Chapter 2 - Flying Lessons
The night's festivities were remarkably tame, and he was grateful to get away without actually having to harm anyone for once. The planning session afterward was as painful as always, however. The Dark Lord was continually disappointed that Severus had not been able to identify the wards Dumbledore had put around the Potter boy's summer abode. Severus walked back from Hogsmeade with his back bent uncharacteristically, and his eyelids half closed.
He was surprised to find that his classroom was not empty when he returned. Professor Alderfer was startled as he yanked the store room door open angrily. He could plainly see that she'd been through just about every jar and canister he possessed. He didn't even ask, choosing instead to hold the door open for her and glare as she came back into the classroom, looking at the floor.
"Something I can help you find?" he said finally, realizing she would offer no explanation.
"I was looking for powdered root of Asphodel," she responded sullenly. This caused his eyes to widen a bit, though she didn't notice. "I found a rat in a trap and thought it would be the best way to make it stop squeaking."
If one of his Slytherin students had fed him a line like that, Severus Snape would have given the idiot a month of detentions. Coming from the tall, thin, and shy woman before him, however, it sounded pathetically plausible. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Even Gryffindors were above anything that sickeningly good-hearted. He silently classified her as a Hufflepuff as he put a pinch of the powder into a pouch and thrust it toward her.
"Now get out," he hissed angrily. She was so taken aback that she didn't even bother to thank him before she turned. For the first time, however, she let the classroom door slam behind her. As if Severus' head didn't ache enough already! He collapsed into his bed without bothering to undress and remembered nothing until late the next morning.
Over the next two weeks she came to the Potions classroom 8 times with requests from Dumbledore to bring him ingredients, and Severus was beginning to wonder what exactly the old coot was trying to make. He was also becoming increasingly annoyed at the interruptions.
When she knocked on his door for the 9th time, he closed his eyes briefly before muttering, "Come in," in the slick tone of voice he had learned from Lucius so long ago. The tone that meant anything but what the words said. She came in anyway.
"Pardon me, Professor," she began. But he cut her off.
"You are pardoned," he retorted, standing abruptly. "What exactly do you need this time?" He was already half way to the storeroom when she recovered from his outburst and spoke.
"The Headmaster doesn't need any ingredients today, so far as I'm aware." It was the smoothest voice he'd ever heard her use, and he turned, surprised.
"Well, what is it, then?" he asked gruffly. It wasn't often that he was prevented from venting his frustration, and he didn't find it very pleasant. Thankfully her demeanor changed immediately to one of discomfort.
"Madam Hooch will be going on sabbatical next term to play reserve chaser for the Chudley Cannons, and Dumbledore has informed me that I will have to take over flying lessons." She was looking at him expectantly and he raised an eyebrow.
"I fail to see precisely how that affects me, Professor," he said coldly, resuming his seat.
"I don't know how to fly," she whispered quietly. He was surprised. Even if she was muggle-born, she should have learned how to fly at whatever school had trained her! Now at least he knew why she was here, though he didn't find himself inclined to do anything about it, unless it was to attend her first lesson with the Slytherins to see what they would do to her.
"Minerva tells me that your first year students will eat me alive if I show up for the lesson unprepared." He smirked at this comment, realizing that Minerva would have said exactly that. "Can you teach me?" she asked quickly, catching his eye.
He couldn't help but notice that she looked a little desperate. "Minerva played chaser on her house team in school. I'm sure she'd be a better choice," he said mildly.
"Don't you think I've already asked everyone else, you insufferable git?!" she retorted angrily. To hide his surprise, he plastered an amused expression on his face and gazed up at her as she continued. "Every soul among them has an excuse to avoid it!"
This statement set off warning bells in his head, and he made a note to speak with the Headmaster about it the next day. "Fine. I'll meet you on the pitch after lunch," he said quickly. "In the meantime, I'd like to finish writing this article. If you could manage to keep yourself out of my office until then?" he asked pointedly, glancing toward the door.
She turned and left silently as he smirked at his paper. The article had been finished long ago. He sent it off with one of the school owls a few moments later and ate lunch early so as to be on the pitch when she arrived, only just beginning to wonder how she'd gotten him to agree. Had he just been startled by her odd shifts in behavior?
After sorting through the school brooms, he came up with one that looked like it would obey her relatively well. He laid it on the ground as she approached, intending to use the same method of teaching that had been so successful for Madam Hooch.
She gave him a withering look and bent to pick it up, which put him in the satisfying position of explaining to her that she had to coax it into her hand from the ground. She managed to lift off slightly and touch back down with no problem, but when he mounted his own broom and bid her follow him up toward the goal posts, she seemed hesitant.
Only ten feet off the ground, she fell. He heard the thud as her body hit the ground, and was surprised when he turned to see her already standing, and looking at him furiously as her broom sailed away. He caught it before joining her on the ground.
He smirked at her, expecting a rousing argument. When all he got was silence, he forced a more pleasant look onto his face. Her glare diminished only slightly in intensity.
"Why don't you ride once around the pitch with me to get the feel of it before we try that again," he offered resignedly. Her features took on a look of deep distrust, and he realized that now would probably not be the best time to smirk at her again. Instead he tried to smile. Finally she walked over.
"Behind you or in front?" she asked quietly.
"In front. I can hold onto you that way. No sense in having you slip off the back again." She narrowed her eyes at the faint trace of humor that had crept into his voice before mounting the broom in front of him. He put his arms around her, holding the broom in front of her, and kicked off hard from the ground.
Although he'd never been on the Quidditch team, he did have a certain finesse when it came to flying. This was the first time he'd been on the pitch since last summer. He enjoyed the feel of the wind whipping through his hair, and the sun on his face, and the woman in his arms. It was several minutes before he admitted that to himself, however. When he did, he decided immediately that this segment of the flying lesson needed to end. Now.
"This is wonderful!" she said suddenly. Her hair, pulled as usual into a bun at the nape of her neck, was starting to come undone, and it fluttered back into his face as she spoke.
"Ready to try it on your own?" he asked, already heading back down.
"Not really," she replied, turning to look at him. When their eyes met he saw her eyes widen and her lips part suddenly, as if she was surprised. They both looked away, and Severus wondered exactly what she had seen in his eyes to make her respond that way.
"Actually yes," she amended quickly. "I think I'll be fine on my own now, thank you, Professor." She pulled her hair out of the messy bun, removing a hand from the broom for the first time, and holding her hair out of his face as they descended.
When they landed she thanked him again and insisted that he go back up to the castle alone, saying she was sure she could manage from now on. As he went back to the dungeons he wondered at his own feelings. Surely until today he had felt nothing but annoyance at her presence in the castle. Yet, he did seem to recall thinking about her a great deal since he'd met her three weeks ago. It was becoming obvious to him that this was all Albus Dumbledore's doing, the meddling old fool! Sending her into his storeroom repeatedly, telling the rest of the staff not to teach her to fly, and having her fetch him before dinner, too. He was definitely going to speak to the Headmaster first thing in the morning!
The night's festivities were remarkably tame, and he was grateful to get away without actually having to harm anyone for once. The planning session afterward was as painful as always, however. The Dark Lord was continually disappointed that Severus had not been able to identify the wards Dumbledore had put around the Potter boy's summer abode. Severus walked back from Hogsmeade with his back bent uncharacteristically, and his eyelids half closed.
He was surprised to find that his classroom was not empty when he returned. Professor Alderfer was startled as he yanked the store room door open angrily. He could plainly see that she'd been through just about every jar and canister he possessed. He didn't even ask, choosing instead to hold the door open for her and glare as she came back into the classroom, looking at the floor.
"Something I can help you find?" he said finally, realizing she would offer no explanation.
"I was looking for powdered root of Asphodel," she responded sullenly. This caused his eyes to widen a bit, though she didn't notice. "I found a rat in a trap and thought it would be the best way to make it stop squeaking."
If one of his Slytherin students had fed him a line like that, Severus Snape would have given the idiot a month of detentions. Coming from the tall, thin, and shy woman before him, however, it sounded pathetically plausible. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Even Gryffindors were above anything that sickeningly good-hearted. He silently classified her as a Hufflepuff as he put a pinch of the powder into a pouch and thrust it toward her.
"Now get out," he hissed angrily. She was so taken aback that she didn't even bother to thank him before she turned. For the first time, however, she let the classroom door slam behind her. As if Severus' head didn't ache enough already! He collapsed into his bed without bothering to undress and remembered nothing until late the next morning.
Over the next two weeks she came to the Potions classroom 8 times with requests from Dumbledore to bring him ingredients, and Severus was beginning to wonder what exactly the old coot was trying to make. He was also becoming increasingly annoyed at the interruptions.
When she knocked on his door for the 9th time, he closed his eyes briefly before muttering, "Come in," in the slick tone of voice he had learned from Lucius so long ago. The tone that meant anything but what the words said. She came in anyway.
"Pardon me, Professor," she began. But he cut her off.
"You are pardoned," he retorted, standing abruptly. "What exactly do you need this time?" He was already half way to the storeroom when she recovered from his outburst and spoke.
"The Headmaster doesn't need any ingredients today, so far as I'm aware." It was the smoothest voice he'd ever heard her use, and he turned, surprised.
"Well, what is it, then?" he asked gruffly. It wasn't often that he was prevented from venting his frustration, and he didn't find it very pleasant. Thankfully her demeanor changed immediately to one of discomfort.
"Madam Hooch will be going on sabbatical next term to play reserve chaser for the Chudley Cannons, and Dumbledore has informed me that I will have to take over flying lessons." She was looking at him expectantly and he raised an eyebrow.
"I fail to see precisely how that affects me, Professor," he said coldly, resuming his seat.
"I don't know how to fly," she whispered quietly. He was surprised. Even if she was muggle-born, she should have learned how to fly at whatever school had trained her! Now at least he knew why she was here, though he didn't find himself inclined to do anything about it, unless it was to attend her first lesson with the Slytherins to see what they would do to her.
"Minerva tells me that your first year students will eat me alive if I show up for the lesson unprepared." He smirked at this comment, realizing that Minerva would have said exactly that. "Can you teach me?" she asked quickly, catching his eye.
He couldn't help but notice that she looked a little desperate. "Minerva played chaser on her house team in school. I'm sure she'd be a better choice," he said mildly.
"Don't you think I've already asked everyone else, you insufferable git?!" she retorted angrily. To hide his surprise, he plastered an amused expression on his face and gazed up at her as she continued. "Every soul among them has an excuse to avoid it!"
This statement set off warning bells in his head, and he made a note to speak with the Headmaster about it the next day. "Fine. I'll meet you on the pitch after lunch," he said quickly. "In the meantime, I'd like to finish writing this article. If you could manage to keep yourself out of my office until then?" he asked pointedly, glancing toward the door.
She turned and left silently as he smirked at his paper. The article had been finished long ago. He sent it off with one of the school owls a few moments later and ate lunch early so as to be on the pitch when she arrived, only just beginning to wonder how she'd gotten him to agree. Had he just been startled by her odd shifts in behavior?
After sorting through the school brooms, he came up with one that looked like it would obey her relatively well. He laid it on the ground as she approached, intending to use the same method of teaching that had been so successful for Madam Hooch.
She gave him a withering look and bent to pick it up, which put him in the satisfying position of explaining to her that she had to coax it into her hand from the ground. She managed to lift off slightly and touch back down with no problem, but when he mounted his own broom and bid her follow him up toward the goal posts, she seemed hesitant.
Only ten feet off the ground, she fell. He heard the thud as her body hit the ground, and was surprised when he turned to see her already standing, and looking at him furiously as her broom sailed away. He caught it before joining her on the ground.
He smirked at her, expecting a rousing argument. When all he got was silence, he forced a more pleasant look onto his face. Her glare diminished only slightly in intensity.
"Why don't you ride once around the pitch with me to get the feel of it before we try that again," he offered resignedly. Her features took on a look of deep distrust, and he realized that now would probably not be the best time to smirk at her again. Instead he tried to smile. Finally she walked over.
"Behind you or in front?" she asked quietly.
"In front. I can hold onto you that way. No sense in having you slip off the back again." She narrowed her eyes at the faint trace of humor that had crept into his voice before mounting the broom in front of him. He put his arms around her, holding the broom in front of her, and kicked off hard from the ground.
Although he'd never been on the Quidditch team, he did have a certain finesse when it came to flying. This was the first time he'd been on the pitch since last summer. He enjoyed the feel of the wind whipping through his hair, and the sun on his face, and the woman in his arms. It was several minutes before he admitted that to himself, however. When he did, he decided immediately that this segment of the flying lesson needed to end. Now.
"This is wonderful!" she said suddenly. Her hair, pulled as usual into a bun at the nape of her neck, was starting to come undone, and it fluttered back into his face as she spoke.
"Ready to try it on your own?" he asked, already heading back down.
"Not really," she replied, turning to look at him. When their eyes met he saw her eyes widen and her lips part suddenly, as if she was surprised. They both looked away, and Severus wondered exactly what she had seen in his eyes to make her respond that way.
"Actually yes," she amended quickly. "I think I'll be fine on my own now, thank you, Professor." She pulled her hair out of the messy bun, removing a hand from the broom for the first time, and holding her hair out of his face as they descended.
When they landed she thanked him again and insisted that he go back up to the castle alone, saying she was sure she could manage from now on. As he went back to the dungeons he wondered at his own feelings. Surely until today he had felt nothing but annoyance at her presence in the castle. Yet, he did seem to recall thinking about her a great deal since he'd met her three weeks ago. It was becoming obvious to him that this was all Albus Dumbledore's doing, the meddling old fool! Sending her into his storeroom repeatedly, telling the rest of the staff not to teach her to fly, and having her fetch him before dinner, too. He was definitely going to speak to the Headmaster first thing in the morning!