a smile for politicians and criminals. He was impressed.
"Well," he hissed, all sexuality in his demeanour, "are you going to introduce us my dear Severus?
Not taking his eyes off her, and with a yet bolder and condescending manner, he looked her up and down slowly. Now she was enraged. She could have sworn that she saw Severus flinch out of the corner of her eye. She thought about using the sound.
Writhing on the floor, oh yes.
"This, Lucius, is a researcher, Madam Elrin Danse," said Severus, managing to get up. "Slytherin," he added.
"Slytherin you say? Then sneered, "Ah, the half-witch".
Severus definitely looked pale as he said, "Elrin, this is Lucius Malfoy, governor of the school and Draco's father."
"Yes I know who he is," she fumed, not bothering to conceal her anger, though we have not been introduced before this."
Continuing to examine her, he spoke to Severus, his cane swinging idly.
"I have come my dear chap, to thank you for saving my son from being mauled by that odious Lupin."
She saw him at the back of Lucius making a stern face at her behind him: an attempt she thought, at trying to warn her.
Well, too late for that, my darling Professor.
There was something apart from the contempt in him, she detected: a feral intentness, a curiosity, which seemed out of place in such a short meeting. As she was a nonentity, it didn't fit and it made her uneasy, though she was not going to reveal one iota of this to him. Lucius sniffed the air and turned to his friend, his white blond hair tied in a bow flicking around, like a dog on the scent.
"Rum? A little early in the day isn't it my friend? Have you being enjoying yourself?" and he glanced towards her. "I think you have, you old secretive dog."
"If you will excuse me," she snapped with one last withering glare at Malfoy senior, the insane product of generations of inbred wizards, "I will be on my way. There is nothing here to keep me," and marched out of the door, slamming it behind her.
It was several days later, on a Saturday, when she got the chance to get away from Severus. It had become very painful for her to be near him, and later he had told her off about her behaviour. He felt that she was playing with fire antagonising Malfoy, while she replied that he did not seem antagonised. Thereupon he lost his rag, and said that she didn't know what she was talking about. So a shopping trip to Diagon Alley was a much-needed escape, and she wandered in the winter gloom of the afternoon down the bustling street on her own. Xiomara couldn't come because she had a match, but she quite liked alone at this time. She needed the space in which to process all that was happening. It was coming across a tiny alley with the battered sign that made her halt to look down its murky length. She had never noticed it before, and she stood there a little while wondering whether to enter Knockturn Alley or not.
Why shouldn't I? I can look after myself.
And so she wandered in carefully making her way along the cobbled passageway, with its shops pressing closer on either side. With their black worn timbers and their dusty windows, the shops revealed their goods in various states of stark preservation or decay. One had hundreds of bats hanging upside down, crammed in the window, and even though she liked them, she shuddered, as these had red flashing eyes that watched and followed her. Another had murky windows in which there were shadowed objects. She couldn't make them out, and had the sickening feeling that she did not want to.
There were not many people in the alley, and those that were did not seem to notice her and that was a relief. They were dressed oddly, though, more eccentric than usual and downbeat, with an air of grime, as if washing wouldn't make any difference. Various smells lurked in corners, some offensive, some strange, but there was an overwhelming odour of thwarted desire in the place.
Passing a shop of ancient cruel-looking masks that she was fascinated by, she was also surprised by the sight of Hagrid coming out of a shop of shrunken heads.
What on earth was he doing here?
Just as she was about to speak to him, strong arms grasped her from either side and in her struggle to free herself, saw Hagrid turn at the noise.
"Hagrid!" she yelled.
"What?!" and he rushed forward quickly for a giant man, only to find it was the last thing she remembered.