Chapter Thirteen - Ethics and Boggarts
Unbeknown to Snape, Sirius Black and Madeline Hooch were also permanent bedfellows, and they too were thinking tentatively in terms of their future. They had the chance of tickets for the Paris Opera House and Hooch suggested to Snape that he and Celeste might like to share a box. She knew they both enjoyed classical music.
"Come on, Severus, it's time you took the girl out" she told him. "We're going to see Madam Butterfly, I'm sure she'll love that."
But the idea of an evening in the company of Sirius Black was too daunting a prospect for Snape, although he had to admit they had got on far better than expected when Black had deputised as Head of Slytherin House. The plague had been so dreadful, everyone had worked hard to put past differences behind them.
Snape did not know Puccini's Madam Butterfly. It was a little modern for him – apart from Gustav Holst's Planet Suite, most of the music he knew belonged to the nineteenth century and before. He though about Hooch's offer for a few minutes but finally declined without consulting Celeste, deciding he would make it up to her at some other time.
The Easter holidays were approaching and Dumbledore let the staff know about the plans for an award ceremony at The Ministry of Magic. Sprout, Snape, and Celeste were to receive bronze St Mungo medals for their work in devising new treatments and methods. Pomfrey, Hooch and Sinistra were to be presented with St Mungo certificates of commendation for their tireless commitment to nursing the sick patients. And the school was to receive a shield in recognition of its excellent developmental work and innovative approach to combating the plague.
The plague. That colloquialism was starting to stick – in years to come it would become known as the Winter Plague of Ninety-Nine.
The award ceremony was arranged for Wednesday 31st March. The presentations would be made in the morning and would be followed by a buffet lunch. As the ceremony was scheduled for just after the start of the holidays Snape wondered whether he might be able to extend his Easter break, and as he hoped to stay away longer than usual, he cleared it with Dumbledore first.
The next hurdle was to approach Sirius Black. Much as he loathed asking a favour of Black, he could see no other option. He cornered the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor in his office, thanked him a little stiffly for deputising as Head of Slytherin, and asked if he would be prepared to cover for a few days during the Easter holidays.
"Well, well" Black remarked with ill-suppressed glee, "I never though you'd come to me for a favour." His handsome face had taken on a sneer as cold as Snape's, and Snape fought hard not to make an acid comment, or storm off, or – worst of all – punch him on the nose. "Yes. Very well" Black agreed suddenly, and Snape nodded back with a petulant half-smile. "Oh; one other thing" Black said, looking slightly embarrassed. "Look, I haven't mentioned this to anyone else, but … well … I've been thinking you ought to know. Maddie and me … we're, well … things are serious between us. Dumbledore knows, and McGonagall. No one else. I'd appreciate it if you keep it under your hat for now. OK?"
"Why are you telling me?" Snape asked suspiciously.
"Well, I though you were once a bit sweet on Maddie. That's all" Black explained. "Sorry if I read the signs wrong."
"No … well … there was never anything between us, but – she's a great girl" Snape admitted. His thoughts returned to Celeste as he began to walk away. "Hope things work out for you" he added with a note of sincerity that left Black utterly astonished.
Finally having got all the snags sorted out, Snape could ask Celeste if she would like to spend a few days with him in London. "We could stay for the Easter weekend" he suggested hopefully. "What do you think? Will you come with me to London? Shall I see if I can book accommodation?"
"Will I go with you to London" Celeste repeated slowly. "Severus, I would go with you to the ends of the Earth if you asked me. Yes, I would love to go to London with you!"
He pulled her towards him into a fierce hug. "Orrrh, Severus, you're squeezing me to death!" she gasped, so he relaxed his grip slightly. "I do love you" she added.
"I love you, too" he whispered shyly, surprised to hear himself say it.
"Tell me more about this trip" Celeste demanded. "And, very important, when do you have in mind to return?"
"Why?" he asked in amazement. "We haven't got there yet and you are asking about coming back!"
"Well, I need some time before the start of next term to get prepared. Don't forget I'm still covering Dora's third years" Celeste reminded him. "It's easy for you – you're used to teaching. You just seem to take it in your stride."
They decided to spend five days in London, returning on Sunday 4th April. As soon as he had a couple of hours to spare Snape Apparated at The Necromancer – the five star hotel near Gringotts Bank. He wanted to book adjoining rooms and he wanted to see what was available. I can't just book a double room, he thought. What if she thinks I'm taking too much for granted? But I don't want our rooms to be miles apart – that would be awful! And I do want a decent bed, something a bit luxurious if it can be managed. Fortunately the hotel had the perfect answer – their Xerxes suite comprised two en-suite double bedrooms connected by a sitting room. It cost a fortune, even at half-board, but the rooms were spacious and well appointed.
Snape was delighted. He explained to Dumbledore that he and Celeste would be spending the Easter weekend in London and would need to check in at The Necromancer before going to the award ceremony. They would catch up with the rest of the Hogwarts' party at the Ministry later that morning.
Dumbledore beamed and said "Ah! I see why you have been looking a little happier lately, Severus."
Snape smiled back hesitantly. "It's early days yet, Headmaster" he said guardedly.
Yes, he thought to himself, it is early days. Celeste responded to him like no other witch ever had. There was an honesty in her uninhibited lovemaking that was without guile; and that feeling was new to him. I've had sex with witches in every position possible, he thought. I've done all the tricks and had them all done to me. But I've never had sex with a woman who loved me before – that, I suppose, is the difference!
It was an important difference. Surely Celeste was the witch to become his wife. If she would have him. Coldly and objectively Snape evaluated the pros and cons. Celeste understood his black moods – apart from one slightly alcoholic evening of counselling with Dumbledore, she was the only person he had ever let witness this side of his life. She was beautiful, intelligent, well educated, quite resilient, independent, unpretentious, and kind. She had skills he didn't have – she could drive a car, swim, fly well, play Quidditch, even ride a horse. She understood the physical properties of substances, but had no outstanding expertise when it came to making potions – that was not where her creativity lay; he would retain the mastery there! She was good with the pupils and would surely make a wonderful mother; and although Snape didn't particularly like children, he wanted to be married and he wanted to be a father of several intelligent, gifted children. Celeste was by no means the 'rich little bitch' of his sweeping assumptions all those years ago. True, she came from a wealthy and cultured family, but she was dedicated in her work and not afraid to work hard. If I miss this opportunity, he said to himself, I'll be the biggest fool that ever walked this earth.
However dinner at the hotel on their first evening together did not work out in accordance with Snape's expectations. In the preceding days he had, at times, fancifully pictured himself in charge of events, selecting their food and wine, Celeste dutifully complying with his choices, impressed with his worldliness and his impeccable taste. The reality was markedly different – Celeste had very definite ideas about what she would eat and drink.
Snape chose bacon-wrapped scallops roasted with lemon and parsley as his starter but Celeste asked for the tomato, apple and celery soup. He selected breast of Barbary duck with a plum and brandy sauce for his main course, but she chose spinach and mushroom cannelloni with ratatouille and plain boiled potatoes. As she hadn't chosen meat or fish he was not at all sure what to do about the wine. He preferred red but decided to suggest a white wine, as most of the witches he had ever entertained seemed to drink dry white wine.
"I can recommend this" he said at length. "This rather fine Chablis, if you are in the mood for a white wine." He was determined to choose his words carefully – he had never forgotten the day the platinum blonde Veela witch had publicly humiliated him for his sarcasm, and in this very restaurant.
"Just a still mineral water for me, please" Celeste said. "British, if you have it" she directed to the waiter. Turning back to Snape she added "I don't usually drink alcohol, Severus. And I don't eat meat."
Snape was astonished! A little anger stirred deep inside him. "You might have thought to mention to me that you are a vegetarian" he said testily. Celeste looked puzzled at his angry reaction.
He lapsed into silence. He had never known. Never noticed! She never sat next to him at lunch or dinner at Hogwarts, and he had paid no heed to the small selection of vegetarian options available since last September, because they had largely coincided with other menu changes – a whole range of European, Indian and Oriental dishes that had never been on offer to staff before. They were a recent introduction by Alfonso Morelli. Yes, he thought at length, she always drinks water or fruit juice or some form of tea; she always has muesli or porridge and an egg for breakfast; she doesn't even have any butter on her bread! Snape prided himself on his powers of observation and felt a fool for not realising what that must mean. "Do you not like meat?" he ventured.
"I love it" Celeste replied. "I just don't like the way it's produced. The way the animals are kept in intensive conditions; the inevitable mistakes in the so-called humane slaughter process. I don't want to be a part of that cruelty. It's not for me, any of it."
"Oh!" he said, very taken aback. "Err, I eat meat."
"That's up to you" Celeste replied. "It's your choice. I've made mine."
"And alcohol?"
"Quite a lot of alcoholic drinks use animal products – gelatine and so forth, crushed bone, slaughterhouse products" Celeste explained. "Again, it's not for me. I do like alcohol, and some drinks are free of animal products, but I like tea and natural juices just as much, and when I'm not at home it's easier to stick with them. I like to be confident about what I'm eating and drinking. Remember when I hired the chainsaw and shredder when I was helping Rubeus catch up with his grounds maintenance? I hired them from Hogallen Farm. They farm organically and keep their animals in free-range conditions, weather permitting. And they are licensed to slaughter. I've seen their methods – they use the Avada Kedavra Curse. I helped put together a contract with them for the kitchens. That's why I don't mind having their skimmed milk – I have Soya milk at home. And sunflower oil spread."
"But where is the logic here?" Snape protested. "You still don't eat meat, even at school."
"No. Well, I'm used to not eating it" she replied. "But the school gets through loads of meat anyway. The fewer animals that are eaten in the world, the less misery there is. You wouldn't have noticed but I don't wear leather and suede – my bags, shoes and belts are all Muggle substitutes – Ethical Wares – it's a firm in Wales. My supposedly silk and satin cloths are synthetic fabrics. About the only thing I have of true animal origin is my dragon hide gloves."
Snape was painfully aware that he had noticed – noticed but not realised. She said no more about her views. She seemed relaxed about the whole matter. He suddenly remembered his storeroom full of specimens and stocks of animal body parts. "How did you cope with doing Potions at school?" he enquired.
"I just had to get on with it" Celeste explained. "I would actually have preferred to kill and dismember my own animals. I'm not squeamish, and I don't mind if animals are killed by a curse. They die instantly. It's pain and suffering I'm against – especially if it's preventable. It's not such an issue with potion ingredients and in the magical community in general – most animals are killed by cursing. Muggles don't have that ability. That's where cruelty on an industrialised scale really takes off – in the Muggle world. Look, I'm happy to talk about this, Severus" she added considerately, "but it may end by putting you off your dinner. Meat-eaters invariably are put off, when faced with gory realities."
Tactfully she moved the conversation on to another subject. As dinner drew to a close she asked if Snape would like to go for a walk.
"We could stroll by the river" she suggested.
"That would mean entering Muggle London" he replied in alarm.
"We'll be OK in our cloaks; they'll just think we're a bit theatrical" Celeste assured him.
Snape had to admit to himself that he enjoyed his amble by the Thames. Muggle London was bright with lights and he gradually began to worry less about its unfamiliarity. Celeste's unselfconsciousness was infectious.
Lying in bed that night he pondered the day's events; Celeste receiving her medal with modesty and grace, telling him she was a vegetarian, explaining why she didn't drink.
The toiletries in her bathroom – not tested on animals, he said to himself. I was looking for clues, but I was so preoccupied with the sinister that I didn't see what was in front of my eyes. I looked at it all, but I didn't see it. He had put his arm around her and she was lying tightly against him again, one arm across his chest. He stroked her shoulder. She mumbled in her sleep and clung to him more tightly, like a little child. She doesn't seem to mind too much that I eat meat and drink alcohol, he thought. She expects me to make up my own mind about such things, and to recognise and respect her values.
They slept late the following morning and had a lazy breakfast; then strolled the length of Di Vios, Knockturn and Diagon Alleys, browsing the shops. Snape purchased a few toiletries to re-stock his bathroom supplies of Muggle brands, and in Gladrags Wizardwear Celeste bought an emerald green glazed-cotton day dress and she persuaded Snape to buy a black Fedora.
"With a hat like that and your cloak and boots, you'll definitely be considered just someone from the word of the theatre" she explained. "Muggles may think you slightly strange, but it won't cause much comment. Certainly not in central London."
When they reached All Things Witchy, Celeste said she wanted a 'quick look round'. Snape had a shrewd idea what a quick look around meant. The shop was packed with a fascinating mixture of junk jewellery, haberdashery, silks, lingerie, carved candles and aroma therapy oils. In Snape's opinion no witch could manage a 'quick' look around, so he opted to sit outside Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream parlour and have a cup of coffee, while she shopped.
It was a cold but bright morning and he sat under a yellow sun umbrella sipping a Mocha Latte. He watched a slender Japanese witch emerge from All things Witchy clutching two of their large purple and lavender carrier bags. She was wearing an embroidered jade green satin sheath dress, and had two very small girls with her; obviously her daughters. The children ran around, happy and excited, looking as bright as butterflies.
I wonder if I shall have two little girls, Snape mused.
"Hello, Professor" a voice said.
He hadn't seen the young man approaching, but suddenly Snape was aware that a plump young wizard in formal dark grey robes was standing at his table. Holding the wizard's hand and standing slightly out of view behind him was a young witch with a freckled complexion and masses of dark red hair. Snape gazed at their faces.
"Mr Longbottom" he said, amazed. "And, Miss Weasley! I– You– You look so different away from school."
The young witch was very attractive. Her movements were willowy and sinuous. She looked nothing like the rather uninteresting little girl who was in her last year at school; the girl whose dark red hair was always tied back and hidden by her hat.
Neville Longbottom was different too. He had been a bundle of nerves and incompetence at school. Now he had an air of quiet self-assurance.
"Would you, err, like to join me?" Snape found himself asking. "I'm just waiting for a friend to finish her shopping." They sat down and Snape snapped his fingers for a waiter. "What can I get you?" he enquired in that tone that said he was in charge.
Politely they requested Cappuccino, and Snape indulged in a second Mocha Latte. He asked Neville what he was doing now that he had left school.
"I'm working at the Department for Magical Education" Neville explained. "Arthur, Ginny's father, tipped me off about a vacancy coming up, and I applied."
They sought for things to talk about as they sat in the bright spring sunshine. Ginny was rather shy but Neville was full of enthusiasm about their future. It transpired they were planning to get engaged once Ginny left school in the summer, and they hoped to marry in the following spring. Snape looked afresh at this clumsy boy he had written off as hopeless.
Clutching a purple carrier bag from All Things Witchy's lingerie section, Celeste came over and joined them. To Snape's surprise she knew Neville and Ginny very well, so the foursome was soon chatting happily. Eventually they fell to reminiscing.
Ginny mentioned the incident of the Basilisk in the chamber of secrets as being her most frightening and most famous event at school. This prompted Neville to remind Snape about the Boggart, as he felt it was his own most famous Hogwarts moment. Laughingly, he recalled the day when Remus Lupin had used a Boggart in a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson.
"Hey, my House Master did that with us!" Celeste said. "Remus is also now a Beauxbaton House Master. They are friends – Remus Lupin and Septimus Peor."
"Orrh, that was his best lesson ever!" Neville said passionately. "Only trouble is, my Boggart emerged as Professor Snape – I knew it would of course – and I dressed him up in my grandmother's clothes. She has this awful old, lace-edged, green dress – still got it! And a big crimson plastic hand bag. And she wears this hat with a stuffed vulture on the top. I managed it though – eventually. Trouble was, the story of Professor Snape dressed up like that went round the school like wildfire!"
"Yes, it did wonders for my authority in the staff room, not to mention the Slytherin common room! Thank you, Neville" Snape responded sarcastically.
They all laughed. Snape however was slightly displeased. He felt Neville was putting on an act to impress his girlfriend; apart from Herbology he had surely never liked any subject, so why this sudden feigned passion for Defence Against the Dark Arts? Snape was also embarrassed that the Boggart incident had been mentioned, but he was determined to take it in good part. Celeste however looked thoughtful.
"Well, we had better be making tracks" Ginny said at last. "Thank you for the coffee, Professor." She and Neville got to their feet.
"I won't be at St Mungo's on Saturday, Celeste" Neville said. "Ginny and I went this morning. Are you visiting on Saturday?"
"Not this month" Celeste replied with a dazzling smile. "Father's home for Easter. And possibly for longer."
They said their goodbyes and Snape watched Neville and Ginny walking away hand in hand.
Having breakfasted late they didn't want lunch. They spent the afternoon in The Elfin Gallery looking at works of wizarding art and then returned to the hotel to relax before dinner.
"You're very quiet" Snape observed. "Is anything wrong, Celeste?"
"There's something I want to talk to you about" she said. "Can we have dinner early and then go for a drink?"
Perplexed, he agreed. She chatted almost normally at dinner but although she seemed to be trying hard, there was the faint undercurrent of an atmosphere. He was most surprised at her suggestion of a tavern.
"The Sorcerer's Apprentice?" he retorted. "Have you ever been there?"
"Mmm. I do know London, Severus" she reminded him. "I did live here for a while, remember?"
The Sorcerer's Apprentice was a dark and gothic tavern in Knockturn Alley, frequented by all sorts of creatures, and notoriously popular amongst the Dark Wizarding fraternity. Snape could picture himself drinking there, but not a sensitive creature such as Celeste.
Celeste, however, walked into the tavern quite casually, nodded to one of the barmen whom she seemed to know, paid no heed to the noisy rabble of wizards, goblins, hags and a half-giant who were leering at her from the bar, and chose a table in one of the private booths. There were a number of these booths, enclosed in ancient wooden panelling carved with strange and gruesome devices. They were exceptionally effective at soaking up the sound of conversations, making the booths ideal for clandestine meetings.
"Well, I'll order you a pumpkin juice" Snape began, "but it might come laced with Devil's Claw." He referred to a hallucinogenic potion popular amongst Dark Wizards.
"Actually, I will have a drink" Celeste said. She sounded very business-like. "Err, Jean-Claude?" She called one of the young barmen over and in faultless French requested a bottle of red wine. Except that the wine was a Merlot Syrah and came from southern France, Snape understood not a word of their exchange. "And don't try giving me anything else, Jean" she concluded firmly in English.
"You must try this – I think you'll like it" she said to Snape. "It's an organic wine – a blend of two grapes produced in the South of France."
Stunned this display of authoritative worldliness, Snape sat down. "I thought you didn't drink" he breathed, "yet here you are, quite at home in a dive like this! Is there anything else I should know about you?"
"You're forgetting my parents lived in France and I went to school there for years! My father is French" Celeste reminded him. "But I suppose the real point is, Mother was an Auror! She knows her way around, and she can take care of her self. And so can I. We've been to this inn a few times. It has its good points, like the privacy afforded by these enchanted booths."
Jean-Claude arrived carrying two goblets and an unopened bottle which he uncorked using a corkscrew. He poured the wine for Celeste to taste, but she passed the goblet to Snape who pronounced it excellent. Reading the label, Snape noticed it was suitable for vegetarians and vegans and bore an organic certification number. He decided against asking her what a vegan was.
"Well, let's get it over" he sighed at last. "You've got something on your mind, and it must be bad if you need to force-feed me alcohol to cope with it."
But this time Celeste didn't smile at his wry and world-weary turn of phrase. "It's about Neville's story about the Boggart" she began. "Is it true?"
"Of course" Snape insisted.
"Doesn't that matter to you?" Celeste asked carefully.
"In what way?" Snape replied, thinking she must be alluding to his slight loss of face. It wasn't that bad, he thought.
"Look, you know that a Boggart assumes the shape of the thing we most fear" Celeste said. "I told you what it becomes for me – my father burning almost to death. Are you calmly telling me that when he was a schoolboy of thirteen or so, Neville was so afraid of you that his Boggart took on your shape? And that all that meant to you was that it made you look a bit foolish?"
Snape paused, feeling he was on shaky ground. "It's not absolute, it's relative" he countered irritably. "Just the thing he most feared. It just showed Neville didn't have anything much that frightened him."
"Oh–yes–he–had!" Celeste said with a menacing softness. "I know that for a fact! I know Neville, Severus! I've been seeing him at St Mungo's for as long as I can remember. Do you know why he goes to St Mungo's?"
"I didn't know he did" Snape muttered in a guilty admission.
"I visit my father who has periods of mental trauma" Celeste said, her voice breaking momentarily and recovering, "and Neville visits his parents who are in a similar condition – far worse, actually – they are insane. They will never leave that hospital. They do not recognise Neville, but, although he dreads it, he dutifully visits them regularly. That's what the nature of his Boggart should be, Severus. That is what his Boggart would be, now – probably."
Snape's pale face turned paler. To cover his mounting rage and anxiety he drained his goblet and refilled it.
"Not his teacher" Celeste whispered. "Not a House Master at his school. No teacher should inspire a pupil with so much fear! Neville's a bit inept, but he isn't a bad boy – he can't ever have deserved that of anyone."
Snape said nothing. A vein throbbed visibly at his temple. Not for the first time he felt his world was collapsing.
"Is that why you don't want me in your classroom?" Celeste asked with deadly calm. "Would I not approve of what sometimes goes on in your classroom?"
"I'm not sitting here and taking this from you" Snape hissed angrily. "I will not have my teaching ability called into question! And not by a trainee!" He stood up, knocking over his goblet. Dazed, he hesitated for a second, looking at the spilt wine, and then stormed out of the tavern in a billow of black.
Celeste righted the goblet and cleared the spilt wine with a wave of her wand. She sat for some minutes finishing her own wine and thinking. It had been just as bad as she feared. Two concerns were uppermost in her mind.
First, and by far the most important, was the probability that Snape bullied his students.
A secondary consideration was Snape's own teaching career. While she had been helping McGonagall with administrative duties, Celeste had been privy to certain information regarding the teachers' performance records. McGonagall let her work on the evaluation of past exam results, and Celeste, poking and prying a little further than was strictly allowed, knew that year after year Snape's pass rate was thought to be too low. In terms of consistency he was the worst teacher in the school – even Trelawney could beat him too often. Dumbledore kept Snape on because his reliability in a crisis was evaluated at one-hundred percent, he was the most talented maker of potions the school had ever come across, and he had had a pivotal part to play in the defeat of Voldemort.
But that last consideration was in the past; Voldemort was a soulless shell in Azkaban.
Celeste knew she couldn't talk to Snape about his unacceptable pass rate without breaching a confidence, and McGonagall would never forgive her if she proved herself untrustworthy. The Deputy Headmistress had perhaps been a little more lenient than usual, in view of the fact that Celeste was related to Dumbledore and she was also by temperament and by family connection a 'fellow Gryffindor'.
Celeste realised too that it would be difficult to mention Snape's performance without giving away clues as to those of the other staff. And that would not be ethical. She was fairly certain that Dumbledore and McGonagall had on occasions raised the matter of work performance with Snape and that he had, so far, proved unreceptive to their comments. But they wouldn't give up. Like Snape himself, Dumbledore and McGonagall were fearless and unrelenting in pursuit of their aims. If they discovered evidence of serious bullying, things could turn very ugly very quickly. No, she had to get through to him somehow. If only he wasn't such a difficult man!
I suppose that's why I love him, she thought.
She finished her wine, paid at the bar – ignoring the comments of the rowdy crowd – and left. Not wanting to walk the length of dingy Knockturn Alley, she Disapparated for the short journey to The Necromancer. She ordered a black coffee and sat in the lounge to drink it. Then at ten o'clock she quietly entered her own room and got ready for bed. Before settling down however, she propped open the door to the sitting room – she believed in keeping channels of communication open. She listened at Snape's door but there was no sound from his room.
Feeling very sad she climbed into bed. Against her will, her brain kept re-running scenes from the day, and she couldn't get to sleep. Have I done the wrong thing, she asked herself. Severus is so full of pride and I have wounded it deeply. Have I lost him for good? What –? What do I really want?
This took a lot of thinking through, but she couldn't settle down to sleep, so she decided to draw up a wish list to try to bring some order to her thoughts. What I really want is to be married to Severus and to have his children, she realised. Well, I've probably blown the chance of that, but what if I haven't? He's never proved himself good with children; none of the students have a good word for him except some of his Slytherins, and even they are always on their guard. If Neville is to be believed, Severus is quite capable of striking abject fear into the hearts of students, so how would he be with little children? Worse?
None of the staff really like him, except Madeline who warned me he'd hurt me, and gentle, happy-go-lucky Felix who loves everyone and everything. And Uncle Albus, who gave him a second chance. But if I let Uncle Albus know about the bullying I think his attitude to Severus would change. Minerva certainly wouldn't stand for it.
(Because Dumbledore had fought shy of revealing the saddest details of Snape's past and because Snape would never divulge to her the full horror of his encounters with Voldemort, Celeste could not know that Dumbledore would never abandon Snape. If necessary the Headmaster would take steps to protect the students, but he would never simply dismiss Snape and throw him out to exist on his own resources.)
Poor Neville, Celeste thought. He doesn't know what a hornets nest he's stirred up. Good thing he did it, though.
What if we married but didn't have children, and if Severus could be persuaded to give up teaching; do something else; make potions for a living? But I've always wanted children – would it tear our marriage apart to be childless? Perhaps we can't have children – who knows? If we had children, and if he was cruel to them, I'd end up leaving him; take the children away with me. So the marriage would be over, anyway.
What if I cut my losses and looked to marry someone else? At least that's realistic – Severus probably won't give me a second chance.
And who will I marry? A nice kind wizard like Charlie who'll be a wonderful father. And whose life I'll make a misery of within twenty years, and I'll eventually walk out on. People need to marry for love. They need a reasonable degree of financial security, and they need a common set of values, but they need to adore one-another; yearn for one-another; be aroused by one-another. Oh; this is hopeless…
Eventually she drifted into a troubled sleep. She dreamt she was entering an old, walled, herb garden. Opening a black iron gate, she stepped into a garden of little square beds, each growing a different plant. A Muggle was working in the garden; someone she knew; it looked like Fred Wheeler. She went to speak to him but as he straightened up and turned she saw he was a chessman – a White Pawn. Then she realised the whole garden was a chessboard and she was a White Rook.
"Where is the Black Bishop?" she asked, but he made no reply. Frantically she began searching, but every piece she approached jeered at her.
"You're too late" they cried "The game's already begun. Get out of the way."
"The Black King is dead" she yelled back at them. "The game is over! Where is the Black Bishop? Beside him is my square."
She ducked and weaved among the pieces, searching for the Black Bishop, but each black piece turned white as she approached it.
"Get back to your own side, White Castle" they yelled at her. "You can't stand beside the Black Bishop! It's not your square."
She was finding it harder and harder to move around the board. It was like wading through invisible treacle. Eventually the black squares disappeared, leaving a vast white plane like a frozen lake. On all sides it stretched away into nothingness, utterly flat. Empty, smooth, and sterile.
In a panic Celeste awoke. She lit her wand and searched for one of her wristwatches. It was almost a quarter to five. She tip-toed through the sitting room to Snape's bedroom door as was relieved to hear faint snores coming from the other side. Tears sprang to her eyes. Wiping them away, she returned to bed and slept soundly until four minutes past seven.
It was a cold and misty morning when she awoke, but the Wizarding Wireless Network's Weather Witch said the South East would become cool but bright after a grey, murky start.
After a quick shower, Celeste chose her red and black underwear and glossy tan stockings. When she was doing up the last suspender she suddenly remembered the previous time she had worn these clothes – with black stockings! She remembered standing on the floor, bent over at the foot of the bed. She recalled Snape's hands caressing her breasts as he entered her from behind. Oh, how wonderful life had been…
Hastily she tore her mind away from the memory, telling herself not to pursue this torment of hopeless recollections! Her fingers trembled as she fought alone with the zip of her red jersey dress. She smoothed it out and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The world is full of powerful wizards, she told herself. As she hadn't spoken aloud the mirror offered no reply.
The sound of light snoring was still audible through Snape's bedroom door, so at eight o'clock she went down to breakfast – alone.
Author's Note: These are genuine...
The Merlot Syrah, my favourite red wine, is avail able from Co-Operative stores in South-East England.
Ethical Wares exists – however their range does not include all of the styles I put in this story; nevertheless I can attest to the comfort of the Birkenstock range!
