Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters and settings belong to me. They are all the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing around with them for the fun of it…no monetary gain is sought.

This story is dedicated to scatteredlogic for her cherished friendship and all her invaluable help.

Chapter Fifteen: Threats

With a cloud of chattering voices behind him, Severus Snape stepped through the door of the staff room into the corridor beyond in hopes of escaping from his annoying colleagues, but instead found himself a captive audience as Filius Flitwick followed him out.

"Have you had Mr. Standish observe one of your classes yet, Severus?" queried the small wizard eagerly. "He's due to watch one of mine after lunch. I'm rather looking forward to it. We had a fascinating talk just yesterday about the applications of Charms to help the average wizard and witch with their day-to-day activities. No other branch of study is quite so far reaching in its scope for the everyday magical practitioner, you know."

"No doubt," muttered Snape as he increased his steps and suppressed a smile as the diminutive Flitwick began to puff in his efforts to keep up. Not that that seemed to deter him, unfortunately.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Standish seemed to have a really intuitive grasp of my needs here at Hogwarts. I'm sure that he'll be most helpful in attaining some much needed improvements around here. Did you say whether he's watched one of your classes? I didn't hear," huffed Flitwick as he batted futilely at Snape's swaying robes to keep them from hitting him across the face as he walked.

"No," stated Snape shortly, not pausing in his stride for a moment. Surely they'd reach a parting of the ways soon, and he could make his escape.

"No, he hasn't?" asked Flitwick.

"No, I didn't say, but the other is true as well. Although I have had at least one conversation with the popular Mr. Standish, he has yet to grace my classroom with his presence," stated the Potions master dryly.

"Ah," squeaked the determined Flitwick. "Well, I still say that it's a pleasure to be observed and evaluated by such an intelligent and accommodating man. Such an improvement over that Umbridge woman, don't you think?"

Snape frowned to himself. As unpleasant as the presence of Dolores Umbridge had often been, at least you always knew where you stood with her. Something that was clearly not the case with Standish. You'd be singing an entirely different tune if you knew the truth, Flitwick, he thought soberly.

Aloud he said, "Undoubtedly."

Before Flitwick could find the breath to say any more, Standish himself rounded a corner and headed right for them.

Flitwick beamed and stopped walking with a thankful sigh as they both came to a halt and waited for Standish to meet up with them. "Ah, here is the man himself. Hello, Mr. Standish. I was just telling Professor Snape how much I was looking forward to your observing my class this afternoon."

Standish beamed down at the small wizard. "I'm looking forward to it, too, Filius. I've heard excellent things about your skill in the classroom. I'm sure it will be a very enjoyable few hours. And didn't we agree that you'd call me Ian?"

Flitwick practically purred. Snape had to clamp firmly down on his gag reflex and control the urge to roll his eyes. Did all of his colleagues have to be such idiots? Really, it was a surprise that the Dark Lord hadn't succeeded in wiping them all out years ago.

"Yes, yes, we did. My apologies, Ian," beamed the rather flushed Charms professor.

Standish smiled ingratiatingly down at Flitwick. "Filius, would you excuse Professor Snape and me for a bit? I need to speak to him in private, I'm afraid. I'll catch up to you at lunch, and the two of us can have another nice chat while we're waiting for your class to start."

"Oh, certainly, certainly. I'm looking forward to it." Flitwick shot a curious glance at Snape who raised an eyebrow in return but said nothing. Then the small wizard bustled off up the corridor leaving Standish and Snape alone with nothing for company other than a standing suit of armor and a smug looking wizard in a painting who was preening in front of a mirror.

Snape turned to Standish and noted that the charming smile that he'd been lavishing on Flitwick had vanished as soon as the diminutive wizard rounded the nearest corner. So it probably wasn't to be just a friendly little chat…oh, joy.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Standish?" Snape inquired politely.

Standish's eyes flicked to the side and glanced at the wizard in the picture who was eyeing them with interest in his mirror. "Not here," he murmured softly. "Is there somewhere else where we could have a few moments alone?"

Snape nodded. "I have a class in a half an hour. If our talk won't take longer than that we can talk in my classroom. No one will be in there early, I assure you." Snape smiled tightly.

"That'll be fine."

Both wizards turned and walked off together toward the nearest staircase that would take them to the dungeons. The silence that followed them on their trip through the castle was of the difficult and rather strained variety, and they each kept their own counsel until arriving at Snape's dungeon classroom. They entered the room together, and Snape withdrew his wand and, aiming it at the fireplace, started a warming blaze burning on the hearth.

Then he closed the door and set a silencing charm on the room excepting the area surrounding the fire, leaving the snapping of the flames to be all that any determined listeners could hear.

Crossing his arms, Snape raised an eyebrow and addressed Standish once more. "We have approximately twenty-six minutes before we will be interrupted by a clamorous gaggle of second year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. What can I do for you in that amount of time?"

"You already know what you can do for me, Snape. I want to know if you've done it," snapped Standish as he began to pace around the room fretfully.

Snape watched him pace and frowned. Why was the man getting so agitated? After all, Minerva had called off their relationship so that she could be with him. He should already have what he professed to want so strongly. So what was the problem now?

"Are you asking me if I've "put in a good word for you" as you suggested the other day when we spoke?" he asked politely.

"It was more than a suggestion, Snape! You know that!" Standish glowered at the younger man menacingly. "And have you done as you were told? Have you tried to persuade Minerva that she should accept my suit?"

Biting back his automatic reaction to the idea that Standish had the power to tell him what to do, Snape simply raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "I haven't had much of an opportunity lately to try to persuade Minerva of anything."

"Why not? Is she avoiding you, too? What about during these chess matches of yours? I thought you played almost every night."

Too? A twinge of curiosity flowed through Snape. "No, I haven't played with Minerva in far too long, actually. She's called off our chess matches. I thought it might be to spend more time with you. No?" He raised an inquiring brow.

Standish frowned and rubbed a thoughtful hand over his goatee.

Snape smirked internally. Why does every man who ever grows one of those chin bushes seem to feel that stroking it makes him appear more intelligent? What really came to mind most of the time was an image of one of the not-so-great apes grooming themselves while looking for a leftover snack.

"Minerva called off your chess matches?" Standish reiterated.

Snape nodded and looked annoyed. "Yes. She seemed to need the extra free time at the moment. I assumed it was to spend with you, but perhaps her workload has become heavier. It happens to all of us fairly regularly. I do assure you that if I'm given an opportunity, I will do as promised, but Minerva would think it rather odd for me to follow her around and try to pry unduly into her personal business. Neither of us tends to appreciate that sort of thing. You wouldn't want me to raise suspicions of a connection between the two of us, after all. That wouldn't serve either of us well, now would it?"

"No, I suppose not. Very well. If Minerva has cancelled your time together then I suppose there isn't much you can do to help at the moment, but if you think of anything else that you can do…do it. Although I am making serious inroads with her," Standish lied smoothly, no need to have Snape think that he was failing in his mission; it might get back to the Dark Lord prematurely, and that would be a disaster. "It never hurts to have help, and I'd certainly like to put to rest any of the few lingering doubts she still might have."

Snape raised a brow and nodded. "Of course. I'm always more than willing to help where needed."

"Excellent," Standish smiled. "I knew I could rely on you, Professor Snape."

Standish then turned and left Snape's classroom without another word.

Snape waved his wand and murmured the appropriate spells and both the silencing spell, and the fire, vanished abruptly. If the pompous fool was doing so well with Minerva, then why was he still so agitated? And why was he so desirous of his help? Could it possibly be that Minerva wasn't as involved with the man as he'd assumed? Perhaps there was more trouble in paradise than Standish wanted to admit. A smirk crossed Snape's thin features at that thought. Wouldn't that just be an awful shame though?

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Minerva walked down the hallway headed for her rooms. Somehow, she'd managed to avoid having any sort of confrontation with Ian all day. Although good news, it did make her a bit concerned. When she'd sent his present back with a rather snippy note attached, she'd expected that would cause some sort of trouble, but for whatever reason, it hadn't appeared to.

Though they'd seen each other at lunch, Ian had actually taken a seat on Dumbledore's other side and had been having what looked like a rather animated discussion with Flitwick throughout the meal. So, other than nodding pleasantly to her, there hadn't been any contact at all. Severus had glared in her direction once or twice, but there hadn't been any contact there either. So she'd managed to finish her meal without succumbing to a case of indigestion, but it still made her decidedly nervous.

As she rounded a corner of the hallway, she suddenly found herself face to face with Ian who'd apparently been lying in wait for her.

"Good evening, Minerva. You wouldn't be thinking of skipping dinner now would you?" he asked pleasantly with a calculating smile on his broad face.

She gasped in surprise. "Ian. You startled me." Cautiously, she made to step around him and found herself abruptly seized by the arm and pulled a bit farther down the hallway away from the corner. Then her body was roughly forced back against the wall with both arms pinned against the stones by his strong, beefy hands.

"Ian! Let me go," the furious witch demanded.

"No. I can't, not until you talk to me! Why did you return my gift, Minerva? I thought you liked those silly chocolates. What can I do to persuade you that all I want is for you to be happy…with me?"

"Let me go! How can you possibly think that manhandling me would persuade me of anything? No amount of force will win you your case, Ian. It didn't work when we were married, and it certainly won't work now."

"I need you, Minerva. Please…" The big man pressed full length against her and forced a kiss. Though she tried to struggle against him, she could barely breathe or move. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a movement near the turning of the corridor. Perhaps someone would come. Perhaps someone would stop this outrage, but nothing happened, and she was forced to concede that she must've imagined it in her desperation.

When he pulled back slightly and released one of her hands to fondle her breast through her gown, she quickly slipped the freed hand into her pocket and tried to draw out her wand only to be stopped before she could get it fully untangled from the material.

"Now, Minerva," he chided softly. "You weren't really thinking of drawing your wand on me, were you?"

"Let me go, Ian. Let me go now or I'll scream. This is a school, and there are people all around us. It wouldn't do you any good to be caught accosting the Deputy Headmistress against her will." Her voice was cold and firm and very angry.

His eyes bored into hers in an unspoken contest of wills. Surprisingly, good sense seemed to win out because, without another word, he released her and stepped back with a petulant expression on his face.

"Please, Minerva. Don't turn away from me. I need you." His voice was pleading and desperate.

"Ian, I am only going to say this once, so you'd better heed my words. I want nothing to do with you. You are my ex-husband, and that is the way I want to keep it. I never loved you, not even a little, and I sure as hell don't love you now. There is no place for you in my life beyond that of visiting dignitary. None. Touch me again, and I will file a complaint with the Board. Have I made myself clear?"

To hell with what Albus wanted, to hell with whatever schemes Voldemort might be hatching, she had put up with enough!

Ian's eyes narrowed, and his face hardened like granite. "Yes. You've made your position perfectly plain. That is your final word on the subject?"

"Yes." Could it be that she was finally getting through to him?

"Very well. I won't bother to waste my breath trying to persuade you differently any longer. You've made a big mistake, Minerva. A very big mistake, and I assure you that when we talk next, you'll realize just how big a mistake it is." With that rather ominous threat, Standish turned on his heel and stomped away towards his rooms.

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Still trembling slightly at her narrow escape, and worried now about Ian's final threat, Minerva wasn't paying as much attention as she might ordinarily have done to what was going on around her. As she walked down the corridor nearest to her rooms, a hand reached out from a deep alcove behind a suit of armor and suddenly pulled her into the shadowy recess to join its owner.

Acting on instinct, she drew her wand and held it up to threaten her attacker. Instantly, her arm was seized and twisted around behind her back, forcing her body tightly up against that of the man who was accosting her. Her wand hand was rapped sharply against the stones, and with a pang of distress, she felt her hand go numb as her wand clattered to the floor behind her.

"You should know better than to draw your wand on me, Minerva," a cold voice murmured low.

With a gasp that was equal parts annoyance and relief, Minerva relaxed slightly. "Severus. You startled me out of my wits."

"Yes. That was the idea," he stated dryly.

"Release me," she demanded angrily. She was getting damned tired of men who thought that they had a right to grab hold of her whenever they wished!

Instead of complying with her command, Snape tightened his hold, forcing her body even more firmly up against his own. His lips dropped to her ear, and he murmured softly, "Oh, I think I prefer to keep you confined until I have my say."

Her heart began to pound faster and faster as his warm breath softly caressed her throat, his lips barely brushing the skin and raising the hair at the nape of her neck. She raised her other arm upward to grasp at the folds of his sleeve as his free hand rose to toy with her neck and slowly trace the line of her jaw, in a tantalizing, yet vaguely threatening manner.

"Where is Ian, Minerva? I expected you to follow up that passionate kiss in the hallway by taking him to your rooms."

"Passionate kiss?! I don't know where he is. Nor do I care," she stated hotly. So she'd been right to think that there'd been an observer. Why the hell hadn't he helped her then? Surely he couldn't think that she'd wanted to be manhandled like that?

"Well, I do care, and you'd better heed my words," snarled Snape softly. "You know far too much about me for comfort, and if you're going to be bedding a servant of the Dark Lord, then I need assurances from you that you'll keep your mouth shut no matter how aroused your questionable lover gets you."

Her mouth fell open in surprise. Where did this infuriating man get these foolish ideas?

"My lover? Are you questioning my loyalties?" she gasped indignantly. "How dare you?"

"Not your loyalties…your judgment. If you'd fall for Standish and whatever witless lines he's fed you, even knowing that he's working for the Dark Lord, then how can I be sure that you won't let something slip that you shouldn't? Your sleeping with the enemy is dangerous. Both to you and, unfortunately, to me." His voice rose in intensity as he continued to make his points.

"I'm not sleeping with the enemy, Severus!" she exclaimed angrily, but he simply kept on talking, ignoring her interruption as he might the futile protestations of his students when he was reprimanding them for some infraction in his classroom.

"I've worked too hard to allow my safety to be compromised by a witch who can't keep her legs closed when some pompous fool like Standish comes sniffing around begging entrance."

"You idiot!" she exclaimed, too shocked that he could possibly accuse her of this to be able to answer coherently. How could he possibly think this way?

Suddenly, she became aware of a familiar hardness pressing into her abdomen as she stood chest to chest with Snape. Her eyes widened at the feel, and she responded instinctively with a deep shiver that ran through her like a sharp sliver of glass as she unconsciously pressed her body even closer to his. The hand at her throat trembled slightly, and a look of understanding flitted through his eyes to match that in her own.

For a moment, she was sure that he was going to kiss her, but instead, he released her abruptly, and pushed her body away from his, further into the alcove.

His voice echoed harshly in her ears. "Remember what I said, Minerva. Do not betray me." Then with a flurry of blackness, he was gone, and she was left alone. Her body began to tremble in earnest now, and she slid down the back wall of the alcove to sit on the stone floor, pulling her knees up to her face, and clasping her arms tightly around them.