A/N: Thank you for the kind reviews! I hope everyone is having a good January.

A bit of a quiet chapter, but the various threads are about to start entwining, and I look forward to sharing the action with everyone!

Chapter Twelve: Thirty-Three

Severus braced himself as he walked into the Great Hall and immediately cringed as he was greeted by a sea of grinning faces from the Slytherin table. He steadfastly refused to make eye contact, instead striding toward the head table even more quickly than usual. Minerva patted an empty chair next to him, chuckling lightly as he grimaced at her.

"Don't say a word," Severus warned her as he sat down.

"Oh, do get over yourself," Minerva's said, her smile only widening. She'd been so serious lately- they all were- that, privately, he was gratified to see her in a rare state of happiness. The fact that it was at his own expense nullified the effect quite a bit, however.

Nearby, at the Slytherin table, his students continued to beam at him. Severus glowered at them, but they weren't deterred in the least.

"Poor Severus," Minerva said, following his gaze and putting on a voice of mock sympathy. "Your students like you. They're happy for you."

Severus opened his mouth to reply, but Pomona had already reached the table, a horrid smile of her own directed toward him. "There he is!"

"Don't," he warned her. "Not a word."

"Oh, hush," Pomona said, smiling at him as she took the open seat beside him. "Happy birthday, Severus."

Severus grunted at her.

"You'd think we were torturing him." Minerva chuckled as she spread jam across a piece of toast. "He can't bear the thought that others might actually like him."

"The poor boy," Pomona agreed, erupting into a terrible peal of giggles. "He certainly can't have people liking him. Whatever would he do with himself?"

"I doubt a single one of my students knows when my birthday is," Minerva went on, handing him the piece of toast she'd been holding. "Eat this, why don't you? You're much less disagreeable when you're well-fed."

"I'm much less disagreeable when I'm not poked and prodded by a crowd," Severus replied, though he accepted the toast. "By the way, if you've put up that blasted Happy Birthday sign in the staff room again this year, I hope you know I'll-"

"Of course I haven't." Minerva rolled her eyes at him. "Don't be ridiculous, Severus. It's Saturday. You never go to the staff room on Saturdays."

"We've saved it for Monday," Filius called to him from the other side of Pomona. "A bit of delayed anticipation never hurt anyone, did it? Happy thirty-third, my boy."

Severus shoved the toast into his mouth before he could respond, glaring at the chuckling heads of house surrounding him.

"He wants to curse us, doesn't he?" Harry whispered to Theo as Professor Snape hurried past the long Slytherin table on his way out of the Great Hall, still refusing to make eye contact.

"Of course he does. But he can't punish us for being thoughtful, can he?"

"It's killing him," Millicent agreed with a giggle. "We're acting like model students and he can't stand it."

"And the first years think it's completely sincere." Draco nodded at the group of first years further up the table, who were deeply engaged in conversation over final alterations to Professor Snape's birthday card. "The little idiots."

"Says the little idiot who was just as sincere last year," Ellen Greybourne pointed out, pausing as she passed them on her way to the Entrance Hall.

"I was not! I saw right through it," Draco protested. He pointed at the girls. "They were the ones who made everyone sick with their soppiness last year."

"We were not!" Pansy protested as Tracey admitted, "I think he's right."

"Did you just admit Draco Malfoy was right about something?" Millicent asked, pretending to look appalled.

"It's a huge occasion when it happens, but it does happen." Tracey shrugged. "Even a stopped clock is right twice a day, isn't it?"

"Why don't you shut it?" Draco asked, but he was unable to hide that he was pleased she'd admitted he was right about something. "Come to think of it, how do we even know his birthday? If he hates us celebrating it so much, you'd think he'd guard the date with his life."

"When he started teaching, he was still young," Pansy reminded them. "He'd gone to school with the older years. His head of house would have mentioned everyone's birthday. They probably remembered it." Pansy, who'd turned thirteen the month before, was clearly remembering how Professor Snape had wished her a happy birthday in front of the entire common room that December morning.

"No, that's very much a Snape invention." Ellen smiled wistfully. "I heard about Professor Slughorn from the older students when I was a firstie. He was different from how Snape is now."

"He only cared about certain students," Harry spoke up, remembering what Snape had told him the year before about his former head of house. "And the rest were ignored."

Ellen raised her eyebrows, surprised, then nodded. "That's what I've been told. He certainly wouldn't have bothered to keep track of every last student's birthday, especially not during a war."

Harry thought to himself that during a war a small act of kindness would likely be even more appreciated, but he didn't say anything, reasoning he'd never lived through a war. Well, he had, but he'd been a baby and couldn't remember any of it.

"It's sort of funny, isn't it?" Daphne asked, thinking it over as she speared a bit of bacon. "He's so insistent about celebrating our birthdays, but when we do the same for him he hates it."

"Perhaps he isn't used to it," Ellen suggested, thinking it over as well for a moment. "It's a bit of a new thing."

"Is it?" Draco asked.

Ellen nodded. "His first year teaching was chaos. The students walked all over him. Then it was a year or two of him dragging the house back to a place of respectability, with everyone kicking and screaming all the way. We only properly started the tradition a few years ago, and it was only when everyone saw how uncomfortable it made him that we really leaned into the fun of it."

Daphne giggled. "It really does drive him mad, doesn't it?"

"Of course it does," Ellen said. "It's half the reason we do it." She paused. "Maybe a bit more than half, if we're honest."

"Don't," Severus warned Irma Pince as he approached the librarian's desk.

"Don't worry, I wasn't going to," she assured him. "Besides, you're late."

Severus handed her the overdue copy of Hogwarts, A History. "My apologies, Irma."

"There's a two week waiting list," she reminded him. "One that isn't helped by the people who are supposed be setting examples hoarding the few copies I have."

"Indeed. I'd suggest you refer me to my head of house, but given that's me, I suppose Professor Dumbledore is the next step." Severus did his best at putting on a contrite expression. "Perhaps he'll put me in detention."

Irma smirked, despite herself. "Careful, or I'll take points from Slytherin."

"Points from Slytherin? However will I manage?" Severus asked, watching as she inspected the book for damage. "I was very careful with it."

"I see you were. Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Only the same information I've already read a hundred times."

"The Chamber of Secrets?"

Severus grunted, then nodded.

"It's remarkably vague on that subject," Irma agreed. "But, then, all information on the Chamber of Secrets is remarkably vague."

"I keep expecting to find something new," Severus admitted. "Something I've missed."

"As do I. I've gone through every last book I can think of, but..." She shook her head, frowning.

"Stay safe, Irma," he advised her. "Look out for yourself. Whoever it is has quieted down, but as long as they roam free..." He, too, trailed off.

Severus turned to leave, taking in the scene around him. The library was sparsely populated, mostly Ravenclaws along with a few Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. He caught the eye of a Hufflepuff making what appeared to be a paper airplane; the boy ducked his head upon being spotted and sheepishly unfolded it. A few tables down the youngest Weasley child sat alone, bent over what appeared to be a tattered notebook or journal, her hand moving rapidly as she wrote.

There were a few Slytherins as well, ones he'd granted permission the day before to travel to the library as a group. They saw he was there and began to break into those insipid, horrid smiles, giving Severus his cue to turn quickly away and start toward the door.

"Oh, Severus," Irma called out, waving him back. "Before you go, I'm afraid I must assign a penalty for such a late return."

"Understandable." Severus reached into his pocket. "How much do I owe you?"

Irma smirked at him, a rare action that her face appeared almost unused to. "Have a wonderful birthday."

"For God's sake." Severus pulled his hand from his pocket and started for the door once more. Over his shoulder, he said, "I'd have rather paid a fine."

"Of course you would. Did you honestly think I'd let you off that easily?"

"Stop slacking off," Millicent barked at Harry. "He could walk in at any moment and we're not close to finished."

Harry rolled his eyes but lifted the opposite end of the paper chain she brandished in his direction. "Why do we need to decorate? We didn't decorate last year."

"Last year, Snape hadn't ordered us to spend all our free time in the dungeons," Millicent pointed out. "I'm not saying it's revenge, but..."

"Revenge?" Elizabeth Simpson, one of the first years, looked at Millicent with wide eyes. "I thought we were celebrating Snape's birthday. Why would we want revenge?"

"It's revenge on ourselves," Draco said, thinking quickly. "For grumbling about having to stick to the dungeons." He glanced at Harry. "And for making Snape angry because we ran off to chase spiders."

"It's been more than two weeks!" Harry protested. "When are you going to let that go? Even Millicent's stopped teasing me."

"That's only because she got herself into trouble for flicking carrots at the Gryffindors- again." Draco snorted at Millicent's expression, and even Harry hid a smile, thinking of how she'd sulked in the common room all evening, forced to suffer the indignity of sitting in the corner like a bloody first year.

"Shut it," Millicent advised him, shooting him a terrifyingly sweet smile.

"So, it's revenge against ourselves?" Elizabeth asked, not looking entirely convinced, but ultimately shrugging and saying, "All right, then. If you say so," before returning to the rest of the first year, who were putting the final touches on the envelope to Professor Snape's card.

"Quick thinking," Harry said quietly to Draco. "It wouldn't be the same without the first years really piling on the sweetness. If they knew the truth..."

"We knew last year," Draco pointed out. "It was only the girls, and Vince and Greg, who fell over backwards with the planning and the friendliness."

"I still think it's sort of nice," Vince said with a shrug. "No one ever remembers my birthday at home."

"Same with me," Harry said. "No one said a word this summer."

"What are you on about? Everyone sent you presents." Draco folded his arms, then quickly unfolded them when Millicent ordered him to arrange the sweets they'd piled on the table nearest the fire. Making a disgusted face, he said, "Even I sent you something, Potter. So much for gratitude."

"My family, I mean." Harry shrugged. He didn't bring up his relatives often. "They haven't given me a birthday gift since I turned ten."

"Tough going." Vince grimaced, then said, "My parents remember eventually. Our house-elf usually reminds them if they've forgotten. Then they buy me plenty of gifts, so I suppose I can't really complain. I just wish they didn't need to be reminded."

A few minutes later, once everyone returned to their tasks, Harry murmured to Vince, his voice low, "Do you know what my aunt and uncle gave me when I turned ten?"

"What?"

"A coat hanger," Harry said, "And a pair of my uncle's old socks."

He'd never told this to anyone, not out loud, and he had no desire to tell it to anyone other than Vincent. Good old Vince, thick but well-meaning, who apparently had a family as rotten as his own. The more time he spent in Slytherin, the more he understood he wasn't alone in that regard.

Vince studied him, the gears in his head moving slowly. "Did you want those things?"

"Why would I want a coat hanger and used socks?"

Vince nodded just as slowly, understanding. "That's rotten. My family buys me something nice, at least, when they finally remember."

"It's still rotten, though," Harry pointed out. "That they forget."

Vince shrugged, and both he and Harry returned to decorating the common room.

Severus stood in the corridor outside the common room, trying to convince himself it would be perfectly fine to hole up in his office until the weekend ended. He knew the little brats wouldn't accept that, however, likely journeying together to his office to celebrate him there.

Besides, it was his duty to check in on his students at least once per day; leave them alone any longer and they were bound to flout his rules and creep off to explore the rest of the castle. He'd leave them alone for a single day, and the next thing he knew half the house would be Petrified. Unlikely, but he'd have to swallow his pride all the same. He forced himself to say the password, dreading what was to come.

He braced himself as the stone wall slid open, and started to say, "Don't-" but was immediately drowned out by a sea of voices crying, "Happy birthday, Professor Snape!"

Someone must have known he was coming; they'd already lined up opposite the common room door, beastly smiles plastered across their faces.

"Yes, yes," he said, resigned. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

The first years were at the front of the group; a fifth year Severus imagined demoting from her prefect position nudged one forward, toward him.

"This is for you, sir," Elizabeth Simpson said, beaming brightly as she handed him a light green envelope decorated with drawings of snakes with smiling faces.

"Lovely," Severus managed to force out as he opened the envelope and pulled out the card inside. The front, as it so frequently did, depicted a borderline-adequate depiction of himself, though with an uncharacteristic smile. He was surrounded by drawings of his students, clearly drawn by many different hands. At the top, brightly-hued letters read, EACH YEAR WITH YOU, PROFESSOR SNAPE...

Severus sighed deeply and opened the card. The message continued, ...IS EVEN BETTER THAN THE ONE THAT CAME BEFORE! There were more drawings, surrounded by signatures and well wishes from the entire house, each more sickeningly sweet than the last.

Severus looked up slowly. The fourth years were seconds away from exploding into laughter, and he detected more twitching lips than he could count.

"Lovely," he repeated, even more dryly this time.

"You do like it, don't you, sir?" Elizabeth asked, glancing from the card to his face. "We made it ourselves."

Severus pictured casting the card into the fire, then summoning his ruler and thrashing the entire house. Gazing down at the earnest face of the girl, he thought of the state the house had been in when he'd begun teaching. The Slytherins of that era would have rather strung him up by his toes than wish him a happy birthday.

"Thank you," Severus said at last. "It's... very well-made."

"There's a gift," Terence Higgs called out from the back of the line. "You must have missed it, sir. It's inside the envelope."

Severus imagined assigning the boy more lines than he could feasibly complete before leaving school in June, but Higgs was so disgustingly well-mannered he doubted he'd find adequate reason. Perhaps he'd frame him- could he frame his entire house? The thought was as delightful as it was impossible.

"If it's another gift voucher for the Hog's Head..." Severus warned him, and with that, the room burst into laughter, the older years unable to hold back any longer, and the first years with excitement that he'd guessed correctly.

"Ordered by mail, of course, sir," Ellen Greybourne announced. "None of us would dare set foot inside until we've finished school."

Severus doubted that very much, but he didn't say anything, instead glancing about the room. The little beasts had outdone themselves this year; they'd actually decorated. Paper chains lined the wall, below which were balloons attached by Spellotape. A table near the fire was covered with various types of sweets, which Severus inspected before saying, "I see you've planned a party for yourselves."

"Not for ourselves," Harry Potter said, giving him a cheeky smile. "It's all for you, sir."

Severus remembered how timid the boy had been at the start of his first year, and wished he'd return to that state, if only for a day. "How foolish of me not to see that, Potter."

They'd gone even more over-the-top than usual, but they'd been cooped up for a while now. They knew from Potter's Christmas fate what would happen if they defied said restrictions, but they were still children, even the older ones.

Besides, as much as Severus despised the attention, he'd never forgotten his previous miserable birthdays, ones remembered only by Lily Evans and intermittently by his mother. They were both gone now, and in their place was a celebration planned by many he didn't fully know how to handle, or gracefully accept. He didn't want the attention, but even he had to admit it was far more welcome than what had come before.

Giving up and giving in, he clapped his hands together. "All right. The festivities end at eight this evening sharp. You will act your age and limit how many sweets you eat- if I see a single person too full for dinner, it'll mean no sweets for the rest of the month. Do I make myself clear?"

He'd made himself clear, he was immediately reassured, and the house sprang into action, dragging out an old wireless and beginning the party. Severus wasn't stupid; he knew it was just as much for themselves as it was for him, if not more so. Still, he had to admit they'd handled the new rules placed upon them with more grace than he'd expected. Only Potter had defied him thus far, and the boy was appropriately contrite and seemed determined not to cross him again.

Severus grabbed a handful of sweets and sank into his preferred armchair, the one near the fire. It was only then he saw the tattered, old Happy Birthday sign hanging on the wall above the mantle, the same sign that usually hung in the staff room.

"Where did you get that?" he demanded, turning to the nearest student.

"Oh, that, sir?" Alice Robertson asked. "Mr. Filch brought it down earlier. He said someone insisted he bring it to us, but he wouldn't say who."

The next time he saw Minerva, Severus thought to himself, he was going to hex her eyebrows permanently off.

"Students drive you mad?" Argus asked as Severus walked into his small office later that evening.

"Yes," Severus said shortly, depositing himself into a chair.

"Staff drive you mad?"

"Yes," Severus repeated. He studied Argus. "I hope you're not about to as well."

Argus snorted and offered him a Sugar Quill. "There. That's all you'll get from me."

"It's greatly appreciated." Severus paused. "It was Minerva who sent you to the common room with that horrid sign, wasn't it?"

"I thought we weren't discussing it?" Argus shot him an innocent expression.

Severus snorted, then reached for the bottle of scotch he'd brought with him.

"Nonsense. We're having some of mine." Argus held up a bottle of his own. "It's a celebration, isn't it?"

"I thought you said this was all I'd get," Severus said, gesturing at the Sugar Quill.

"I lied." Argus poured them both a generous amount, then placed the bottle back on its table, next to a tattered, waterlogged book.

"What is that?" Severus asked, gesturing at it.

"Found it shoved down a toilet this morning," Argus said, expression darkening. "The little swine. They act like animals, clogging toilets and making my job all the more difficult..." He shook his head. "I'm putting it in the lost and found. That way if anyone is stupid enough to reclaim it, I'll be able to nab the little bastard for flooding the lavatory in the first place."

To that, they toasted.

January stretched into February, and the school fell, once more, into an uneasy tranquility. The Gryffindors didn't visit as frequently as they once had, but they dropped by now and then, sometimes bringing Ron Weasley, who didn't say much, but he didn't insult anyone either.

"Christmas was miserable," he admitted to Harry over a game of wizard chess one evening at the far end of the common room, both sitting with their knees pulled to their chests in an alcove that barely held the two of them. "My mum cried nearly the entire time, and my dad kept trying to cheer everyone up, but it just made things even sadder."

"I hope your brother is healed soon," Harry said, gesturing at one of his rooks to make a move. "It's been months."

"Yeah. He's going to miss more than half the year at this rate." Ron ordered a pawn forward and shook his head. "I mean, to be fair, that's Fred's dream come true, isn't it? George must be jealous."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, but he sobered quickly. "It was a strange Christmas here, too. Though not as strange as yours, I reckon."

"My brother Percy's never in the common room anymore. I think he half-hopes he'll meet the monster in the corridors and fight it himself. Which is funny, because I don't think he's thrown a punch in his life." Ron shook his head. "George tries to pretend he's fine, but he needs Fred. He won't be all right until he's back. And Ginny... she never shuts up at home, but she barely talks to anyone anymore. All she did the entire holiday was hide away and write in her stupid diary."

Harry imagined what it might be like to have a family like Ron's, one that was tight-knit and worried about one another. The Dursleys didn't come anywhere near that description, but he supposed Slytherin was like a family in that regard.

"I hope they heal him soon," he finally said.

"Me too. Though he'll be insufferable for ages- Mum'll fawn over him all summer, I'll bet you." Ron shook his head. "When do you think Snape will ease up on you lot? It's been more than a month and he's still keeping you shut away in the dungeons."

"It isn't that bad," Harry admitted. "Well, it is, but it isn't. He's loosened up a bit. We can wander about on the weekends, but only in groups of seven or more, and we have to check in with him every so often so he knows we're alive."

"Seven or more? Good luck finding that many Gryffindors who agree on the same thing." Ron reached for his rat, who had begun to wander away from his side. "Stay put, Scabbers."

"Same here," Harry agreed. "But we make it work, usually."

They fell silent for a while, then Ron said, "Seamus said he thinks Snape's keeping you all hidden away to keep the heir of Slytherin from striking again."

A stab of anger shot through Harry's chest, and he forced it back down. "Yeah? He said that?"

Ron nodded. "I told him he was full of it, and that he'd have to be stupid to think that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Harry lowered his head to look at the chessboard, and wondered what Ron's siblings thought of him spending time in the Slytherin common room after what had happened to Fred. He thought of thanking him, but the expression on Ron's face made it clear he'd rather they focus on the game, so instead he ordered his rook to move once more.

"Your marks have improved," Severus said as Marcus Flint packed his things away. "But you're still failing most of your classes."

"I know," Marcus mumbled, not quite making eye contact. "I'm doing my best, sir."

"Your best isn't enough," Severus said shortly. "Flint, you're on the verge of not passing a single N.E.W.T. I've asked this before, and I'll ask it again. Do you really want to spend another year at Hogwarts?"

Marcus glared at his hands before looking up. "No, sir. But I'm trying."

"I'm aware. As I said, your marks have improved." Severus studied him. The boy was trying. But it wasn't his best, and they both knew it.

"I'll scrape together a few N.E.W.T.s," the boy mumbled, then asked, "Can I leave now, sir?"

"Not yet." Severus continued to study him. "Flint, I'm perfectly aware what you think of me."

The boy didn't answer; he had a vicious tongue, Severus knew that well enough, but he was just intelligent enough to pull himself together in his housemaster's presence, particularly after the fury Severus had unleashed upon him after attacking George Weasley at the disastrous dueling several months earlier. The boy didn't know how close he'd come to being the third person Severus had ever caned in his tenure at Hogwarts- well, technically the second, given the first two recipients had been Higgs and Flint all those years ago.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. Terence Higgs had come such a remarkable way, while Marcus Flint remained all but impossible to budge.

"Do you truly want to enter the world loudly proclaiming your loyalty to a Dark Lord who no longer is in power? A Dark Lord that was defeated by a baby?" Severus asked, his voice low, though no one was around to hear either of them. "Your father remains loyal, and it's his right to do so. Your father, Flint, is also an outcast, shunned by society. The winners dictate the rules of society. Do you really want to condemn yourself to the same fate?"

"I'm not stupid," Marcus said shortly. "You can tell me all you want that you're on my father's side, and that you're just telling me to be bloody subtle, sir, but I've been at Hogwarts for nearly seven years now. I know you don't support him. You want me to turn away and... and reject the Dark Lord. That's what you want me to do."

"And if I did?" Severus asked, his voice even lower. "You know Muggle-borns. You go to school with them each day. Do you truly think they're inferior to you?"

Marcus turned to leave, but before he could, Severus grabbed him by the arm. Once he was certain the boy would stay put, he released him, then rolled up his own sleeve and gestured at the tattoo that normally stayed hidden. "I understand why you feel the things you do. I understand more than you know."

"Maybe you did, long ago. But then you turned traitor," Marcus said flatly, then added, "Sir."

"And if I did?" Severus repeated, staring down at the boy. "Your father will never believe your insistence I've turned away from the cause. You know that, Flint. When has he ever listened to you?"

"Shut up," Marcus muttered, then hesitated- for all his bluster, the boy was still a Slytherin under the care of Severus Snape, a man who didn't take well to being told to shut up.

Severus just looked at him, then finally said, "You're not a stupid person, Flint. Your marks need improving, but I know deep down you know the things that truly matter. You can try to be the perfect son for your father, but he will always love the memory of the Dark Lord more than any human in his life- more than any son in his life." Severus paused, then gestured at his tattoo again. "It's the same way with him. You may think you want him to come back, but there is never any pleasing him. He will always demand more than you can give."

Marcus Flint stared at his feet, then asked, quietly this time, "May I please leave, sir?"

"Go." Severus gestured at his study door. "And think about what I've said."

Valentine's Day was fast approaching, and the various couples of Slytherin were even more sickeningly sweet than usual. Terence Higgs and Ellen Greybourne wandered about as though they were attached at the hip, and occasionally as though they were attached at the lips. Desperate to escape such an atmosphere, Harry, Draco, Vincent, and Greg managed to convince Millicent, Tracey, and Daphne to abandon their game of Scrabble to form a group of seven and get Snape's permission to visit Hagrid.

The visit was brief and awkward; Hagrid seemed to be deep within his own thoughts these days. He poured tea on top of the biscuits instead of in Daphne's teacup, though this wasn't entirely a disaster, given they softened the nearly-inedible biscuits enough to be chewed.

Valentine's Day itself was gloomy and overcast, but the Great Hall didn't seen to have been notified. Severus stood in horror at the large double doors as he took in the explosion of pink covering the walls and surfaces.

"Did Albus do this?" he murmured to Minerva, who stood beside him, equally disgusted.

"No," she said, studying the headmaster, who appeared supremely amused from his seat at the head table. She nodded at the man in pink robes seated next to him, gesticulating wildly and looking very pleased with himself. "Three guesses who."

It took all Severus had not to blast Gilderoy Lockhart through a window. This resolve was tested even further when the man announced he'd hired a small fleet of dwarves to deliver singing valentines throughout the day.

At the Slytherin table, the second years' heads perked up, a terrible and wonderful idea occurring to nearly all of them.

"It's not worth it," Draco said after a moment, sagging slightly. "He only just tolerated the birthday nonsense. If we send him singing valentines, he won't rest until he finds out who it was- and if he doesn't, he'll come down on the entire house."

Harry thought this over, then nodded. As delightful as it was to imagine a hoard of dwarves hounding Snape all day, singing romantic nonsense at him, the retribution certain to come their way wasn't worth it.

"You will remain at your desks," Snape snarled at the start of their lesson. It was hardly two hours into the day, but he looked as though he'd been through an active battle zone as he locked the classroom door behind them.

"Sir, I need to..." Pansy flushed red and nodded in the direction of the toilets.

"Hold it," Snape snapped. "That door will remain locked."

It turned out the dwarves were determined to complete their mission, and they spent the majority of the lesson alternately pounding on the closed door and lying flat on their stomachs, bellowing their valentine messages through the crack between door and floor.

By the end of the day, Harry was ready to be rid of the singing dwarves just as much as Snape was, though he couldn't help but spend a few Sickles to torture Draco. He wasn't much of a poet, but he was rather proud of pairing Malfoy with rat boy. It was only fair- there was only one person who could have sent the valentine he received devoted to how ugly his face was.

Severus was cornered outside the staff room. His eyes darted about, seeking escape routes, as the dwarf approached, brandishing a harp.

"No," he said firmly. "I won't accept it-"

"Shut it," the dwarf said, just as firmly, then began to sing.

"There once was a man with a sneer-"

"No," Severus repeated, more desperately this time as the staff gathered inside quickly hurried over to hear the musical limerick.

"Who seemed thoroughly impossible to cheer-"

Severus backed away, but the dwarf followed, until Severus found himself pressed into a corner, the now immensely pleased staff hurrying to catch up.

"Like a bat in a cape, this man called Severus Snape-"

Severus closed his eyes and covered his face with a hand.

"-Was known by all to secretly be a great dear."

The staff exploded with laughter. Minerva was forced to grip the wall to keep herself upright, while Charity threw caution to the wind and flung an arm around him, hugging him tightly as she laughed. "Oh, Severus, I never thought I'd say this, but the singing valentines were worth it after all, weren't they?"

"Were you responsible for this?" Severus snarled, directing his glare both at her and the now retreating dwarf.

"Of course not," Charity said, releasing him as she continued to tremble with laughter. "But I'd pay all the gold in the world to shake the hand of whoever did send it."