Disclaimer: All Harry Potter people, places, things, or ideas (all Harry Potter nouns) belong to J. K. Rowlings. Warning: lots of angst in this chapter.
Chapter 10: Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
Minerva charmed her hair red and her eyes dark brown. She also found some old gray robes that she had not worn in several years. Dusting them off, she finished her new disguise with a broad-rimmed fedora. She even wore flat shoes in order to appear shorter. I cannot believe that I'm doing this. But it is the quickest way to get to the bottom of this and resolve it, she reasoned.
He was sitting in a dark corner of the Leaky Cauldron, drinking butter beer and looking inconspicuous in a booth when she found him. "I knew you would come," he said in a voice barely above a whisper.
After glancing around the room to see if anyone was staring at them, she ordered gilly water and slid into the booth and sat so that she could face him from across the table, rather than sitting directly next to him. "I almost didn't, but I realized that this may be the only way to clear up such a situation as you have forced both of us into."
"I never forced you into anything; you chose to come here," he reminded dryly as her drink arrived.
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she spoke. "Why on earth did you choose me?"
He grinned. "It's rather simple, actually. You took the time to understand me and help me when I wanted to give up on myself. I'm not very good at platitudes. Using the notes, I was trying to say something nice without sounding like myself, but it was too subtle. Don't you see that I enjoy your company?"
His frankness surprised her, being void of any sarcasm. Oh dear, this is going to be harder than I thought. "I was helping you purely from the perspective of a teacher helping a student in need. You are my student, and possibly a friend, but absolutely nothing more," she explained, almost pleading with him.
Then she realized that the conversation could suddenly grow much louder and used her want to create a silencing bubble around them. Aggravated at the predicament himself, he hit the table with his fist. "Why can you not understand that I see you on a much deeper level than that?"
This is for the best. I only hope he understands someday, she thought as she sighed heavily. "Then you have created a relationship out of your imagination. What I am attempting to explain to you is that this won't work. Maybe if you were older, maybe if I wasn't your professor, maybe if we were two different people in a different place, then it might work. Regardless of how either of us feels, what you ask is impossible, not here, not now, and not us," she tried to persuade him, knowing that she had hurt him.
He had managed to slide along the bench and grasp her arm pulling her toward him, but not roughly. "How can you say that? I have never found anyone whom I can verbally spar with as well as you. You are also beautiful and intelligent. Why are you making the choice for me? I am old enough to make my own decisions!" he argued.
She looked directly into his dark eyes, hoping to somehow get through to him even though all she saw was immovable determination. What he saw in her eyes were the tears she was holding back. "This is not about age! This is about protocols and lines that cannot be crossed! You don't seem to understand; I could get sacked, whether or not I respond to your advances!" she protested.
"Don't give me an answer now, just think about what I've said," he requested.
What she had not been paying attention to during the argument was that he had moved closer to her. She still had not noticed that he had taken hold of her arm. Suddenly and before he could rethink his actions, he pressed her against the back of the booth and kissed her. In that moment of weakness she found herself responding again. Then she broke away and hastily stood up.
"I am through with this!" she whispered. Though her words were quiet, he heard the harsh certainty in the words as she dashed out of the Leaky Cauldron.
The next few times that he was in her class, both of them ignored the other. Minerva had decided to take a walk two days later after her classes to ponder and resolve the problems swimming around in her mind. In truth, she greatly missed their talks and chess games, feeling guilty for not having found a better solution to the problem. She was not looking down as she her feet crunched in the snow and accidentally tripped over a familiar form clothed in black. He stood up quickly and stopped her from falling.
"I'm sorry about that, professor. I was looking for a few ingredients for my Potions project," he quickly explained. "What are you doing out here?
She blushed. "I took a walk, needing to think matters through."
He looked at the ground and then back at her. "Have you come to a decision?" he asked before slipping his arm around her waist.
She broke way from him hastily. "I came to a decision the last time and it has not changed. I cannot allow this! You do not seem to understand how dangerous this is!" she exclaimed.
He stepped closer to her so that they were almost nose to nose, scrutinizing her with his penetrating dark eyes. "Stop bloody telling me that I don't understand; I do. You're afraid of loosing control, aren't you?" he said in a low whisper. "As long as you're the 'Professor,' then you're in control, of actions and words. But when you become 'Minerva,' you loose some of that control. Are you afraid of what will happen, should such control slip? Or is it that once you give up the control, once you forfeit the restraint, even for that one moment, that you will not be able to regain it sufficiently?" His tone had become acidic.
There was hostility in his tone, as if he was scolding her. Minerva's green eyes were livid, but her voice matched the quietness of his. "How dare you take that tone of voice with me! If I wasn't as angry with myself as I am at you, I would give you detention!"
"That almost sounded rehearsed. You are still hiding behind your rank. What would you tell me regarding the situation if you could talk to me as a woman talks to a man? Would we even be having this argument?" he questioned.
She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. "I cannot answer you in that way because reality must be dealt with and what you are asking must not exist."
He scoffed and his voice grew louder and edged with cynicism. "You want to deal with reality? It seems to me that reality is the one thing you seem to be avoiding the most. What you define as reality are rules and protocols. The reality that I am speaking of is one of where a heart lies. The reality of this situation is that I am in love with you, as if you needed me to point it out."
"Society frowns on what you are suggesting and I do not want either of us to be ostracized for the rest of our days!" she declared.
"I don't care what anyone else thinks, except you. Obviously you live by the acceptance of others. I do not because why should I live by what I never had? You don't want to admit that you feel the same because it would destroy the reality that you have spent years building!" he retaliated.
So that was what he meant when he asked me about honour and dignity. Though the argument was escalating, she attempted to keep her voice level. "You know very well that I could never admit to such a thing, whether or not it is true, and you know why! I have a spotless reputation to protect, and you seem to care nothing about what might happen to me, or your own future for that matter, because of your childish crush. Of all the-" he was tired of hearing her ramble on about what he already knew.
"You think all that I have done is childish? You are either lying to me to protect both of us, or you are not the person that I thought you were," he interjected with a coldness that caused her to gasp.
He had succeeded in causing her to feel guilty. I wish there was another way to end this, but he is simply too persistent. Perhaps I am not the person that he thought I was. Maybe he is not the one who doesn't understand; what if I'm the one who does not see things clearly? I cannot take much more of this, she thought to herself. "Severus, I can't-"
He cut her off again, but this time with a passionate kiss. Because he was holding her too tightly for her to dash off, she could not struggle out of his embrace and he did not release her for what felt like an extraordinarily long amount of time, until both were in need of oxygen. I know that he will probably never speak to me after this, but sometimes that which we do not want to do is what must be done. Then why do I want more than anything to find some other way? Is this really the only answer? Perhaps not, but I see no other way, she reasoned. Summoning all of her courage, she slapped him hard across the face.
"I cannot allow you to do this!" she sounded angry, but when he looked in her eyes, he read only one thing, 'I'm so sorry.'
Before he could reply, the Potions Master walked over to them. "What the deuce is going on here? I heard yelling," Professor Eygore probed.
Blast, how do I talk my way out of this one? Minerva tried to find her voice. "Eygore, I can explain-"
He interrupted her. "Tsk, tsk, McGonagall. Really, you shouldn't be arguing with students. I thought that someone of your status would have better control over a misguided student. Most professors would have taken away house points," he said snidely, speaking to her as if she were incompetent.
She was speechless. Professor Eygore tapped his foot with impatient irritation as she tried to formulate a response. To her surprise, the explanation came from her left. "Professor Eygore, it was my fault. She was going to take 200 points from Slytherin for bad language, inappropriate behavior, and passing notes in class. I was arguing with her about it when you walked over."
He covered for me. She was stunned, but made an attempt to hide her amazement as she nodded toward Eygore. "Yes, 200 points from Slytherin then," she called.
"I accept it and I apologize for my rude behavior. Good day, Professor McGonagall," he stated curtly as he walked away, but not before dropping a crumpled piece of paper on the ground.
Eygore was about to pick it up, but Minerva reached it first and shoved it into a pocket on her robes. "He should know better than to litter. Good day," Minerva said, walking hastily toward the castle. Eygore shrugged and went on his way.
In the safety of her rooms, Minerva pulled the paper from her pocket and studied it. At first it looked blank, but then she recognized it as mood paper as writing appeared.
I would never have let you fall with me for something I started.
"Why is it that the most important decisions in our lives are often the most difficult?" she asked herself aloud as she made a quick cup of tea. The answer came to her after a while as she looked out of her window onto the field. It had begun to rain and she listened to it with bittersweet satisfaction. "Because it is during such situations that true character is revealed and it is during such outcomes that the true metals that make up a person are forged." She sighed heavily, crumpling up the note and crying on her couch.
Still curled up on the couch, she heard a knock at the door just after eight o'clock that evening. She stood and opened the door to find Dumbledore standing there. "Albus, won't you come in for some tea?" she offered out of polite habit, hoping that he would decline and leave her alone again.
He shook his head. "No, thank you my dear. I came to see how you were, seeing as you missed dinner. And judging by your tearstained face, all is not well."
She nodded and he pulled her into a hug. Then they sat down in two chairs at her living room. "Albus, I have had the most dreadful of days," she conveyed.
"What has happened?" he asked gently.
I suppose it would feel better to talk to him than to wallow in my problems alone. I will simply choose my words carefully. She sat wringing her hands before answering. "Mr. Snape and I have had a few… altercations over a matter that he would not move on from," she paused and began sobbing again. "Albus, I tried so hard to help him! I don't know where it all went wrong, but I can't do anything for him anymore! He'll probably go over to the other side and there is nothing I can do to stop it!"
The headmaster put his arms around his deputy. "Minerva, I am sure that it was not entirely your fault. I know that you did your best. Sometimes we must accept that the decisions other people make are beyond our control; that is the reality we must face."
Dumbledore left a short while later and Minerva lay in her bed, attempting to fall asleep. The events of the past few days continued to circle through her mind and she cried herself to sleep, blaming herself for not being able to prevent the fate for Severus that she feared.
(My thanks to Leta McGotor, duj, brokentoy19, and Miss eo-Wyn for reviewing :D)