Chapter 8 – Quidditch, Fluffy, and other Horrors

The Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor was slated for the next day.

But, Draco Malfoy had his detention to serve.

Being pulled bodily out of bed by Professor Vox at five in the morning (his goons being held by the scruffs of the necks by Professor Snape), she frog- marched him to the third floor where Hagrid was waiting outside the main entry with Mr. Filch. Hagrid was holding a large bottle and a couple of scrub brushes.

"Good mornin', Martis," Hagrid greeted her. "And Professor Snape. Malfoy - Crabbe - Goyle. We've got a bit of work on our hands. Thanks for volunteering."

"Community service is important," Britomartis replied cheerily. "Right, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco muttered something indistinct, most of it involving bad words.

Mr. Filch sneered. "Do them a world of good to jus' be hung up by their thumbs in the dungeons."

"I miss the screaming, too," Professor Snape added. "Used to help me concentrate on grading. Remember the higher pitch they would reach when the rats found their little fingers?"

Crabbe and Goyle began to tremble. Snape bounced them once. "Accept your punishments like Slytherins. Professor Vox and I discussed it and we felt your detentions should be done separately." He manipulated them around to look up into his face, his nostrils flaring. "Between the two of you, you don't have enough toothbrushes to clean all the bathrooms I'm going to make you scrub - fresh ones will be supplied as needed, starting with your own." He dragged them off as they whimpered.

Draco turned to look at Hagrid, Mr. Filch, and Professor Vox. "And what are you going to do with me?"

Hagrid smiled. "Why, you're helpin' me give Fluffy his flea dip."

"Fluffy?" Draco repeated. "Who's Fluffy? Sounds like a yippy little lapdog."

Hagrid chuckled. "Oh, Fluffy thinks he's lapdog, he likes a good belly rub." Mr. Filch opened the door to the third floor. "But I do need help washing him."

The door opened, and the group entered.

Fluffy turned out to be a nine ton, three-headed watchdog with really big teeth. Really ... big teeth. And bad breath.

Draco immediately fainted.

Mr. Filch looked at the passed-out boy on the floor. "Pansy."

* * *

Draco Malfoy entered the Slytherin common room, his clothes wet and smelling like flea dip and wet dog. His usually neatly combed blonde hair was hanging down his face like a half-grown Cousin Itt.

He approached Britomartis who was helping straighten the hemline of one of the girl's robes.

"'Fluffy' tried to eat my head."

"That explains your coiffure."

"I hate you, Professor Vox."

She looked up at him, smiling, her sunglasses reflecting his image back to him. "Good - now I shall sleep better at night." She waved her hand in front of her face. "Clean up, will you? The match is in two hours."

* * *

The Slytherin House members gathered in the common room, their green and white scarves contrasting with their black robes.

Britomartis was ready as well. Clad in her own turquoise gown, this was overlaid with a tweed cloak in purple with green spirals scattered across the material. Her own green and white Slytherin scarf from her childhood wrapped around her neck, plus her hat (arriving that morning by owl) - purple, with a wide cuffed brim decorated with snakes, spirals, and Goddess figure, ending at a slouched point, with a sheer veil falling over her shoulders.

"Are we ready?" she called to the assembled students.

"Yes, ma'am!" proclaimed one of the male prefect commanders. "We have fake blood, prop broken bones, and our lawyers' numbers on speed owl! Any of them touch us, and they'll think we've been murdered!"

Crabbe spoke up, "I've been practicing my pitiful moans of pain!"

She laughed. "That's my Slytherin children!"

"Wait!" one of the female prefect commanders stated as Professor Snape entered the common room. "We had our monthly drawing and the winners of Spending a Night with Professor Snape Sweepstakes is the entire class of Seventh-Year girls!"

The students applauded while Britomartis blinked in confusion.

Snape sneered in humorlessness. "I trust this lot won't be like last year's - a pack of bumbling virgins who have no idea what they're doing - "

The girls all screamed in shock, while the guys snickered and made bowing motions to their House Master.

Severus Snape smirked, winking at Britomartis. "Now that you've had your crude joke at my expense this month, may we get to the field?"

"Yes, Professor!" the students replied, all dashing out of the common room and down the stairs.

Britomartis picked Snookie-poo up and draped her around her shoulders. "What was that all about?"

He sighed, pulling his gray tweed cloak around his body as they left the common room. "A running gag for almost ten years. The children delight in having false 'drawings' and presenting me with certain members of the house to do with as I please. Last month they offered Twelvetrees as a blood sacrifice."

She giggled as they left the building and into the cold, sunny outside. "How many times have they pulled the 'spending-the-night' gag?"

"At least twice a year. Usually the Seventh-Years. Too young, too inexperienced, too giggly." He turned to her, his black eyes glistening. It seemed he wanted to say something, but had left the sentiment unsaid.

She returned the shot as they reached the stands of the Quidditch field. "So, you prefer older, experienced Goddesses, Snips?"

"Who has time to think about such nonsense?" he asked plainly, allowing her to climb the faculty stand first. "As I recall, Spirals, we were both so concerned over schoolwork that we did not attend any of the school dances."

"You were concerned over schoolwork, Severus," she replied, continuing to climb stairs. "I was concerned with the fact that I could not bring Medusa with me."

"It wasn't because I was concerned with schoolwork," he replied politely as he climbed. "It was due to the fact the Marauders were there."

She snorted. "We had a fun time, anyway. No schoolwork done, but we did have a time flying brooms over the Quidditch field." She sighed, pausing at the entrance to the bleachers. "You really were graceful when no one was watching. I always thought you would have been good on the Quidditch team."

He shook his head, his black hair whipping to each side. "I only tried out because you asked me to, Spirals. I knew I was a klutz."

"No you aren't," she answered, kissing his forehead. "You always were and ever will be my gracefully flying Snips on that Valentine's Dance night."

His blush lit up the whole area. "Dammit, I have to stop smiling!"

She laughed. "True, by ancient tradition the House Master of Slytherin must always look as though he has a pole up his - "

"Martis!"

"If you like, I'll step on your foot."

"Please - OW! Thank you ... "

* * *

Draco Malfoy suffered injuries from the game, and was brought into the common room where Britomartis went about patching him up and healing him (at least he did not get his bones turned to jelly like that idiot Lockhart had done to Potter).

On top of that, Gryffindor won!

"To hell with it!" Britomartis announced. "If it weren't for the Seeker, we would have mopped the floor with them. Post game party, anyway!"

The students cheered; several of the most musically-inclined fetched instruments from their rooms while others moved furniture out of the way for dancing. Somewhere, a bowl of punch materialized as well as a few decorations.

Britomartis was seated on the couch where Draco was lain out, himself half conscious of his surroundings.

Snookie-poo was picked up and danced with, which she did not mind.

Severus Snape hated these house parties; even back when he was a kid he could not stand teenagers being teenagers. Yet, he could not discourage it, either - even if it did not appear to be the case, he wanted them to be normal teenagers and enjoy themselves.

So, he sat quietly in a corner and read, keeping one eye on the party to make sure nothing basely illegal was transpiring. (Refined illegality, on the other hand, would probably earn a commendation of some sort ... at least a few extra house points.)

Although memories of a previous party of twenty years ago brought a smirk to his face, recalling one Slytherin Quidditch victory resulting in quite a noisy, boisterous frolic that included illegal transformation of water into rum, Lucius Malfoy waking up in a frilly pink dress, and several of the Gryffie being stapled to the ceiling of the common room. They lost four hundred points for that blow-out, making them lose the House Cup, but it was the talk of Hogwarts for five years.

Severus remembered Britomartis had shown up at the party dressed in one of her native gowns ... an almost sheer turquoise sheath outlining her blossoming body ...

He glanced up, seeing her taking care of Draco amid the party, wearing a more conservative turquoise gown, but now showing off a mature, womanly body with gorgeous curves ...

'Why would she want an ugly, greasy, hooked-nosed, pathetic git like you?' he asked himself.

Indeed, why at all?

Twenty years ago, if anyone had told him he would be considering his friend 'Spirals' Vox as more than a friend, he would have hexed them past their next three lifetimes.

But now ...

He slammed the book shut and got up. Approaching her, he placed his hand on her shoulder and leaned close to talk to her. "I'm going to my rooms, Martis," he said. "I'd appreciate it if the mess gets cleaned up by the students themselves."

"No problem, Severus," she answered, a flirtatious chuckle edging her voice. "Mind if I join you later?"

"If it's for anything illicit - "

Draco Malfoy's eyes snapped open. "Get your hands off of her!" He sat up and kicked his House Master away. "I know what you're doing, Snape!" the boy spat. "You're trying to enchant Professor Vox! But I won't let you! I claim her as mine!"

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"You're mine, Britomartis Vox! I claim you!"

Britomartis casually swatted Draco, sending him crashing back down on the couch. Snape picked the boy up by the front of his green Quidditch uniform, the coldness of thirty-five years of studied darkness filling his body and overflowing into the room, making the other students pause in terror.

"Do not," Severus Snape intoned in a chill whisper, his teeth bared in a quiet snarl. "Ever strike me again. And for your information, any enchantments put upon Professor Vox will meet with my resentment and wrath. You will be in so much detention for this, you will never see the light of day ever again." He pulled the boy closer, their noses touching. "Do I make myself clear?"

Draco nodded, his eyes wide in panic and fear, as the holy terror he felt for his House Master had bubbled at last now that he looked into those black eyes and into hell.

Britomartis' hand rested on Severus' wrist. "Let him go, Professor Snape. He's wet himself already."

The House Master left the room, his black robe billowing behind him like a large pair of bat wings.

Heads turned toward the House Mother. Britomartis pushed her sunglasses back up on her face. "Well, children, it's late, and we need to clean up. Prefects, organize the others into clean up teams, I'll be back in a moment. Hopefully, I'll calm Professor Snape down enough so you guys won't have to walk on eggshells for the next couple of days." She glanced down at the semi-shocked Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, I'll talk with you later."

She left the common room and eventually the dorms, climbing up the narrow stairways of the classroom building to the conversation room with the stained glass roof.

He was there, just as she expected. "All right, Snips, what's eating you?"

He turned to her, his hair plastered to his face. "I almost killed him."

Britomartis shrugged, still hanging in the cubbyhole entrance. "It's nothing to kill him over. Enchantments and nonsense, what a load of - "

"It's not that, Martis," he said quietly as he turned his face away. "Hell, I don't know what it is."

She stared at him for a long moment, the air around them seemed to be completely still save for the random flickering of the lantern light.

The silence was broken by a string of hysterical giggles from Britomartis.

Severus found it annoying how long she laughed. "What is it?"

She tried to reign in the laughter, only to have to stop and continue giggling. Eventually, it calmed down into a large grin. "Oh, Snips! You're upset because the little Nazi tried to claim me!" She climbed up into the room and sat next to him. "Snips, I never knew you cared - "

"Martis!"

The grin left and she shook her head. "Severus, if you have a problem with snot-nosed twelve-year-olds trying to claim me, maybe you should claim me instead. You know, I could live in your rooms and wear a collar and leash - "

"BRITOMARTIS!" he roared.

She continued on without pausing, "True, they probably expect the House Master and Mother to be more discreet." She leaned back against the stone wall, looking up at the stained glass roof through her sunglasses. "You've kissed me on two occasions. I cannot continue to ignore that."

He looked down at the floor. "I'm more confused about it than you are."

"Well, you win that award."

Severus looked up at her. "Then can you tell me what I'm not understanding?"

Britomartis gazed at him. Less then ten minutes ago he was hell incarnate, terrorizing a student, instilling fear into everyone around him as the House Master of Slytherin. Now he was curled up, drowning in his black robe, his long black hair hanging in his face, looking like the teenager she remembered him being when they climbed up here to talk.

They should have had this talk twenty years ago, not now. Not now after she had loved and married and birthed her own children and lost all of them. Not now with twenty years of bitterness and darkness in his soul. Not now when both were professors and authorities in the House of Slytherin.

The past cannot be altered. It was not permitted.

The future can be molded in the moment.

Would it even work? Would it be like Filch and Mrs. Norris? Or not even rumors touching upon it like Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall?

It was not like affairs within the faculty had never happened before in the thousand year history of Hogwarts.

"I'll leave if you want me to."

"No, don't leave!" He twirled around, embracing her, his black robe around both of them and his face before hers, his hair brushing against her cheeks. "I lost you once, I refuse to let you go again."

She leaned forward, brushing his hair aside, and kissed him gently, her tongue tracing over his lips as she inhaled his scents of soap, potions, and his own muskiness. He shook in response, causing her to pull him down beside her as she stroked his hair and face.

"I'm scared to death," he whispered.

Britomartis nodded. "We need to get back. The children ... "

Both were silent for several moments.

"Yes," Severus agreed, now more in control. "We must."