A/N: It is officially the Christmas season… and in the spirit of the upcoming holidays I am going to be attempting to reach Christmas in our story by the time we reach it in the real world. It's a goal, not a promise mind you… but I will work very hard to make it happen! December is an easier month for me at work (after about Wednesday of this week), so I'm hopeful I can truly make this happen.
I've been missing Sirius… so he bookends this chapter. A bit of an early Christmas gift for my Sirius fans in the holiday spirit.
Oh, and warning: Explicit Content in This Chapter.
Enjoy chapter 25 everyone, and please do read and review!
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DISCLAIMER: Any and all familiar characters and story lines are the property of the wonderful Joanne Rowling, in whose world I am honoured and privileged to have an opportunity to play for a while.
Chapter 25: Cherchez La Femme
Lily would not have approved.
She'd always hated when wizards took advantage of Muggles – especially when it was Sirius or James taking the advantage. They'd been cornered once at the start of the Christmas holidays in their seventh year by two Muggle policemen in Manchester, when they'd taken Sirius' motorbike for a bit of a joyride. They'd given the officers a fair bit of cheek before Death Eaters had crashed the party, and Lily had told them off all night when they'd finally made it back to the Potters' home. Being Muggle-born, she'd always taken umbrage with what she deemed "Wizarding arrogance."
And as a rule, Sirius agreed. Sure, they'd been a bit mischievous a time or two (or twenty)… but he'd never bought in for the sort of Muggle-baiting that old pure-blood families, like his own parents, had thought made good sport. Moreover, Sirius had often felt growing up that Muggles had got it right in a lot of places where wizarding innovation had failed. Central heat and air conditioning, for one, were far less difficult to maintain than continual cooling charms and enchanted fires. Motorbikes and cars required a bit of tinkering to bring them up to snuff, but they were a hell of a lot more fun than a broom if you put in the bit of effort. And Sirius had yet to find a centrefold in a wizarding publication that rivalled those he'd coveted from the Muggle world as a teenager.
No… on the whole, he would have agreed with Lily in her disapprobation of what he was about to do. But… he was really ill. And Lily would not have wanted him to die. Not before he could save Harry. Not before Peter paid for his treachery.
Not while he was at Hogwarts.
Sirius had been a clever student. One of the top in the year, in fact, when he'd cared to make the effort. He'd excelled in Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes, and he'd even been fairly skilled in Potions. What he'd barely scraped the required 'Exceeds Expectations' in, however, was Herbology. And that had cost him this week.
It had happened, ironically, on the evening of the start of term. Sirius had been bemoaning the feast up at the school; he hadn't had proper food in over a decade. They never served anything but the blandest of meals at Azkaban. And even if it had been prepared by Escoffier himself, nobody would have tasted the difference under the Dementors' watch. Eating in the raw had actually been a big improvement when he'd first broken out. But after a while, he'd started to miss a more balanced diet.
It was still harvest season, and the forest was awash with plants and berries perfect for consumption. Of course, Sirius was wary at first. He was not fool enough to trifle with the unknown… so he stuck to what he knew he could have: bilberries, onion, the occasional bit of knotgrass. And then he stumbled upon the smattering of guelder rose.
He'd always loved guelder rose jam. And Marley… she'd sworn by guelder rose wine. She used to say it had healing properties.
'For the body and the soul, Sirius,' she'd told him. 'It soothes the tension, guelder rose.'
She'd liked to pick the berries herself and mull the drink at home. He could almost see her: the soft summer's breeze pulling at her golden curls as she led him through the wood, searching for a hidden grove… laughing as she ran ahead and darted in and out among the trees. It was always a new forest; always a new crop of berries. She was like Sirius in that way: she hated to be bored. Hated trekking a path she knew well enough to predict where it dumped out. So every time they decided to make guelder rose wine, it was a new undertaking. A new adventure.
He hadn't thought of Marley in ages… not the happy bits, at least. He could never forget the night it all came crashing down; but all the days that came before… the happy memories… had faded. They were drowned by the horrors of reality. And the horrors of his reality had taken most of Marley – as they had taken most of everything from him.
So he cherished the simplicity of the cheerful recollection. And he ate every berry he could reach. Imagining, for just a moment, that he was sharing the find with her.
Some two hours later, the cramping had started.
It began as an irritation – an annoying pang in his stomach that he was able, for a time, to ignore. But it grew more insistent as the hours passed. Then the fever set in, wracking his body with chills. He found it difficult to keep his animal form as the hallucinations clouded his mind, taking him from the present and blurring his surroundings. As if from far away, he heard Marley's voice echo in his head…
'But you mustn't ever eat them raw, Siri, remember that…'
Shit.
He'd tried to sleep it off, but he'd been woken every hour or so: violently sick to his stomach and shivering uncontrollably. As dawn approached, he knew he was growing weaker. He could not remember if it was truly poison… or if the illness would pass like food gone off. But he realised, in a sort of blind panic, that he could no longer afford to wait.
Potions would have been quicker, of course. Perhaps immediate. But potions were out of the question, hidden in the Forbidden Forest. Sneaking into the apothecary in Hogsmeade would be dangerous in the extreme; and even in his feverish state Sirius recognised that he would not be able to act quickly enough should the Dementors notice his presence in the village.
So he dragged himself laboriously to the far edge of the forest, to the fringes of the nearest Muggle village. Muggle medicine would not be nearly as quick, nor could he guarantee its effectiveness. He knew next to nothing of Muggle pharmacology, having been raised in the wizarding world. He'd taken paracetamol once, years ago, at the Potters' when he'd had a headache and Lily had been out of pain potion. He remembered it'd taken a half hour or so to kick in, but it had been effective enough. He had no idea what sort of Muggle medication might work against raw guelder rose berries… but it was safer than trying to nick a potion.
So Sirius stumbled into the Muggle village at half six, hoping against hope that the cool light of the rising sun would keep the Dementors from town, as he could no longer sustain his animagus form.
The chemist's was bolted, of course. The effort to unlock it without a wand winded him. Sirius slipped inside and took a moment, braced against the door and breathing heavily. He willed himself not to sick up.
After a few minutes, the immediate sensation of nausea passed. He pushed himself upright again, swaying slightly and wondering how his body – which had grown so thin in a decade's incarceration – could feel like it weighed a thousand kilos. He managed to stumble his way through the darkened aisles. He daren't turn on a light, but there were enough slivers creeping through the gaps in the windows now to give him a bit to go off. He tried to push himself farther, faster… but his legs did not seem to want to cooperate.
His long-nailed fingers scrabbled bottles and packets, trying to decide what might work. He wished he'd taken Muggle Studies in school, or paid a bit more attention when Muggle-born friends had expounded on the virtues of Muggle medicine… because he hadn't a clue where to start. Desperately, he nicked a bottle of paracetamol, something that was labelled "for flu" and two or three packets that looked like stomach soothers. He tried to squint at the labelled ingredients, looking for something he recognised. He knew the magical herbs and plants would be out; but there out to be peppermint, fennel or ginger…
Nothing. All these medications contained things like bismuth subsalicylate, methylcellulose and sodium polyphosphate – nothing that Sirius understood at all. He would have to trust that something in this strange combination of chemicals would suffice, and that the compounds were safe for magical persons. There wasn't a choice, anyway.
He knew the really powerful drugs were kept behind the prescription counters, but that portion of the chemist's was sectioned off with a heavy, steel curtain. He doubted another bout of wandless magic would improve his condition… and was half-sure it might cause him a collapse right here on the tiled floor.
So he took the options he had, two bottles of water and a packet of plain crisps, stuffed the pilfered hoard into a tote bag from up at the front, and hurried out of the shop before the Muggles arrived.
He was almost back to the edge of the village when it happened. A little old lady walking a decrepit-looking poodle turned a corner and froze when she saw him, her mouth dropping open in horror. Before Sirius could say a word – before, admittedly, he could think of anything to say – the woman gave a tiny shriek of terror, and bolted back up the street as fast as her carpet slippers would carry her.
Even through his feverish haze, Sirius knew he had only precious seconds. His face had been plastered all over the Muggle papers this summer… they would have set up some sort of method to track Muggle sightings. The Dementors, the Ministry… they would know. They would come.
He ducked into an alley and forced himself to change, ignoring the way the transformation stabbed violently at every aching bone. He took up the tote between his teeth and sprinted, as fast as he could, toward the trees again. He wouldn't let himself stop until he was deep enough that the trees blocked nearly all light, seeking out a little cave he knew of in a hidden hollow. Trusting to the ancient magic of the forest to shield him. He used the last of his fading strength to cast one wandless protective spell, a version of Notice-Me-Not that he and James had used in the battlefield more than a decade ago. The final spell was too much for his shaking limbs, and he collapsed to his knees on the forest floor at it took hold.
Sirius barely managed to swallow a dose of each of the medications before he succumbed to unconsciousness.
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Albus felt a headache threatening as he let the Minister bumble on, only half-listening.
He was not particularly prone to headaches, strictly speaking. Years of careful scheming, a steady supply of caffeine and supreme magical acumen usually forestalled any physical manifestation of stress. But the start to this term had been far more hectic than usual, even by Hogwarts standards.
First, there had been the most curious afternoon in Little Hangleton… something Albus still needed to mull over properly, whenever he finally got the time. There was every chance he'd need to re-visit Germany to do so, which meant more careful scheming, and Albus was loath to leave Scotland again while Harry remained in such danger.
And Harry himself, of course, had piled on the second stressor of term, with his collapse on the Express and the subsequent row over his recovery. Though Harry had seemed perfectly normal the following morning and gone to lessons in good spirits, Albus had barely made it half a day before Minerva burst into Severus' office in high temper, shrieking over Sybill's latest indelicacy.
Which meant a highly unpleasant visit to the Seer's tower, trying to ignore the noxious purple smoke from the fire as he explained – patiently, but quite firmly – that he would rather she keep predictions of students' untimely demises to herself for the time being.
'But, headmaster!' Sybill had protested, looking scandalised. 'The children have a right to know! It is tragic, of course… but if one does not prepare for the worst, the shock alone can prevent smooth passage to the other side.'
Albus swallowed his discomfort at this, keeping his face neutral. He disliked the direction of this conversation greatly –and not only because it was for Harry he was here.
'Even so, Sybill,' he said decisively. 'Though I admire your talents most ardently, I assure you, divining the hour of death is among the most uncertain aspects of prophesy… or so you have told me,' he reminded her with a small smile. 'I should hate to rile the students unnecessarily, you understand. And other professors have expressed concern.'
Sybill looked indignant now. 'My dear Albus,' she said with tragic effect. 'It is a most unpleasant burden, you must know. I do not wish to be the conduit… do not wish to state these truths, of course… but I will not stifle the Inner Eye.'
'I am afraid I must insist you do so in this case, Sybill,' the headmaster said, with a touch more ire. 'Else, I fear, I will have to take a more direct approach to supervising the Divination curriculum. And never having studied the art myself, I shudder to think what a travesty that may turn out to be.'
He'd left her in a state of high dudgeon, fuming alone in her Tower.
Only to be accosted halfway to his study by a furious and blood-spattered Severus Snape, nearly foaming at the mouth in his readiness for shouting. They had barely shut the door to the circular office before Snape set in – regaling Albus with the tale of Hagrid's first lesson, something involving Harry flying about on the back of a hippogriff (which Albus filed away for further questioning at a later date), Draco Malfoy's failure to heed instruction, Hagrid's poor supervision skills, and the Malfoy child's injury by that same hippogriff.
'Unfortunate, Severus,' Albus had agreed when the Potions master at last stopped for breath, 'But I take it the child has already been seen by Madam Pomfrey?'
'Of course!' Severus spat in annoyance, still pacing in front of the hearth. 'I've just come from the Hospital Wing. Poppy fixed the cut immediately and gave Draco a Blood-Replenishing Potion. But that does not change the fact, Albus, that –'
'That what?' Albus interrupted, a bit wearily. The day had already been far too long. 'That a child was injured? Of course not, Severus. I shall speak to Hagrid about the circumstances, naturally, and impress upon him the need for caution and easing his students into handling dangerous beasts. Although it sounds like Mr Malfoy has been thoroughly healed at this juncture, I shall also make a point to check in on him, if that would ease your mind,' he added.
Severus crossed his arms, still glaring. 'That will not be enough,' he said through clenched teeth. 'Perhaps you do not understand the situation, Albus, or do not care to consider it… but this injury will not resolve in a matter of minutes. We are facing a much more serious problem.'
Albus raised an eyebrow. 'From a hippogriff, Severus?' he clarified in disbelief. 'If there was no injury to the bone, I fail to see how. Hippogriff talons are not poisonous, as you know. A most unfortunate accident, of course, but hardly the first time a child has been injured in a Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Nor even as serious as some of the injuries that have arisen in your lessons, Severus. Rather par for the course, in fact, if it is not indelicate of me to say so.'
'Draco is still claiming to be in unbearable pain,' Severus ground out with a scowl. 'Falsely, I have no doubt, but it makes little difference. He is Lucius's son, Albus. Do you really expect this to clear quietly? I would be surprised if the Minister does not hear of the incident tonight, at the latest. You should expect an inquiry to open tomorrow.'
He swept for the door, though Albus had not dismissed him.
'I do not care for Hagrid's teaching style,' he clarified, setting a hand on the knob. 'But all the same, what happened this afternoon was not entirely his fault. And you will have to fight his battle with Fudge and the governors, if you wish him to remain in the post. Lucius is most vindictive when he wishes to be… and he owes you a humiliation at the moment. I should not forget that.'
Albus sighed heavily, sinking into the highbacked chair behind his desk.
'I forget very little, Severus,' he assured the Potions master with feeling.
Severus frowned, but swept from the room without another word.
Which is how Albus came to be sitting across from Cornelius Fudge on Thursday morning, sharing tea in front of the fireplace… only three or four hours after at last coming back in from comforting a miserable and heavily-drunk Hagrid.
Cornelius was, ostensibly, here to check in on the Sirius Black situation. He brought news that a Muggle had phoned in a tip to the hotline early that morning, from a village not ten miles from the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Though the news was interesting, it was hardly surprising. They'd known for weeks that Sirius Black was in the general area, and the Dementors had – once again – failed to capture him. It was evident to the headmaster that this sort of information could have been relayed by floo… so he was unsurprised when Fudge turned the conversation to Lucius Malfoy's son and the incident in lessons yesterday.
Fudge was nervous, spinning his bowler hat round and round his index finger and bouncing his crossed knees.
'… Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, naturally,' he droned on, clearly oblivious to Albus' disinterest or the growing ache above his eye. 'To deal with the hippogriff, of course. Got to have a hearing. And I expect I can tell Lucius that you'll be suspending his teaching privileges, at the very least, until such time as –'
'No, you most certainly may not,' Albus said, interrupting at last as he registered the tail end of the Minister's rant.
Fudge looked gobsmacked. 'I – pardon, Albus?' he prompted.
'You may not tell Lucius Malfoy that I am suspending Hagrid,' he clarified, 'Because I shall not be doing anything of the kind.'
Fudge spun the hat more viciously still, looking aghast. 'But, Dumbledore!' he said in surprise. 'I mean to say, it's mad – setting hippogriffs loose among third form students… Hagrid is a pleasant fellow, I'll give you that, but he's clearly not up to teaching. Might be beyond him, poor man. And with a child so grievously injured, I would have thought you of all people –'
'I trust Hagrid completely,' Albus affirmed. His tone was pleasant, but there was a bit of fire in his eyes that he knew was not lost on the gormless Minister before him. 'And though I will certainly investigate the incident to the best of my abilities and present my findings and recommendations to the Board as required, I sincerely doubt that my opinion on his competency to teach will be altered in any way. Draco Malfoy, most fortuitously, will make a full and complete recovery, and thus I see little reason to involve the Ministry in the administrative processes of the school. It is within your right to hold a trial for the hippogriff, of course. But I would remind you that the dealings of Hogwarts, Minister, are solely within my sphere of authority.'
Fudge paled a few shades. 'Of… of course, Dumbledore,' he said, swallowing thickly. 'I… never meant to suggest… always know what to do, you do… wouldn't dream of…'
He was sweating slightly, and Albus realised that he may have let too much of his own temper loose in his irritation. It was not the portly little man's fault that the past week had been unusually trying.
And he ought to take a headache potion, because spontaneous show of temper was most certainly not a usual characteristic in himself, either. Not for decades.
'Of course that is not what you meant, Cornelius,' Albus said aloud, trying to make his voice lighter. 'I do apologise: I am afraid I have rather a headache this morning and am not quite myself. If there's nothing else…?'
'I, no, Albus, I think that's everything,' said Cornelius, now looking mildly concerned as he shook the headmaster's hand and pulled his pinstripe cloak off the back of the chair. 'Perhaps you should get some rest. I'll be in touch if there are any new leads from the investigation, yes?'
Albus inclined his head, getting to his own feet. He bowed the Minister through the floo, then summoned a potion for his headache immediately.
He'd take a few hours before he went down to see to the distraught gamekeeper, he thought.
He'd barely caught the summoned phial when there was a knock on his office door again. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing whoever it was to come bearing good news, for once.
'Come in,' he called in as cheerful a voice as he could muster. He downed the potion as the door swung ajar, exceedingly grateful as the pounding in his skull receded instantly.
'Goodness, are you alright?' Minerva asked in concern, eying the empty phial sliding into the headmaster's pocket as she shut the door gently behind her.
'Right as rain, my dear,' Albus assured her with a smile. 'Merely tempering a Minister-induced headache.'
She frowned, looking unconvinced. 'Albus, if you're feeling ill –' she began in lecture mode, but he forestalled her with a raised hand.
'I am fine,' he assured her. 'Simply feeling the effects of stress and age, I fear. It has been a more tumultuous start to the term than I remember these past fifteen years or so.'
'Humpf,' Minerva huffed in agreement.
Albus smiled at her. 'So please,' he said, 'Do promise me you are not about to announce that there's been an outbreak of Mumblemumps among the fifth years, or that Harry has somehow fallen fifty feet from his broomstick practising that ridiculous "feint," or that Severus has finally snapped and murdered his incoming class of Hufflepuffs…'
Minerva gave a coy smile of her own. 'Nothing of the sort,' she assured him, wandering over to the sofa and patting the cushion next to her. 'I came to announce that I have back to back free periods this morning, and absolutely nothing pressing that need be completed.'
Albus sank onto the proffered cushion, setting an elbow on the back of the sofa and propping his perfectly-normal-feeling head up to stare into her eyes.
'Well,' he said, his own eyes twinkling, 'Thank Merlin for small mercies.'
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'Mr Malfoy, please take your seat,' Severus said, gesturing toward the open work table as Draco Malfoy entered the room halfway through his Slytherin-Gryffindor double period on Thursday morning.
A great deal of mutinous muttering broke out from the lion side of the classroom as Draco swaggered to his seat, clutching his bandaged right arm to his chest in dramatic fashion. Personally, Severus was in two-minds about the injury. He thought Hagrid had been foolish in the extreme, trusting third year students in their first ever Care of Magical Creatures lesson to keep their heads around hippogriffs. He wasn't at all surprised that someone had been wounded. On the other hand, he knew Draco was milking the injury beyond all reason, having been perfectly healed by the mediwitch the previous afternoon under Severus' own watch.
Still, it was most amusing to watch the seething indignation on every Gryffindor face.
'Settle down,' he said warningly, pointing his wand at the classroom door that Draco had not bothered to shut. 'And back to your Shrinking Solutions.'
He had barely returned to his own perusal of his N.E.W.T. class's summer essays when he heard Draco call out:
'Sir… I can't slice my daisy roots, sir… because of my arm.'
'Weasley, slice Draco's daisy roots,' Severus ordered without looking up.
Weasley mumbled something under his breath, pulling the pile of roots toward him. Severus gave the situation the length of the remainder of Kerrigan Spratt's assignment before sweeping from his desk again.
'Professor Snape, Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir,' Draco complained as he approached.
Severus stared down at the mound of roughly-hacked roots in front of Draco, then at the perfectly diced version in front of the red-haired boy. He sneered.
'Trade roots with Mr Malfoy, Weasley,' he said silkily.
Weasley gaped at him. 'But that's not –'
'Now,' Severus demanded. The Gryffindor scowled, but shoved his pile obediently toward Draco, pulling the mutilated set toward himself with ill grace.
'And, I need this shrivelfig skinned,' Draco added, as Severus made to move away.
'Potter – skin the shrivelfig,' he barked over his shoulder, sending the purple bulb to Potter's desk with a lazy flick of his hand. Potter began to attack the plant as though it wore Draco's face, and Severus stalked off through the other rows of working students, smirking at the small pleasures.
His slightly improved mood faded, however, as he glanced in each cauldron. Granger had made a near-perfect effort already. Most of the other Gryffindor cauldrons were passable, at best; possibly toxic at worse. Potter and Weasley were behind, having paused their own brewing to assist Draco's preparation… and Draco, who was usually the best of his Slytherin third-year students, had not even started. Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass had concocted reasonably decent solutions, but Pansy, Goyle and Crabbe were all leaning away from noxious gas pouring from their own. And Neville Longbottom's was…
'Orange,' he said in disgust, ladling out a portion of the brew for the rest of the class to see. 'Pathetic, Longbottom. Were you even reading the instructions? This travesty would shrink nothing but the lifespan of whoever were to drink it, you insolent fool!'
'Sir,' Ms Granger ventured, leaning around her cauldron. 'Sir, I could help him put it right, if you –'
'You will do your own work and not concern yourself with the tasks of others!' Severus snapped at her. Granger went pink, and Potter and Weasley glared at him.
Severus checked his wristwatch. 'There are forty-five minutes remaining in this lesson,' he told Longbottom. 'You have until the end of the period to attempt to fix this disaster. At that point, we will test your effort on your toad… perhaps that will motivate you to do it properly.'
Longbottom gulped, diving feverishly for his book as Severus headed off to check Blaise Zabini's work.
'Do not aide him, Granger,' he reminded over his shoulder, when he caught the flash of bushy hair leaning in toward Longbottom's cauldron. She squeaked a bit, moving back to her own station.
As Severus continued to prowl about the classroom, he heard Finnegan call Potter's attention in a hushed voice.
'Oi, Harry – you hear the news about Sirius Black?' the boy asked.
Severus paused, pretending to examine the copious smoke coming from Goyle's cauldron while he listened.
'No, what's up?' Potter hissed back.
'They reckon he's been spotted,' Finnegan said conspiratorially. 'Not too far from Hogsmeade… a Muggle rung in a tip. Didn't know what it was all about, o' course, but the Ministry's been looking into it.'
Severus moved on, vanishing the useless potion as he left the table. He'd heard this news already: it had been in the Daily Prophet that morning.
Draco, however, who had been bullying Weasley into dicing up some caterpillars, broke into a wicked grin.
'Going to have a go, are you, Potter?' he needled.
'What are you on about?' Potter sniped back.
'Well… if it were me,' Draco continued, 'I'd want revenge, you know. I'd want to hunt him down myself. I wouldn't be playing the good boy sat here at the school…'
Severus felt blood begin to pound at his ears. Had Lucius known, then?
Severus never had… but then, Lucius had always been much closer to the Dark Lord… part of the inner circle. Lucius had known about the diary, after all, when Severus had never heard of it before. If the Dark Lord had confided about his spy in the Order, he would have done so to Lucius, Bella and maybe a few others. Those that had been his closest confidants… who had known more of his secrets than any others. Or, perhaps, Lucius had merely guessed the truth after Black's capture… But either way, Lucius, in turn, must have told Draco…
'Why would I want to hunt down a nutter?' Potter shot back scathingly. But Severus could hear the bewilderment behind the statement.
Draco's sneer grew wider. 'Don't tell me you don't know, Potter?' he asked jeeringly.
'What are you –'
'Potter!' Severus barked, cutting into the conversation before it could go any farther down this dangerous path. 'You should have progressed to the final stage by now. This brew needs to simmer in order to set. End your little tea party and add the syrup of hellebore before you earn yourself a zero for today's effort!'
Severus' rancorous mood stayed with him the whole of the rest of the lesson; made worse by Longbottom's successful re-brewing of his Shrinking Solution, which effectively turned his enormous toad into a wriggling tadpole. He unleashed his temper on Granger instead – who had to be the only reason the boy had managed a recovery – and slashed Gryffindor twenty points for her deliberate disregard for his instruction. Any satisfaction he might have expected from the discipline was marred, however, by the persistent ring of Draco's taunts to Potter that echoed in his head throughout the remainder of the lesson… and as he dismissed the class, he resolved to act on them.
'A word, Potter,' Severus said, putting out an arm to stop the boy as he made to leave behind Weasley and Granger. All three of the Gryffindors stopped, staring up at him distrustfully.
'Sir?' Potter asked, looking wary.
'Ms Granger, Weasley, on your way,' Severus said, nodding the other two toward the door with a jerk of his head.
'But –' Weasley tried to interrupt.
'On your way now, Weasley, or it shall be twenty points from Gryffindor. Mr Potter will join you shortly.'
'Come on, Ron,' Granger muttered in his ear, and she dragged the Weasley boy from the classroom. Severus snapped the door shut behind them and whirled to face Potter, who still looked like he thought the professor might eat him.
'Sit,' he said curtly. Potter sank onto the nearest student chair, biting his lip.
'Er – sir, I have Defence Against the Dark Arts next,' he reminded him.
'I am aware,' said Severus sardonically.
'Well, er, Professor Lupin might be angry if I'm late, you see –'
'Lupin is covering boggarts with your class today,' Severus told him smoothly. 'As we both know, you have had experience with these creatures already, and I do not anticipate that even Lupin would not be foolish enough to allow your boggart to take form in front of a classroom full of students.'
'Er… right,' Potter said, giving in.
'I shall take you there myself when we are through speaking,' Severus added.
'I can probably find my own –'
But Severus glared at Potter, and the boy cut himself off.
'Right sir, of course,' he amended quickly. 'Er – what is it we need to speak about?'
Severus stared hard at the boy. 'Whatever Mr Malfoy has said to you,' he began carefully, obsidian eyes boring into emerald, 'I think it important to remind you that you are skating thin ice, Potter. You are not to do anything foolish or reckless this term.'
The boy scowled. 'I don't do anything reckless on purpose!' he protested.
Severus continued to glare. 'And yet,' he reminded him, 'You have spent the summer in and out of hospital, dancing with death like it is your personal game,' he pointed out. 'You have run off into the forest after mass murderers known to be out for your blood, you left the wards of your aunt and uncle's house without any indication of where you were headed, you were kidnapped from the Edinburgh stadium and you still seem unable to grasp the seriousness of your current situation.'
Potter looked infuriated. 'None of that was my fault!' he said hotly. 'Sir,' he amended. 'Well, except maybe the time in the forest. But it's not like I go about with my eyes shut!'
'I doubt it would make much difference,' Severus said waspishly. 'And in any case, you must never run off after Black again, do you hear me? I want you to swear it now, Potter.'
Potter stared. 'But… why would I deliberately go after someone I know wants to kill me?' he asked, now gaping at Severus as though he were quite mad.
'That is not what I suggested,' said Severus. 'And if you have any sense at all, you will continue to recognise the danger in doing so. But, as you have already proven: you have a tendency to run headlong into whatever is trying to kill you, Potter. So, I want you to swear to me, now, that whatever you may hear; whatever you might learn or think or feel… you will not chase dangers this term. You may get yourself, or others, killed, Potter. And neither I nor any of the staff have the time or inclination to spend our school term running off to catch you when you fall. Do you understand me?'
'I… I shan't go after him, sir,' Potter promised, still looking confused. 'But what are you –'
'Good,' Severus said firmly over him. He intensified his glare again. 'And make no mistake, Potter,' he warned. 'If I ever find that you have broken this promise, the consequences will be more dire than you could possibly imagine. You will find yourself wishing all you faced was the threat of expulsion…'
He trailed off suggestively, relishing the look of apprehension on Potter's foolish face.
'Do you understand?' Severus repeated.
'I – yes, sir,' said Potter finally, swallowing hard.
'Now, there was one other point I wished to discuss,' Severus continued. 'Wandless magic. We shall not, I'm afraid, have the time during term to cover anything substantial, as your timetable and my own will not allow it, but I expect to see you once every fortnight for continued lessons. Else, I am certain anything you might have learned over the summer will have drained out by the end of the year: we all know the meagre span of attention you possess,' he added nastily. 'So let's say… Thursday evenings. Eight o'clock tonight shall do for our first.'
'Eight p.m.?' Potter complained at once. 'But, sir, quidditch –'
'Eight p.m.,' Severus repeated firmly, a dangerous glint in his eye. 'And remember, Potter, you are to tell no one what you are doing. You may inform anyone who asks that you are serving standing detentions with me. Nobody who has seen you in my Potions lessons will doubt it.'
Potter scowled mutinously. 'Yeah, I'll be sure to do that, sir,' he muttered.
Severus sneered. 'Until tonight, then,' Severus said, pushing back from his desk. 'Come. I shall take you to your Defence class.'
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'Sir, it's up another flight,' said Harry in confusion, when Snape veered off at the fourth landing. Snape continued in his sweeping prowl without turning.
'I know where the wo- where Lupin's classroom is, Potter!' Snape snapped at him.
'Well then why are you –' Harry began to counter in confusion. But Snape cut across him.
'Lupin is teaching in the staff room this morning,' he said impatiently to Harry. 'Apparently, he found it far too cumbersome to move the boggart that had taken up residence in the spare wardrobe into his own classroom for practical learning. It was far more suitable for him to inconvenience the rest of us.'
Harry frowned, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Having spent the whole of the summer in close proximity to both wizards, he knew the dislike between Snape and Remus was quite mutual. And though Remus was careful not to openly speak ill of his colleague, Snape never bothered to show reciprocal curtesy. Harry could read a level of loathing in Snape's eyes every time he looked at Remus that surpassed even the personal dose he'd come to expect from the Potions master.
So he didn't bother to argue Remus' corner on the boggart issue. He was intrigued by another point in Snape's little rant, however.
'So, he's not using my boggart?' Harry clarified, thinking of the locked trunk in Remus' sitting room.
Snape's leer grew wider. 'No, Potter,' he said in obvious derision. 'Lupin is not using "your" boggart.'
Harry shrugged. 'I'm just surprised he's managed to find another so quickly,' he defended himself. 'I mean – I'd never seen one before this summer… if there's so many to be found in one castle, you'd think people would notice them more.'
'Boggarts prefer dark, enclosed spaces,' Snape reminded him. 'Such places rarely remain so unless they are in little-used locations. These are not parts of the castle you would normally find yourself exploring as a student, Potter.'
Harry wanted to counter that he, personally, had been in far more secluded and unknowable spots than most of the students at Hogwarts already… but he knew that Snape would only take greater issue with that. He might even give him an actual detention.
So he stayed silent for the rest of the walk.
A few minutes later, Harry and Snape finally reached the staffroom door. There was a great deal of laughter coming from beyond the wood panels. Harry wondered what all the fuss was about. Snape, meanwhile, seemed to grow even more rancorous with the chorus of giggling. He pushed open the door without knocking, sending it banging off the wall inside…
And both he and Harry froze.
The entire class had turned to the door when Snape threw it ajar. Including, to Harry's shock, a second Professor Snape. The doppelganger-Snape was dressed in long, flowing green ladies' robes, a fox fur shawl and a huge hat with a stuffed bird set atop. He swung a massive red handbag from one elbow: the thunk of the leather hitting Neville Longbottom's arm was the only sound in the suddenly silent room. The students were all staring open-mouthed from Snape to Snape, and Neville was trembling so badly Harry thought he might wet himself.
Harry would have found the situation incredibly funny in a Pensieve… but, living it, he was pretty certain the entire class and Professor Lupin were in imminent danger of death.
The green-dressed Snape seemed to recover first. He shuffled forward toward his twin, tripping a bit on the edge of the long dress robes. Then he seemed to shrink, falling toward the floor… his hair was lengthening and changing pigment as the hat vanished… going redder…
'Potter!' Snape bellowed abruptly, his face completely drained of colour.
He threw Harry in front of him so suddenly and with such force that his glasses were thrown from his face and his wand skittered away across the floor. Harry fell hard to his knees in front of the changing boggart, which reacted instantly. The creature lengthened again, drawing up from the floor as its green robes turned black as night, tattered and blowing as if in a high wind. Harry felt the cold begin to pull at him again as he reached for his wand, cursing Snape – who only minutes ago had stated he would not have to see this boggart-Dementor in front of a class…
'Here!' Remus shouted through the fog in Harry's brain.
He stepped smoothly in front of Harry, blocking his view of the Dementor. Harry felt the sickening cold vanish as the boggart shifted again, and heard the professor cry, 'Riddikulus!' as he pointed his wand at the form. Remus backed what looked like a ball of light into the open teacher's wardrobe, and slammed the doors quickly shut with a charm.
The rest of the class was still and silent, terrified eyes darting between Harry, Snape and Remus.
'Lupin, is this a lesson or a circus!' Snape hissed, glaring at the other professor as Remus turned back from the wardrobe. His face was still white, and his hand gripped the handle of his wand so tightly that Harry thought the first one to move would probably need the hospital wing. In all the time he'd known him, Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Snape so angry.
Remus reached out a hand to help Harry off the floor, frowning as he looked at Snape.
'Apologies, Severus,' he said mildly. 'Though you might have knocked, knowing how delicate dealing with boggarts can be.'
'Why isn't there some semblance of a barrier set up?' Snape shot back, ignoring the reprimand. 'This is sloppy, Lupin, even for you – somebody could be injured!'
'Severus, they are –'
'Whose boggart did I interrupt?' Snape asked instead, addressing the class now. He swept his dark gaze over the sea of fearful faces, settling on the roundest one. 'Longbottom…' he continued, speaking the name with such contempt that Harry dearly wanted to hit him. 'I could have guessed, I suppose.'
He turned back to Remus with his more trademark sneer back in place, though his face had not yet regained its colour. 'If you had consulted with me, Lupin,' he said in a dangerous voice, 'I could have told you that Longbottom causes catastrophic destruction with the simplest of spells. To ask him to demonstrate a boggart-banishing charm is akin to –'
'Neville didn't cause the catastrophe!' put in Dean Thomas hotly from the back of the room. 'He was doing fine. You were the one who –'
'Twenty points from Gryffindor, Thomas!' Snape shouted. 'And if you ever interrupt me again, it will be one hundred.'
'Thank you for delivering Harry, Severus,' Remus said in a slightly raised voice, stepping forward with his hand on Harry's shoulder before anyone else could add fuel to the fire.
Snape looked between the class and Remus with a scowl, and then directly at Harry. Though his lips were still white with fury, Harry found his eyes quite unreadable as they searched his own.
'Eight o'clock, Potter,' he said curtly to Harry. And he swept from the classroom without another word.
'Sorry Re-er, professor,' Harry said when the door had shut behind the Potions master again. He felt a bit pink in the cheeks, wishing he'd just skipped the lesson instead of causing all this mayhem. Remus squeezed his shoulder in a reassuring way.
'That's quite alright, Harry,' he said warmly. 'Why don't you go and join your classmates, and we'll pick up again in a moment once everyone has calmed down a bit. Mr Thomas,' he added, pushing Harry gently forward toward Ron and Hermione as he turned his attention to Dean, 'I shall return the twenty points to Gryffindor, although I do advise you to be cautious around Severus in future.'
Dean and Seamus exchanged gleeful looks.
'He's going to kill me!' squeaked Neville in terror, as Harry stepped over to join him, Hermione and Ron. Neville's eyes were filled with tears, and his nails were bit to the quick already in anxiety. Harry shook his head bracingly.
'You'll be fine, Neville,' Harry said, 'Don't worry. If anything, he'll kill me. I'm the one who's got detention with him tonight… and I'm the reason he was up here at all,' he told him.
Neville did not look comforted.
'Why have you got detention?' Ron asked with a scowl, once Professor Lupin had called everyone to order again and coaxed Parvati Patil forward to have a go with the boggart. 'You're not wrong – he probably will kill you.'
'I haven't,' Harry replied in an undertone, so only Ron and Hermione would hear. Most of the rest of the class was focused on cheering on their mates now, but he didn't want to risk anything. 'I've got lessons – once a week. He wants to carry on with the wandless stuff.'
'Ooh, that's exciting!' Hermione whispered. 'What do you think –'
'Ron!' called Professor Lupin suddenly, interrupting their huddle. Harry and Hermione straightened up to watch Ron do battle with a massive spider. He succeeded in removing its legs, and the class cheered as the de-limbed arachnid rolled its way back over toward Neville.
'Go on, Neville, you can do it!' Harry said encouragingly, as Neville's face whitened when the spider came to a halt at his feet. Neville gulped audibly, but put all he could into the charm as the boggart-Snape took form again.
In moments, Snape stood before them dressed in his witch's outfit again, a very un-Snape-like expression of confusion on its face as it tottered on its heels.
'And… laughter!' Remus prompted from the front of the room. Harry had the sneaking suspicion this part hadn't been difficult, before he and the real Snape had burst in on the lesson.
Seeing the rest of his House falter, Harry let out the first chuckle. Ron followed suit beside him, then Dean and Seamus joined in. At last, most of the class was laughing openly as boggart-Snape turned around, looking more and more confused.
'You too, Neville!' Remus called. 'It has to be you!'
Neville hesitated for a moment, biting his lip. And then he let out a great 'Ha!' of laughter, and the boggart vanished in a puff of grey smoke.
The class applauded.
'Great work, everyone, excellent work!' Remus said, clapping his own hands together as everyone settled down again. 'Let's see… yes, I think: ten points to everyone who tackled the boggart today. Twenty to Neville, as he did it twice. And ten for Hermione, as she answered my questions correctly at the start of the lesson.'
The grins grew wider, as everyone contemplated the huge upsurge in points from this lesson. Remus smiled.
'For homework, please read chapter five in your textbooks, and summarise the boggart-banishing technique for me. Now you'd better be off, or you'll be late for lunch!'
He shooed them all toward the door, and Harry fell into step with Ron and Hermione as they followed their excited class down toward the Great Hall. He wanted to stay behind and congratulate Remus on a great first lesson (even though he and Snape had nearly ruined it), but he didn't think he ought to draw any more attention to himself this morning. Instead, he gave the new professor a grin and a thumbs up as they headed out into the corridor.
'I wish I'd had a go at the boggart' said Hermione with a sigh.
'Why, what would it have been for you?' asked Ron, who sounded as though he was holding back a chuckle with difficulty. 'A subpar essay?'
Hermione looked a bit affronted, and Harry stepped in quickly. 'Well, I wish Snape hadn't thrown me like that,' he said, a little bitterly. 'I didn't get a chance to go either.'
'Yeah, but if Remus hadn't stepped in, yours would have sent everyone into a panic,' Ron pointed out truthfully.
'Maybe not if I had my wand,' said Harry.
'But you missed the lesson on the charm,' Hermione put in with a frown. 'You wouldn't have known –'
'Remus taught it to me over the summer hols,' Harry corrected. 'I've known it for weeks.'
'Poor Neville,' Ron said with a shake of his head. 'I reckon Potions is going to be torture for him on Tuesday.'
'For all of us,' said Hermione sagely. 'He won't be happy we all saw it.'
'At least you've got the week-end,' muttered Harry. 'I get to see him this evening… and I've got to tell Wood I can't be at practice because I've got detention…'
'I wonder what Snape's boggart was going to be?' said Hermione at Harry's ear, when the three of them had pulled over plates of sandwiches at the Gryffindor table several minutes later. 'It started to change when it saw him. Did you notice?'
'Not really,' Harry admitted with a shrug, pouring himself a goblet of pumpkin juice. 'He shoved me at it so quickly, I didn't really get time for a proper look.'
'Prob'ly a bo'le of 'ampoo,' said Ron from Harry's other side. Hermione gave him a scathing look, as he swallowed the massive bite of roast beef.
'I don't think so…' she mused, picking at her own plate. 'It looked like it was shifting into a woman, I think… with long hair… but it was hard to tell; it changed so quickly into yours, Harry.'
'Yeah, maybe,' said Harry without much interest.
He couldn't help feeling, at this moment, he cared far less for what Snape's greatest fear might be than his own chances of surviving the night.
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'Christmas drinkies then, is it?' Marley asked, shaking snow out of the hood of her cloak as she entered the drawing room of the inn.
Remus giggled and Lily hiccupped on her glass of Firewhisky, the still-new ring on her finger catching a bit in her long hair. James reached over to push it tenderly behind her ear but missed, knocking her tumbler to the ground instead. Peter laughed so hard at her look of indignation that he fell off his own chair.
'Pathetic,' Marley said lightly, tossing the discarded cloak at Sirius with a wicked grin. 'Chuck us one, won't you?'
Sirius flicked his wand at the wet fabric before it could slap his face, sending the cloak to drape over the back of the sofa instead. With a second lazy flick, he set a bottle of champagne to pour over a new glass and floated the drink to the newcomer.
'Ta,' said Marley, inclining her head as she raised the glass.
'Oi, what am I then?' Sean grumbled irritably as he stalked into the room behind his sister, even more snow-drenched than she had been.
'You get your own,' Sirius replied with a grin. 'No tits – no serv- argh!' He broke off, sputtering as his mouth filled with soap suds. Infuriated, he turned to glare at his companions, but they were all rolling with laughter again at his plight, none taking the credit.
'You've been begging for it for years, Mr Black,' a new voice offered in amusement from the door to the kitchen. Sirius whipped round to see Minerva McGonagall standing in the doorframe, one hand balancing a tray of assorted biscuits and the other still gripping the guilty wand. Emmeline Vance stood beside her, wearing a look somewhere between disapproval and amusement.
Sirius supposed they must have come in with the McKinnons.
'Class, Sirius,' Emmeline chastised. She pointed her own wand at the Firewhisky, which dutifully poured itself into a crystal glass for Sean. He thanked her as he lifted it.
'You lot need to eat something,' Minerva said in disapproval, gesturing toward the tray of biscuits as she set them on the low table. 'You're half-sloshed already.'
'We had dinner, Professor,' Remus assured her. But he reached for a chocolate-drenched biscuit all the same. James broke a second in two, feeding half to Lily with his hazel eyes glinting. She took it off his finger with an unnecessary bite, smirking as she swallowed. Peter watched with wide eyes, as if hoping to pick up tips.
'Can't you two go five minutes?' Sirius griped, as James leaned in to kiss a smudge off the corner of Lily's mouth. 'That's what I'd like for Christmas.'
'Piss off,' James said lightly, not turning from Lily. But he ducked automatically as Minerva raised her wand threateningly again.
'Hey!' Sirius complained, when she stowed it again with merely a warning glare. 'How come he doesn't get suds?'
'Less offensive,' Minerva replied curtly, choosing a ginger newt for herself. Sirius crossed his arms.
'That's favouritism, plain and simple,' he groused.
Sean clapped a hand on his shoulder. 'Budge up there,' he ordered. And Sirius moved over so he could sit on the sofa.
'Blimey, I'm knackered,' Sean said, leaning back against the cushions with an audible sigh of relief. Sirius looked between him and the women curiously.
'Was it a rough one?' he asked, frowning.
Marley shook her head. The firelight danced off the gold in her hair. 'Not really,' she assured him. 'Just routine, for the most part. Minerva caught Mundungus trying to sneak off with a questionable box of trinkets, but no Death Eaters about. I reckon they'll stay quiet for a few days – don't want to push it after the ruckus last week in Bristol.'
'Don't be too sure,' said Emmeline darkly.
There was a sticky silence, as everyone contemplated their drinks.
'Want a game?' Remus suggested after a moment, shaking a box of gobstones from under the table. Lily broke out in a wicked grin.
'Alright then,' she agreed, leaning in first. 'Who's on my team?'
'Me,' Minerva volunteered at once. 'That's not a mistake I'll be making again.'
There was some good-natured squabbling for a time, as everyone chose partners. They got through four rounds, Lily winning every time. The complaints grew more and more boisterous as their supply of liquor dwindled, everyone alternatively laughing and cursing at one another. Sirius found himself watching his partner, Marley, more and more closely as the night drew on… almost absentmindedly. She wasn't much better than him at gobstones, but he found it wasn't really first on his mind anymore. He was admiring the cut of her blouse, the way the simple black of the clothing clung at her waist, emphasising her figure. He wondered if she'd always worn things like this, under the Hogwarts uniform… perhaps he'd just never really noticed it before.
She laughed again as Lily outmatched him, and his face was spattered with sticky goo. She leaned in to wipe it away for him…
'Sirius,' a faint voice called.
Sirius felt someone shaking his shoulder. He started awake with a gasp – instantly alert.
'Wh-what?' he sputtered, pushing himself straight in the chair. 'What's wrong?'
'Why don't you head to bed, sweetheart,' Emmeline said kindly, removing her hand from his shoulder as she leaned back into her own seat on the sofa. It had, apparently, been her hands that shook him awake. 'The others have just gone up.'
'Wattime's it?' Sirius asked with a yawn. He pushed up the sleeve of his robes to glance at his wristwatch, but the little numbers were dancing a bit under the glass.
Ugh. Firewhisky.
'Half eleven,' Minerva informed him shortly. 'Really – how much did you lot have before we got here? You're all incoherent. I realise it is the holiday, but still…'
'Aren't you going back to the castle?' Sirius asked pointedly.
Minerva shook her head, conjuring a glass of water into which she poured something that looked suspiciously like Sober-Up. 'Drink,' she told him, shoving the glass toward him. 'And no. Albus has charge for the night and Sylvia is watching the Gryffindors. There aren't many remaining this year, and it is my turn for a holiday off.'
'Right,' said Sirius vaguely. He knocked back the mixture of potion and water, which cleared the haziness in his head considerably. It wasn't enough to completely sober him (they really had had quite a lot to drink, tonight), but it brought him back to a pleasant level of buzz that he enjoyed far more than the feeling he might sick up any moment.
'Cheers,' he said gratefully, passing the empty glass back to Minerva. She took it with a smirk.
'I'm off to bed, then,' Sirius agreed.
'Never have thought we'd outlast the bairn,' Minerva said with a laugh, refiling Emmeline's glass and her own as Sirius pulled himself to his feet.
'Yeah, well, we were at it for a good three hours before you lot got back,' Sirius pointed out, a bit miffed.
Emmeline raised one condescending eyebrow. 'Do you require assistance mounting the stairs?' she asked with perfect politeness. 'I could call an elf…'
'I'll manage,' said Sirius gruffly. His mind was only half on the conversation, already imagining the feather bed that awaited him upstairs.
'Bring Marlene her cloak, would you?' Emmeline asked, floating the travelling cloak toward him with her wand. 'She left it.'
'Right,' Sirius agreed, catching the fabric. He left the room.
The cloak was still damp from the snow as he draped it over his arm. 'Exaresco,' he muttered, tapping the fabric with the tip of his wand. Instantly a whoosh of warm air flew through the fabric, drying it. The gust through the cloth wafted a faint scent through the air: Marley's scent, Sirius realised curiously. Like a mix of pear and freesia.
He toddled off the stairs at the first-floor landing, remembering vaguely that Marley's room was a few doors down from his own. He'd just raised his hand to knock when the door was opened from the inside.
'Oh! Hey,' Marley said, opening the door a bit wider.
Sirius stared. She had undressed for the night, her gold curls falling softly around her shoulders and half-way down her back. In her hand, she held a toothbrush and a little cosmetic bag. She was barefoot. And she was wearing nothing but a silkily little red nightdress – one that barely fell past her hips. It had a matching wrap tied loosely around her waist, in a dancing snowflake pattern… but the wrap was slipping off one shoulder, and Sirius could see every curve the satin gown was hugging…
'Er- hi,' Sirius said lamely. He realised, vaguely, that his first was still raised to knock, and brought it quickly down again. He cleared his throat. 'You left this in the sitting room,' he informed her unnecessarily, holding out the cloak.
'Oh, right,' she said, taking it from him and tossing it back on her bed. 'Thanks.'
'No problem,' Sirius grunted.
There was an awkward moment, where he realised he was stalling too long… that he ought to go to bed… she was looking at him curiously, but he couldn't seem to make his feet move.
'I was just…' she pointed vaguely in the direction of the loo, and Sirius realised he was blocking her way.
'Oh, right,' he said, stepping aside.
She padded past him on her bare feet. Her toenails matched the scarlet of her satin… thing. Which was as clingy in the back as in the front, though the kimono wrap hid parts of it…
'I like your perfume,' he blurted out, as she reached the door of the loo.
She paused, tossing her hair as she gave him a scathing look over her shoulder.
He shrugged. 'It was on your cloak,' he informed her with a grin.
Marley seemed to think a moment, biting at her lip. Sirius watched… wondering how it tasted. He felt a stirring that he might have attributed to excess of drink, or perhaps holiday cheer… or, maybe, just the adrenaline that seemed to rule their lives these days. Before he knew what had happened, she had padded back toward him, her eyes dancing. She leaned in close to him, standing on tiptoe to breath on his neck. One slender hand rested against his chest as she inhaled deeply.
'I like the way you smell too,' she said in a whisper.
'Firewhisky,' Sirius grunted, half-joking. 'I haven't got anything on…'
'Mmm… but you smell like….'
She breathed again, and Sirius prayed she wouldn't lean closer… afraid she might realise what she was doing to him.
'Like bedtime,' she said, stepping back with a very mischievous look in her eyes. Her hand never left his chest.
Sirius held her gaze.
'Where are the others?' he asked in a low grunt.
'Gone to bed, I expect,' Marley said with a shrug. 'I was the last up.' She leaned up again, her breath hot on his ear. 'It's Christmas, Sirius,' she reminded him.
And he swung her up off the floor, before he could second-guess the move. She let out a muffled peel of laughter, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her mouth found his and she kissed him. Deep, and urgent – the sort of kiss that reminded one of the fact that they might only have this one night… this brief respite from war and destruction. The sort of kiss that screamed of hormones and rushing blood and mind-numbing, bone-breaking shagging.
Sirius walked them backwards, all thought of sleep forgotten as he fumbled a hand along the wall, feeling for his door handle. He found the correct latch at last, pushing it open and stumbling back-first into the room, his hands too busy holding her to him to bother with shutting the door properly. He kicked it closed instead, turning them for the bed. In one brilliant moment of sense, he flung up a Silencing Charm with the palm of his hand.
Marley protested as he tried to lower her back, twisting instead so that he went first, and straddling him. He undid the loose knot of her dressing gown with a practised yank, throwing the silky fabric aside. The feel of her bare skin beneath it was intoxicating, and he traced her shoulders and collarbone as she pulled his own robes over his head, closely followed by his shirt. He handled the buckle himself, while she was busy exploring his bare chest. Where her fingers traced, Sirius felt as sensitive as though someone were dripping ice across his skin. He felt his magic tingling with the rest of him… and he could feel hers as well. Just as electrifying. Just as volatile. Something on the bedside table went crashing to the floor.
'Up,' she croaked. Sirius raised his hips slightly, letting her pull his trousers off. He kicked off the socks and reached for her satin slip as she grasped the waist of his pants, both taking the final step together.
She was heaven beneath. Sirius paused for a moment, drinking in every curve – so much better than he'd imagined it. He wanted to touch every bit of her… wanted to explore, and to conquer. He wondered vaguely how someone he had known so well, for so many years, could still be uncharted territory: could still hold so many secrets and surprises. It was as if he knew her completely and yet not at all.
But that was an adventure for later, if she ever let him back again. Tonight – this first time – wasn't the moment for slow and gentle. It wasn't the moment for sweet or tender.
Tonight was about need. Like that first kiss in the corridor, it was raw, real and in the moment. He couldn't take his time tonight. He wanted it all. And by the feel of her squirming against his hips, he knew she wanted the same.
So he gave it to her. Or she gave it to him. Sirius wasn't sure, even weeks later.
But he'd never forget it.
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'So… you going to take me to Lils and Jamie's wedding?' she teased, running slender fingers through the sparse hair on his chest some half hour later as they lay, finished but still entwined. 'Best man and chief bridesmaid… that's rather the thing to do, isn't it?'
He lifted his head to catch her eyes, frowning slightly. 'You want to go together?' he asked her, unnerved. 'I, er, I hadn't thought –'
'Relax you prat, I'm only winding you up,' she assured him, settling her head in the crook of his neck. From this position, he could feel her heart beating against his own chest. Slowly, the thrumming became synchronised. It was odd how that happened… like his body could sense the change, but embraced it anyway… It was soothing. He wondered if it was bad for his heart to mess with its rhythm like this.
'– Sean might have a stroke,' Marley was saying. The vibration of her voice tickled his neck.
And lower.
'Mmm?' Sirius asked in confusion, not having heard a word of her musings while his own were so loud.
'I said my brother would have a stroke,' she repeated slowly. 'If you brought me to the wedding, I mean.'
'Oh. Er – yeah, he probably would do,' Sirius acknowledged. It was becoming harder and harder to keep his concentration on the conversation. He didn't feel remotely tipsy anymore… but he felt everything else. Every nerve in his body was tingling.
Marley seemed to notice his distraction. She pushed back a bit to scrutinise his face. 'Are you bricking it?' she asked bluntly. 'Because it's not like… I mean, I meant it for a joke, Sirius,' she assured him quickly, clearly misreading his arrested expression. 'I'm not – you know – looking for anything serious either. It's just shagging,' she told him with a wink.
She leaned forward and kissed his neck gently, just under his ear. The she started to move downward… very slowly… trailing his jaw… his clavicle… his chest… his stomach…
'I – that isn't it,' Sirius gasped out. 'I'm not upset, I –'
'No?' she said in mock surprise. She traced his navel very slowly with her tongue, her fingers wandering again… Sirius felt every hair he had stand on end, his breathing accelerate…
'Well then, what is it?' the witch asked innocently. 'Because you look ready for flight at any – '
'Fuck,' Sirius grunted in frustration. A painting on the opposite wall fell to the floor with a muffled thump.
In one, swift movement he'd flipped them, pinning her beneath him and crushing his lips to hers. He kept one hand in her hair, holding her head, and let his other hand do its own wandering. Marley arched toward him with a gasp as he found his target, her eyes fluttering….
Twenty minutes later he flopped off her again, both of them breathless and panting. He was quite grateful he'd had the presence of mind to set the Silencing Charms… and he sincerely hoped Emmeline wouldn't pop round to wake him for breakfast before he could fix up the room a bit.
'Well, I hope this means I get a dance at the least,' Marley quipped, patting his chest brusquely as she leaned herself up on an elbow. 'Because I'm going to need a vat of guelder rose wine to get over tonight.'
Sirius growled. 'Shut up,' he warned her. 'Or I'll do it again.'
She giggled, but at that moment the door burst open. Marley's giggle turned into a horrified squeal, as she dove quickly off the side of the bed where he'd thrown her dressing gown. Sirius yanked the covers quickly up almost to his chin, feeling heat colouring his cheeks. In the light now streaming in through the door to the corridor, Sirius came to an odd realisation… the bedclothes in this room were blue, not the deep green of his own… and that was most certainly not his tartan holdall on the bench….
He didn't have time to contemplate much else, however, as his eyes were drawn back to the doorway, where Minerva stood frozen in a thunderous attitude, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
'Why,' she began, in the clipped, steely voice that still made Sirius cower, 'Is it always mine?'
When he woke, Sirius was covered in sweat.
He pushed himself gingerly to his feet, grateful that his legs seemed quite steady now. The sharp pains of the cramping had gone; the dull ache in his stomach merely the echo of a night spent in agony. He'd take another dose of the Muggle medication, just in case… but it seemed the fever had broken.
And he couldn't remember the dream at all.
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Review Responses, Chapter 24:
BlueWater5: Thank you for reviewing! Glad you enjoyed the flashback battle. The action scenes are always tough to write, so it's great to hear that the readers like the finished product. Hope you like Chapter 25!
Leonore: Thank you for your review! Although I am sorry it made you cry... I'm happy you enjoyed the chapter so much, particularly the 1980 scenes. You are correct in that I am planning to work in both timelines, and things will slowly fill in more and more as we go. This particular scene, for example, falls about a month after the prophecy is foretold… it also falls a month or so after the night James and Sirius learn Lily is pregnant (which is why James is not at top form). How that night and the prophecy relate to one another in time is something we've yet to learn. There are other clips from the past it will take this entire series to fully uncover. For instance, though we have slowly been learning more and more about the events of 31 October 1981, I can promise that we do not have the full picture, yet, of what happened that night. In any case, I hope you like chapter 25!
Blimey2310: Thank you for reviewing! I am glad to see you enjoyed the chapter. The flashback scene was one of my favourites in a while, and it's lovely to hear that you found it true to his character. I think you've hit the point – I'm not setting out to fundamentally alter the Snape we know and love (or love to hate), but rather to show a bit more of him and his many sides, through his POV. Hopefully, this is working for the readers. Enjoy the next chapter!
PMakepeace98: Thank you for your review! It's great to hear you liked the chapter. I do hope this update comes soon enough… I'm trying my best! Pregnancy is going well – about four months to go, give or take. Trying to sort out names at the moment. :) Hope you like the next chapter!
AECM: Thanks for your review! I'm happy you liked the chapter so much. I can promise we will definitely get more about the process by which Tom chose Harry… not only here, but in the later books as well. Thanksgiving is actually not a holiday in the UK – it is a real life, purely American tradition, as my father likes to say – but I thank you for your well wishes all the same, and hope you and your family have a lovely Thanksgiving! It has been gaining some popularity here for the past few years… I went to a 'Brits-giving' last year, although I don't recall if we had it on actual Thanksgiving or not. I'm rather hopeful it will take off, someday, as I'm quite fond of turkey. Mmm… don't get a pregnant woman in the mood for some sort of food…
In any case, I hope you enjoy the next chapter!
Shadowhunter: Thank you for your review! I'm sorry life has been so stressful of late, but hopefully things will calm down by the holidays? It's nice to hear that you liked the bit with the Time-Turner… and I'm sure that is exactly what Ron was thinking, haha. And yes, Severus is definitely 'grey'… it's interesting to me, because of course this is his thinking when he's twenty years old, not in the present-day timeline, so there is a question of how much of what he thought remains true, and how much has altered. This is before Voldemort has decided to go after Lily – he only makes mention of the fact that it might be her at the very end of the flashback, and already we see it is having an effect on Severus. We know what he eventually does once Voldemort decides the prophecy does refer to Harry, though we're many months from that right now. How does the transition see an alteration in Severus's mindset? And of course, we have seen so much, now, of Lily and James and their life together, which paints a sharp contrast with the way Severus views their connection. Some of that I think is his seeing what he wishes to see; and some is a deep, unrequited desire that he is totally powerless to overcome. It's a great example of how a story – with bits of truth – can really be told two very different ways. It doesn't necessarily make one right and the other wrong, at least, not entirely… it depends from whose perspective you are viewing the facts. Severus is biased, of course… his flashback thoughts are from one very firm lens; but there is also inherent bias in Sirius's flashback thoughts, and in Albus's, and even in Minerva's. When we are viewing anything, really, we will always be seeing it from a certain angle, because of whoever's POV we happen to be in.
Minerva… yes, definitely angry at the way Trelawney teaches. There are some similarities here, and some differences, from canon. She's definitely more upset, because of course she is more of a mum to Harry here than she was in canon. And she also knows of the prophecy, as Albus confided in her last book, so we as readers realise that Minerva's feelings toward Trelawney – and toward Trelawney predicting anything to do with Harry, true or false – are a bit more complex than they once were.
Babies are well – four months and counting! Noodles are an excellent craving… although mine have been more odd, I think, than particularly practical. I've had an insatiable craving for sticky toffee pudding (which, to be fair, was a favourite of mine even before my pregnancy), Thai food and black currant. Just now, after thinking about how all my American readers will be enjoying Thanksgiving feasts, I have a great penchant for turkey!
Enjoy chapter 25!
Babascoop: Thank you for your review! It's always great to hear from you :). I'm glad you liked the more light-hearted portion of the Divination lesson, and the inclusion of Cedric. Ms Sommers was an addition – not a canon student – and may or may not end of mattering; but Cedric, obviously, does put a bit of a different spin on things. Here, we've only just had the first taste of Arithmancy, but I am hoping that readers will enjoy those classes and the magical theory as we move it forward. Septima has a greater role to play… as do, not unexpectedly, the Slytherin students. The Time-Turner… yes, that seems to be a part of the Potterverse that everyone dislikes, myself included, in large part. I found it a necessary evil to include it here for story purposes, but I don't intend to abuse the power, so to speak. Harry's need of it will expire by end of year, for which I (and I expect most readers) will be grateful for. In the meantime, I shall seek to make something of the situation!
And, Snape. Poor, tortured Severus Snape. I am glad to hear that you enjoy his characterisation and reading his POVs so much – I love to write him! As I think is clear by now, I'm definitely focused in filling in events of the past in addition to moving forward with the present (and consider it necessary to inform the present, really)… so we'll certainly be seeing more of the last war in future. And you're entirely right – this particular scene was important in that it answered several questions, filled some of the timeline and, of course, raised a few more queries for later examination. It's the first time we've really seen the first war from Snape's perspective – apart from his Halloween flashback at the start of this book, and it changes the focus from the Order and Dumbledore to the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters… we do learn that it is the third of the 'Potters defying the Dark Lord' events, and its where Snape recovered the hairs that he later used (in Chapter 3) in a scrying spell to locate Harry on Magnolia Crescent. We got the bit of battle between Dumbledore and Voldemort… and, of course, we see the beginnings of the 'Chosen One' determination begin to take shape… and the subsequent spark of what will, ultimately, lead to Severus's betrayal of the Dark Lord in favour of Lily.
I do hope you enjoy the ride as we continue! And I am in agreement – the Fourth book was, for a very long time, my favourite… and I cannot wait to take readers on the reimagined journey! Perhaps we'll even get there before my own next great adventure arrives…
MoonshineMadame: Thank you for your review! Happy you liked the chapter as a whole. I am not planning to cover Dumbledore and Trelawney's conversation in depth, but perhaps we shall revisit it another time… it certainly would be fun, but it just didn't feel like it fit with this chapter. I'm glad you liked the Arithmancy description… it provides an interesting contrast to Divination, in my opinion. As to whether Harry will accompany Hermione in her exit from Divination… I don't want to spoil it, but I think you will like where that plotline ends up. Finally… the flashbacks. I'm sorry if you're not much of a flashback-fan, but this particular book is definitely going to continue to incorporate a lot of flashback events. The 'Marauder Legacy' portion necessitates it, and there is a lot of information in the past timeline that will inform the present and the future, so it is a huge part of what I intend to do in this book. I do hope you'll enjoy it, even if it's not your favourite portion. We will move forward on the present timeline as well, of course. Enjoy chapter 25!
Gundy486: Thank you for reviewing! I'm really glad you're liking the story so much, and hope you will enjoy the speedy update and the continuation!
Anyeshabaner: Thank you for your review! It's great to hear you liked the chapter so much. Yes… Severus' love for Lily and his combination of fear and distaste toward Trelawney's actions is definitely evident in his POV in Chapter 24… and Albus is interesting. In many ways, he is 'trusting' in the sense that he is always keen to give second chances – recognising, from his own experiences, that people can make catastrophic mistakes and yet still find redemption. At the same time, he is very, very unwilling to confide his own secrets and weaknesses, even to those he loves. I think this is a theme that permeates his character throughout both canon and my own stories: he wants to trust in others, but he is the consummate general, and he knows trust is dangerous as much for the person who is confided in as the person giving the confidence. And, because of his own past, he is almost paranoid about it.
I think you are spot on with the 'battle planning' comparison…
Enjoy chapter 25!
Estel Ashlee Snape: Thank you for reviewing! Yes, I too think it's hard to write/read/watch Snape pine over Lily. Whether they would have been great together… I don't know. Maybe, if Severus had been a different man at the time, or Lily had lived to see him change and hadn't fallen for James. But in some ways, I think Lily's death was almost needed for Severus to become the man he wanted to be for her, which is the sort of tragic irony of it all. And I do love James, whatever his faults as a younger man. It's interesting to see the juxtaposition of Severus's POVs of Lily (and of James) compared to the marauders' and Albus'. I do wish he'd been able to find happiness. I hope you like Chapter 25!
Valkyrie-Sythe: Thanks for your review! Yes… the Grim… we'll see how that all plays out… Enjoy the next instalment!