Draco's Attack
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MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM: DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR
This headline was singularly to blame for the uproar in the staff room.
"It's outrageous!" Professor McGonagall cried, slamming the newspaper down on a coffee table and causing several discarded quills to flutter onto the floor. "What right has she– what right has Fudge to do this?"
Professors Sprout, Trelawney, Flitwick and Snape were also in the staff room – Neasa had been told to keep watch by the door while they deliberated.
"She's waltzing into Hogwarts – into our school – as if she owns the place!" Professor Sprout exclaimed. "Filius got a notice she's inspecting his class today, didn't you?"
Professor Flitwick, who was sitting on a pile of cushions in an armchair, nodded indignantly.
"And me," Professor Trelawney shrilled, "I've never been more insulted – the art of Seeing is not one I expect her to understand!"
Silently, Professor Snape rose from his chair and took the newspaper over to the fire, throwing it into the flames with a scowl.
"We must all keep our heads on," he said as calmly as he could. Professor McGonagall took two deep breaths. "However much we dislike–"
"She's coming," Neasa interrupted, for she had just spotted Professor Umbridge making her way down the corridor.
"We can't even speak freely in our own staff room," Snape muttered darkly, collapsing into a tall armchair with a huff.
Umbridge did indeed inspect Charms and Divination, the latter of which left Professor Trelawney in tears.
"…and then she asked me about my great-great-grandmother, as if that has any relevance to my teaching," she recited to Neasa and Dumbledore that evening in her office, over a bottle of cooking sherry.
"I'm sure it's not as bad as all that," Neasa said, trying to sound comforting.
Professor Trelawney scoffed and said, "Then that foul woman asked me to make a prediction! – I cannot See on demand! The very question – it was humiliating – and in front of an entire class too!"
Dumbledore put his hand on Trelawney's arm.
"Is there nothing you can do, Dumbledore?" asked Neasa.
"I have no power over the High Inquisitor," he replied, gravely.
Although staffroom issues had cast a dark shadow over the first few weeks of term, Neasa had a beam of light: Professor Snape.
They still met regularly to swap crosswords and Sudokus, but really Neasa just enjoyed Snape's company; they could talk all afternoon and hardly have time to actually fill out any clues for all the talking they did. Sometimes they would even be asked to leave the staff room, in which case they would usually drift to Snape's office and claim armchairs by the fire and chat some more.
"The answer to two down is 'common rue'," Neasa had said on one such occasion.
Snape frowned at her, checking his paper. "I have 'ashwinder' – it's got nine letters."
"They're looking for a common Liquid Luck ingredient – common rue. Besides, you only add the eggs of ashwinders."
Snape gave a quiet 'Oh' of comprehension and scribbled the correct answer. A moment later he asked, "What are they playing with with seven down?"
"Seven down? That's the Durmstrang Institute."
"How did you–"
"Look at the clue – '1700's German storm and stress, now an institute'," Neasa began. "In the eighteenth century the Germans had a period of artistic awakening called the period of Sturm und Drang – which translates as storm and stress. That could easily be the origins of the name Durmstrang – and the bit about the institute is obvious – they're giving you the answer on a plate."
Snape scribbled the answer, and when he'd finished he quietly said, "I've never met anyone quite this good at crosswords."
"It's not a rare skill–"
"Perhaps not in the Muggle world," he said.
"You're better," Neasa said.
"Oh, I don't know – I might have met my match."
And he smiled at her over the top of his paper, one of those warm smiles that made her heart jump.
"Mudblood!"
The shout brought Neasa out of her reverie and she abruptly halted in the corridor – she'd been sent to Professor Flitwick with a message from Dumbledore, but now she was clearly going to have to take a detour.
The shout had come from around a corner ahead of Neasa, and she saw the light of a spell being cast against the wall – a fight had broken out in the corridor. She hurried her pace, but has she rounded the corner she heard a shout of "Impedimenta!" and she fell to the floor, scraping her temple on the rough stone.
To her left two students stood frozen – a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. Neasa slowly began to prop herself up, and one of the students stepped over and helped her to her feet.
"Thank you, em…" she said quietly to the Gryffindor.
"Jack Houston," he replied.
Neasa swayed slightly on her feet, but pressed her hand against the wall to steady herself. Her temple hurt badly, and her finger came back with blood. She dug out a tissue and pressed it to her forehead, stemming the flow.
She glanced at the other student and recognised Draco Malfoy.
"He did it," Jack said, pointing at Draco.
"It was an accident!" Draco said, clearly very shocked at his actions.
"What happened?" Neasa asked. "You know doing magic or drawing wands in the corridors is against the rules."
"Well–" Draco began, but Jack cut him off.
"I was running in the corridor – I know I shouldn't have – but I was, and Malfoy took points off me – and I said it wasn't fair, and then he took more points for talking back to a Prefect, and then because I'm Muggleborn."
"Then what happened?" Neasa asked, leaning away from the wall.
"I said that he had no right," Jack continued, "and then he called me… a Mudblood."
Neasa inhaled sharply, but kept her face neutral. Draco was staring bad-temperedly at the wall.
"Who used magic first?" Neasa asked.
Jack scuffed his feet. "I took out my wand first, but I didn't intend to use it – I just wanted Malfoy to leave me alone. He tried to hex me and I ducked out the way, then I tried to jinx him back and I missed, and he retaliated, then you arrived, and…"
"I see," Neasa said. The tissue pressed to her forehead was beginning to look like a red handkerchief. "Well… both of you shall accompany me to Professor Snape's office – he's the one to deal with this situation – follow me."
Draco gave a tiny smirk at the wall, but Jack protested: "Malfoy hit you – he's been bullying me and abusing his Prefect rights – Dumbledore is the one we should go to!"
Neasa didn't reply; she led the students in silence to Professor Snape's office.
She entered, leaving the boys outside. Snape was at his desk as usual – but he was asleep. His arms were folded over the many leaves of parchment on his desk, the side of his head resting on top. She closed the door and stepped over to his desk, putting her hands on the edge.
"Professor Snape," she said. He didn't stir, so she said it again, and he still didn't move.
She reached out and gently shook his left shoulder, saying again, "Professor Snape."
This time, at last, he twitched and opened his eyes, slowly lifting his head towards her. He frowned, rubbed his eyes hard and asked, "What time is it?"
"Three."
"Three? Merlin, I've been asleep… at least an hour and a half."
"You haven't missed any classes," Neasa assured him. "Professor, there's a situation you have to deal with."
Snape yawned behind his hand, then rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes fell on the cut on Neasa's temple and he said, "Let me get you a healing cream for that."
Before she could answer he stood up and walked over to his private stores of potions, retrieving a small vial.
"Please," Neasa said at last, because the cut hurt badly.
"May I?" Snape replied, stepping closer.
Neasa nodded, and Snape uncorked the vial. Neasa tilted her head up slightly and held back her hair from her temple while Snape applied the healing cream. It tingled, but didn't sting.
Snape had a surprisingly gentle touch for a man usually so cold – and, although his hands were cold, his eyes held a warm sympathy. With him so close Neasa noticed now that his eyes weren't black at all – they were a deep, deep chestnut brown. It was a shade she rather liked.
"Done," Snape said, bringing her back to earth. He took his hand away, and wiped his fingers clean on a tissue. "It'll take only five minutes."
"You should've been a Healer," Neasa joked. Snape gave her a surprised look, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.
"I don't have the temperament," he said. His gaze lingered on her, and Neasa met it with ease.
She realised looking at Snape now felt different than normal – she didn't feel like he was reading into her every movement. He was just looking at her – plain and simple. Honest. Perhaps it was his drowsiness. Her hair fell back down over the scar and Snape was quick to remove it out of the way, tucking it softly behind her ear. He caught himself and quickly retracted his hand.
"I'm sorry," he offered hastily, with a shy smile.
"That's alright," Neasa said, and really meant it. Snape could caress her hair and touch her cheeks all he wanted to – his touch felt magical, electrical. In her alone time she found herself recounting every time they had touched – shaken hands, Apparated together, brushed shoulders at the breakfast table. She savoured every moment they came in contact.
Snape's gaze moved from the cut on her head to the loose plait on her shoulder, and then for a second it seemed to rest on her lips before he quickly moved it to her eyes again. Neasa suddenly felt a nearly irresistible urge to kiss him. Perhaps it was the thick smell of potions in the air going to her head, or the way his lips had just parted, making it even more inviting to close the distance between them – but she wanted to, so, so much.
When her mind wandered to contemplate what kissing him would actually feel like, she felt the colour rising in her cheeks – her throat tightened in on itself – she looked down, and after a moment Snape cleared his throat and turned away, returning to sit at his desk. Neasa remained standing, letting out a deep breath as her body relaxed. She prayed to every deity in existence that Snape had not just used Legilimency on her and seen her desires.
"You said there was a situation I had to deal with?" Snape asked.
Of course. Neasa's visit had not been for the purpose of gawking at the Professor.
She explained what had happened in the corridor, right up to rounding the corner and being hit by Draco's Impedimenta.
"Draco did this?" Snape asked when she'd finished, motioning to Neasa's head. "That's never happened before – I'm appalled."
"It was accidental."
"Even so, magic is banned in the corridors for a reason," he replied. "Draco knows that – he's a Prefect… I shall have to revisit that decision."
"Don't do that– what would his father say?" Neasa blurted, immediately realising she had said too much. Snape realised this too, for he frowned suspiciously at her.
"What Lucius has to say about Draco losing his Prefect rights is none of your concern. In any case… Albus will have a say too, as Headmaster."
"I should bring this to Dumbledore?" Neasa asked.
"Precisely: Draco has not only been using magic against another student in the corridors – and shall be disciplined accordingly – but has injured a member of staff. The latter count is for Albus to deal with, not me. I'm sure you're familiar with Section Seven of the staff rulebook."
Snape stood up. "Is there a problem, Miss Casey?"
Neasa just shook her head. Snape watched her for a moment longer, and then said, "Very well. If you would bring Draco and Mr Houston to Albus's office, I shall fetch Minerva and join you there."
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