3. The New Potions Mistress
"This is bullshit!" Callie exclaimed, speaking to Medusa as if the creature could actually comprehend the words she was saying.
Five nights in a row she'd been left on her own, while Snape remained at the castle to join the rest of the staff for dinner. "What am I supposed to do?" he'd asked her the previous evening. "When I don't show up, McGonagall assumes I'm hiding out in my quarters being pissy and withdrawn."
Considering that, Callie had replied, "Yeah, that would be my guess, too, if I were her." After four months together, their relationship was still a secret to everyone except her mum. The decision to keep it under wraps was pretty much all Snape's, and for the most part, Callie had no problem with it. He didn't like people being privy to even the most trivial details of his personal life, much less who he was currently shagging.
On top of that, Callie found there was a certain thrill in sneaking around - almost as if they were doing something... naughty.
But the downside was that he couldn't explain why there'd been so many evenings in which he hadn't dined in the Great Hall, so he'd been making it a point over the last several weeks to do so as often as possible. He was good enough to leave a meal prepared for Callie on nights when he wouldn't be home, assuring her that all she had to do was warm it up in the oven.
However, it would've been nice to be able to come home and share a meal with the man she loved, rather than dining with only a snake for company.
Presently, Callie ran a hand along her pet and said, "You know I love you. But you're not the best conversationalist. And I'm starting to feel a little bit abandoned." After a few more minutes of stewing in her own misery, she finally muttered, "Oh, fuck this," and made her way over to the fireplace, coming out through the one in Snape's quarters at the castle.
From there, she went up to the Great Hall, where several of her colleagues greeted her cheerfully. "I don't supposed you've come to get your job back, eh?" Freddie Cross said. "Not the same without you around."
"Sorry, doll. No such luck." Though he'd presumably been kidding around, he did seem genuinely disappointed by her response. "I was feeling a little left out, actually, and I'm not much of a cook." Directing her attention to McGonagall, "I don't suppose it'd be all right if I joined you all?"
"Oh, please do!" the headmistress replied happily. "Seeing as you're only a stone's throw away, forgive me for not offering before. But you're welcome any time."
"Thank you, ma'am." She made her way on down the table towards her normal spot beside Snape - who didn't seem all too happy to see her.
"Warbeck," he greeted in a flat tone. "What a lovely surprise."
Taken aback by the displeasure in his voice and expression, she suddenly felt as though she were unwanted - by the very person who should've been the most delighted by her presence. Attempting to sound casual, rather than wounded, she said sarcastically, "Well, don't go jumping for joy, Professor Snape."
It was then that she glanced over at the woman to his left, who was occupying the seat that had used to be Callie's. Ah, she thought, my replacement. She hadn't yet met the new potions mistress, but hers was the only unfamiliar face at the head table.
"Professor Harlow," Snape said. "Your predecessor, Calista Warbeck."
Hogwarts's newest hire - a rather good-looking lass of about forty, with curly auburn hair and hazel eyes - looked up at Callie for the first time and did a double take. With a somewhat amused smile curling her lip, she exclaimed, "This is Calista Warbeck?" Chuckling slightly, "Merlin, practically a baby, you are!"
In response to such a patronizing comment, Callie's face fell even more than it already had, and she wasn't the only one who'd been put off. Glancing at Snape, she noted how tense he had become at the reminder of the twenty-year age difference between them, which was another reason why he wasn't quite so keen on people knowing about their relationship. If they did, then he was certain they would view him as a cradle-robbing pervert.
After a horrifically awkward silence, Harlow seemed to realize that the younger woman hadn't been so thrilled with her remark, and added, "Forgive me - I meant no offense. It's just that I'd assumed someone as accomplished as you would've been a bit more along in years."
Cocking a brow, Callie replied, "Around your age, perhaps?"
Such a dig wasn't lost on the potions mistress, whose jaw tightened as she said in a stiff tone, "Right."
Another silence passed before Professor Sprout spoke up. "Oi, make room, everyone! Scooch down." Everybody gladly did as told - except for Harlow. The woman remained at Snape's side as if she were glued to her seat.
A territorial feeling came over Callie as she thought, Move, bitch! But of course, she didn't. Biting her tongue, Callie gave in and took the seat between Harlow and Sprout, regretting her decision to come down to the castle.
So much for sharing a meal with the man I love. The two of them barely said two words to each other all throughout dinner, mainly because Harlow was monopolizing all of his attention. The subject of the vaccine came up, and being a potioneer herself, the woman showed a genuine fascination and had many questions to ask. But apparently she had no interest in anything Callie had to say about her and Snape's creation, as she kept her eyes exclusively set on her colleague.
All the while, she was laying it on a bit thick with her praise for the man's ingenuity and brilliance. If he hadn't made it a point to inform her that the vaccine was Callie's idea, and that it was she who had come up with the successful recipe, then the younger woman just might've hexed him.
Harlow also seemed to have an appreciation for his particular brand of scornful humor, cackling like a hyena any time he said anything remotely amusing. And Merlin's mother-loving beard, she had actually set her hand on his arm at one point, causing Callie's eyes to widen. He doesn't like to be touched, she thought. In spite of that, he didn't seem to mind when Harlow did it. Or at least, he hadn't rebuked her for doing so, like the younger woman would've expected.
When they returned to the cottage, Snape was still unsettled at his girlfriend's unexpected appearance at the castle. "You could've given me a warning," he said.
"It was a spur of the moment decision," Callie replied, irritation coloring her tone. "And why was it so terrible for me to come by?"
"Because I don't want anyone to get suspicious."
At that, she rolled her eyes. "For God's sake, it's not as if I was sitting in your lap." She'd once reminded him that everybody knew they were friends and research partners, and thus it wouldn't have been unreasonable for them to still be seen together. But he was so damn paranoid that he thought it safe to limit their interactions in public. "Is that really all it is?" With a rather accusatory note in her voice, "Or did you just not want me interrupting something?"
Furrowing his brow, he asked, "What are you on about?"
Callie hesitated a moment, before she remarked, "You seem to have gotten rather friendly with that Harlot woman."
"Her name is Harlow."
Turning to give him a pointed look, she replied, "Yes. I know."
The two of them held each other's gaze as he considered her - perhaps he was reading her - and after a silence, he asked, "What exactly are you insinuating, Calista?"
The more reasonable side of her was saying, Yes - what are you suggesting? Did she actually believe that something might be going on between him and the new potions mistress? As a matter of fact, the idea was laughable. It had taken twenty years and a hell of a lot of convincing to get him into bed with one woman, let alone two at once.
Coming back down to earth, she said in a much softer tone, "Nothing, I guess." After a pause, "I'm just amazed that you were so... accepting of that kind of behavior."
"What behavior?"
"Oh, come on, you aren't nearly that daft!" The woman practically shouted, "She was flirting with you!"
He surveyed her as though she were speaking in tongues. After a moment of silence, "Are you mad? Women don't flirt with me."
"Well they might if you would come up out of your coffin every once in a while." The man hardly ever went out in public. The only chance to get attention from the opposite sex was if they were brought directly to him. "Trust me, I know flirting, I invented it. Every move she made was straight out of a 'Let Him Know You're Interested' article in Witch Weekly."
His only response to that was to raise a brow and ask, "You actually read that trash?"
Glowering at him, she demanded, "Stick to the subject here, Sev."
But he declared, "The subject is ridiculous! I don't know where you're getting the idea that the woman was-" He cut himself off, then shook his head in exasperation. "As I said, women don't flirt with me."
Callie bit her lip in thought, before she said, "What about me? I used to flirt with you all the time." How much fun she had had all those years, attempting to get a rise out of him.
He couldn't argue that, but replied, "You're an anomaly."
Admittedly, her taste in men wasn't always quite in line with that of other girls, but she mused, "Well... maybe I'm not the only one who's got a thing for the peculiar type."
The both of them fell quiet, and Snape stood with a pensive expression on his face. After a moment, his lip curled into an amused smirk, and he breathed, "Hmph."
She got the distinct feeling that he was laughing at her. "What?"
"If I didn't know any better," he said, "I'd think you were jealous."
Once again, she rolled her eyes and thought, If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were enjoying this. "I'm not 'jealous,'" she affirmed. "I just don't care to see another woman being so... comfortable with you."
Confused by her choice of term, he echoed, "Comfortable?"
For some reason unbeknownst to Callie, Harlow had felt entitled to put her hand on his arm. Which would've been a perfectly innocuous gesture for anyone else, but not for a man who made no secret of his general contempt for others. "You actually let her touch you. You hate to be touched." By everyone except for herself, at least.
"Yes, I do," he confirmed. "I didn't like it when she did that."
"So then why didn't you tell her to stop?"
"It only lasted a moment. I wasn't going to bite her head off."
Well that certainly wasn't like him. "You would if it were anyone else."
"Nobody else has ever put a hand on me without warning. I suppose I was caught off guard."
Callie got quiet as she pondered that, and was reminded of the fact that it wasn't only an aversion to being touched, but that he was so wildly unaccustomed to it. And then it struck her that there were a lot of things he wasn't particularly experienced with - such as amorous females attempting to catch his eye. On top of that, he valued himself so lowly in regards to both appearance and personality, that he just might've found it out of the realm of possibility that Harlow would have any interest in him.
Such an idea was both heartbreaking and endearing to her. After a long silence, she went over to him and asked, "You really didn't realize she was flirting with you?"
"I don't believe that was her intention," he replied.
Once more, Callie rolled her eyes.
"And even if it had been," he went on, "you, yourself, used to flirt with every Tom, Dick, and Harry you crossed paths with. Said it was in your nature, didn't mean anything. Perhaps it's in Harlow's as well."
He did have a good point. However, it only raised another question. "Right. But you secretly liked it when I'd flirt with you. You're telling me it doesn't make you feel a little giddy when she does it?"
With a sigh, he said, "Again, I think you're reading too much into the woman's behavior. In any event, Gwen Harlow inspires not an ounce of... giddiness within me."
Bloody hell - the man was either full of it or had some sort of sexual tunnel vision. Callie had gotten a good look at the woman; she was nearly six feet tall and curvy, with a luscious head of hair and a face that could've made for a lovely oil painting.
Folding her arms across her chest, she replied, "Really? 'Cause she is a rather choice piece of arse."
Snape was quiet for a moment as he gazed at her, and then a devilish smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. Setting a hand on her bum and giving it a squeeze, he declared, "You're the only piece of arse I care about."
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"I miss Professor Warbeck," some student or another declared in a despondent tone. "She was cool."
Another replied, "She was fun."
Still another, "She was hot."
After a beat of silence, "Professor Harlow's not bad-looking."
"Sure, but she's old enough to be somebody's mother."
"How old was Warbeck, anyway? Think she'd have gone out with a seventh-year?"
"No."
"Not you, anyway."
This was the most asinine conversation Severus had ever overheard. And he was half-tempted to step out from around the corner and inform the hopeless seventh-year - whose voice he recognized as Ryder Findley's, the cocky Gryffindor Quidditch captain - that he sure as hell wasn't man enough for his former teacher. Instead he waited for the group to wander off, then made his way down to the dungeons.
"Not bad-looking," he thought. If Warbeck hadn't have said anything, then he wouldn't have noticed. Even so, the younger woman was a bit of a fool if she really believed the other to be any kind of threat. After all, Vector and Sinistra were conventionally attractive women, too. So was Chamberlain - much as he hated to admit it, as he'd detested that hag since the time they were students. However, that didn't mean he had any desire to see them in the buff, and Harlow didn't have any particular effect on him either.
For what reason would he want to look at any other woman when he had the Venus that was Callie Warbeck lying in his arms every night?
In spite of the fact that he insisted on keeping their relationship to themselves, he couldn't deny there was a part of him - perhaps a ghost of the teenage boy who had never once attracted the attention of his female classmates - that would've liked to shout it from the rooftops. That the ugly git with the abnormally large nose and greasy hair had somehow ended up with a woman like that.
On the other hand, he was frequently plagued by the idea that it was only a matter of time before she'd come to the realization that she could do better. Rather akin to a lass who tried "slumming it" before settling with someone more within her league.
Such a thought was on his mind as he walked into his office, but then his heart nearly stopped when he looked up and found an unexpected visitor lounging behind his desk. With a loud gasp, he exclaimed, "Jesus bloody Christ, you scared the hell out of me!"
"Sorry," Warbeck replied, not looking particularly apologetic. "Suppose I could've given you a warning."
Holding a hand to his chest and attempting to catch his breath, he asked, "What are you doing here, why aren't you in London?" He would've assumed there was some sort of an emergency, but she appeared to be perfectly at ease.
With a shrug, she explained, "I'm on lunch break. Got the idea in my head that perhaps we could spend it together." She stood up and came out from behind the desk, and Severus furrowed his brow at the clothes she had on.
"You're wearing a skirt," he commented. "You never wear skirts." And she'd had trousers on earlier that morning.
A coquettish grin curled her lip as she hopped up on the desk. "Thought it might make things a bit more efficient. After all, we don't have a lot of time." With that, she shot him a wink, then wiggled her finger in a "come hither" motion.
The man surveyed her for a moment, taking in her words and behavior and that cheeky expression on her face. "Am I to assume..." he asked in a slow, uncertain voice, "that you've come here for... an afternoon delight?"
Cocking a brow, she asked, "Do you object?"
Severus simply gaped at her a moment as he wondered whether or not she was playing around with him. But in the past four months, he had come to find out that she was much more adventurous than he was when it came to sex. The first time he'd gotten a taste of that was when she'd coaxed him into a late night tryst in the lake. An admittedly harmless request, he'd conceded, but she'd taken it up a notch a few weeks later while they'd been dining out in muggle town (where there was little risk of being spotted by anyone who knew them). The woman had kicked off her heel under the table and started massaging his groin with her foot - at the same time that their server had been standing at the side taking their order.
Presently, Severus hesitated a moment, then sauntered over to the woman, who spread her legs a bit so he could stand between them. Speaking with that sonorous growl that excited her so, he whispered, "Are you that desperate for me that you couldn't wait until tonight?" In a distinctly less seductive tone, "Or was there something particularly stimulating about today's Venomous Arthropods lecture?"
Smiling to herself, Warbeck began unfastening the buttons of his jacket and replied, "Fooling around between lessons... Sort of thrilling, don't you think?" With a sultry look in her eye, "Imagine going on about your day with the secret of having just shagged the dirty ex-potions mistress."
"Hmph," he smirked, running a hand along her thigh and praising Merlin for the less restrictive piece of clothing she'd changed into. "I do appreciate this look on you." Come to think of it, Venus had nothing on her. Between the exquisite body and the breathtaking face, she was exactly the sort of lass that fueled every heterosexual male's greatest fantasies.
Forty five minutes and two rounds atop the desk later, he once again found himself asking what he could possibly want with Gwen Harlow or any other woman. And why every man who knew Warbeck wasn't throwing themselves at her on a daily basis.
She's exceptional, he thought. Somebody with a physical appearance such as hers should've proven themselves to be a narcissistic bitch, or else lacking in intelligence, or lousy in bed, or to possess some sort of flaw that might've dulled the attraction. And yet, the Defense teacher had nothing of any real substance for which to complain about the woman he loved - barring the fact that she was entirely too good for him.
Nothing so extraordinary lasts forever. Unbeknownst to his significant other, he was bracing himself for the day that she'd grow tired of slumming it.
For the time being, however, he attempted to brush the distressing prospect from his mind, as he did indeed go on about his day reveling in the knowledge that he'd just shagged the dirty ex-potions mistress. There was something wildly satisfying in wandering amongst the seventh-year boys in his Advanced Defense class - who would've loved to get their hands on the woman - and knowing all the while that he had her knickers stowed away in his pocket.
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Following his last lesson of the day, Severus stopped into the dungeon that he and Warbeck had set up as their laboratory, to give the mice their daily feed. Harlow had asked if she could come along and have a look at the infamous vaccine, a fresh cauldron of which was currently brewing. "How long did you say it's been since you were potions master?" she asked.
"Five years."
The woman considered that, and remarked, "Callie Warbeck can't be more than twenty years old. There must have been someone between the two of you?"
Severus had stiffened at the mention of her predecessor's age. If he'd ever have had any interest in pursuing a romantic involvement - up until now, that was - then his first instinct wouldn't have been to go after somebody who was young enough to be his daughter. Such was the aim of only the most pathetic and simple-minded of men, who desired nothing more than a sex object or a trophy lass as opposed to an actual partner.
To Harlow's query, he replied, "Horace Slughorn. He came out of retirement at Albus Dumbledore's request in '96. Retired again after the war; that's when Warbeck took over." He was compelled to inform the woman, speaking in a flat tone, "She's twenty-one."
"Christ, she is a baby," she exclaimed with a sigh. "Some sort of child prodigy?"
Clenching his jaw, Severus thought that if she kept on referring to the girl (no, the woman) with such unsettling terms as "baby" and "child," then he was going to burst a vein.
Harlow went on, "Coming up with that Cruciatus Shield could only take a genius."
"Genius had nothing to do with it," Severus countered. "You can attribute that to a superhuman tolerance for pain."
His colleague pondered that, and said, "You've described her as your research partner, but I imagine it's been more of a mentor-mentee arrangement. Was that some noble attempt to humor the girl the other night, allowing her to take credit for the vaccine's success?"
"No. As I said, it was her recipe that did it." He would actually take it a step further and say that he'd had next to no real role in what they had achieved. "Whole endeavor was Warbeck's brainchild. I was little more than a consultant."
Smirking to herself, Harlow said, "Don't be so modest, Professor Snape. You're a Slytherin, it's not in your nature." The two of them fell silent for a moment, before she asked, "May I speak frankly with you?"
"I wouldn't prefer you to speak any other way, Professor Harlow."
In a contemplative tone of voice, she began, "You and I have now been colleagues for the better part of two months, and yet I'm finding it a bit of a challenge to get to know you very well."
Well of course she was. After two decades the rest of the staff still didn't know all that much. "I'm not the most forthcoming in regards to my personal life."
"I gather. And I'm not quite sure what types of questions to ask." After a pause, "A good deal of your history has been put on display for the world to read."
Once again, Severus tensed. While he wasn't so keen on revealing things about himself, in the aftermath of the war, the press certainly had been. And more often than not, what they'd reported was complete bullshit.
Thankfully, it appeared that Harlow wasn't so quick to believe everything she read, as she remarked, "However, one certainly can't take anything Rita Skeeter's written as gospel."
The Defense teacher guessed that she didn't know what to assume about him. Between Skeeter's book and all the Prophet articles, she might've heard that he had fathered Harry Potter, tortured students during his brief stint as headmaster, killed his parents, and raised Voldemort from the dead. Whatever she has in mind, he thought, now's the chance to set her straight. Setting aside his reluctance to share things, he asked in a businesslike tone, "What is it you would like to know?"
She gave it a moment of thought and replied, "Well... I take it you're not such a scoundrel as she made you out to be. Surely Professor McGonagall wouldn't have kept you on staff if half the claims that Skeeter made were true."
That he was a cold-blooded murderer, perhaps? With a tightened jaw, he asked, "You're wondering how many people I've killed, is that it?"
Harlow hesitated, and then, "No, actually I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me."
It took a good three or four seconds for Severus to make sense of such an out-of-the-blue statement, but then he froze, the implication of her words sinking in.
Bloody hell, she didn't just...? She couldn't have meant...? But he couldn't seem to form any coherent thought as he turned to meet the woman's eye. With the very slightest of smiles pulling at the corner of her mouth, she said, "I don't know much, but I've been told you're not involved with anyone."
All he could do was gape at the potions mistress, while the image of Warbeck smirking in self-satisfaction and claiming "I told you so" flashed in his mind.
When he didn't say anything for several seconds, Harlow cocked a brow and said, "Unless my sources were mistaken?"
"No," he replied quickly. "No, I..." Trailing off, he was vaguely aware of a sudden tightness in his throat. Whether it was that, or the shock of being asked out on a date for the first time in his life, that had rendered him unable to speak, he didn't know.
As the silence between them stretched on, Harlow began to look a bit self-conscious. "I hope that wasn't terribly presumptuous of me," she said. "But I do find you rather intriguing, Professor." After a beat, "Accomplished, intelligent... and I imagine an evening with you would prove interesting. Plenty of stories you must have to tell."
Once again, he had to struggle to come up with some sort of a response. If only he could've told her that he was involved with someone - not necessarily Warbeck, but anyone - then that might have made this much less painful. However, if she happened to mention that to any of their colleagues, it would only raise questions.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally stammered, "I... I'm... flattered, Professor Harlow, but..." God damn it, he was a former secret agent. He should've been able to come up with some kind of an excuse.
The woman studied him a moment, disappointment coloring her features, but then gave him a nod of understanding and said, "No need for explanation. I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable or overstepped my boundaries."
Still in a state of bewilderment, he replied in a low voice, "You don't have to apologize."
There were another few seconds of awkward silence before she released a breath, attempting and failing to sound casual as she said, "Right, then. Suppose I ought to... let you alone." Severus merely forced out a grunting sound in acknowledgement. On her way out the door, she turned back to bid him good day, and the man breathed a sigh of relief when she was finally gone.
For Christ's sake - that did not just happen. Any other concerns that may have been on his mind as of late were shoved to the backburner, as he shut himself up in his quarters and sat with the incomprehensible knowledge that Harlow really was... intrigued by him.
"Women don't flirt with me," he'd told Warbeck three nights prior. Never had he been deluded enough to believe that he held any allure for the opposite sex, and for forty-one years, the lack of attention he'd received from females had reinforced that. And yet he now had one such being pouncing on him in the middle of the day, and another asking him for a date. Up until now, nobody had paid him any mind - why were beautiful women suddenly trying to land him?
He was still at a loss when somebody showed up outside his door a couple of hours later. In a tired voice, he called out, "Enter," praying to whoever that it wasn't Harlow.
But he wasn't quite so thrilled with the headmistress's presence either. "Good evening, Severus," she greeted in a tone that suggested she hadn't come for small talk.
"Minerva." Kindly piss off, will you? I'm not in the mood.
Approaching him with a solemn expression, she began, "I noticed, once again, that you were absent at dinner. Three evenings in a row, it's been." Regarding the previous two, he had been making up for his week-long absence from Warbeck's side. On this particular night, she wasn't due home for a while, but of course, the man had had no desire to face Harlow. McGonagall went on, "I'm starting to wonder if you haven't lost your appetite for the house-elves' cooking."
With a scoff, he replied, "No, you're wondering what's crawled up my arse this time to put me into hiding." They had had this discussion before, and her assumption, as he'd explained to Warbeck, was that a foul mood was to blame for his frequent nonattendances at dinner.
"All right, then," McGonagall said, "I won't bother with pretenses." After a beat, "Whatever the issue, it's been going on a bit too long for my liking. And I think it's about time you stop behaving like a petulant child." Shaking her head in frustration, she continued, "You take your meals in private half the time, and the other half you barely say two words to anyone. You've got students banging on your door at night and you won't answer." She was referring to an instance in which a student had come running to his quarters late one night because a fight had broken out in the Slytherin common room. The reason why Severus hadn't answered his door was because he had been across the lake in Warbeck's bed at the time.
The headmistress went on with her little spiel. "You've been especially ill-tempered since the start of term - which, for you, is to say you've been a downright monster. And you're never to be found when anybody goes looking for you. I was this close to having Hagrid let me in the other night, simply to be sure you weren't lying in here dead!"
He nearly snapped his neck turning to face the woman. "Don't ever come in here without my permission." Such an idea was about as distressing to him as that of a stranger breaking into his home. "Trust me, if I'm dead, you'll hear about it."
She stood looking down at him a moment, her expression conveying a mix of deep thought and irritation. "I'm not going to pretend that I don't know what this is all about."
At that, his muscles tensed, though he attempted to remain impassive. Could she have possibly known about he and Warbeck? In a tone of boredom, he replied, "And what, might I ask, is your reigning theory?"
The woman hesitated, then declared, "I don't believe it a coincidence that all of this began around the time that Callie Warbeck left the castle."
Oh, shit. She knows.
Or so he assumed until she added, with a note of sympathy in her voice, "You miss her, Severus."
It was a struggle not to let his relief at that betray him. "What are you on about? It's not as though she's moved to Timbuktu, she's right across the lake."
"Yes, but essentially the two of you were living together for three years," she countered. "You saw each other every day. And perhaps you're not all too keen on the fact that she now has a life outside of you."
Giving her a quizzical, somewhat affronted look, he asked, "What is that supposed to mean?"
She didn't respond right away, but studied him with pursed lips. "You and I spoke of your relationship with Callie Warbeck several months ago."
Recalling the conversation, during which she'd insisted that his feelings for her weren't completely platonic, he rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, I remember."
Hesitantly, McGonagall went on, "You all but confessed that she wasn't just a colleague or companion, but a woman by whom you'd become rather captivated." She paused, waiting for him to respond, but he kept quiet. "You fell in love with her, Severus. And how convenient it had been when she was living and working here. Not even so far away as Hogsmeade, but quite literally at your side every moment of the day. It's not the same between you anymore. I think you're afraid of losing her."
Well, bloody hell, she'd certainly given this a good amount of thought. And although she was completely off the mark in every other way, not having the most pertinent of information, there was one point in which she'd been correct - he was afraid of losing her, but for reasons other than those the headmistress had assumed.
When he still didn't respond, McGonagall said - a hint of attitude in her voice - "Perhaps if you would tell her how you feel, that might not be so great a worry."
Again he rolled his eyes. So that's what she had come here for - to try and push him into something he'd done months ago. And did she not have more important things with which to concern herself than his love life?
The woman can be just as stubborn as the rest of us. How long will she keep after me about this? There'd been no sense denying how he felt about Warbeck; not to McGonagall, at least. While he hadn't outright admitted it all those months prior, he'd done nothing to refute the idea.
Presently, he thought, Oh, hell, why bother? With an expression of resignation, he looked away from the headmistress and sighed. "I did tell her. Back in June, the night before she left the castle." Then, in a defeated sort of tone, "We've been seeing each other ever since."
There was a long stretch of silence before he turned back to McGonagall, who appeared to be positively stunned. "Merlin's beard," she exclaimed, "why didn't you tell me?!"
"What business is it of yours?" he shot back. "Didn't you say you prefer to keep out of matters that don't concern you?"
Considering that, she replied, "Your well-being concerns me, Severus. And all this time I've thought that you'd been wandering about in misery. For entirely different reasons than you normally do, at least."
"Don't you dare breathe a word of this to anyone, Minerva," he warned. "Or I swear to Merlin, I'll..." But he trailed off, unable to threaten her with the same sense of ease that he could anyone else.
In any event, she insisted, "You don't have to threaten me, for God's sake, I can keep things to myself." After a moment's pause, she asked, "But why exactly does it have to be a secret?"
Rather defensively, he explained, "Because I don't want everybody gossiping about my private business. Is that so difficult to understand? Is it unreasonable to want to keep the most intimate aspect of my life between myself and my..." Again he trailed off, scrunching up his face in aversion. "Christ, I hate the term 'girlfriend.' It makes it sound as though I'm a bloody adolescent."
Both he and McGonagall fell quiet for a while, and the latter appeared to be deep in thought as she paced the room. "Severus Snape and Callie Warbeck," she mused, taking a seat and smiling softly to herself. "Hmph. Would you believe that Albus once told me he thought you and she would make an excellent pairing?"
His first instinct was to scoff and claim the man had been an old fool, but then he furrowed his brow and asked, "Albus said that? Bloody hell, the girl wasn't even of age by the time he died!" Had that blasted curse muddled his mind to the point that he truly felt a sixteen-year-old was the perfect match for a man of thirty-seven?
"Yes, well, I thought it a rather unsavory idea myself," McGonagall conceded. "But he did have a couple of good points. For instance, that no one could put up with you as well as she could." With a look of amusement, "Is she still inclined to put you in your place when you're being difficult?"
To that, he merely shot her a derisive look.
"As I said," she continued, "your well-being concerns me. So tell me, Severus - do I have any need to be concerned?"
No, she didn't. For the first time since his falling out with Lily twenty-five years prior, he was happy. Such was a feeling he'd resigned himself to never experiencing again, but every morning that he woke up with the woman he loved lying beside him, he would thank Merlin that he hadn't succeeded in his suicide attempt as a boy, and that he hadn't bled to death during the Battle of Hogwarts, and that Warbeck had survived being splinched in half the previous year.
And yet, he was never completely at ease. When you had nothing to be grateful for in life, then you had nothing to lose. A fact that had him feeling as though he were walking a tightrope across the Atlantic.
Rising up and going over to gaze out the window, he stood with his back to the headmistress and said, "Calista Warbeck is... the best thing that's ever happened to me. Good things don't happen to me; I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"What do you mean?"
He was quiet for a moment, before he explained, "I mean that I go back and forth on whether getting involved with the woman was the smartest thing I've ever done or the stupidest. The feeling that I've set myself up for disappointment has been difficult to shake."
McGonagall took that in and asked, "How do you believe that Warbeck might disappoint you?"
Again, he didn't answer right away. Stating his fears out loud would only increase their potency - and make him appear all the more pitiful. But eventually he bowed his head and said, very quietly, "By leaving me. Sooner or later." He had said it himself months ago, in an attempt to dissuade her from pursuing him: "I'm twice your age, I'm nothing to look at, and my personality is shit. You don't want me." How long before she'd come to that conclusion herself?
"I don't know what she sees in me," he went on. "Perhaps it's some illusion that's going to go up in smoke once the initial excitement wears off." Or else the thrill of snagging someone who had once been unattainable to her, and now that she had caught him, she could throw him right back.
He continued gazing out into the lake, and after a while, McGonagall rose to her feet and came up behind him. "Severus..." she spoke in a gentle tone, "for years I've seen the way that woman looks at you. The devastation she displayed when you'd appeared to turn against the Order. The fear in her eyes when you were in the hospital wing after the battle. Calling out for you when she was splinched."
Severus recalled Warbeck asking him to stay with her - him, not her mother or Longbottom or Greengrass or anybody else - the night she'd woken up out of her coma. As well as her claim that she'd been trying to get as close to him as she could when she'd disapparated from Theodore Nott's flat. "I always go to you when I need someone," she'd said.
Presently, McGonagall continued, "Whenever the two of you are at odds, her whole demeanor changes. She seems to lose a bit of herself until you've reconciled. But when you're together, there's... an air of contentment about her."
He was struck by her particular choice of term, and thought back to the night on which he'd first told Warbeck that he loved her. "You're all I need to be content," he had claimed. But was that also true for her?
The headmistress set a hand on his shoulder, and there was a look of certainty in her eyes as she declared, "Calista Warbeck is in love with you. And it's not an illusion."
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Shortly following that little talk, he flooed from his quarters to Warbeck's cottage. And for the second time that day, he was surprised to find her waiting for him, lounging on the sofa with a book in hand. "Thought you were supposed to be out socializing," he said. She'd made plans with a few of her classmates to meet up for a night of non-academic amusement.
Tossing the book aside and sitting up, she explained, "Huge drama halfway through the evening. Connor Nyx, the little doe-eyed one I told you about - he isn't one to hold his liquor, apparently. So he blurts out to Manda that she's the most beautiful lass he's ever seen and tries to snog her." Failing to suppress a smirk, "She slapped him. Then she felt bad about slapping him and then she started crying. Think she was a little sloshed, too."
Severus took a seat at the piano bench. Cocking a brow, he replied, "And these are the people who will one day be responsible for the health and well-being of wizarding Britain?" What a frightening idea - they sounded like a group of bumbling idiots.
"Well, young and stupid tend to go hand in hand," Warbeck said. "They'll grow out of it."
You're practically the same age as they are. And yet, the thought of fooling around with Manda Whittenburg - who'd been one of his students four months prior - was distinctly sickening in a way that doing so with Warbeck wasn't. He saw the former as a child, while the latter was... somehow more suited for the classification of "woman." Perhaps it was the lack of innocence and naivety typical of young adulthood.
"Anyway," she said after a pause, "how was your day, Professor?"
He kept his mouth shut and his eyes averted as he contemplated whether to tell her about Harlow. What purpose would that serve? he asked himself. On the other hand, he didn't feel right about keeping it from her.
When he didn't respond, she raised a brow and asked, "All right there, doll?"
Hesitantly, he replied, "Yes, I'm fine, I just... hate having to admit when I've been wrong and you've been right." At one point or another, the both of them had actually written I was wrong on slips of parchment, and they'd made a game of adding tally marks whenever one of them had proven themselves to be in error.
With a puzzled look, she asked, "What are you on about?"
Again, he wasn't so quick to explain, but after a moment he said, "Gwendolyn Harlow." Suddenly feeling that he was the childlike one of the two, he hung his head in embarrassment. "She... attempted to get a date with me."
He braced himself for however Warbeck was about to respond. Would her instinct be to slap him or throw something at him or to stomp off to the castle to throttle the woman? What he hadn't been expecting was for her to burst out into raucous laughter.
Watching her cackle in delight, he debated whether or not to be offended by her apparent amusement at the idea that somebody would ask him out. Furrowing his brow, he asked, "Why is that funny to you?"
Unable to contain herself, she replied, "Oh, I'm just picturing your reaction when she did that! The only thing that could possibly rattle you is some bimbo who'd like to get into your pants!"
Derisively, he remarked, "You would know all about that, of course."
Finally she was tactful enough to try and stifle herself, and when the laughter died down, she said, "So..." with a cheeky expression "...you gonna go for it?"
To that, he rolled his eyes and went to pour himself a drink. "I'd have thought you'd be a little more disturbed about this, considering the claws that came out when all she'd done was put her hand on my arm."
She bit her lip in consideration, then said in a somewhat sheepish tone, "Maybe I overreacted that night. Chalk it up to that innate female ferocity that rears its head when another lass shows interest in your man."
Standing with his back to her, he sipped his bourbon and pondered her words. Something about her referring to him as "her man" caused his chest to swell, and the admission that she had been jealous brought a smug little smirk to his lips.
At the same time, he wondered if their "afternoon delight" hadn't come from a place of... insecurity on her part. Perhaps he wouldn't have read so deeply into it, but in the three days since the flirting incident with Harlow, she'd seemed to have been even more enthusiastic than was normal for her. Which was saying a lot, considering there had only been a handful of nights in the last four months in which she wasn't in the mood for sex.
"You do realize," he said, turning to her, "that you don't have to show up at my office in the middle of the day in order to keep me satisfied, yes?"
"Hmph. You just assume that was for your benefit, and not mine?"
Making his way over, he spoke in a contemplative tone, "It occurred to me that your intention might've been to direct my attention onto you." He sat upon the coffee table, face-to-face with her. "As opposed to some bimbo who would like to get into my pants."
The two of them held each other's gaze a moment, and the guilty expression that came over her confirmed his suspicions. "Okay," she said in a defeated tone. "I guess it wouldn't be entirely off the mark to say I was a little bit unsettled."
Appearing quite self-conscious - which was so very uncharacteristic of her - she dropped her eyes from his, and this particular brand of vulnerability was both perplexing and endearing. How could she have any hint of doubt regarding his devotion to her?
"In case you haven't realized it by now, Calista," he said, "sou aníko apólyta." I belong to you completely.
She met his gaze once more, and as he had so many times in recent months, Severus was praising Merlin that he got to look into those captivating eyes every day, and to kiss her, and to hold her against him at night. Nothing so extraordinary lasts forever. By God, how he wanted to be wrong.
"I didn't actually believe that you'd step out on me or anything," Warbeck declared. "I just enjoy being the only woman you have eyes for."
"Oh, trust me..." he replied, wrapping a hand around the nape of her neck, "you have my full attention." He leaned forward to meet her lips with his, contemplating the idea that he should've grown used to this by now. But every time he kissed her was just as exhilarating as the first time. As such, it didn't take long before all coherent thought was lost to him, his senses overwhelmed by the feel of her caressing his face and sweeping her tongue along his own, by the spicy floral scent of her perfume, the warmth of her skin, the desire she conveyed in the way she moved against him...
They went on for a couple of minutes, before he broke the kiss and breathed into her ear, "Do you want to play, vixen? I'm not too tired from this afternoon."
Burying her fingers in his hair, she murmured, "Eímai dikós sou." I'm yours.
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Author's note: This chapter turned out to be a lot longer than I thought it would be, so I really hope it was worth the read. Reviews/comments/constructive criticism appreciated :)