Coffee? In Britain?
Remarkably, there was. Though there was only one place in Hogwarts where one could attain such a beverage in its proper state...
Severus opened the door to his office and, leaving it open, entered first. At first glance the gesture may have appeared rude, but it had a purpose - He pointed his wand at the hearth and a fire sprang up.
"Welcome to the lair." He said softly, an expression of mirth upon his narrow features as he indicated the book Sabine was holding. "Figuratively speaking. Please, have a seat."
The Potions Master busied himself with a different type of brew as he began preparing the coffee pot. It ran on magic, as no muggle device would, of course, operate in within Hogwarts, but the final product was unmistakably real. He measured out enough rich, black, ground coffee beans - a blend of French and Colombian that he ordered especially for its bold flavor - to brew a full pot and turned the machine on.
Studying the steam rising from the already scalding liquid, Severus frowned, brooding upon what he had heard in the library and trying to make sense of it. What of value to the Dark Lord could possibly have been left on the grounds? Perhaps...
He blinked, and turned around, smiling in a way that might have been slightly sheepish, had Severus Snape ever been known to be in any way sheepish. "I beg pardon, I was distracted." The pot made an odd gurgling sound to announce its finale, and he held out a mug. "Enjoy."
Sit she did, leaving her book on the edge of Professor Snape's desk, the toes of her boots clicking rhythmlessly on the cobbles as she awaited her reward for nights of suffering through teacup after teacup of the inane leaf-water that was so popular there. When sanctuary did come, she wrapped her hands around the mug, numb to its heat, rose it to her lips and sighed.
"Magnificent. A bit of an unusual taste, but wonderful all the same." Now sufficiently warmed to her toes, Sabine gave Severus a calculating look. "Something is bothering you."
Severus looked at Sabine abruptly, then offered an expression of surrender and seated himself in an armchair. Taking his mug of the rich, black, bitter drink, he studied her over the rim of the cup, his onyx eyes bemused. "Do you know," He said, "I don't believe anyone except Albus has ever asked me that before." This wasn't entirely true... He distinctly remembered Lucius Malfoy saying something of the sort when he was a younger man, but Severus did his best to forget that he and the lord of Malfoy Manor were once close friends and comrades.
"But to answer your ...statement..." He smirked at the woman's confidence and observation, "You're right." He shrugged, there was no sense in making a drawn-out denial when it was clear that Sabine already knew she was correct and would not be put off. "I assume you are familiar with my work for the Order?" He asked, then hesitated, a frown of internal debate crossing his face. Am I willing to get her involved in this?
The answer was simply, not really, but as he read the intrigued expression on his American counterpart's face, it became clear that he had already sent his foot on a trajectory toward his mouth.
This is why I rarely speak to my colleagues... He grumbled to himself in thought. You see what happens when I do. Blithering idiot.
Sabine had once been the youngest female teacher at Regalus Academy, before that territory was stolen from her by a little blonde angel that began teaching just out of a school in Boston. During that time, she had received plenty of teenagers seeking advice- it had both developed her empathy and somewhat shortened her patience in that time. Nevertheless, she could read trouble on a face if she paid attention to said visage. Regarding confidence: it had always proven a very useful tool.
On the other hand, Sabine would have accepted a simple assertion that she was mistaken- if only to be polite. As it was, she was surprised at how little she had to prod. Certainly, if this manner of man were to give up his point so easily, some part of him must wish to tell her. This above all things intrigued her.
"I have been given a brief overview of the duties of one Severus Snape."
Severus chuckled and nodded. "Yes, well, those duties often make me into a man you would not wish to attend a house party. I've developed an unfortunate habit of eavesdropping when something catches my attention..." He sighed, "And just now I have overheard a most fascinating discussion between several of my own precious Slytherins in the castle library." His tone on mentioning the cherubs of his House was rich with sarcasm.
"Quite carelessly, they mentioned the affairs of their elders," He went on, and his voice was bitter, "And we know what a reputation Slytherins of my generation have attained. It seems an object of some value to our enemies has been left somewhere on the grounds, if the students are to be trusted."
He raised a brow at her. "Much as I am loathe to admit it, I may require some assistance in investigating this matter further before I take it to the Headmaster. If you do not wish to be involved, I will of course understand entirely... But to be perfectly honest, I could use the help."
He needed another mind that could keep up with his own, and Sabine had proved herself to be exceptionally sharp. Her face, unknown in this region, would perhaps prove useful if the search went outside the grounds... And it would not go amiss to have a companion younger than Minerva if it came to clambering about in the bramble and vines of the forest, or other such athletic endeavors.
As Severus lamented his own disposition, Sabine stirred her coffee amorously and rose the mug to her lips for a long sip, once again breathing in the rich scent. There, as her colleague continued, it remained, irritating her lower lip as narrow hazel eyes found their way to Professor Snape's face once again.
This was new: it had been expressed to her that she would only have to board the plane and recline at a wretched little cat hole currently being used as headquarters for this secret society; that alone had required some uncomfortable paperwork and a good deal of persuasion on the behalf of her dearest friend. However, shortly afterward it had been made clear that she would do best to reside thenceforth at Hogwarts, where she would be of good use, and didn't she -want- to be useful?
Not particularly.
But this was new; that was her domain and her passion. This could mean excitement, adventure, possibly danger. Within Sabine screeched a spoiled little girl that wanted to do this. Outwards, however, Sabine's practical self argued that danger was exactly the reason for her to stay the hell away from this man's buisness. On the other hand, Severus did not seem the sort of man to desire help frivolously.
"If I could be of assistance, I implore you to tell me how and when."
There's no going back now. Good job, Sabine.
Severus pondered for a moment, ruminating on which course of action would be best to take. To be honest, he had no idea where to start, except inside the walls of Hogwarts, for an object that, knowing the cleverness of the Dark Lord, may not be an object at all but a person. He sighed and pressed two fingertips to his temple, staving off the migraine that had been threatening him all day as he voiced his thoughts.
"I am at a loss." He shrugged, though the jerkiness of his muscles suggested that he was anything but nonchalant. His tone was tense, irritated - though a different kind of irritation from what he showed his students in class. "I suppose research is in order, though I can't say how enlightening that will be since I have no idea what the hell I am looking for." He blinked, shook his head. "My apologies. I believe you have just had your first real glimpse of the Potions Master's infamous temper."
Removing the mug from her face and setting it aside, then touching her fingers to the cooling flesh, Sabine thought. Said finger shifted position, first touching her own temples briefly, then the hair above her left ear, and finally began to fiddle with the signet ring on her right hand. Ideas, ideas, ideas.
A thoughtful, almost Lovegood-esque expression crossed her face as she searched her mind, and finally she rose from her chair and crossed the room to lay a hand on Professor Snape's shoulder. "Hardly. Don't gloss yourself over for me, Professor: it's deceiving and counter-productive. And rather time-consuming, when time is something we might not have to waste smoothing over imperfections. Now, what exactly of importance did you hear?"
Severus all but flinched at the unexpected hand. Not offensive, just unexpected. He could not remember the last time the companionable gesture had been executed within Hogwarts... Probably because they're worried I'll take their hand off at the wrist... He mused with a slight smile.
"There is an object somewhere on the grounds of Hogwarts that the Dark Lord considers important." He repeated by way of introduction, studying his steepled fingers. "Though, bearing in mind His deviant genius, said object may not even be an object. It may be a person, or creature... Understand that I have received this information second-hand from the children of Death Eaters, and while they are not entirely unreliable, their gossip tends to be rather ambiguous." Black eyes assumed a thoughtful expression as he continued. "There will be a gathering in the fall for the Dark Lord to address his followers... According to the students, searchers will be chosen then to somehow infiltrate Hogwarts and comb the grounds, retrieving the object." He closed his eyes for a moment, then smirked in a grim, mirthless, bitter sort of way. "It is likely that I will be one of these searchers, more likely that I will be expected to grant them entrance." He laughed sardonically. Open the gate to a band of killers looking to aid their master.
Your master, a little voice in the back of his mind taunted him. He ignored it; Not anymore.
He beat his brain into submission, commanding it to think of some way to foil the Death Eaters' plan. A sudden, diabolical idea struck him, and his eyes widened in horror at its perfect ease, the knowledge that it would work like a well-oiled machine. He jerked away from Sabine, shaking his head. "No."
Inky eyebrows furrowed as Sabine wondered momentarily at the audible capitalization of the man's name- she knew of him, of course, but not exactly of how feared he was. She hadn't thought him too important- no one ever even bothered to say his name. Then, when he continued, she began to reflect on what was being said.
Yes, students tended to embellish things for the sake of their friends, Sabine had experienced this first-hand, but nothing heard or seen should be entirely disregarded, ever, ever. But then: a meeting of these loathful men and women? Surely of obvious importance. If...
Suddenly the shoulder she had come to rely on as a perch disappeared, and she stepped backwards in surprise. "No what?" she retorted in alarm, removing herself to a safe distance and leaning one skeletal hip on the desk beside her. Temper she was prepared for, but she had not expected spontaneity. Severus shook his head in the way of someone waking from a trance, surprised at his own outburst. He scowled at his loss of control, getting the impression that he'd flushed like a schoolboy at the realization he'd been thinking out loud. He could only imagine how that flush must have appeared...
Pressing fingers to his forehead in irritation and no small amount of embarrassment, he rolled his eyes, then sighed and cleared his throat. He executed a gesture to indicate that the area was free of sudden movements and outbursts, and that the crazed professor had been successfully sedated.
"Forgive me." He said lamely. "I've just had an idea, and I confess it startled me." He raised his black eyes to hers, studying her features to gauge the reaction to what he was about to say. "Professor Trefethen, how would you like to play at being a Death Eater?"
Raising her eyebrows now in interest, Sabine studied Severus' face as she watched the cogs crank. She was just wondering to herself at what he could possibly be thinking, when he dealt his proposal.
Death Eater- this was a human of almost nonexistent conscience, from what she understood, perfectly willing to, in some cases, do whatever it took to get what he or she wanted, or in other cases, be moved about like a pawn. They all had different reasons: lust for power, lust for fame, fear for life, fear for family. And it had been detailed to Sabine the lengths to which these cloaked figures were willing to go, the fears that they might have, and the theories of both Tarla and Abby on why Sabine would or would not make a good one.
Sabine had always been fascinated with darkness- in a physical sense, and a mental sense. Abby had often teased her about her fascination with books that portrayed complying characters: Dracula, Calliope Lark, Simon Attins-Wolfe, Archibald Craven, Demetrius Lord, Francesca Wakefield. Any creature dark and intricate held her rapt attention; if he or she were brilliant, all the better. To think she was being offered a chance to get close to minds such as those and perhaps examine the ranges and variations that said minds possessed.
Again, there would be danger: Sabine knew this, and yet, she had promised to help. Miss Trefethen hadn't been afraid of death or injury (for good cause, at least) since her childhood; that was not an issue, and chances were that such risks would not increase so dramatically if she was smart about the whole buisness.
People had died. This realization came slowly into Sabine's mind, as though it did not want to enter but had little choice. She had known before, she supposed- she wasn't that dense, but the very reality of the concept weighed upon the part of her mind that was saturated with fiction like a lead brick. She was one of the few lucky enough to have a family that she was on good terms with, and friends that loved and appreciated her. Certainly she would do anything to help those others like herself.
With these dizzying thoughts swirling in her head, Sabine took about five seconds to actually answer the question, ignoring the cooling cup of coffee beside her. "If you think I could pull it off. What would you have me do?"
Severus blinked, pulling back a fraction of an inch in surprise. The degree of ease with which she'd accepted, compounded by the relatively short amount of time it took her to consider, gave him the impression that this woman did not dally over difficult decisions. Another advantage.
He studied Sabine, musing... He would have to train her, and that idea did not appeal to him in the least, necessary as it was. Severus did not like dusting off the skeletons in his closet to put them on display. He'd done it once, the year of the Triwizard Tournament... Karkaroff had fled. He'd refused. When Fudge deliberately blinded himself to the truth, Severus rolled up his sleeve, bared the Mark on his arm... And the minister still would not believe it.
...The Mark. The Dark Lord would never believe a glamour spell, and Severus would not allow the woman to be branded. It was only one of several initiation rituals that he shuddered to imagine Sabine going through... New, female members were favored among the Death Eaters, he well remembered, and the shame rose like bile in his throat.
"Damn it." He swore, rising and beginning to pace. He clasped his hands behind his back and scowled at the worn stone floor, willing an answer to appear out of nowhere. "I don't know. You'll never be accepted without a Mark."
Comepletely oblivious to these more delicate situations of the man's past, Sabine vaguely recalled a hurried whisper of Tarla Prestan's detailing what was etched into the skin of Professor Snape's left arm, and what it meant. Sabine had admittedly cared much less then than she did now that that etching was somewhat of an obstacle.
"Damn it," Sabine echoed, sighing and reclining in her chair to take a hurried sip of her coffee. That done, she rose and began to pace, tapping her jaw line just below her left ear rhythmically. "Wretched," she muttered to herself; then, "There must be some other options."
Severus turned and studied her, noticing perhaps for the first time how disappointed she was at the plan being thwarted, how there was a glint of almost childish enthusiasm in her eyes. Sabine Trefethen had no idea what she was getting into. It disturbed him. He was bringing someone who was more or less a virgin to what they were dealing with right into the thick of it.
"Sabine," He said softly, "I must be sure that you understand what you are undertaking. I know that tales of the Dark Lord have become watery and vague by the time they reach your America, but here... Do you not wonder why we fear to speak his name? He decimated us, there was a path of destruction in his wake like nothing anyone had ever seen. He is the equivalent of Adolf Hitler in the wizarding world, and in getting close to him there is very real danger. If you misstep," He paused abruptly, "You will die. And I will be powerless to stop it."
Sabine went quiet for a moment, looking at Severus. What a concept. Her hands went to the sides of her neck, and she tilted her head towards the low ceiling, focusing on a spider's web in the corner while her mind raced.
He was right- she knew that much, and yet she found it frighteningly difficult to even imagine the horror that could...would be involved. Maybe she was being foolish, which was an even more frightening concept.
Would you be willing to die for this cause? a little voice asked her. Sabine didn't know. Her neck began to hurt, and she brought her hands down and returned to her chair, where she sat on an armrest. Others had done it, but who was she to compare herself to great witches and wizards? Curse you for coming unprepared to this damned country, she scolded herself.
Yet... she had always been on the virtuous side of things. The destruction of an innocent life was an unreachable concept to her. Where there actually people who... well, yes.
Will you be able to live with yourself if you don't do what you can?
...No. God damn it.
"I understand," came the final, shaky reply.
Severus knew his expression became gentle and sympathetic at her tone, and he quickly schooled it into submission. "Alright. Now, how to work this?" He fell to pacing again as both individuals resumed plotting, at least one brow - The Master's - frowning in concentration.
Sabine's pale lips pursed, rather than her forehead, tightly as she tore away from the chair and resumed pacing- of course, it took her several moments to regather herself and again find her plotting zone. Once more, she began to tap the gland below her left ear, while her other arm stayed crossed in front of her.
"This is very frustrating. I'm at a complete loss." It was frustrating, and it showed in her slight developing pout.
Even in the dire circumstances, Severus could not help being amused by the pout on the coltish woman's face. He smirked, then chuckled, then choked and ceased doing both.
Hmm. It was possible... He studied Sabine, blinking slowly. Where the hell did that come from? The voice in his head demanded, sounding very like his own angry hiss. Bloody ideas...
He cleared his throat, and once again addressed his partner-in-crime. "There is one possibility... It would enable you to attend a meeting without a wearing a brand."
He sighed, very aware that he was going to flush as he said the words, and was unable to do anything about it. "The family members of Death Eaters are welcome at meetings... The Dark Lord uses them as extensions of his servants, to support his crusade to a lesser degree. Were you to accompany me to this fall's meeting - a few weeks from now - I could present you as my wife."
The deed done, he crossed his arms, leaned back against the mantle with its corner between his shoulder blades, and waited.
At first, the woman let out an unladylike, involuntary and -yes- coltish snort, and a much more attractive, if short, laugh afterwards. She looked at Severus in utter disbelief, as though she wanted to scold him for making her laugh at a time like this but couldn't give him the appropriate glower for the hints of a smile still left on her lips.
"Good God. You're serious!" she pointed out emphatically, letting her left arm drop to fold with her right one as Sabine withdrew one shoulder, studying Professor Snape. "It's a ridiculous idea. It would never work. We're too-" Different? Sabine tried again. "I mean to say that we..." Don't get along?
"...There must be another option."
Severus shrugged. "Nothing that presents itself. Perhaps given time, though time is not exactly a luxury we can afford to waste. I would offer the possibility of sister, cousin... But I have been in the Dark Lord's inner circle for years, and he knows that I have no sister, and no female relative living or even close to your age. He would see right through a glamour spell-" Again the pronoun was definitively capitalized, "And were you to present yourself as merely an outsider interested in joining the circle, you would either be branded on the spot, run out on a rail or, more likely, killed."
He shook off the cold that accompanied that last possibility, then raised a brow. "Well? You've got a better idea? After all, I'm not asking you to marry me, just act as if you had." He smirked at her. "Unless, of course, you'd rather I did."
"I know nothing of your life," Sabine protested, dropping her arms and giving Severus an indignant look, as though this were the most preposterous proposal she had ever heard. Whirling around, she topped off the centimeter of stone-cold coffee in the bottom of her cup and took a long sip with the kettle still in hand, then set both containers down.
"Anyway, I don't have a ring to speak of. My mother is Bound to hers."
Severus, having lost his flustered expression mere moments after the topic was breached, was growing increasingly amused at Sabine's protests. She was a strong-willed woman, and he could well understand the deep-rooted aversion to such an idea, but it wasn't as if he had dropped to one knee, a lovelorn fool, and begged her to be his lifelong partner and sex slave...
...In any case, he made an attempt to control his smirking countenance and shrugged again, waving a dismissive hand. "You have just over three weeks to undertake what your Americans call, I believe, a 'crash course.' I assure you, there is not much to learn." He paused, and gave her a pained expression. "Ms. Trefethen, you insult me. Surely you could not imagine that I would abandon the lady of my choosing to supply her own ring?"
His tone was pure honey, but when the inevitably shocked glare was turned on him, his black eyes glittered with mischief, and a thin smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His lanky frame, which had straightened as he replied to her protestations, relaxed again as he resumed his position at the mantle.
No: not so much shocked as incredulous. The very idea of a man -any man- going out of his way to choose a ring for her for any reason left her dumbstruck. Momentarily, anyway. For a second she had entertained notions of Tarla Prestan, the diva of politics, dragging her through every jewelry shop on the continent, shoving glittering pieces of metal and stone into her face and onto her pale, veined fingers, chattering about the very idea of marriage and Sabine intertwining their concepts.
"If you insist," she finally said- her halfhearted attempt to look politely defeated failed miserably, although there was a distinct air of reluctance. "But you of course understand that I won't tolerate anything flashy. One simple band, that won't distract anyone, and won't catch much light. I also want it understood that I expect a full account of the price, and, when I eventually return to America, I will have the appropriate amount transferred to your Gringotts account."
That said, a moment taken to reflect on Severus' use on the phrase 'crash course' made her grin for a moment, and she bit her lip until such time as she could pull a straight face.
"I kept my career, and kept my maiden name in the public face, to avoid confusion and rumour," she said suddenly, turning to retrieve her new cup of coffee and keeping it close to her as she stepped closer to the mantle. "I am, as I have told you, a New Berlin native, born of Lionel and Regina Trefethen, who held positions with Scattergood Spellbooks. Both are alive and well. I believe you know enough of my employment at Sir Regalus Academy of Magic to get by, and... I believe that is more information than will be required of me. We also honeymooned in France. It was very short-lived, perhaps a weekend. Enough to comply with formality," she added as an afterthought, sipping from her coffee and lifting her head towards Severus. "Your turn."
Severus balked - He had not planned upon delivering such an immediate tour into his life. But it was only fair, after Sabine's willing contribution.
"Very well..." He sighed, his already pale face looking paler and drawn, his eyes oddly sunken. "I was raised in England on a family estate known as Dartmoor Manor, by Tobias and Eileen Snape. I was tutored at home by my mother till the age of eleven, then entered Hogwarts and completed my education. I was made a prefect in my fifth year. My father, incidentally, was an evil bastard..." He muttered under his breath. "Immediately following graduation I was persuaded by my friend Lucius to enter that elite force known as the Death Eaters." He could not keep his hands from tensing on the arms of his chair, and he would not meet Sabine's eyes. "Just over a year later, I entered Dumbledore's confidence and became a spy for the Dark Lord." He paused, trusting that she would understand the significance of that statement but feeling a need to justify it either way. "Or at least, that is what they will want to hear. You, of course, know that it is in fact the other way round."
Attempting to lighten the mood, he raised his head, clasped his hands loosely and raised a brow at her, smirking. "France, was it? Did you enjoy yourself?"
Sabine listened intently, perching herself in an eerily vulturesque way on the side of her designated chair. Of course, she decided against commenting, but rather putting these facts away in her mind to remember. "I suppose I had best get used to referring to him as the Dark Lord," she reflected afterwards, giving a small sigh.
In fact, she looked quite relieved when the topic shifted to a lighter mood. "Oh, yes, the French countryside. You were very charming, and we both got a good deal of reading done," she replied with a smirk, clicking the side of her mug with a long, crooked fingernail. "A very good deal."
Severus worked to hide his smile and hold in the burst of laughter that threatened to overwhelm him. It was, of course, not the response he would have expected from any other female, but from Sabine it was entirely appropriate.
"Very good then." He replied when he could trust his voice to not turn into laughter. "Perhaps we should adjourn for the evening? I notice that a house elf has been here to tidy my quarters shortly before our arrival, which means no doubt that one has visited yours as well. I've kept you up rather late, people will talk."
"Very well," Sabine replied reluctantly, once again returning to the desk to refill her mug, this time only half-full in the first place. However, instead of returning to her chair she started towards the door, cup still firmly in hand.
"Good night, Professor. I will see you in the morning."
And with that cheery farewell, the door clicked shut and retreating footsteps faded -rather quickly, in case Severus would not take kindly to the nicking of one of his coffee cups- towards the stairwell.
Severus blinked slowly as his door closed on Sabine's retreating back and his coffee cup. Then he burst into laughter, shaking his head at the woman's bravado. He'd never met someone who was quite so bold in his presence - with the exception of Dumbledore, who had a habit of showing up in the Master's chambers without invitation, sometimes waiting for Severus to arrive, when there were matters he wished to discuss. It would have been irritating to the point of fury with most people, but for some reason he found Sabine's behavior merely amusing.