Chapter 12: The Meeting
The stone wings of the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office rose in an arch above Róisín. She hesitated beneath them, cloaked in their shadow like a woman facing the gallows. Suddenly, the gargoyle hopped to the side and with a rumble of worn stone against stone the spiral staircase began moving upwards. The sióg took a deep breath and stepped onto it.
She had not wanted to come. She had considered feigning illness and going to the hospital wing, but she knew her professors would see through it. It was rumoured Snape could read minds. Róisín shivered. Then she clenched her fists. She had to do this. Seeing Anna had filled her with determination to take back control of her magic.
The door at the top was ajar. Róisín knocked lightly before pushing it open. The heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin house were standing in front of the headmaster's desk with Dumbledore seated behind it, the back of his chair so high that it was visible behind his red velvet hat.
"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt," Róisín said.
The three professors turned to look at her framed in the doorway. Róisín, self-conscious under their gaze, brushed her fingers through the ends of her feral hair. The scene in front of her looked like an illustration from a fairy tale; Professor McGonagall's classic crooked black hat was silhouetted against the flames in the fireplace, Snape's shoulder-length greasy hair cast shadows across his angular face and the silver embroidery of the headmaster's purple robes glimmered in the moonlight from the window. It was apparent that they had been engrossed in conversation.
"Not at all, Miss Feral, come in, come in," Dumbledore exclaimed.
"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Róisín asked while glancing at her Transfiguration professor, unsure of whether the witch had been told that she was a sióg. McGonagall greeted her with a tight smile.
"Professor McGonagall came tonight to discuss the… difficulties you've been having recently with your course work."
An all-too-familiar heat rose in Róisín's cheeks. Yesterday, in transfiguration class, she had made only feeble attempts to accomplish the spell they were practicing, worried that her hormone-crazy magic would transfigure her partner's robes into something wholly inappropriate. Professor McGonagall must have noticed.
"We thought it imprudent to lie to such a sharp-witted woman," Snape said, "so we informed her of your… situation."
McGonagall shot her colleague a stern look, unamused by his flippancy. She turned to Róisín, a touch of warmth thawing her icy eyes,
"If you wish to talk about, well, anything that you don't feel comfortable discussing with your male professors," she inclined her head to the two men in the room, "come find me in my office."
"Ok, thank you professor," Róisín replied.
"Well, I will let you get on with it then," McGonagall said as her eyes flicked to Snape, his own diverting to avoid her gaze. Róisín saw a muscle in his jaw tense as if he were clenching his teeth, and there was a hint of colour in his normally ashen cheeks, although it could have been a reflection of the glow from the fire.
"You must be delighted that Miss Battworth has woken," Dumbledore said once McGonagall had left. He gestured to the seat in front of the desk and Róisín sat down.
"Oh yes, I'm over the moon," she replied as a rogue smile broke free at the thought, however her smile vanished when she remembered, "But em, I had an… issue, when I went to see her today."
"Oh?"
"She asked about Eóghan and I couldn't reply because of the tongue-tying curse."
"So it served its purpose," Snape commented dryly.
"She could tell something was up though, I would have been in trouble if Madam Pomfrey hadn't interrupted us." Róisín shifted her weight from one foot to the other and appealed to the headmaster, "I think you should lift the spell, professor, it would be much easier if I just lied."
"That would be true if you were capable of lying convincingly," Snape said as he took the armchair in front of the fire. "You will have to avoid such topics in future."
Róisín gritted her teeth and turned in her seat to address Snape.
"When you say, "such topics" sir, what topics are you referring to?" Snape's eyes darkened and Róisín hurried on, "I mean no disrespect, sir, it's just that, when Anna asked me about Eóghan, I wasn't even going to say anything about being a sióg and the curse still kicked in."
"What did you intend to say?" Snape questioned.
"I suppose just that I didn't, em, find him attractive anymore or something," Róisín mumbled.
"Then we can assume that the lingua ligatum prevents you from discussing your inclinations in general. I do not control the topics you cannot discuss, the curse itself does."
Unease twisted Róisín's stomach.
"You mean, I can't talk about, like, boys I like?" She knew how inane she sounded, how painfully teenage, but at that moment she didn't have the mental capacity to be articulate.
"Boys," Snape sneered, "men, refrain from talking about anything sexual and stay clear of detailed conversations about your wellbeing."
Róisín's chest tightened. I'm an eighteen-year-old woman, sex is all I talk about.
"What if my friends bring it up?" What if Anna brings it up? "-sir," she added inelegantly.
"What up?"
"Eh.." Róisín gestured with her hands, searching the air for the words, "sex," she muttered finally, regretfully.
"Is it a topic you anticipate discussing often?" Snape inquired scornfully, eyebrow raised.
"Em..." Róisín looked to the headmaster for support, who appeared to be trying to hide his amusement behind a solemn expression. Róisín guessed from how tight her face felt that she looked comically pained.
"We're teenage girls," she finished under her breath.
"Of that, Miss Feral, I am painfully aware," Snape snarled.
His words were followed by a thick silence. Róisín cleared her throat,
"And, I can't discuss my "general wellbeing" either?"
Dumbledore answered,
"If you feel uneasy, or frustrated, because of your nature as a sióg, you may not discuss it." Róisín wrung her hands together as she listened. "I'm aware that it is a lot to ask of a young woman to keep her feelings hidden from her friends," the headmaster admitted delicately, "however, for reasons we have discussed before, it is of vital importance that what you are remains a secret."
Róisín could not meet the headmaster's bright blue eyes, as if their gazes were magnetic and shared the same pole. She focused instead on the tip of his long, crooked nose, and noticed that the golden bridge of his spectacles was perched so low that it was strange they had not slipped off. The headmaster continued,
"We will have to fabricate an explanation as to why you were unwell, so that Mister McCormack and Madam Pomfrey are not left wondering. In the last few years have you been in any situation where you could have encountered a cursed object?"
"Em, yes actually, last summer I did an internship in the department for the study and protection against bedevilled and blighted magical artefacts."
Dumbledore's snowy eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"Excellent, excellent," he declared. "How did you manage to secure an internship at the ministry's most elusive department?"
"Well, em, they offered it to me because I got the highest grade in my year in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy," Róisín answered, hoping she didn't sound conceited.
"And what did they put you up to there?"
"I was kind of like a personal assistant for an unspeakable, Professor Smith, but I wasn't much help to her because she couldn't really tell me anything about what she was doing. Although sometimes she let me do the final preservation charms on the more harmless artefacts she had purged of curses and jinxes-"
Snape interrupted,
"-Et nihil habet servus, quem refert ad rem de obiecti. Est liber: veneno libidinis, quod posset facere ea symptomata."
It took Róisín a moment to realise it was not English but Latin he was speaking. She caught only a word, "liber" which she knew to mean "book". Dumbledore listened and then continued,
"I will inform Madam Pomfrey that we have discovered the reason you were mysteriously ill after your encounters with Mister McCormack. I will say it was because you encountered a rare book "Poison of Desire" during your internship." Róisín nodded, unsure of what to say. "Madam Pomfrey is very discreet and will not discuss this with anyone. You should explain this version of events to Mister McCormack, ask him to not share the information, as well as telling him it will take months to cure and therefore it would be best if he looked for a different romantic partner."
Róisín felt a pang of loss as she imagined Eóghan with his arm around another prettier girl, his warm smile stretched above his strong jaw.
"Will do, sir," she replied quietly.
Dumbledore stood from his chair gracefully, his velvet robes swishing as they fell to the ground. Róisín craned her neck to look at the tall wizard, not knowing what would happen next. Then she realised it may appear rude to remain seated and stood abruptly, her chair screeching as it scraped against the stone floor. Dumbledore turned to address the potions professor,
"Severus, inform me when you know."
Snape gave a stiff nod in response. He stared at the empty space in front of him and remained seated. Róisín tore her eyes away from his stark figure. A tree branch was growing rapidly out of a patch of bare stonework on the wall. In seconds it had swelled and spread into a wooden door, through which the headmaster left the study. Róisín continued standing, looking at the newly grown door in confusion. Finally, Snape spoke,
"We have to discern whether you have the same reaction to me as you did with McCormack." In one fluid motion, he stood up and took a step towards her. Instinctively, she took a step backwards, her calves knocking against the chair behind her. Snape raised both his palms in a non-threatening gesture,
"Relax Miss Feral"
"Sorry, sir," Róisín said softly.
He brought his hands back down,
"You might have the same adverse reaction to me as you did to him." His voice was flat, stripped of its usual sneering condescension. Róisín looked down at his dragon-hide boots and fidgeted with her hands, which suddenly felt awkward and misplaced, being attached to the ends of her arms. "I know it will make you feel uncomfortable but to test whether that is the case I will have to embrace you, that is, assuming you still want my help in dealing with your symptoms?" Róisín paused for a tick of an onlooking grandfather clock, then nodded. He took a step towards her and her heart thumped as if it had woken from a deep slumber to beat for the first time in a long time. "Inform me immediately if you feel any dizziness or nausea." Róisín nodded again, feeling like she couldn't breathe, let alone speak.
She felt herself shrink several inches as he moved to stand directly in front of her. She fixed her eyes on his chest instead of stretching her neck to watch his face. He reached out and placed a hand on her upper arm. The contact sent a tingle across her skin.
"Do you feel faint? Nauseous?" Snape asked.
"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "Just… nothing, sorry, it's fine."
His hand was still on her arm. It felt surprisingly warm through the cotton sleeve of her t-shirt. Then she felt the scratchy fabric of his coat against her face as he closed the precious distance between them and pressed his torso lightly against her. Her heart reacted like a desperate animal, flinging itself against her ribcage. He placed the hand not on her arm against the small of her back. One of his buttons pressed awkwardly against her ear. The wool of his coat smelt fresh and earthy, like a mossy forest floor.
"Are you dizzy?" His deep voice reverberated in his chest and tickled her ear.
"Em… no," she replied, her right cheek still pressed against him. Her head rose and fell as he took a deep breath.
"Ok." He bit out the word as if he were not happy with her response. Róisín's arms hung rigidly by her sides. Am I supposed to do something?
He took his hands from her and stepped away. The air felt cold and empty against her front, where he had just been.
"You're positive you don't feel any of the symptoms you experienced with McCormack?" he questioned.
Róisín knew he wanted her to say that she did, which would mean they couldn't go ahead with this, and a tiny part of her was hurt that he thought the idea of "helping" her in this way was so repellent. Maybe I should lie.
"Well, I feel very warm" - that part was true- "so I might be getting the fever I got before from…."
Snape's eyes narrowed.
"…And… em, I feel a little…queasy."
Róisín met her professor's gaze. He was staring at her as if he could see through her pupils to the thoughts written on the back of her skull. Just as she knew she would never escape those endless black tunnels, he threw his eyes to heaven,
"Don't tell me what you think I want to hear, tell me the truth."
"-I feel OK, nervous, obviously… terrified, actually, but not unwell in the same way as… as before," Róisín mumbled automatically, as if he had force fed her veritaserum with his eyes. Look at you, jumping to obey like a puppy! She spat at herself as he continued to analyse her, absorbing every waver of her voice and nervous fidget of her hands. Then he spoke again,
"I presume your magic did not consider that platonic, but I will try again in case it did, with your permission."
Róisín's heart pumped faster. He raised his eyebrows at her impatiently and she realised he was waiting for a response,
"Oh… yeah em… go ahead."
He stepped towards her again, leaned downwards and placed his lips against hers. Róisín felt their dry warmth for a short second before he straightened again.
"Well?"
Róisín fought the desire to touch her lips with her fingers, to check they were still hers.
"I-I don't feel the symptoms, sir."
It was as though the chattering instruments of Dumbledore's office had hushed to listen to their exchange, only the hands of the old grandfather clock continued to tick loudly and importantly.
It was then, as Snape scrutinized her, that Róisín realised it could be dread tightening the lines around his black eyes, that maybe he was afraid, and not disgusted, of what she was and what he would have to do.
Abruptly, he turned from her and pressed an old-style brass bell on the headmaster's desk that Róisín was sure had not been there moments before. An unsettling amusement rose in her like an obscene balloon as she imagined Dumbledore as an inn-keeper who would come and show them to their lodgings. She pressed her lips together to suppress any giggles.
The headmaster entered from the same strange door he had left through. He looked at them questioningly and Snape gave him a reluctant nod.
"Alas, it appears that the myth is true." Dumbledore placed a wizened hand on his chair. "A sióg can only engage with exceptionally powerful wizards." As though in response, the most beautiful, inhuman tone rang softly through the room. Róisín turned to see great blood-red wings, glinting with gold, glide by. Their owner, a brilliant, swan-sized bird, landed on a bronze stand beside her as delicately as a butterfly fluttering onto a leaf. "This is Fawkes, curious as ever," Dumbledore explained, "he has never met a sióg before."
"I've never met a phoenix before," Róisín replied, breathless.
The phoenix tilted his head this way and that, its black, pupil-less eyes inspecting her. Róisín felt heat rise from its feathers.
"Magical creatures are fond of sióga, perhaps because you share a similar kind of magic," Dumbledore remarked.
"A primal kind," Snape muttered.
Róisín, transfixed by the immortal creature, raised her hand slowly. The phoenix rubbed its crested head against her palm, its feathers warm and soft.
"It's important that you decide on a time in the coming week to meet with Professor Snape, as your magical control has already begun to slip away."
Róisín whipped her head around,
"N-Next week?"
"Would that inconvenience you?" Snape asked, his caustic sarcasm making her flinch.
"Em no, of course not."
"When are you available?"
"I don't mind." Róisín felt the blood rise to her cheeks. That made no sense.
"Thursday?" he suggested, his voice cold and flat.
"Ok"
"I understand this situation is not easy for you Miss Feral, and I appreciate the maturity you have displayed," Dumbledore said. "Of course, it is perfectly OK if you decide you no longer want Professor Snape's help in the matter. If that is the case then you will spend time in the hospital wing until we discover another solution, so that you remain safe."
He means so his students can remain safe, her mind bit at her.
"I understand, professor."
"Well, I'm sure your bed in Ravenclaw tower is calling out to you, and we won't keep you from it any longer, especially since it's a chilly night and the house elves will be placing bed warmers in the highest dormitories," Dumbledore said happily as he rubbed his hands together. Róisín noticed that the fire had crumbled to embers and the air was sharp.
"Ok, thank you." Róisín glanced around for her satchel, remembered she hadn't brought it and turned to leave. "Good night, professors."
"Good night" she heard the headmaster reply as she closed the door to his office softly behind her. Only when she was halfway up the stairs to Ravenclaw tower did she remember that she hadn't asked about her essay.