Author's Note: this is a long one…enjoy! And many, many thanks to all of you who have reviewed…it's very encouraging, and really keeps me going when it gets tough. --Gwenn
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Chapter 17: Sound and Fury
Addy heard the continuous patter of raindrops against her window and smelled the earthy dampness that infused the castle air before she opened her eyes. The rain had been falling steadily since just before dawn, but her soft white cotton blanket was draped over her, smelling of sunshine and summer breezes. She burrowed further into the embrace of the down mattress and pillows beneath her.
The dreamless draught Remus had given her had worked wonders. For a brief moment, she lingered blissfully between states of consciousness, awake yet unfettered by the weights and worries of everyday life.
In the blink of an eye, however, full consciousness descended on her and with it came the unhappy memories of the previous night, driving the sleepy smile from her face. She scowled and turned onto her side, pulling the blanket over her head.
"Wake up dear, you've only got half an hour to get ready for breakfast," came a cheery, maternal voice from the clock on her bedside table.
"I'm not going to breakfast. I can sleep an extra hour and go straight to classes," Addy mumbled.
"Sorry, dear," the clock said sympathetically, "but Dumbledore insists that all his Professors show up for breakfast, on time and in tip-top condition. So, let's get you out of bed now. According to Mirror, you're going to need every minute to pull yourself together this morning."
"Thanks a lot, Mirror," Addy grumbled.
"Don't blame me," huffed the mirror with indignation. "I don't create the truth…I merely reflect it."
Addy remained under the covers, and in another minute, the voice trilled out of the clock again.
"Adelaide…you're really going to have to get up now. Only 27 minutes and not a second to spare."
"I told you, I'm not going."
"Oh, yes you are, dear."
"Oh no I'm not."
"Oh yes…you are." Madame Clock did not sound quite so cheery that time.
Addy continued to ignore her "alarm" and remained ensconced in her bed. She had just about dozed off again, when a piercing whistle blasted out of the clock, causing her to cry out and throw her hands over her ears.
"All right troops!" roared the clock. "Once more unto the breach!!!"
At the sound of Clock's command, the white cotton blanket whisked itself sharply into the air, folding itself with arithmetic precision above Addy's head and placing itself neatly in the trunk at the foot of her bed, which politely opened and closed for it. The window sash flew wide open, letting in a splash of raindrops. The pillows shrugged Addy off and hovered over her head, fluffing themselves as a smattering of feathers sprinkled down on her. They then followed the blanket into the trunk. The doors of her wardrobe opened and out floated a fresh set of school robes. In the bathroom, she heard the shower turn on, as her shoes came clop-clopping over to the side of her bed.
Addy leaned on her elbows, surveying the subversive items in her room with a dark, surly look, before grudgingly rising out of bed. She looked out the window at the steadfast rain falling on a gray day, then slipped out of her pajamas and stepped into the shower.
She stood there letting the warm water splash into her face and was just starting to wake up, when the shower turned itself off and an enormous fluffy towel floated over to her.
"All right, all right, I'm working on it. You can call off the assault," she grumbled.
In a few minutes she was dried and dressed, her hair in a particularly wild mood thanks to the moisture in the air. She sat on the edge of her bed, fully clothed, staring at the door to her room. She knew that in a minute or two, she would have to walk through that door and head to the Dining Hall, where she would have to sit next to Snape for the duration of breakfast.
Deep, calming breaths were doing nothing to clear her mind of the visions of the previous night. The wind had whipped up and behind her the rain batted away against the castle. She thought about her old hut, far beyond those rain clouds off to the east, and remembered the monsoon seasons they had survived—days and days of driving wind and rain spent huddled indoors, with Addy and her mother anxiously hoping the storms would soften the earth for a good planting season, while her father seesawed between dark, moody silences and crazed rants.
She wondered what had become of her garden, hoping that a new occupant had kept it up, and that the rains would be good for them this year. And then she thought about her old teacher, Dharani. Addy found herself wishing that Dharani was there right now with her—she would know what to do about Snape.
There was no one that she felt she could talk to about it at Hogwarts. Everyone had their own problems—more important ones at that--and they would probably just tell her not to worry about Snape…that he'd get over it. They hadn't seen the loathing in his eyes, nor heard the unforgiving hatred in his voice, as he'd hissed into her face:
"Why not? VOLDEMORT'S ORDERS?!?"
Anyway, what did it matter what Snape thought? She had other friends here at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore believed in her, and she was doing good work. But it did matter to Addy. For some damn, inexplicable reason, she wanted him to believe her more than anyone, with the possible exception of her Headmaster.
And, Clock had been right—Dumbledore was expecting her at breakfast, and she was resolved to fulfill her professional obligations. So, her stomach clenched with a mixture of dread and determination, she slapped her hands on her knees and stood up, crossing the room and stepping out the door. Before leaving, she turned back to face her room and said, "Thanks, everyone." The window closed itself softly in acknowledgment.
Her own corridor was empty, but she could hear the nearby thunder of the daily stampede to the Dining Hall, and as she rounded the corner she was swept up in the herd. She was one of the last staff members to arrive, which meant that Snape and Sprout were already seated on either side of her empty chair. Snape looked up at her expectantly when she entered the Dining Hall, noticing with a pang of guilt that her eyes were still a bit red and puffy.
He was, perhaps, unaware that he himself looked tired and perhaps a bit…distracted. But Addy noticed. 'Probably up all night wondering how to convince Dumbledore to get rid of me,' she thought miserably.
Addy seated herself, avoiding his gaze, and stared down at her empty plate. When Professor Sprout tried to make friendly conversation, Addy's polite but curt answers of "yes", "no" and "fine" sent the message that she wasn't in a talkative mood. 'Not a morning person, I guess," Sprout thought to herself, and let Addy be for the rest of the meal.
After Dumbledore made some brief opening remarks, the platters once again sprang to life with mountains of food. Addy distractedly piled her plate high, then spent the rest of the time pushing the food around with her fork. She tried to eat but found that she just couldn't bring herself to swallow a bite. Of course, she was painfully aware of the silent wizard to her right, and avoided any sort of contact at all costs. The tinkle of his silverware hit her ears like the clanking of swords in battle, and she prayed for a swift end to the meal.
Snape could sense when he was persona non grata even from subtle hints, but this morning Addy might as well have walked into the Dining Hall wearing a sandwich board that read "Never speak to me again, Severus Snape." This wasn't the time or place for a scene, and the students ought not even witness them in conversation, so he kept to himself and did not bother her. Still, he was already aware of her stubborn streak and began to worry about how long she could hold a grudge before forgiving him for the previous night. And then he remembered: he still had not, technically, apologized to her. Well, not in so many words. Clearly, he was going to be forced to use…so many words.
He had indeed been up all night, thinking of what to say and how to approach her. He was not a man accustomed to admitting when he was wrong, and, in truth, he very rarely was. But the look in her eyes the night before still haunted him and he knew he had to make this right…somehow. He'd never seen anyone look at him like that before. 'Probably because no one's ever cared about you the way she does, you fool,' he reprimanded himself, 'so you'd better figure out a way to fix this mess you've created.'
When Dumbledore finally dismissed the students, no sooner had he finished speaking, than Addy stood up to leave. Snape grabbed her arm discreetly, leaning over to her, and speaking in an undertone.
"Addy, I must speak with you—"
Addy cut him off with, "Excuse me, I have to go," wriggling her arm out of his grasp, and nearly running down the center aisle of Hall. She was in no mood for further accusations this morning.
Dumbledore watched her leave, assuming that she was eager to get to her first class…until he looked over at Snape. He saw his Potions Master take a deep breath and exhale, closing his eyes, a look of strain across his face. He touched his forefinger to the bridge of his brow for just a second, then stood up abruptly and stalked off through the staff exit at the back of the Hall, without a word to anyone. It was nothing the Headmaster hadn't seen Snape do a thousand times, yet there was a quality to that sigh that told him something was not quite right.
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Addy stood at the front of her classroom as her class filed in—Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Fourth Years. 'At least the students will help keep my mind off things,' she thought to herself, as their excited chatter turned to groans of dismay at the sight of her classroom.
Each desk was piled high with assignments, and sported the neatly lettered name of a student in pre-planned seating appointments. The children stared in horrified wonder around the room, every inch of which was covered in foreign looking notes, dense signs, archaic diagrams, and moving models. Everyone avoided the realistic facsimile of the troll family in the corner, stealing nervous glances at it as they found their designated seats. Addy remained unmoved and grim-faced at the front of the room, tapping her wand against her hand as they settled in.
"Welcome, class," she said softly, wearing an austere expression. "My name is Professor Mayhem, and we'll be working on Defense Against the Dark Arts together this year."
She said nothing else for the next five minutes, as she circled around to the back of her desk, removing three items from her drawer and placing them where everyone could see. When she was done, she simply leaned over her desk, studying the students as they grew uncomfortable with the strange, prolonged hush and her scrutinizing stare. Five minutes of silence was equal to an eternity in the minds of teenagers, and Addy knew it.
The sounds of nervous coughs and bottoms shifting in seats began to fill the room. Addy pulled a small pocket watch from her robe, flicked it open and watched the last thirty seconds tick by, then finally said, in her calm, quiet tone, "OK, let's begin."
With that, she picked up her wand and, with a grand, sweeping gesture, waved it over the class, dramatically declaring, "Visio Terminem!"
At the sound of her incantation, black blindfolds wrapped themselves around the eyes of each Fourth Year, hurling them into darkness. The room erupted in shouts as the students tried to free themselves of the enchantment.
Addy picked up an enormous tome of a textbook and dropped it on the ground with a deafening thud. "SILENCE!" she roared, and the room went instantly still. "They are just blindfolds, they will not hurt you. This is your first exercise in Defense: the Power of Observation."
She began shooting questions at the students, calling each one by the surnames she had memorized the previous day.
"MacHume, what color robes am I wearing?"
Poor Terry MacHume, the first Gryffindor get pick on, searched his mind, trying to remember. Finally he guessed, "Um, black?"
"Wrong, purple. Ten points from Gryffindor," Addy pronounced serenely.
"Zephyr, how many windows are in this classroom?"
Antonio Zephyr, a quiet, dark-haired Ravenclaw with few friends, turned his face toward the sound of the rain coming from his left. "Five?" he replied.
"No, there are four. I thought I saw you staring out them before we began. Ten points from Ravenclaw."
"Manning, do I hold my wand in my left hand or my right?"
"Er, your right!" cried Portia Manning , a Ravenclaw from a long line of esteemed wizarding families.
"Tsk, tsk. Too bad, Manning. You had a fifty-fifty chance. Fifteen points from Ravenclaw."
The groans mounted as Addy's rapid fire questioning continued, growing more and more difficult. The students had lost more points than they could count, and it was only their first class of the year.
"Crisp, what type of ring am I wearing?"
Aidan Crisp tried to picture their new professor, but had only a fuzzy impression of her. If she was wearing purple robes, he deduced, perhaps she was wearing a ring to match. "Amethyst?" he guessed.
"No. I'm not wearing any rings. Twenty points from Gryffindor."
Crisp buried his head in his hands.
The questioning ensued for the next thirty minutes, until the students were nearly exhausted and utterly demoralized.
Finally, Addy turned on Ginny Weasly and said, with bald disdain, "Weasly, name one…just one…of the items on my desk."
Ginny's brain had turned to stone. Even if she could have pictured the room in her mind's eye at the start of class, by this point all she could think about were how many points the class had lost for Gryffindor, and how on earth she was going to explain this to her brothers. Her only salvation was that Ron had a class with Professor Mayhem later in the day, and she hoped he would see for himself what a terror she was.
"I can't, Professor," answered Ginny, glumly.
"Not even one?" said Addy.
"No. I'm sorry Professor, I don't know."
Addy sighed. "Well, at least someone had the courage to speak the truth. The rest of you seem to believe that you can just guess your way out of a sticky situation. I will only deduct five points from Gryffindor for your answer, Miss Weasly."
"Oh, great," thought Ginny, sullenly. "I can boast to Fred and George that I only lost five points for our House."
The class finally heard their professor declare, "That's enough!" With a wave of her wand and another shout of "Visio Revertorem," the blindfolds disappeared, leaving the students blinking and squinting into the gray daylight of the room. Addy stood in front of her desk, her arms crossed in front of her.
They could hear the disgust in her voice as she shook her head and said, "Pathetic." She began to pace up and down the aisles, launching into a passionate lecture.
"For five minutes you sat here, with nothing to do but observe your surroundings, and yet not one of you could correctly identify a single element of this room. Not ONE!" she intoned. "Do you think you can learn to defend yourself against dark magic from a book alone? Rest assured, there will be plenty of time for texts and notes in the coming weeks. But before you can learn anything, you must understand the power of your most potent resources—your own senses. At times, you will find that they are all you have to rely on."
She harangued the students for several more minutes until it was almost time for the bell to ring, signifying the end of class. She finished with their homework assignment:
"For the next class, you will write an essay describing this classroom in the greatest detail possible. Hopefully, as you've been listening to me, you have also been exercising your powers of observation."
The students, who naturally had been doing nothing but gaping at her, suddenly began to look frantically around the room trying to memorize everything they could in the few seconds remaining. Addy continued:
"Obviously, this room will remain locked between classes. I expect your papers to include aspects of sight, sound, and smell. You should also describe your thoughts and feelings during this lesson—awareness of self is as important as an awareness of one's environment. Proper spelling and grammar are expected as baseline components of your work, but points will be awarded for thoroughness and detail. I expect no less than nine sheaths of parchment from each of you," she concluded, with a baneful smirk.
The bell knocked the senses back into the numb, wide-eyed class, and they wearily picked up their school bags and filed out the door. As they were leaving, Addy called, "Have a nice day."
'That went rather well,' she thought to herself.
Just then, she overheard a student say, "I think she's even worse than Snape!"
Addy's heart leapt with excitement and for a moment she eagerly looked forward to telling Snape what she'd heard. Then she remembered that she wasn't speaking to him. She sighed and turned to prepare the room for the next round of students.
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It was the exact same drill with the Fourth Year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, although Addy made sure to give easy questions to the children whom she knew belonged to Death Eater families. Even with her help, only one student—Salomon Pugh of all people—was able to answer correctly after Addy had struggled to come up with a question as simple as, "What type of weather are we having today?" The downpour could be plainly heard against the windowpanes, yet Addy breathed a sigh of relief and awarded 25 points to Slytherin when Pugh, at long length, answered "Rainy!" with a triumphant shout. Young Salomon looked as though he believed himself worthy of an Order of Merlin medallion.
Following her second class, Addy had about an hour and a half of free time before lunch. She headed up to Dumbledore's office to report on her visit with Voldemort.
When she arrived at the stone gargoyle that guarded Albus' office, she inquired politely if she might have a word with the Headmaster. She saw the eyes of the statue roll back in its head with a gravelly rumble. A few seconds later, it sprang aside and Addy rode nervously up the spiral staircase.
His office smelled of fresh cinnamon buns, and the teeming resonance of a cello piece by the Muggle composer Johann Bach softly filled the air. Dumbledore was standing at the door to greet Addy when she arrived. He placed a warm, welcoming hand on her shoulder, asking enthusiastically, "How were your morning classes?"
"Splendid, Headmaster. Thank you for asking."
"Addy, please do try to call me Albus."
"Sorry…Albus."
Then she remembered the treats she'd saved from breakfast for Fawkes, and pulled them out of her pocket, gesturing in the direction of his perch. "May I?"
"Be my guest," replied the old wizard, seating himself behind his desk. "Fawkes could use a treat today."
Addy turned to greet the Phoenix, but when she saw him, she looked sadly back at Dumbledore. The glorious color of Fawkes' feathers was noticeably faded, and he slumped on his perch, his tail feathers sagging. "Oh Fawkes, it looks like you'll be leaving us for a while soon."
A wizened gleam shone in the bird's eye as it turned its head sideways to her and trilled a soft salutation. Addy helped him mount her arm and sat down in one of the enormous leather chairs, stroking his now coarse feathers. Dumbledore noticed that she seemed to be on the verge of tears, and he watched attentively as she struggled to regain control of her emotions. For Addy, it was all getting to be just a bit too much—Snape turning on her, Lupin leaving for the Shrieking Shack, and now Fawkes...
"Is something wrong, Adelaide?" Albus asked, interlacing his fingers.
"No. It's nothing," she replied, recovering her composure. "Voldemort called me last night."
"Oh?" he said, unfazed.
Addy recounted every detail of her visit to The Compound, smiling up shyly at the Headmaster when she got to the part about saying he was just a weak old wizard. Dumbledore chuckled and waved away her embarrassment. She even told him how her father had awakened in her a nostalgic feeling of affection, and when she glanced uncertainly in his direction, the Headmaster nodded his understanding. She finished the tale with her return to the Hogwarts grounds. Addy was reluctant to share the falling out between Snape and herself. She knew that Dumbledore had enough on his mind, and didn't need to be troubled any further.
"Is that all?" asked the Headmaster.
Addy looked up defensively. "Yes, I've told you everything about my visit. Those are the exact words that were spoken, down to the letter. I would never tell Voldemort anything about you or Snape or our plans, and I don't take orders from him anymore!"
Addy saw the bushy eyebrows head skyward, and realized she had overreacted. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to get a grip on herself.
"I meant," he replied kindly, "is that all you wanted to discuss with me?"
"Oh," she said blushing. "Yes, that's all," she said. Then she remembered one other thing.
"Actually, Albus, I wanted to ask you if I may be excused from the Dining Hall tonight. Remus and Sirius are leaving for the Shrieking Shack after dinner, and I thought I might dine with them in the kitchens. They have been such a great help to me."
Dumbledore thought about Snape's behavior after breakfast earlier. He paused a moment, and then said, "Yes, Adelaide. I'm sure they would appreciate your company."
Addy smiled and thanked him. She remained seated, scratching the crest of Fawkes' head, wanting desperately to ask for Dumbledore's advice on what to do about Snape.
"Are you sure there isn't something else you came here to talk about, my dear?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"No, I guess not."
"How did your strategy session with Severus go? You and he were interrupted by Voldemort's summons last night, were you not?"
"Yes. But other than that, it went very, very, very well!" she said, a little too earnestly.
"I see," said Dumbledore, steepling his fingers and touching them to his lips.
Addy knew he could see right through her, but lunch was about to begin and she would have to face Snape again in a few minutes. If she started to talk about what had happened between them, she was sure she'd start weeping, and she didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction of seeing her still bleary-eyed.
"Well, I'd better get to lunch," Addy said with forced cheeriness. She set Fawkes back down on his perch gently, holding out the last of the bacon she'd brought for him.
"Thank you again, Albus," she said, heading for the door.
Dumbledore stood up. "Adelaide?"
"Yes?" she replied, turning nervously back to him.
"Never mind. I'll see you at lunch."
She nodded and walked out.
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Lunch followed the same pattern as breakfast, but Addy took solace in the knowledge that it was the last meal she'd have to share with Snape that day. They remained silent and distant throughout, and when Snape tried to make contact with her towards the end, she ran away from him a second time.
Snape returned to his dungeons, intent on figuring out how to win back her confidence. He still had not come up with an apology that he felt was adequate, and now he was beginning to think it would be a challenge just to get her to listen to him.
In the meantime, Addy faced the Fifth Years with the same exercise and lecture she'd given earlier in the day. She did not repeat herself out of laziness, but rather out of a firm belief that these students needed to develop an awareness of their own abilities, starting with their perceptions and interpretations of the world around them. In fact, her father had used the same exercise on her when she was younger, repeating it over and over until she had developed a nearly photographic memory that had served her well on many occasions. She hoped to teach them, as she had learned, that the real power of their magic came from the strength of their own resources, not from a wand or a book or a spell.
With the Fifth Year Gryffindors and Slytherins paired together, she had to tread particularly lightly around the classroom politics. While she did not possess the same innate animosity towards the Potter boy that Snape had, in light of Draco's presence, she still she had to make sure to give Harry a particularly difficult question and deduct an extraordinary number of points from Gryffindor when he got it wrong.
She asked Ron Weasly the same question as she had his sister, but he made the mistake of offering a guess at one of the items on her desk ("A book for keeping track of all the points you've deducted"). Addy knew he was just being sly, and in truth she appreciated the wit of his answer, but she deducted 20 more points from Gryffindor nonetheless, just to keep up appearances. The exercise even stumped Hermione Granger, who got the trick ring question and incorrectly guessed "Onyx."
When it came to Draco, Addy had prepared a question that would seem equally difficult to the rest of the class, but, because of their prior acquaintance with one another, she knew would be easy for him. He earned the only points in the class when Addy asked him about the color of her eyes, and he haughtily answered, "Moss green with golden flecks." The stupid git didn't even have the sense to pretend to have to think about it.
Neville Longbottom was, perhaps, the most difficult student for Addy to face. She really didn't want to call on him at all, but she had calculated a question that he might have half a chance of answering. One of the items she'd placed on her desk was a sleeping toad, and she hoped that it would have caught Longbottom's eye at the start of the class. It hadn't, and she was forced to deduct 10 more points from Gryffindor when he answered incorrectly.
She was very happy when that class was over and breezed through the Fifth Year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs with the same results. When they were gone, she prepared her classroom for the following day, then stepped into her office and checked her pocket watch, noting that Snape's last class of the day had just begun. She penned a brief note to him and rushed out, performing a sturdy locking charm on the door behind her.
Addy quickly climbed the many flights of stairs to the tower that housed the school's Owlery. There was no point in having an owl of her own, since she could not very well send or receive letters from "home", and had no other friends. So she borrowed one of the school's smaller Spotted Owls and attached her note to its leg, saying, "Please take this to Professor Severus Snape." The owl raised an eyebrow and looked down its beak at her, as if to say, "Wouldn't it have been easier to have delivered it yourself?" She replied out loud, saying, "I don't want to see him. Severus Snape…in the dungeons. Now go."
Leaning way over the parapet until her feet came just off the floor, she watched the great bird swoop out and arc in a wide downward spiral through the rain to the dungeons below. From her vantage point, she could see it tap with its beak on a high window of Snape's classroom. She saw a black-robed arm reach out, and the unmistakably graceful fingers detached the note. Then she withdrew, not wanting to be seen in the event that Snape thought to observe the bird's ascent back to the Owlery.
She offered the owl a reward for its services, adding a bit extra since she'd made him go out in the rain, and tried not to think about Snape's reaction to her message, or the wrath he would inflict on the poor students trapped in the dungeons with him. Then she sat down on the soft bed of molted feathers that perpetually blanketed the floor of the Owlery, content in the company of the gently hooting birds. She liked this room. It was quiet and airy, and no one there cared whether her last name was Mayhem or Jones, or where she had come from, or whether or not she had a Dark Mark.
After a while, she realized how dim the room had grown, and checked her pocket watch to see that it was almost time to surprise Remus and Sirius in the kitchens for dinner. She stood with another melancholy sigh, and went to her rooms to freshen up.
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In the meantime, Snape's frustration was mounting. He'd wracked his brain all night and day to come up with the perfect apology—one that was dignified, heartfelt, eloquent, sensitive, and profound enough to make up for the previous night. And he had come up empty.
As he grew more desperate to find the right words, his classroom manner grew more and more ferocious, and his students were welcomed back to the Potions lab with a hailstorm of derision. He thanked the Gods that he had no First Years that day, because surely one of them would have ended up in Poppy's infirmary, and he in Dumbledore's office. His older students were bad enough. They seemed, to him, to have lost a startling number of IQ points over the summer, and he did not hesitate to make this impression understood by all, digging deep into his repertoire of vivid, blazing invectives.
'If only I was as good with healing words as I am with hurting ones,' he thought ruefully to himself.
Then, in the middle of his Advanced Potions class with the Fifth Year Gryffindors and Slytherins, he heard a rapping on one of the classroom windows. His students tried to pretend that they were tending their cauldrons as they surreptitiously watched Snape retrieve the note from the delivery owl, read it quickly, then lean further out the window and glance upwards as the bird flew off. They saw him crush the note in one hand and put his fist to his lips for just a second, seemingly lost in thought, before pocketing the crumpled message. Then he slammed the window shut and turned on his class with a smoldering look. Anyone careless enough to have got caught staring was treated to the verbal expression of the fire in those eyes.
When the Fifth Year classes were finished, there was but one hour left until dinner, and Snape still did not know what to say to Addy.
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"Severus, this is a pleasant surprise!" cried Dumbledore in greeting. He noted the trouble creasing his Potions Master's brow, and gestured him into a chair, taking the one opposite for himself. Dobby poured their tea and snapped off.
"Albus, I need your advice…your help with something."
The Headmaster tried to conceal his astonishment, hard-pressed to think of the last time Snape had asked for his, or anyone's, help.
"Last night," Snape continued slowly, "I said something…something terrible that I…truly regret. And I don't know how to take it back."
"Ahhh, Severus, the taking back of words is a kind of magic that has yet to be discovered, unless it was something so drastic as to justify the use of a Time Turner. But I daresay that if anything like that had happened here last night, I would know about it."
The thought was tempting, but Severus knew that a Time Turner was not his solution. "No, it's nothing like that. During our strategy session yesterday evening, Addy was called to see Voldemort."
"Yes, I know," replied Dumbledore. When Severus looked up at him in amazement, he added, "She came to see me earlier today, to tell me about her visit."
"Did she tell you what happened upon her return?"
"No," said Albus, calmly sipping his tea, knowing that he was about to hear what Addy had wanted to tell him earlier but couldn't.
Snape took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "I was waiting for her when she re-apparated. I…I accused her of still being loyal to Voldemort." Snape closed his eyes, waiting for his Headmaster's reproach.
"Is that what you believe?" asked Dumbledore.
"No."
"Then, why did you say it?"
"I…I don't know. Something overcame me while she was gone. A kind of madness…"
"Madness?" asked Dumbledore.
"Fear. It was fear, Headmaster," Snape responded, growling out his shame and anger at himself, as he leaned his elbows on his knees, hung his head, and clenched his hands together in a tight knot.
Dumbledore leaned in as well, and said softly to his friend, "What are you afraid of, Severus?"
The younger man gazed at him with the face of true crisis. Albus could see Snape's focus shift inward, as he hunted for the answer in the dense forest of his soul. After some time, Severus shook his head slowly. With the look of a lost traveler, he said, "I don't know."
Albus reached over and placed a sympathetic hand on Severus' shoulder, then sat back in his chair. He let a few moments of silence pass, and then inquired, "Have you told her how you really feel? Have you asked her to forgive you?"
Snape shook his head again. "What can I say now, after all those hurtful things?"
"Well," Dumbledore replied with a kind smile, "I've always found that 'I'm sorry' is a good place to start. I know it's not easy for you Severus."
"It's not enough at this point. I couldn't blame her for hating me," Snape replied, rising and beginning to pace behind his chair.
"Ahhh, there you go again, Severus."
"What?" he asked,
"You're not giving Adelaide a chance. Not everyone will disappoint you, you know. You've already decided your judgment for her. Let Adelaide decide for herself."
Severus was silent for a minute. Then, pulling Addy's note from his pocket and uncrumpling it, he said, "She's canceled our session for tonight. Says she'll work on some notes on her own and bring them to tomorrow's session. I don't doubt her commitment…I know she'll be back tomorrow for the work…but I don't think I can get her to listen to me if I try to explain."
"Well," said the Headmaster, rising with a sigh, "she is a curious girl."
"Yes, extremely curious," Snape agreed heartily.
"No, I mean she has a strong streak of curiosity in her. Like you. That's what she used to get you to listen when you were trying to avoid her."
Snape stopped pacing and stared at the old wizard. How on earth did he know everything?
"Perhaps she is more curious than stubborn. Why not give it a try?" Dumbledore offered with a shrug.
Snape resumed his pacing for another moment, then turned to Dumbledore with a light in his eyes. "Thank you, Albus. I'll speak with her at dinner." He headed for the door.
"Ah, Severus…I'm sorry, but Addy won't be at dinner tonight."
Snape did not miss a step, but said, rather excitedly and without looking back, "No matter. I've got a plan," and waved over his shoulder as he walked out the door.
To be continued…