CHAPTER 19

Awakening

Professor Lovejoy was of two minds regarding the sentence handed down by Fudge. Part of her was fiercely glad that Voldemort's force of Death Eaters had been so effectively diminished. But another part of her wondered what this would mean for Snape. Of course he had Dumbledore's support, as evidenced by his position at the school. But he was, after all, marked as one of Voldemort's own; how long would it be before either Voldemort or the Ministry of Magic decided to call him to account for what each would see as treachery to their cause?

When she finally awakened from the coma-like state induced by Voldemort's torture, Professor Lovejoy learned that the Dark Lord had once again anticipated the Order's plans. Instead of allowing Snape to trap him, he had neatly turned the tables when his Death Eaters kidnapped her, forcing Snape to come after her.

The one thing no one could fathom was why, when Voldemort had Snape right there before him, he hadn't killed him. Even without the support of his loyal Death Eaters, surely the great Voldemort was eminently capable of dispatching a single wizard, regardless of Snape's magical abilities. Why had Voldemort gone to all the trouble of setting up the elaborate kidnapping charade if not to rid himself of a traitor? It was a puzzle with no immediate answer.

Professor Lovejoy dismissed her last class of the afternoon. Her stomach rumbled suddenly, and she began to think of dinner. She walked slowly up the stairs to her office, stretching and yawning. It felt nice move around. She had set an exam for the Ravenclaws that afternoon, and rather than walk about the room as she usually did when she lectured, she felt it would be less distracting for the students if she were as quiet as possible. So, instead, she had sat at her desk for the last two hours grading essays by her first-year Hufflepuff class on the different varieties of dragons found in Great Britain--an amusing pasttime if one was fond of red ink, but otherwise singularly sleep-inducing.

Once in her office she removed her hairpins and shook out her hair into a shining, wavy golden-brown curtain. She reached into her desk and took out a hairbrush--unnecessary, strictly speaking, for she could have used magic to deal with her hair--but she enjoyed the soothing feeling of the brush stroking through the long strands and preferred to perform this task by hand. And who is to say whether she didn't occasionally imagine someone else wielding the brush, running his long fingers through her hair and gently caressing her neck...

She pottered about in her office--watering her plants, straightening her desk, and even taking the time to start the crossword puzzle in the Daily Prophet. After being stuck for nearly ten minutes on 18-Across (an eight-letter word meaning a potion-heating receptacle; it could be either Crucible or Cauldron--she hadn't filled in enough of the surrounding words to be sure of anything except the first letter), she decided it was time to go down to the Great Hall. A bit early, perhaps, but there might be someone else in the staff lounge who was in the mood for a little pre-dinner conversation.

She stepped out onto the landing that overlooked the classroom and turned down the lamp that hung on the wall. Then she started down the stairs. As she glanced out over the empty rows of desks, her steps faltered. Severus stood just inside the door, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and ankles crossed...waiting for her?

His eyes lit up when he saw Trillium, and he stepped away from the wall to watch her approach. Just the sight of her, recovered and safely back where she belonged, made him feel ridiculously happy. He couldn't help the smile he felt spreading across his face; he felt about sixteen--gauche in the face of her self-possession, awkward next to her grace--but he didn't care.

Maybe it was the fact that he had survived his recent brush with Voldemort that had freed him to start enjoying life a little, he wasn't sure. Maybe that glimpse of his own impending mortality had made him determined to live whatever may be left of his life in whatever way he wanted. When he saw Trillium, everything else fell away except the love she inspired in him. Having once felt this love, even for so short a time, he wasn't about to risk losing it by doing anything as foolish as dying.

"Why, good evening, Severus," Trillium said, pleased to see him. She kissed him warmly on the cheek. It amazed him that she still seemed to care for him every bit as much as she had before her kidnapping. He had imagined her shunning him, seeing him as the reason for the horrors she had experienced, since Voldemort had, after all, used her as the bait to lure Snape to him. But no--she was as warm and welcoming as ever.

"Trillium," he responded. He moved as if to put his arms around her, but hesitantly, as if still unsure of his welcome.

Not so Trillium. She stepped closer and tucked her arms neatly round his waist, lifting her face for a kiss and smiling invitingly.

"I've missed you, Severus. We've both been so busy lately. If you don't kiss me soon, I'll--I'll be forced to do something drastic!"

Drastic? That sounded intriguing. Amused, Severus raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Oh, really?" he said, his tone teasing. "And--ahem--what might that be? Exactly?"

Trillium shivered deliciously. She hadn't heard that tone from him for so long. She eyed him consideringly. Perhaps being late for dinner might not be such a bad thing.

"Well," she began, bringing her hands around to the front, "it might go something like this." She parted his robes and slipped her hands inside to rest flat against his chest. She could feel his heart beating wildly and smiled at him guilelessly. He stared back, his eyes hot.

"And perhaps this." Her quick fingers made short work of the top two buttons of his black shirt. She chanced a brief glance at his face; his eyes, which were riveted to her hands, met hers, and he swallowed hard.

"Simply terrifying," he whispered hoarsely, but she smoothed a finger over his lips to hush him. Severus grasped her hand and placed a kiss in her palm, then pressed it to his cheek. He couldn't stand much more of this torture, even as mild as it was.

He pulled Trillium close and rained kisses down on her face, then caught her lips in a desperate, heart-baring kiss that made her toes curl with its intensity. They finally broke apart, gasping with breathless passion, staring dazedly into each other's eyes.

It was at this juncture, with impeccable timing, that Harry appeared at the classroom door.

"Hi, Aunt Trillium," he began. "I thought I'd see if--" Belatedly he realized that he was interrupting. When Snape turned slightly, the remnants of their private moment still reflected on his face, Harry was stunned. He knew in an abstract way that his aunt seemed to have feelings for Snape, but in his worst nightmare he had never imagined walking in on them while they were--well, doing whatever it was they were doing. And he devoutly did not want to know what that might be.

"Oh! Harry, hello," Professor Lovejoy said, startled. She put up a hand and fiddled with her hair. "What--er--what can I do for you?"

Harry glanced at Snape, who had withdrawn into his usual stiff demeanor and was looking on with his customary sneer once more firmly in place.

"I--was going to ask if you wanted to walk down to dinner together," he said hesitantly. "But we can do it some other time." The three of them stood there awkwardly for a moment, and he added, "Sorry if I--er--interrupted anything." His face reddened, and he hastily tacked on, "Not that you were doing anything, I mean!" Snape's disdainfully raised eyebrow made it clear that Harry should stop before he should inadvertently shove his foot any further into his mouth.

Professor Lovejoy folded her hands and surveyed the two of them. "I'd be delighted to have the escort of my two favorite men," she said lightly. She returned Snape's startled look with a pleading one of her own and held out both of her hands.

Snape stepped up and wrapped her right hand round his arm, looking smugly at Harry as he did so. Harry, not to be outdone, did the same on her left. Professor Lovejoy chuckled.

"Oh, you two," she said, and freed her hand from Harry's grip to ruffle his hair affectionately. She slung her arm around his shoulders. "Let's go. I'm famished!" They went out the door and down the corridor--man, woman, and boy--looking for all the world like a happy little family.

As if.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The following Saturday was the third and last Hogsmeade weekend of the school year. Professor Lovejoy, along with Hagrid, volunteered to chaperone the students. A few days earlier Dumbledore had asked Snape if he would be willing to go along as well, since three chaperones were required.

"Er--Headmaster, I really would rather not," Snape said, feeling a bit faint at the thought. "Surely someone else could--"

"Ah, no, I am--ahem--afraid everyone else already has plans for today."

Snape narrowed his eyes dubiously. "Everyone?"

"Everyone," Dumbledore said firmly. At Snape's moue of distaste, he added, "Besides, Severus--" he peered at Snape over the tops of his spectacles-- "you look as if you could use a little fresh air." Snape scowled darkly at this impertinence but said nothing.

Dumbledore was struck with a sudden inspiration. Sneaking a sideways glance at Snape, who stood fuming, arms folded defiantly across his chest, he said casually, "I believe Professor Lovejoy will be chaperoning as well--and Hagrid." He affected an absorbing interest in a nonexistent piece of lint on his sleeve. When he finally looked up, it was to see Snape regarding him with heavy suspicion. Dumbledore smiled brightly.

"So," he said, "I take it you can fit that into your schedule?" Without giving Snape time to rebut this assumption, Dumbledore charged mercilessly on. "Good, good. Thank you, Severus. I think you'll find it a pleasant outing." He nodded to Snape and strode briskly off with the air of one who has just accomplished an enormous and difficult task--and, it must be admitted, of a man making good his escape.

Snape watched him go, lips twisted in his habitual sour expression. A whole bloody Saturday, wasted, he thought. Ever since joining the staff at Hogwarts he had managed to dodge this particular assignment, either by pleading a previous engagement--as apparently every other faculty member had done--or simply by managing to evade Dumbledore when he was on the hunt for "volunteers". Snape was thoroughly disgusted to have been corralled into babysitting a group of unruly students amid the holiday atmosphere of a Hogsmeade weekend.

But...but...if Professor Lovejoy was going as well, perhaps the day wouldn't be a total loss. He didn't fool himself into thinking they would actually have any private time together, surrounded as they would be by students all day, but at least it would give him an excuse to see her. He wondered, with an odd touch of jealousy, if there was any significance to the fact that Hagrid was the other chaperone. But he told himself not to be a fool--it was merely a coincidence. There was--there could be--nothing between Hagrid and Professor Lovejoy.

So it was that at an ungodly hour on Saturday morning he found himself at the head of a queue of laughing, chattering students, checking off permission slips on a list Filch had given him only moments before.

"Other plans today, Professor," Filch said hurriedly as he shoved the list and quill at Snape. He bowed perfunctorily, eyes darting between Snape and his own escape route. He nodded and bowed with an unctuous smile, edging away the entire time. "Just check them off, Professor, sir, that's all there is to it." He sketched a brief salute and then turned and fled, leaving Snape, as it were, holding the bag.

This being the third Hogsmeade visit of the year, the eligible students were by now familiar with the routine. The weather was fine and everyone was eager to be off, so the preliminaries were accomplished quickly and they were on their way.

Snape handed off the list to Professor McGonagall, who was there to wave them off, and followed the last of the students out of the gates. He looked for Professor Lovejoy and saw her up at the front. Curse it! She was with Potter. They looked as if they were having a marvelous time, laughing and talking animatedly. Hagrid, too, he noticed, had a group of third-years with him who seemed to be hanging on his every word. Snape caught the phrase "right out from under that old dragon" and the word "tournament" and surmised that Hagrid was regaling his audience with a blow-by-blow description of Harry's performance two years earlier in the Tri-Wizard Tournament that Hogwarts had hosted. He snorted. Potter. Always the conquering hero.

Snape realized he was the only chaperone who had no one to walk with. The stark contrast this made with Hagrid's and Professor Lovejoy's friendly groups seemed, even to him, somewhat awkward when he thought about it. He told himself he was glad of the time to himself; going to Hogsmeade was a good idea since he could replace some classroom supplies that were getting low. Who wanted to socialize with students? He had to spend enough time with them in class without having them hang on him like leeches all the way to Hogsmeade. So he told himself he didn't care that he appeared to be the only person in the entire group who was walking alone.

But he was becoming aware of something that bothered him a great deal: deep down--deeper than anyone except perhaps Professor Lovejoy and Dumbledore took the trouble to see--he did care, very much. He was beginning to think, in that dusty corner of his mind where he tried never to look, that he wouldn't mind a little company on this fine day. That it would perhaps be nice to not stand out quite so plainly as the one person no one wanted to be around.

It was far too reminiscent of his own school years, when he had so desperately wanted to belong with someone--to have what seemed to come so easily to others. To Potter, and Black, and even Lupin, damn him. But something in their tight-knit group recognized his desperation, a weakness he was unable to hide; and instead of fellow feeling, it only aroused their scorn. So, really, he had seen no choice but to show the world how much he didn't care, how well he managed without all the silly friendships that they thought were so important.

Talk about your self-fulfilling prophecies.

By the time he finished Hogwarts--first in his class with Outstanding in all his NEWTs--he had succeeded in convincing himself that he'd been right. He didn't need anyone, for any reason. He was strong, the master of his own fate. He answered to no one and wasn't burdened by a single friendship.

Soon after he left Hogwarts he came to the notice of the Dark Lord, after which he quickly came to realize that his fate was anything but his to command. But that, of course, is a story for another time.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Snape occupied himself with looking up ahead and admiring the coppery highlights the morning sun brought out in Professor Lovejoy's hair. Had he ever been known to use such a word, he might have said her laugh was charming. He wished he was the one walking beside her. How he envied Potter his easy conversation with her. It just figured, Snape thought glumly, that yet another Potter was depriving him of something he so badly wanted for his own.

Professor Lovejoy's words from the previous fall returned to him now--her admonishment to not see Harry and James Potter as one and the same, that Harry was really a likeable person and didn't have the tendency toward cruelty that James had shown.

Snape was not a warm person, but he was an honest one. And if he were to be completely honest--with himself, at least--he had to admit that his dislike of Harry was partly based on his hatred of James and the group of friends he had influenced, and partly on his envy of Harry and the ease with which he made friends who cared deeply for him. To give credit where it was due, it was almost as difficult for Snape to admit this as it would have been for Professor McGonagall to stand up in front of the entire school and tell a dirty joke. But he reminded himself, sternly, that he was strong. He would make the effort--for Trillium.

It was a small gesture, perhaps, to only admit this to himself. But it was a beginning--the first crack in the ice. The long process of thawing out the perpetual winter of Snape's heart was underway.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Professor Lovejoy left the bookshop happily. She had found several books she'd been wanting to read and had made arrangements for them to be delivered to Hogwarts. She thought she might look in at Honeydukes for a moment and get some Butterscotch Broomsticks to take back to her office. They were her particular weakness; she liked to see how long she could make them last while she graded essays.

She made her way across the street, waving to some of the third-years who trotted giddily from shop to shop in search of fun, enjoying their freedom. For them, the novelty of Hogsmeade visits obviously had not worn off yet. Cries of "Hello, Professor!" were accompanied by much waving of bags to show her their time had been well spent. She waved back, enjoying their enthusiasm.

Just as she reached the door of Honeydukes, it swung open and Harry and Ron walked out of the shop. Both of them carried bulging sacks of candy and novelties. It amused her to see that even the sixth-years, who considered themselves light-years ahead of the younger students in sophistication, nevertheless got the same enjoyment from the simple pleasures on offer at Honeydukes and the other Hogsmeade shops.

"Hi, Auntie!" Harry said cheerfully. Ron attempted a hello, but shrugged and pointed sheepishly to his mouth, which was full of Exploding Sugar Bombs.

"Hello, boys," she said. "Having a good time, are you? What have you got there?" She indicated their purchases, and they looked at each other guiltily.

"Well," Harry said, "mostly just stuff from Honeydukes, so far. We were going over to Flourish and Blott's next, though."

Professor Lovejoy laughed. "Well, whatever you do, enjoy yourselves. Just don't forget to be back here at three sharp, mind. We don't want to have to wait for you!" She squeezed Harry's shoulder and he sent her a fond look in return.

"We will," he assured her. "I don't want you having to walk back alone!"

"Thank you, Harry," she said. "See you later." She continued on into the shop, and Harry and Ron walked off in the direction of Flourish and Blott's.

"Gosh, Harry," Ron said through his mouthful of candy. Glittering silver smoke, a remnant of his favorite exploding sweet, streamed out of his mouth and nose as he spoke. "Your aunt is really great; you're sure lucky. It's nice you have some family that likes you."

"I know," Harry said fervently. He glanced back at Honeydukes just in time to see--Snape's?-- billowing black robes disappear inside. His stomach clenched and a wave of jealousy surged over him. He slowed to a stop. Ron, several paces ahead, suddenly realized he was talking to himself and turned.

"What is it?" he asked.

Harry reluctantly continued to where Ron waited. With a last, long look at Honeydukes, he turned resolutely away. "Nothing," he said. "It's nothing. Let's go." They trudged on, but for Harry the day didn't seem quite as bright as it had just moments before. Everything suddenly looked as flat and dull as he felt. He was no longer in the mood for fun--he wanted to go find something to kick. Hard.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Professor Lovejoy walked into Honeydukes to find herself, for the moment, the only customer. Madam Honeydukes was bustling about behind the counter, refilling jars and tidying up after the rush of students. She looked up and smiled.

"Well, and a good day to you, Professor! On chaperone duty, are you?" Professor Lovejoy admitted this was the case.

"Do you mind browsing for just a moment, dear?" Madam Honeydukes turned, a tall stack of boxes teetering in her arms. "I just need to pop these back into the sto--oh, dear--" She caromed off the counter and most of the boxes fell to the floor. Professor Lovejoy bent to help her pick up the scattered packages of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Droobles Best Blowing Gum, and other assorted sweets. The bell over the shop door rang when another customer entered, but, distracted by their task, neither Madam Honeydukes nor Professor Lovejoy paid any particular attention.

Finally all the errant bits and pieces had been rounded up and returned to their boxes, and Madam Honeydukes continued with her errand to the storeroom. Professor Lovejoy stood and admired the colorful displays while she awaited the proprietress' return.

Suddenly her nerve endings came to attention. Someone was behind her. Before she could turn, two hands came down on her shoulders. She gave a little scream.

"Hello, Trillium," Snape said into her ear, his warm breath causing delicious shivers to run up and down her back. "And what might you be up to?"

She turned with a glad smile. "Hello, Severus. You startled me! I'm afraid I'm here to indulge my formidable sweet tooth. What about you?"

His eyes did a quick head-to-toe assessment of her that would have been insulting coming from anyone else; but when he did it, her stomach did a little flip of excitement. He cocked his head to one side and said, "Perhaps I'm indulging mine right now." She rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched.

He indicated the glass cases. "What are you going to get?" he asked. "No, wait--let me guess." He tapped his chin with one finger as he looked around the shop. "Let me see...ah, of course. You're a girl, and everyone knows girls love chocolate, so--Chocolate Frogs?" She shook her head. "No?" He strolled a few steps further and stopped before the display of Exploding Sugar Bombs. He picked one up and, turning to her, held it up and shot her a doubtful look. She shook her head emphatically, eyes dancing. He put the candy back and advanced on her slowly. Her heart beat faster at the look in his eyes.

"Then I suppose I'll have to guess your favorite some other way."

He gently took her face in his hands, reveling in the softness of her skin. His lips came slowly down to meet hers. She responded willingly, and what had begun as a tentative gesture deepened into something more.

Snape lifted his face away from her for a moment and surveyed her closed eyes and flushed cheeks with satisfaction. He enjoyed knowing that he could put that look of dazed ecstasy on her face. He lowered his head again and nibbled gently at her lower lip, thinking how wonderful her mouth tasted--he couldn't imagine Honeydukes selling anything half as sweet.

Suddenly Madam Honeydukes popped back out of the storeroom. "Oh!" she exclaimed, seeing what she had interrupted. "Dear me, I'm so terribly--that is, perhaps you'd care to--oh, my. Er--decided what you'd like, dear?" she finally asked, taking refuge in the normalcy of a business transaction.

"Yes--er--a pound of Butterscotch Broomsticks, please," Professor Lovejoy requested. She sneaked a glance to her left, where Snape stood a few feet away pretending an interest in the Famous Witch and Wizard collectible cards on the Chocolate Frog boxes. Sensing her gaze, he glanced at her. She smiled at him impishly and he stared at her for a long moment, his eyes devouring her.

Madam Honeydukes watched the two of them as she tied a ribbon round the top of the bag of candy, an indulgent smile on her face. Ah, to be young again, she thought with a little sigh. She and Honeydukes had been married for many years now, and happily so. He still surprised her with the odd romantic gesture now and then, and she was well content. But new love--ah, there was nothing else quite like it.

Professor Lovejoy accepted her package and her change in a blissful haze. Snape opened the door to usher her out of the shop. The bright sunlight nearly blinded them. It occurred to her to wonder what they might do to pass the time until three o'clock.

"Do you have any errands to run, Severus?" she asked, noticing his empty hands for the first time. He shook his head.

"No, I've already completed mine," he said. "I ordered some potion ingredients for delivery to the school on Monday. I didn't want to have to cart them round all day." He eyed her speculatively. "Is there anything else you need to do, or may I take you to lunch?" He indicated the Three Broomsticks pub up the street.

"I don't have anything else," Professor Lovejoy said. She held up the bag of candy and rattled it. "I'm all set. I should think this will last me until school's out. Lunch sounds wonderful--I didn't realize how hungry I was until you mentioned it. Thank you, Severus."

Pleased, and glad of the excuse to spend a little more time with her--an entire lunch!--Snape tucked her free hand into the crook of his elbow and they set off up the road to see what Madam Rosmerta was serving up today.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

At three o'clock the group gathered in front of Honeydukes for the return to school. A head count was taken to make sure no one was forgotten, and then everyone trooped down the street and out of town. This time Snape was determined to walk with Professor Lovejoy, and she seemed glad of his company. Harry and Ron were just ahead of them, and Hagrid brought up the rear to sure there were no stragglers.

The return trip was much quieter than the walk to the village that morning. Everyone had spent a good part of the day in the fresh air, running about in town, and more than a few students were heard to wish they had broomsticks to carry them back to Hogwarts.

As they left the village behind, Snape surreptitiously kept an eye on Professor Lovejoy. Outwardly she looked calm enough, though she was perhaps a bit quieter than usual. But her hand, which he had persuaded her to allow him to hold, gripped his harder and harder as they approached the curve in the road--the scene of her kidnapping. He winced. He hadn't realized she was--quite--that strong.

"All right?" he said in a low voice.

She nodded silently, looking straight ahead.

"It's all right," he reassured her. "You're safe with all of us here." She nodded briefly but didn't slacken her grip. It wasn't until they were nearly at the school gates that she gave a sigh of relief and let go of his hand.

"Gracious, Severus, I'm so sorry--your poor hand!" she apologized. "I hadn't realized I was holding it quite so tightly. My own fingers are cramped--yours must be squashed to bits!" She took his "poor hand" in both of hers and massaged it gently, smiling into his eyes.

Snape walked beside her, enjoying the feel of her soft hands on his. He was well aware of happy feelings elsewhere on the premises as well, which suddenly recalled him to his surroundings. He snatched his hand away from Professor Lovejoy and glanced around furtively to see if anyone had noticed.

Potter had--of course. He might have known! Snape glared at Harry defiantly. Ostentatiously turning his back, he put his hand in the small of Professor Lovejoy's back and escorted her through the gates.

Harry was properly disgusted at a display of affection involving not only adults, but an adult who was related to him. Still, somehow the situation didn't have quite the same sting it had when he'd seen Snape go into Honeydukes after Professor Lovejoy that morning. Harry could see for himself that Snape seemed to truly care for her--even so, he would have continued to hate the sight of them together had he not also seen how very happy she seemed whenever Snape was around.

Harry wasn't stupid, and he wasn't particularly selfish. He was glad his aunt was happy, although he still wasn't reconciled to the thought of its being due to Snape. His mind and emotions churned in a mixed-up stew of confusion and satisfaction, jealousy and contentment. He shook his head. Maybe his life really would be easier if he just accepted the way things were.

Still somewhat disgruntled but no longer feeling as unhappy as he had earlier, he went to wash up for dinner.