Author's Notes: This story is a little diddy that's been floating through my mind for a while. I'm writing this for my enjoyment and for the enjoyment of others. I have no aspirations to become a professional writer and view scathing, sarcastic commentary as a sign of mental illness. (In other words, criticism is welcome if it is constructive. If you don't know how to do this, then learn the art as it is perhaps the most lucrative job and social skill one can hone.)
Thank you all for the wonderful comments—I do appreciate them. I can't comment on some of the inquiries, as an answer one way or another would give away the plot. Sorry this took so long, but I've had other commitments. Hope you enjoy this little additional piece to the bigger puzzle.
Note: I've re-posted chapter 10 because I noticed some rather major error. Macmillon instead of Macmillan... that's what you get when you add something to the spell-check when you're half asleep. 8) Sorry for that.
Oh, a little note while reading the comments. Never assume that something is exactly as it appears or take this story entirely at its face value. Severus doesn't know what he wants... he may have convinced himself otherwise, but he will probably, as usual, be one of the last to know.
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Chapter 11 – No One's FoolMcGonagall clutched the tartan tin between her bony fingers, passing it by the students and offering a shortbread cookie to each. Checking their mugs and satisfied that each were brimming with warm hot chocolate, she took her own seat and sat silently as the teens wrote, only the sound of scribbling quills and the crunch of cookies rising above the soft crackle of the nearby fireplace. After a few minutes, Hermione, Ron and Harry finished, rolled up their scrolls, and handed them to her.
"I realize," she said finally, breaking the silence, as she collected the scrolls in turn, "that this is very difficult and shocking. I appreciate your statements. Please understand that I did not wish to be insensitive, but it was important to get your input as to what transpired before we discussed it."
"I've seen worse," Harry said with a shrug. Although he was trying to downplay the event, he could tell that his comment, however true, unnerved the elder witch. "Err... yes, it wasn't something I would not like to see again."
"I see," McGonagall said, her voice tinted with a sense of regret. She unrolled each scroll and quickly scanned the contents. After she finished, she noted, "Harry, Ron and Hermione said that they really did not see anything because you and Professor Lestrange were in their line of sight. However, they did say that you did step in front of Professor Lestrange's spell. I cannot help but to think, Harry, if it were not for Professor Flitwick's quick thinking this unfortunate event would have been an absolute tragedy."
"I was stupid," Harry agreed. "Any dolt knows not to throw themselves in front of a person's wand. It was apparent that she was going to do something..."
"It was an Unforgivable," Hermione chimed in. "That is by far the worst spell that..."
Harry turned to his friend. "'Mione, I really believe that Professor Lestrange thought it was a werewolf. It was odd, like she was having a flashback. When she saw the second boggart, she just went off her rocker."
"It was a werewolf then," McGonagall said with a quick nod. "The boggart had indeed took the form of a werewolf..."
"Everyone knows that, Professor," Harry said. "I mean, the sound... that was the most convincing boggart I have ever come across." Harry took a deep breath, "Listen, I will say that she is probably not my favorite person, but I can only be fair and say what I really think I saw." In reality, Harry considered, he really did not know the woman, but the fact she was there with Snape evicting him and the others from Sirius' house did not sit well with him.
"The second boggart," McGonagall inquired, "What was it Harry? Ron and Hermione said they could not see exactly what it was and you description lacks this specific detail."
"Err..." Harry fidgeted, "It took the form of a student, about my age..." he trailed off and then found the right words. "It was apparent that it represented the werewolf's victim..."
"You don't suppose that the werewolf was Remus?" Ron asked, his mouth finally devoid of cookies.
McGonagall quickly cleared her throat and handed Ron the tin again. "I would appreciate it if you would not discuss the incident with other students or between yourselves for that matter. Unfortunately, there will be a formal inquiry given Professor Lestrange's choice of spells." She put the scrolls into her desk drawer and then jotted down a few notes before turning back to them. "The Headmaster is at the Ministry right now. I would imagine that you will be pulled from class, one by one, escorted to the Headmaster's office and asked a few questions, simply to clarify what you've written."
"She will not be sacked, will she?" Hermione asked, "I mean who would teach Runes?"
"That has yet to be determined Hermione," McGonagall said.
~***~
"You saw the werewolf-boggart up close," Ron said. "Was it Remus?"
"We were told not to discuss it," Hermione hissed as she nudged him. "I would imagine it is so that we do not influence each other's testimony."
"I think so," Harry said, "Yes, I'm pretty sure it was..."
"And the other boggart," Ron probed.
"Ron! Harry!" Hermione protested.
"Come in here," Harry motioned toward an empty room. The trio entered and he closed the door. "Remember last year and the Occlumency lessons when Snape kicked me out?"
"What does this have to...?" Ron began to ask.
"My Dad, Sirius..." Harry began, "they were pretty rough on Snape when they were in school. I recognized..."
"That second Boggart was Snape?" Hermione interjected her conclusion and then clasped her hand to her mouth. "No...no I did not ask..."
"It was," Harry said. "In their sixth year, Sirius played a trick on Snape... I guess Snape was always following them around and well, Snape apparently had noticed that they were acting odd around the full moon. Sirius had lured him to the Whomping Willow and my Dad found out and pulled Snape out just in time."
"Apparently not, judging by that boggart," Ron said sarcastically.
"Really Ron," Hermione said. "Is Snape dead now?"
"Do you want me to answer that?" Ron replied tartly.
"Did you, your brothers, your father, have to die in order for your Mother's boggart to show them?" Hermione countered. "Ron you know that boggarts prey on your biggest fear, and that isn't necessarily something you've seen."
"It was for me," Harry said. "Something you fear can be something you've seen..."
Hermione said, "Regardless we shouldn't talk about it. Obviously she knew about the incident and one of her fears is that Snape is killed by a werewolf."
"But why a young werewolf?" Harry asked. "It was Remus, but I'd say a younger Remus. Why not an adult werewolf, or any werewolf? And Snape; why not Snape now versus when he was younger?" He paced the room, "It makes no sense. Why that particular combination?"
~***~
"Ruedella Annibella Malfoy Lestrange," Auror Engles repeated her name for clarification. The Auror Engles was a large man in his late sixties with dark brown hair that showed just a touch of gray on the sides. He was dressed smartly in standard Auror robes adorned with silver clasps and wore a black and silver Auror's cap on his head. He sat comfortably in an armchair across from the Headmaster's desk. His legs were crossed, with a clipboard resting on top as an inkwell and quill floated in the air beside him in easy reach for note taking.
Ruedella responded with a noiseless nod of her head and looked nervously over to Dumbledore who sat calmly behind his desk. She went to take a sip of tea, but her hand shook so much that the cup rattled violently when she picked it up. Wisely she sat it back down lest she spill the hot beverage all over herself. "You should take more calming potion," the Engles noted.
"I will be fine," she lied smoothly and motioned with her hand for him to continue.
"Same family as the Lestranges and the Malfoy on our 'Most Wanted' poster?" Engles asked; it was apparent from his expression that he already knew the answer.
"Her family has nothing to do with this," Dumbledore said politely, but firmly.
Engles snorted and looked up at Dumbledore and then back to his report. "So, Professor Lestrange, according from your statement, you went to Professor William Weasley's office to retrieve a book. While you were waiting, you proceeded over to inspect some artifacts, unknown to you that two boggarts occupied the neighboring cupboard. The resident poltergeist caused a commotion, which you addressed and while your back was turned, one of the boggarts opened the cupboard and assumed a werewolf form. You reacted," the auror cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow, "by demonstrating the wounding and killing curses to a group of thirteen year olds." He shuffled a few papers, retrieving one in particular, "Professor Flitwick stated that he had to use a summoning charm on one Harry Potter otherwise the boy would have been in the direct path."
"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore's voice chimed in, "stated that he voluntarily jumped in front of Professor Lestrange trying to stop her. I am not condoning the Professor's reaction, but taking on the charge or implication that she attacked a student is not accurate."
"I see," the auror replied, taking down a few notes. "So, Professor, can you explain yourself?"
"I panicked," Ruedella said simply. "I thought it was a real werewolf and reacted accordingly."
"There are far more effective spells to defend oneself against a werewolf," Engles probed.
"I suppose there are," Ruedella said, "That is probably why I do not teach Defense Against Dark Arts. I was terrified, I snapped..." she rubbed her fingers across her forehead, "Of course I will write the parents of the children in attendance and explain and apologize for my rather unwitting and unfortunate choice of spells."
"But you are a trained Gringotts curse breaker," the Engles countered, pulling out another file. "Not a single report of such behavior, even under some more exotic circumstances."
"Well, I never encountered a werewolf before while employed there," Ruedella said. "When you are working, you are prepared mentally to expect things versus walking into a classroom and then all of a sudden seeing something you fear... A much different mental state, I suppose, when you half expect something to happen versus expecting nothing out of the ordinary to occur."
"The second boggart," the Auror nodded, apparently in some agreement, and then continued, "Harry Potter reported that it was of a boy, but he claims not to know who... I assume the form it assumed was not of a current student?"
"I would interpret it," Dumbledore said, leaning forward and peering over his glasses, "that she was so concerned over student safety that when she saw what she thought was a werewolf that her second fear, as manifested by the other Boggart, was it attacking and killing a student. Although her choice of spells was regrettable, and something she and I shall discuss after our meeting, the evidence and reports seems to indicate that she was acting on behalf of protecting the students. If the creature was an actual werewolf, and not calmed by an anti-lycanthrophy potion, then the use of deadly force would have been warranted."
"You do know the implications given that spell?" Engles warned. "She wanted that werewolf dead. It is the intention that powers the spell and the main reason why it is a Dark spell and an Unforgivable."
"Who would not want a werewolf who appeared to be mad and ready to attack not dead?" Ruedella argued. "The underlying concern is when one becomes so lost that they can use the spell on someone who is an innocent or who is not a threat..."
"Very well," the Auror sighed as he wrote a few more entries. "I can buy it if Dumbledore does. Given you history and this summer's misunderstanding aside, you have been a model citizen with a solid and admirable work record. Cornelius Fudge asked that, provided I did not find evidence to the contrary, that I make the recommendation that you be placed on probation. Since I did not find anything overly compelling, I will support his recommendation. The hard part will be yours, Professor Dumbledore, as her family connections will make keeping her here very difficult."
"We will handle that appropriately," Dumbledore said. "I assume that outside of the various owl-writing I will have to engage in, that the Ministry considers this matter as closed."
"I have been instructed to report to Minister Fudge immediately to present my report. Other than a witch who was scared out of her wits by a boggart, although she was more than a tad heavy-handed in her choice of spells, it was apparent she was trying to defend herself and the students. The only wild card was her appearance of her Unforgivable nearly missing Harry Potter. However, the boy did testify that he moved in front of her. There is not enough other testimony for me to determine IF she had enough time to stop the curse... that is the timing of the sequence. For now, I am satisfied with the explanations, although I daresay you will have your work cut out for you with the parents and guardians." He paused and then turned to Ruedella. "There is one last thing, and I am afraid that the request is influenced by your family. Please understand that it will avert any press statements..." His eyes rested on her arm.
"Fine..." Ruedella snapped. Humiliated, she closed her eyes as a tear formed in the corner. Taking a deep breath she collected herself, pushing her emotions down and away as Severus had taught her. With strong resolve she turned to the auror and held out her left arm and began unbuttoning her sleeve with her right hand. She carefully pulled the cloth back and exposed the underside of her arm. She tried to hold her composure and not glare at the auror who was inspecting her. When the auror was finished, she rolled her sleeve back up buttoned it.
"Ruedella," Dumbledore interjected, "Auror Engles and I have some minor business to wrap up. Why not take the opportunity to take a walk or retire to your chambers for a bit? I will send an elf for you later." He turned his head slightly towards the Auror, "I do assume you are finished."
"Yes," the auror said dismissively, waving his hand. "If there is anything else, I will contact you."
~***~
The Whomping Willow was a tall, gnarled and knotted tree that sat on the far side of Hogwarts grounds in a well-maintained yard. She wondered, as she sat just outside of the tree's reach, how Filch managed to keep the grass trimmed. After a few moments of pondering she simply concluded that it must be a spell, because she knew the tree would attack anything above a certain size. As she sat and stared at the tree, watching a few small branches bat at an unsuspecting bird that flew by, she could hear the soft crunch of the grass behind her. Not responding, she continued her gaze, listening as the footsteps stopped and their owner taking a seat in the grass not far from her.
"I hear that you have the Malfoy temper," Severus' voice broke the silence. Ruedella turned around to see the wizard who was holding a rare smile on his face.
"You know then," Ruedella said.
"Everyone knows about the boggart-werewolf and that you used a few choice curses. The remaining details are in a sealed file. I understand that the only other person who saw everything you did was Potter," Severus replied, curling his lip slightly when he said the boy's name. "The Hufflepuff students were too busy trying to stampede into Weasley's office and Flitwick and a few others claimed that you and Potter obscured their view."
"Oh," Ruedella said, not knowing what else to say and certainly not willing to volunteer. "Well," she started to get up, "I suppose that Dumbledore will be calling for me soon."
Severus grabbed her wrist. "The elves are quite skilled at finding someone when they're summoned. Sit." He gently let go of her as she sat back down right next to him. "Besides, Sprout is in his office having a rant."
"About me, of course."
"Of course," Severus said. "I was in Dumbledore's office when she stormed in. Apparently the howlers from the parents have begun."
"Oh goody," Ruedella said, "As long as they don't throw curses."
"They are from Hufflepuff parents. You will be lucky if you hear an off-coloured phrase. However, I do understand that you will have a few less third year students in your one class."
"Well, less grading, I suppose," Ruedella shrugged her shoulders. "Pity you teach a core course."
"True. However, if I taught an elective, I daresay that I would be unemployed. Notice that I have far less N.E.W.T. level students?" Severus smirked.
"You require Outstanding on their O.W.L.S.," Ruedella said. "Enigmus opened the class so that anyone with a pulse could attend and I am sure if the ghosts had filed a complaint, that requirement would have been waived as well. Next year it will be different, I assure you..."
"Next year?" Severus noted with a raised eyebrow.
"I mean..." Ruedella stuttered, "The next instructor I am sure will have their own requirements."
"I see," Severus said. "But, the important matter is that everyone is convinced that your little...lapse...was only temporary. Dumbledore will give you his general lecture about being more careful and consider the fragile nature of the child's id and such nonsense. Then he will tell you that you are otherwise doing a fine job and to keep your chin up and off he will send you."
"Ah," Ruedella chuckled, "Sounds to me like you are speaking from experience. What did you do to deserve such a lecture? Wayward hex? Intentional poisoning?"
"I never poisoned a student!" Severus began to protest.
"Dumbledore gave you specific instructions not to?" she inferred.
"For a Headmaster who is supposedly hands off, he is particularly meddlesome when it comes to certain lesson plans."
"Poisoning then. Who did you poison?" Ruedella probed.
"I did not poison anything. I transformed a frog," Severus said, getting rather annoyed. Seeing her face, he added, "Using a potion."
"A frog," Ruedella said, slightly disappointed. "Now he just does not let you have any fun, does he?" Severus responded with a slight, genuine chuckle, joining her. Smiling, Ruedella scooted closer and put her head on his shoulder. "I..." she said, "I just need held."
Severus paused for a moment, looking at the mass of brown hair on his shoulder. He tentatively placed his arm around her with his hand resting on her shoulder, completely uncertain what to do next. He sat there for a while, silent, watching as the witch caressed her fingers down the neckline of his vest until he realized they were very much near the castle. He pushed her away, perhaps a bit too forcibly and announced, "This is inappropriate, we could be seen."
Ruedella sat up and crossed her arms, "No one comes around here. It's too far from the main buildings and besides, everyone is probably at lunch." Scooting back next to him, she looked him in the eye. "I am not asking for over-zealous displays here, but some sign that you want to be with me."
"I walked out here, did I not?" Severus responded.
"Yes you did," she replied and placed her head back on his collarbone. "I apologize for last night. I was going to accept your invitation, but..."
"Of course," Severus said. "Some other time then, as I suspect this evening will be filled with answering owls."
"Thank you for dealing with Fudge," Ruedella said.
"How did you know?" Severus asked, tilting his head slightly to look at her.
"An assumption," she replied. "Few people knew about the incident and given how early in the morning the Auror arrived—and he had specific instructions from Fudge—I concluded that you flooed him last night. I hope it did not cost you too many Galleons."
"A few favors," Severus said, "but nothing more. I did mention that you were my fiancée... simply to give him more of an incentive to..."
"Severus!" Ruedella jumped back. "You know very well..."
"Well, then," Severus huffed, "He was going to put you in Azkaban until I could brew enough Veritaserum to use on Potter and the others to verify their testimony. If you would prefer..."
"Fine," Ruedella said. "Then you best work extra hard to convince me." She looked at Severus who looking quite putout. "Damn it Severus! I am trying. But some wayward spell, a giant, the fear of student's prying eyes, or the wrath of the faculty gossip mill either ruin our least bit of intimacy. All I remember is the boy you once were and until a couple of months ago we had not seen each other for eighteen years! I want to know what type of man you are..." She leaned forward and traced a finger down his cheek. "Severus, what I saw was horrible and although I do not want to talk about it, I need you." She closed her eyes and fought back the tears. "No tricks, no games, no over-engineering the situation..."
Severus' hand reached out and began to stroke her face, his thumb gently tracing her mouth. He watched the witch breath deeply, relaxing as he did such a simple thing. She was not an attractive woman, but neither was he particularly handsome, and as he watched her sit there with her eyes closed as he stroked her skin, he realized that she asked nothing of him other than his touch. She accepted the moment without thought to the consequences and without conditions. He felt her warm, soft, skin as his other hand cautiously sneaked up to her waist. The last time he was this intimate was when they were young adults snogging under the bushes; it was different then, as the Fire Whiskey dulled his mind and made him abandon his normal vigilance. Now he was sitting here sober, caressing a witch in broad daylight – in plain view of anyone who would choose to pass by.
The St. Mungo's Ball, the picnic... he clenched his teeth as he recalled his own humiliation in front of all the students—his vain, stupid little attempt to please and entertain Ruedella and in the end making him feel like he was a fifth year again. All that was missing, he considered, was being turned upside down and having his knickers removed. The giant and his insipid half-breed brother who spread rumors around that he and Ruedella were having sex... resulting in hushed whispers in the faculty lounge that suspiciously stop when he entered the room. For years he made himself distant, buried his emotions but most of all concealed his life from everyone else. He was comfortable, insulated, elevated above ridicule and fear. And, with the death of Sirius, he could finally position himself to receive the respect he coveted—the fame and importance that a wizard with such intelligence and abilities deserved.
But this witch, he looked at Ruedella who was now nestled against his torso, her head lying back on his collarbone as his arm wrapped lazily around her body, demanded that he cater to her, show his weaknesses and allow himself to become so obsessed with her to sign the damn contract that he willingly did things to be humiliated. He knew, he cursed himself, not to do that magic... but he wanted to prove to her that he was just as capable and to do something...anything...to get her to put down that damn book. He could not afford to be anyone's laughing stock, nor could he afford to let the Dark Lord get the impression that his interest in the witch was more than just business. The more he thought, the angrier he became until he suddenly burst.
"You followed me!" he said tersely and pushed her away again.
"What?" Ruedella scooted back and looked at him. "Followed you where..."
"You knew... about my humiliation...You followed me and saw Lupin as a werewolf. You saw how Potter had to pull me out before I stupidly stepped into Sirius' trap," he seethed and abruptly stood up. "Now, you wish to humiliate me further with these stupid little picnics and other silly displays. You find me amusing, do you not? 'Oh, look what Weasley did,'" he mocked, his voice higher to imitate hers, "You goaded me to make a fool of myself!"
"I just pointed out what he did," Ruedella stood up and met his glare. "I told you that you did not have to..."
"There is no better motivator to get someone to do something when you tell them they should not do it," Severus barked back. "We were around students!"
"Why pick a place then that was occupied with students?" Ruedella shouted back, completely confused and uncertain as to why Severus was in a rage. "You came to get me..."
"Because you are clamoring for attention!" Severus slapped back. "I have resorted to reading Witch Weekly—and was caught by a student—in order to figure you out and to find stupid, amusing little things for us to do."
"Oh, I suppose picking deadly plants is in Witch Weekly? Between the make up tips and the weight loss articles?" Ruedella sniped back. "All I asked was that if we have a relationship that it is not a secret and an opportunity for us to become better acquainted—much better acquainted. I am not asking for us to snog in the hallways!"
"Rather late for that, as Hagrid made sure to let everyone know—incorrectly of course-- that we were mating in the leaves!" Severus shouted back. "If I hear the phrase 'getting along nicely' one more time, I will POISON the poor bastard who uses it!" He roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her close. "You should be on bended knee thanking me. I saved you this summer from BOTH the ministry and your brothers, I gave you a roof over your head, help arrange this comfortable position for you AND, when your muddle-headed emotions nearly got a student killed, I smoothed things out with the Ministry. Yet you insist that I play games, humiliate myself..." He let go of her and turned away, "Such an effort I am making for a scrawny, runt-like homely little witch as yourself. Even Narcissa Malfoy would not be deserving of such attention..."
"Well, I suppose with your money you could BUY a wife," Ruedella wailed, tears rolling down her face as she struggled to yell. "But no witch in her right mind would put up with such an ill-tempered troll for all the Galleons in Gringotts!"
"I am not a troll!" Severus yelled back.
"Oh, I am sorry... half-breed," she snarled, "you are, technically, a half breed as a result of your father's rather unfortunate choice of preferred execution methods. Fortunate that the Dark Lord favors vampires as I am sure otherwise he would not tolerate your presence. Perhaps he is being considerate, after all, you cannot help what you are. But, then again, neither can Mudbloods..."
"You unsavory buck-tooth, crossed eyed maid!" Severus shrieked, "and I cannot help that you are so homely that your brother nearly offered half the family fortune to get rid of you! So tell me, Ruedella, when you use those 'special' toys that you have hiding under your bed, do you moan Barty's or Regulus' names?"
"How did you..." Ruedella fumed, "You snuck around my house... you had no business!"
"I saved you from Azkaban," Severus retorted with a hurtful smirk, "such actions justified a few privileges. Besides, I did not want the Aurors to find any contraband and my search had to be thorough. I was not surprised, given that you probably could not acquire a wizard's touch without purchase..."
"Perhaps I should go and get a Mark myself so I can rape a few Muggles?" Ruedella said in a dangerously low voice. "During the revel when you took the Mudblood witches, Severus, did you moan Lily's name over their screams when you came? Or were you more reserved, more distant, using the memories as a base to pleasure yourself later?"
"I NEVER!" Severus bellowed, his voice echoing down the valley. He bared his teeth, his rage teetering on uncontrolled, when suddenly a House Elf popped into view. The creature stood there for a second, apparently waiting for the humans to acknowledge him. "YES? WHAT!!" Severus yelled at the creature.
"Headmaster has requested Professor Lestrange," the elf squeaked but held its ground. It had dealt with the ill-tempered professor before and knew that as long as Dumbledore was around, no harm would come to it.
Severus stood and looked on as Ruedella quickly paced up the hill to the castle. After a few minutes he could see in the distance entering the side door to begin the equally long trek through the long corridors. Taking out his watch, he noticed the lunch was nearly over and soon afternoon classes would begin. He started to walk up the hill, somewhat relieved that he could start to reclaim his reputation given that he put the silliness behind him. He opened and closed his hand as he walked, still feeling Ruedella's skin and warmth and remembering that, at least for a second, nothing else mattered except for her touch and the wholeness and ease he felt (for the second he forgot that they could be observed) when he held her.
He stopped and held up his hand, letting his guard down just for the moment and letting his culled emotions, so professionally and expertly hidden that even he had to force himself to clear his own self-imposed mental blocks. He allowed the emotion to surface for a second before burying it deep. Clutching his hand, he forced it towards his side. "I cannot," he said trying to convince myself. "I do not," he said again, louder to convince himself before he entered the castle and quickly proceeded to the dungeons.
~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~~***~
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