8. Celebration
It had almost become a sort of macabre inside joke following the Second Wizarding War. Whenever somebody had bad news to share, the person receiving it would ask, "Has anyone died?" In four years, the answer had always been no, so no one ever truly expected to hear otherwise.
"Brother of Famed Wizard Albus Dumbledore Dead at 118," the headline read.
Harry tossed that morning's copy of the Prophet to the table, a bitter expression on his face as he said, "Couldn't have at least referred to him by his own name?"
A few members of the DA had arrived in Hogsmeade to gather at the Hog's Head for a drink in honor of its late owner. "At least he went peacefully," Ron remarked. The man had been found in his bed the previous day, apparently having passed in his sleep.
"A hundred and eighteen's not bad," George added. "Think the average age of death for a healthy wizard is about one-thirty."
"Aye," Callie confirmed. "And I doubt he was all that healthy to begin with." Looking around, she thought that if the state of his business was any indication, he probably hadn't been the most attentive to his physical well-being. As she'd always known it, the place was quite gloomy and broken down, cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling and thick layers of dust carpeting every surface.
Shaking her head morosely, Hermione said, "I feel so sorry for him. Dying all alone in this place. Never had a family of his own."
"Well," George replied, "least we can do is send him off with a bang." Looking to Callie, he asked, "When's the funeral?"
"I don't know if there's even gonna be one. Apparently his only directive was to have his body cremated. But he doesn't have any next of kin to arrange things."
Harry spoke up, "Then I'll take care of it. We can't just let him go without some kind of a memorial. How many of our arses did he save during the war?"
Thinking it over, Hermione said, "Perhaps the others from the DA would like to come. I could owl the Prophet to write up an obituary. We don't know who he knew that might want to pay their last respects. We need a date and location to give them, though."
"What about here?" Neville suggested. "It's his pub, it's his home-"
"It's a rathole," Ron cut in.
"So we'll clean it up," Hermione countered.
"Eh," Callie spoke, "if he has no next of kin, then what's going to happen to this place anyway?"
Hermione shrugged and explained, "It'll probably go up for auction. If nobody bids then eventually they may well vanish it."
"Ugh, we can't let 'em vanish the Hog's Head!" George groaned. "This is our place, the DA was born right here in this room!" As he slumped back in his seat, his face took on a mix of both distress and contemplation. But then he perked up and said, "I'll buy it. How much could a hovel like this go for?"
"We should all buy it," Callie suggested. "Every one of us from the original DA. You're right, it is our place."
"How would that work?" Ron asked. "Twenty-some people collectively owning one dingy little pub?"
"It would be symbolic," she explained. "We could all throw in a couple galleons apiece. All we'd need is somebody to manage it, and I live here, I could keep an eye on things."
Everybody fell silent and considered the idea. It was Harry who was first to say, "I'm in."
"So am I," George said. He was followed by the rest of the group, and they all agreed to get in touch with the others and find out if they wanted a piece of the action. Once that was settled, and the comrades were feeling a bit more enlivened, they raised their glasses to the late barman. "To Aberforth!"
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Harry, Ron, and George all had to get back to London for work, but Neville and Hermione returned to the cottage with Callie to begin the arrangements for the memorial service. "Let's see..." Hermione said, already in take-charge mode before they'd even gotten to the front door. "If we want to make the pub presentable, we'll need a few days and a fair amount of manpower."
"I won't be here tomorrow, I've got classes 'til five," Callie informed her. With a shrug, "Though I suppose I could just take the day off."
"No, don't do that!" Hermione said, as though the notion were absurd. "You're a healing student. Suppose you're not there and something really vital comes up. Years down the line you end up killing someone, and if you'd only had that one piece of information, then you could've saved their life."
The other rolled her eyes. "Yes, the likeliest of scenarios, that is."
She led her friends inside, and when they entered the sitting room, Hermione looked up and did a double take. "Whoa!" she exclaimed.
The previous year, Neville had gifted Callie a potted Devil's ivy as congratulations for getting into the healer program. Despite the fact that she rarely ever tended to it, the low-effort plant had grown into a thriving, tangled monstrosity, climbing both upwards and outwards to cover up half the wall.
Grinning at the sight of the unruly greenery, Neville said, "You're supposed to prune it every now and again."
Callie explained, "I wanna see just how unwieldy it can get."
"It'll grow to take over the whole room if you let it."
Hermione, meanwhile, grabbed a quill and paper and sat down to begin planning. "All right," she said in a business-like tone. "We've got a location for the service, and now we need a date and time. Do you think we'll be able to have it cleaned up by Sunday?"
"If we really put our backs into it," Callie replied.
"Weekdays are tough, everybody's at work." She paused to consider it, then shrugged. "I guess it's Sunday, then."
It was decided that Callie would arrange for Aberforth's cremation, while Hermione handled the obituary and got in touch with members of the DA and the Order. Neville said he would recruit Dean and Seamus for the clean-up, and of course, he was tasked with bringing flowers.
"Elphias Doge was a friend of the Dumbledore family," Hermione informed them, "and he's still living. I wonder if he'd have any old photographs of Aberforth."
"What are we going to do with those goats?" Callie asked. In the back of the pub were six goats who had seemed to be Aberforth's closest companions.
Neville suggested, "Maybe give 'em to Hagrid? He loves anything on four legs."
"Not quite as monstrous as he's used to," Callie remarked. "But I'll ask him."
After a while, Hermione went upstairs to use the bathroom, leaving the others to themselves. They sat quietly for a moment, Callie gazing down at the barman's picture in the Prophet. "I liked Aberforth," she said. "Ya know, the last time I saw Theo was at the Hog's Head. I asked Ab to keep an eye on things, in case he decided to go mental on me. And he said that he would break a bottle over the bloke's head if he tried anything."
"Hmph," Neville smirked. "If not for him, we all would've starved in the Room of Requirement."
Sitting back on the sofa and folding her arms, Callie mused, "So damn tortured, he must've been. Had to go all those years wondering if he'd cast the spell that killed his sister. And he never really mended things with Albus."
Pondering that, Neville said, "Perhaps they're mending things now."
She smiled at the thought, and went on, "Snape said that Albus's deepest desire was to see his family whole again. His mum and dad, Ariana... he and Ab, reconciled."
A silence passed, and then he spoke up, "It's amazing the sense of peace in an entire family being wiped out. All of them are gone, but... together."
Callie noted a faraway look in his eye, and she asked, "All right there, doll?"
He didn't answer right away, but then, in a quiet voice, "D'you think my mum and dad'll recognize me? In the... 'otherworld,' I mean."
Well God damn if that wasn't the most heart-wrenching question she'd ever been asked. But she wasn't bullshitting him when she said, "They'll recognize you, Neville." The corner of his mouth turned up, just for a second, into a sad little smile, and Callie rubbed a hand over his back in a gesture of comfort. "Come by the hospital tomorrow at noon. We'll go and see them. Share a box of pretty candies."
He looked up and held her gaze a moment, appreciation in his eyes, before leaning forward and planting a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you," he said. "How is it you always know exactly what I need?"
"Because I'm brilliant," she replied, eliciting a happy grin from him.
Shortly thereafter, Hermione returned and set her attention on Callie. "You've got two toothbrushes on your bathroom sink." With a furrowed brow, she asked, "Who does the other one belong to?"
Oh, shit! Callie thought. Of course, it was Snape's. Struggling to come up with an excuse, she contemplated simply letting her girlfriend in on the secret. But before she could say anything, Neville came to her rescue. "It's mine," he said. "I spent the night here a couple weeks ago."
Hermione looked from one to the other of the former couple, her expression conveying a strong hint of suspicion. "Why?"
It was Callie who replied, "Sometimes we like to get together and talk about the rest of you behind your backs."
Clearly the other wasn't buying that, continuing to eyeball the pair who were sitting perhaps a bit too close to one another. But she merely said, "Right, then," and wandered off into the kitchen.
Once she was gone, Callie and Neville turned to face each other, and the former said, in a hushed but rather anxious tone, "She thinks we're shagging!"
Sighing to himself, he warned, "If she goes to Imogen with this, I'm setting 'em both straight."
Her response was a motion that said, Keep your mouth zipped.
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The death of Aberforth Dumbledore could only be described as a minor inconvenience for Severus, and only because there'd been people wandering in and out of his girlfriend's house for the past two days. She and a dozen of her old schoolmates had tasked themselves with a deep cleaning and repairs of the Hog's Head Inn, and the cottage was where they'd come to get a break or wash themselves up.
Barely a chance he'd had to be alone with her. By the time the last of the workforce had departed the previous night, and it was safe for him to floo from the castle, she had already fallen asleep on the sofa. And the insufferable twit that was Hermione Granger had been knocking on the door again at six o'clock that morning.
Being that he had effectively been barred from what he'd come to think of as his own home, he was spending his Saturday maintaining the illusion that he still gave a damn about his duties as a head of house. By midafternoon, however, he was already exhausted from wandering the corridors looking for hellions to terrorize.
Knock, knock, knock. "Professor Snape?"
Oh, for God's sake - what did a man have to do to get some bloody privacy? In his usual unwelcoming tone, he called out, "Enter," and Harlow stepped inside, keeping a much appreciated distance between them.
"Severus," she greeted with a nod. "I've just been through the storeroom, and I noticed that we're running lower than we ought to be on a couple of ingredients. I was wondering if you've borrowed anything recently."
"I haven't," he replied. Mildly curious, "What are the ingredients in question?"
"Copper pellets and damiana leaf."
The man gave a slight shrug as if to say, I know nothing of it. "In all likelihood, you've got a sticky-fingered pupil on your hands. Wouldn't be the first instance of illicit potion-brewing by a mischievous student with an extracurricular agenda." One such case involving Veritaserum stood out amongst all others.
"Hm," Harlow muttered, pondering the idea. "Right, then. Good day to you, sir." With that, she went on about her business, pulling the door shut behind her.
Relieved to be rid of his colleague, he sat back and ran a hand over his face in exasperation. At the same time, Callie crawled out from beneath the desk and inquired, "You don't think she knew I was here, do you?"
With a sigh, Severus said, "If she did, then at least she was tactful enough not to let on."
The woman smiled to herself as she smoothed out her hair. "We oughta do this more often. The risk of getting caught is rather exciting, don't you think?"
"Oh, of course," he replied with sarcasm. "Nothing quite as thrilling as attempting to maintain an erection whilst everyone and their dog is banging on my bloody door."
Hopping up on the desk, she said, "Well, don't strain yourself on my account. Thought you might've wanted to make up for last night." Glancing downwards, "But the moment appears to have passed. Sort of calls to mind a frightened turtle retreating back into its shell." Her maddening little smirk was met with a pointed look from the Defense teacher.
"Eh," she went on, her tone somewhat more serious, "had something I wanted to discuss with you. What are we supposed to say to people tomorrow when they see us coming from the cottage to the service together?"
"I don't see why that ought to be an issue," he said, fastening the buttons of his trousers, "seeing as I hadn't planned on going to the service."
Taken aback by this, she asked, "What do you mean, you're not going? It's Aberforth Dumbledore."
"Who was a stranger to me," he reminded. "And do you really think he'd want the man who killed his brother in attendance?"
Rolling her eyes, she exclaimed, "Oh, Merlin's sake! He knew that had been Albus's plan. He didn't blame you for it." The Defense teacher had nothing to say to that, and after a moment, Callie said, "Well... seeing as most everyone we know is going to be there, I thought..." a shrug "...perhaps it might be an opportune time to expose ourselves?"
Severus raised a brow. "I'm sorry?"
"Let everyone know about us, I mean. Finally have done with the secrecy."
Oh. Damn it. This wasn't a topic he cared to discuss at the moment, and in any event, such a setting was neither the time nor the place. "You want to announce ourselves as a couple at somebody's funeral?"
"I'm sure he wouldn't mind. I'm just so tired of dodging questions about my love life and watching what I say in front of everyone. Let's get it out in the open, once and for all."
The secrecy of their relationship was the only real issue that plagued them. Ever since Christmas, she'd been bringing it up more and more. But Severus was perfectly content with the status quo. He saw no reason why anyone had to know what was going on between them.
After a moment, he stood up and set his hands on her waist, attempting to distract from the matter with that sonorous drawl she loved so much. "I thought you enjoyed sneaking around. Said it made you feel a bit naughty."
Wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing closer against him, she replied, "If I wanna feel naughty, then I'm sure there are plenty of other ways we can accomplish that." After a pause, "I'd just like to be able to brag that I managed to tame the wild beast that is Severus Snape."
"I wouldn't say you've tamed me," he countered. "If anything, I feel that I've become a lot more feral in the last ten months."
"Hmph," she smirked. Her eyes fell to his chin, and she ran her fingers along the stubble that appeared there. "You didn't shave this morning?" she asked.
Feeling slightly self-conscious, he said, "Thought I might let it grow out a bit."
Though he preferred to be clean-shaven, she herself had a liking for a bit of well-maintained scruff. Surprised and delighted, she asked, "Coming around to it, are you?"
"No, I despise it. But..." with a slight shrug "...what with the death in the family, I figured you might become melancholy. Sort of a preemptive attempt to lift your spirits."
She gazed at him a moment, a look of wonder on her face and the corner of her lips turning up in a languid smile. "How is it you always know exactly what I need?" she mused.
It was a struggle to come up with a response. The note of adoration in her eyes had suddenly rendered him unable to think clearly. Why did she look at him that way? What had he done to deserve the love she gave him? Setting his hand upon hers, which was still caressing his face, he muttered, "I just know you like it, is all."
Her eyes lowered from his own to his lips, and he saw her expression change from adoring and appreciative to... something much more ferocious. "Káne me edó," she growled. Which, in English, was, Do me right here.
She didn't have to ask twice. He brought his lips to hers and wrapped one of her legs around his hip, no longer the "frightened turtle" he'd been only minutes ago.
Unfortunately, they didn't get very far before another knock sounded out, and the both of them froze. "Whoever it is," Severus said in a dangerous tone, "I am going to murder them."
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As Callie made her way back to the village from the castle, she found that the men had taken a break from repairs and started up a game of Quidditch. "What is this?" she asked the women, who were gathered nearby. "I disappear for half an hour and everyone's messing around?"
"We're only having a rest," Ginny said. "Besides, there isn't a whole lot left to do. At this point it's pretty much just decorating."
"And restocking the bar," Hermione added. "Somebody has to go and pick up an order of butterbeer." Over the last two days, the group had been through quite a bit of Aberforth's supply.
Presently, Callie sat amongst her girlfriends in the grass and popped one open. "What are we talking about?" she asked.
"Wedding details," Lavender replied. She and Michael had gotten engaged the previous year, and were going to be married that summer. "Tell me which of these you prefer for the bridesmaids."
She handed Callie a couple photos of two apple-green dresses. "I like the one-shoulder."
"So do I," Lavender agreed. "But my mum thinks the slit up the side is inappropriate for a wedding."
Astoria took the photo from Callie and considered it. "You want your girls to be significantly less attractive than you are. These are much too sexy. All eyes are going to be on Parvati's legs when they ought to be looking at you." Parvati was to be the maid of honor.
Appearing legitimately concerned, Lavender asked, "That's not true, is it? I am not going to be overshadowed at my own wedding."
"Don't worry, I've seen your dress," Hermione said. To the others, "Think 'fairytale princess' with the great big floofy ballgown covered in sequins. Dazzling, it is."
Callie noted a mild hint of sadness in her girlfriend's eyes. If Hermione had one regret in life, it was opting for a simple, private wedding with only her parents present, as opposed to a grand affair with everyone oohing and aahing over her on her special day. She'd shown the same type of quiet envy when Ginny and Harry got married.
"Anyway," the woman went on, "are you planning on taking his name?"
With a pensive look on her face, Lavender said, "I haven't decided yet. I don't like the sound of 'Lavender Corner.' It doesn't flow well."
"What about him taking yours?" Callie suggested. With a smirk, "To hell with the patriarchy! Am I right, ladies?"
It seemed this was a prospect that Lavender hadn't considered. "No, that would be completely backwards. The man isn't supposed to take his wife's name."
"So sayeth society. Why is it expected that a woman give up her identity, but the idea of the man doing it is 'backwards'?"
"She's right, ya know," Hermione said. "The whole this is archaic."
"What about hyphenating them?" Ginny asked, nodding to her sister-in-law. "Like she and Ron did." The couple were both now referred to as Granger-Weasley.
Pondering that, Lavender replied, "Lavender Corner-Brown is kind of a mouthful, though."
"Or you could combine them," Ginny offered. "Corner and Brown. 'Crown.'"
"No, that's stupid. Perhaps I'll just stick with Brown." She took a swig of beer, then went on, "Still got to send out the invitations. Are you all gonna be able to come?"
The others gave their confirmation, and Astoria asked, "Is it all right if I bring a date?"
"Of course. What about you, Callie? Will you have a plus-one?"
Unlikely, she thought. "I don't think so."
"It's still three months away, right?" Astoria asked, and Lavender nodded in confirmation. Back to Callie, "Plenty of time to find somebody."
"I'm a student of healing. I haven't got time to find somebody."
"Well, with that logic, you won't have a date for the next six years." After a pause, "What's with you lately? Have you taken some sort of vow of celibacy?" As far as her girlfriends knew, Callie hadn't so much as met up for a drink with a bloke in a year and a half.
"I'd be perfectly willing give it a shot if someone came along who was worth it. But I don't really care to go seeking him out. Not with the trial and classes on my mind."
Astoria studied her a moment, before muttering, "Always the same excuse."
Somewhat affronted, the other asked, "What's that supposed to mean? I don't need an excuse for why I haven't been seeing anyone. You ever think perhaps I'd like to be alone for a while?" Astoria and Hermione exchanged a look, as though they were in on something Callie wasn't. "What?" she damn near shouted.
Hesitantly, Hermione said, "We're just worried about you. Doesn't seem like much of a coincidence that you haven't shown interest in anyone since Theo."
Callie furrowed her brow, not sure what her ex had to do with anything. "What are you on about?" she asked, glancing from one to the other of her friends.
Again, Hermione was hesitant. "What he did to you was awful, Callie. And it wouldn't be unreasonable of you to..." a shrug "...shy away from romance after that."
"I'm not shying away from anything. And I told you that's got nothing to do with it."
"All right," Astoria cut in, "then answer me this - have you been playing for the other team?"
Caught entirely off guard, Callie exclaimed, "For God's sake, why do people keep asking me that?!"
"Because you don't seem to care about boys anymore."
Shaking her head to herself, she countered, "And have you seen me batting eyes at any lasses, in the mean time? No, for the record, I haven't switched sides. But how long have the two of you been gossiping about me together?"
"We're only curious," Hermione said. "I really thought you would've been a lot more excited about that werewolf I tried to set you up with in November."
"And you told that bloke at the pub that you were taken when he tried flirting with you," Astoria added. To that, Callie had no response.
After a moment, Hermione spoke again. "Whenever I ask you if you're seeing anyone, it's always 'I don't have the time' or 'I'm not interested.' And the last man you were with almost killed you. I only wonder if that hasn't turned you off to finding love."
The other cocked a brow at her friend. "Never thought you, of all people, were so concerned about matters such as 'finding love.'" Being as career-focused and feministic as she was, Hermione Granger-Weasley wasn't the type that Callie had ever pegged for putting such importance on snagging a boyfriend.
"Like I said, I'm only worried about you."
"You're 'worried about me' 'cause I'm single?"
"No, because you haven't expressed any interest in anyone since Theo, and what happened with him might be affecting you more than you know."
"Well it isn't. And how did this conversation turn to one about my love life, anyway? I thought we were talking about Lavender's wedding?"
Ginny shrugged and said, "It just sort of came up."
Turning on her, Callie asked, "And have you got something to say about it, too?"
Apprehensively, the redhead replied, "I thought you might still be self-conscious about the scar. You said yourself that no man was going to want you because of it. Maybe you still think that's true."
"No, I don't." With a note of cockiness, "I'm a goddess. People still throw themselves at me, even when it's showing."
"And all of them you've shot down?" Astoria asked, raising a brow. "This is what we mean - you almost seem to be repulsed by the idea of being with someone again."
"I'm not repulsed," Callie countered, rising up on her feet. "Good Christ, I haven't dated in a while, so I must either be damaged or a lesbian?!"
"You don't have to get so defensive," Ginny said. "We want you to be happy, is all."
"I am happy!" she insisted. "Bloody hell, you all are talking like I'm some pathetic little thing because I don't need a man to feel fulfilled like you all do!"
The four of them gaped up at her, an awkward silence filling the air. "That's a low blow," Astoria said, an offended expression on her face. "Whatever, then. Forget we ever brought it up."
Next was Hermione, who asked, "You really think I need a man to feel fulfilled? You were the one who said you only got with Theo 'cause he made you feel wanted."
"Yeah, well that was two years ago. I'm not lonely anymore." That was all she had left to say, wandering away as she thought, Damn it, Sev, this is why I can't stand hiding us any longer. Every time she met with her girlfriends, they never failed to inquire about any romantic prospects she may have had. And always she had to dance around the subject, or else feel like the odd woman out while they chattered on about their significant others.
Approaching the men, who were gliding through the air and tossing a Quaffle back and forth, she called out, "Eh! You think it's time you got down off your broomsticks and got back to work?"
From above, George called back, "Sorry love! Thought we'd get an impromptu game going. Care to join us?"
"No! You lot came up here to fix up the pub, not to fuck around. Now get a move on it! I would like to be done with this before dark."
They all looked around at each other as if to say, What's crawled up her arse? But reluctantly, and clearly miffed, they returned to the ground. "Didn't know you were the boss around here, lass," Seamus said. "Only having a bit of fun, we were."
"Somebody's died," she reminded, "you're not supposed to be having any fun."
At her side, Ron exclaimed, "Bloody hell, woman, you sound like my wife!"
She turned to give him a pointed look, and after a pause she ordered, "Let me see that," indicating the Quaffle, which he handed over. To George, who was holding his beater's bat, "And that as well." He did as told, and Callie tossed the ball up in the air, then hit it hard enough to send it flying into the forest.
With his mouth hanging open, Ron demanded, "What'd you do that for?!"
"Because I felt like hitting something!" she replied, then turned on her heel and stomped off toward the pub.
"That was my ball!"
"Screw your ball!"
She could hear somebody snort - it sounded like George - and then the whole lot burst into laughter.
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Darkness had fallen by the time Callie's face had appeared in the fireplace in Severus's quarters. "All right, they're gone, the coast is clear." She'd had a pissy tone of voice that gave him pause, as the woman had seemed perfectly at ease when she'd left him that afternoon.
Upon arriving at the cottage, he immediately sensed the tension in her muscles as she stood at the bar and poured them both a drink. "Something the matter, love? You sounded bothered when you called."
Turning to hand him his glass, she explained, "I got the third degree from Hermione and Astoria about why I haven't dated in so long." After a sip of her own, she went on, "Hermione thinks I'm still traumatized from Theo. Astoria thinks I'm a closeted lezzie."
"Hmph." He couldn't help but smirk at the latter's theory. "And what did you tell them?"
"What I always tell them," she replied. "That I'm not looking, not interested, and don't have any time for romance. Same old excuse and it's becoming much more of a struggle for them to accept it."
Severus pondered that, and asked, "Have you ever considered simply telling them it's no business of theirs?"
"I'm not one to keep quiet about the people I'm involved with. They would find that weird and it would only lead to more curiosity." Shaking her head to herself, she went on, "I'm really getting tired of this. I can't go on forever telling people that I'm single."
"You don't have to tell anyone anything," he argued, moving over to the sofa. "Are your friends so bored with their own romantic involvements that they have to go sticking their noses in yours?"
"This is what people talk about, Sev. Who you're involved with is a common and fairly innocuous topic of conversation. And when I say that I have nothing going on in that department, it raises questions."
He truly couldn't comprehend what difference her relationship status made to anyone. "Is it so unacceptable to them that you might just prefer to remain unattached? I have to wonder what kind of self-respecting twenty-first century lasses would behave as though singledom were some sort of a problem that has to be remedied."
"That's not what it is," she said. "It's the way that I pretend to have no interest in men. Astoria and I were at a pub a couple weeks ago, and some bloke started coming on to me. Should've seen her face when I turned him away - she looked at me as though I'd grown two heads. And Hermione wanted to set me up a while back, with a werewolf she knows from the Ministry. A werewolf, Sev! I would never say no to a werewolf if I had the option."
Everything up until that may as well have fallen on deaf ears. Both his posture and his tone were stiff as he said, "Well by all means, don't deny yourself on my account. Didn't realize I'd been getting in your way of a good time."
With a roll of her eyes, she replied, "That is so not the point, you idiot! My point is that it's hard to explain away the lack of enthusiasm when this kind of thing comes up. They know how I used to enjoy the attention from males, and now they wonder why I don't seem to care about dating anymore." After a pause, she folded her arms over her chest and declared, "I wanna tell them about us tomorrow."
At this, the Defense teacher sighed to himself. "I thought we went over this earlier?"
"Yes, but we never came to any conclusion," she reminded. When he didn't respond, she asked, "So do I have your permission to make it known?"
He didn't have to think about it long before he said, "I would very much prefer it if you didn't."
"Oh, bloody hell!" she exclaimed. "Why are you so opposed to people knowing we're together?"
"Because it's no one's concern but our own." That was always his response when they discussed this, but apparently she wasn't keen on letting it be enough tonight.
"So what, are you afraid that I'm gonna go spilling the most intimate details of what goes on between us? I only want to be able to say that I'm taken. That I have been for almost a year and that I'm in love with you. I would be happy to have people know that, but apparently you wouldn't."
Again, he had no response, and the other shook her head in frustration. Both of them were silent for a moment, but of course, it was too much for him to hope that they were done with this discussion.
"Are you embarrassed by me?" Upon his reaction, she said, "No, don't scoff! It's not so unreasonable an assumption." There was an ill-concealed note of hurt in her eyes as she went on, "People only hide things they're ashamed of. And you've been so insistent on hiding me."
As though the notion were preposterous, he said, "I think you very well know that I am not 'embarrassed by you.'"
"I don't know that," she countered. "You said yourself that people see a man your age with a woman of mine, and think the former's only in it for sex. Is that the problem, then? You don't want to convey the image of yourself as a shameless shirt-chaser?"
That was certainly a part of it - he himself would curl his lip at the sight of a bloke in his forties consorting with a woman half his age. But that wasn't the primary issue. "I don't enjoy my private life being displayed for the public to gossip about," he said. "That God-forsaken book of Rita Skeeter's caused enough damage. On top of the Prophet articles that came out after the war..." He trailed off, recalling the way every aspect of his life had been scrutinized, not least of all his history with Lily.
"So then we're just going to carry on in secret for the rest of our lives?" She didn't notice how he tensed at the rest of our lives. "It's been ten months already, Sev. Only three people know that we're a couple. I know you like to keep your private business to yourself, but this is excessive!"
Something she'd said gave him pause, and he furrowed his brow as he looked up at her. "Three people know," he repeated. "Susanna, Minerva... and who else?"
Her expression conveyed that she had let something slip unintentionally. When she didn't reply, he demanded, "Who have you told?"
She was quiet for a moment, before admitting, "I told Neville. A couple of weeks ago."
Grimacing, he said, "You told Longbottom, for God's sake?"
"You told McGonagall!" she reminded defensively.
"McGonagall's not going to shout about it."
"Neither is Neville!"
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do! I know he's not the type for gossip, and I trust him. Now don't go scolding me because I shared with my best that I've been living with someone for nearly a year. Christ, he knows me better than almost anyone. I tell him everything - how could I not tell him this?"
He rose up from his seat and began to pace the room. Now his primary concern was what other information the woman had shared with her former love; the little nitwit being privy to details the Defense teacher would've rather died than have anyone - least of all Neville fucking Longbottom - know about him.
"You talk as though you are ashamed of us," she went on. "Or embarrassed or whatever. How would you feel if I refused to tell people that I'm dating you?"
"Well what sort of an argument is that when I'm standing here saying that I don't want them to know?"
"Okay, then let me put it this way - I'd like to shout it from the bloody rooftops! To say that Severus Snape loves me and that I've never been this happy in my life! I wanna be able to claim you as mine. I want everyone to know that you and I are together, 'cause I'm so damn proud of being your woman." In an accusatory tone, "But you don't seem all that proud of being my man."
Staring back at her in disbelief, he asked, "Is that what you think? Bloody hell, Calista, you can be so backward at times."
"Don't call me 'backward!' Tell me anything I've said is not the truth."
"That I'm not proud to be with you is not the truth! Merlin's sake, it's a miracle you ever wanted anything to do with me. And that's exactly what people are going to think when they find out about us. They're going to ask what the hell you were thinking getting involved with me."
She seemed bewildered by this statement, gesturing as if to say, What in God's name are you on about?
He explained, "People know me as a hateful, scowling, contemptible bastard who enjoys terrorizing schoolchildren and making everybody's lives a bit more miserable. The whole world knows I followed Voldemort during the First War, and many still believe me irredeemable for that. I'll always be a criminal as far as they're concerned. To say nothing of the fact that we look ridiculous together. Never mind our ages; a woman who looks the way you do is not supposed to be attracted to a man who looks like me."
All she had for that was another eyeroll.
"That you're somehow blind to all this is beyond comprehension," he went on. "But you're going to wake up to it when people start reminding you that I'm too old, too ugly, too mean, and with far too repugnant a history. They're going to say you can do better, and soon enough you'll start to realize that yourself."
She simply stared at him, waiting to see if he had anything left to get off his chest. After a moment, she looked away and sighed to herself, before muttering, "Wow."
Severus returned to his seat as his girlfriend took a moment to consider all he'd said. This was the first she was hearing of his true motives for keeping their relationship a secret. All this time they'd been existing within a protective little bubble that no one could penetrate. But once that defense had been broken, how might the opinions of those who knew them influence her? Hell, all her friends had been students of his, and they'd all loathed him.
"Have you forgotten it was me who pursued you in the first place?" Callie asked. "And do you really think there's anything that anyone can say to turn me off to you? I know more about your past than anyone, and I know that you can be an unapologetic git. And perhaps I have a thing for ugly blokes, but I happen to be more attracted to you than to any of the pretty boys my girlfriends drool over." She paused, folding her arms across her chest before adding, "But you're not ugly, by the way. Merlin's beard, who told you that?"
Well, there had been Potter, Black, Chamberlain... mirrors... "It's a given," he said.
To that, she merely scoffed.
He sat with a hunched-over posture, his elbows on his knees and his hands clenched together, reluctant to express himself completely. The fears that came with loving someone to the extent that he did produced a particularly distressing brand of vulnerability that he was disinclined to reveal even to her.
In a quiet voice, he said, "I... can't bring myself to believe that you won't become..." searching his mind for the most appropriate term "...disenchanted with me at some point or another." He couldn't look her in the eye as he admitted this. "I've been waiting for that day to come. And once you had gone, then no one would've had to know that yet again I'd been left shattered by the woman I love. That's the part I don't want anyone to see."
He could feel her eyes on him, though he didn't meet them. After a moment, she came forward and knelt before him, setting a hand on his arm.
"God, you are so insecure," she remarked softly, almost as though she were baffled by that fact. "I am completely enchanted by you, Sev. Everything I know, I love. Even the shit that you hate about yourself." She waited for him to look at her, and he didn't have to read her mind to know what she was saying: Believe me when I tell you this - I love you and that isn't going to change.
Next she rolled up his sleeve and put her lips to the Mark. Such was her way of reminding him that, in spite of his wretched past and unshakable sense of self-hatred, she accepted him for all he was. Even if that was a complete and utter wreck of a human being.
"Can you give me some sort of a compromise, at least? Perhaps when we've reached the one-year mark, you'll have realized I'm not going anywhere, and you can begin to relax a little."
Pondering that, he asked, "So you're willing to put it off for a while?"
"Two months," she said. "Suppose I can survive for two more months." Rising up, she declared, "But I'm having it sky-written: Severus Snape Loves Callie Warbeck. Perhaps a few fireworks to emphasize the point."
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Never had there been a more casual, or less depressing, funeral than that of Aberforth Dumbledore. "This is how I want mine to be," Callie said. "Don't you dare display me in an open casket. And nobody's allowed to cry."
The dark and dingy Hog's Head had been turned into a brightly lit and cozy space, where no less than a hundred people had gathered to honor its late keeper. Old acquaintances from all over Britain had come to pay their last respects, and the tone was much more a celebration of his life than a mourning of his death. Everybody had their own Aberforth story, and all the attendees had signed their name and a note of farewell on a large sheet of parchment, which would be displayed upon a wall in the pub.
The guest of honor, contained in a handsome golden urn, was to be placed on a high shelf above the bar, from which he could oversee the goings-on for years to come. "I don't know if I would like to be contained in such a small space," George remarked, holding up the urn and studying it pensively. "Burial is much too constrictive as well."
Giving him a puzzled look, Lee Jordan asked, "How much moving around do you think you'll be doing in there, mate?"
"I only feel it seems a lot more freeing to be spread about over a large area." Sipping a non-alcoholic "mocktail," he went on, "Or perhaps a burial at sea."
"Oh, good Christ!" Angelina Johnson exclaimed.
"What?" Wrapping his arm around the woman - who he had been dating for almost a year - the redhead said, "I quite like the idea of bobbing around the Atlantic, washing ashore in new, exotic locations. So rarely do I get to travel." Angelina gave him a playful punch in the chest, while the others cackled at the ridiculous mental image.
Callie chimed in, "I would like for my ashes to be rolled up and smoked." Ernie Macmillan spit his drink out at that.
"Oh, but imagine," Katie Bell said, unable to contain her amusement, "passing her around like ganja! We could all take a hit!"
As the group howled with laughter, Callie caught the eye of Hermione, who was seated at the bar with a rather remorseful expression on her face. The girls hadn't said much to each other since their row the previous afternoon, and Callie knew they ought to set things right before everyone went back to London.
"All right," she said, dropping onto the stool beside her friend, "I think you all may have come at me a bit too harshly yesterday, but I probably overreacted." A pause. "I just don't understand why it bothers you so that I'm... going through a dry spell."
"Well it's certainly not because I think you 'need a man,'" Hermione replied. Apprehensively, she added, "I only would've thought you might like one. You're Callie Warbeck, for God's sake! You're the sexy one, the flirty one, the one who strategically dresses to show off her... greatest assets."
To that, Callie chuckled.
The other went on, "And I can't ignore the fact that the last man you dated was Theo, and that ended so badly that it might've turned you off to meeting someone new."
Callie couldn't offer any other explanations for why she'd - apparently - been keeping to herself, other than the tired "busy schedule" line. Sighing to herself, she said, "That's what you think, really? That I'm afraid or haven't coped properly?"
Hermione gestured as if to say, Yeah.
Considering that, Callie responded with, "Well... I promise he's got nothing to do with it. I hardly ever even think about Theo. And I'm not afraid of getting back out there, I just..." a shrug "...haven't met anyone who does it for me."
The Gryffindor took that in, looking pensive and doubtful.
"Bloody hell, is that really so hard to believe?" Callie asked.
Hermione looked around to make sure nobody could hear them, then said in a hushed voice, "Okay, I didn't want to say anything in front of the others yesterday." A pause. "But are you sleeping with Neville?"
Oh, Christ. Rolling her eyes, she looked out into the crowd, spotted the man in question, and replied, "Do you really think that Saint Sebastian over there would step out on his girlfriend?"
"I wouldn't have thought he'd be spending the night with a woman who isn't his girlfriend," she countered.
Going right along with the story he'd conjured up for her, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Hermione. Two people can spend a night in a house together without ending up fucking each other."
In a somewhat bitter tone, she replied, "Well, believe me, I know all about that," earning a smirk from the other.
It wasn't long after that Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Neville joined them at the bar, while George and Astoria got behind to serve drinks. The latter was surprisingly enthusiastic about playing barmaid, doing fancy bottle-throwing tricks and mixing up recipes she knew. "We call this Devil's Breath," she said, pouring two types of alcohol into seven shot glasses. "Peppermint schnapps and Firewhisky."
"Ugh," Neville groaned, "that sounds like hell!"
"Hence the name. That and it burns really bad going down."
They all toasted to the man of the hour and - minus George, of course - threw back their shots. This resulted in a lot of coughing and grimaces.
"Mother fuck!" Ron exclaimed, while Ginny smacked her gagging husband on the back, and Hermione spit half the concoction back into her glass.
With a smirk, Astoria commented, "Gryffindor pussies," and she and Callie high-fived.
Nobody had come in or gone out for a while, so when a bell jingled above the door, she looked up to see if any new faces had arrived. Upon seeing the Defense teacher hovering near the entrance, she perked up in surprise. What's he doing here? she wondered. After all, he really didn't have any connection to Aberforth.
Scanning the room, his eyes settled on her, and he made his way over with such purpose in his step that she worried there might be some sort of emergency.
Behind the bar, George noticed him approaching and called out happily, "Eh! Snake Man!" The others turned to look as their former teacher came to a halt at Callie's side and took a deep breath.
Furrowing her brow at him, Callie began, "What are you...?"
But before she could go any farther, Severus reached out, dipped her back in his arms, and met her lips with his for an intensely passionate kiss - in plain sight of two dozen of his former students, the bulk of his colleagues, the spirit of Ab, and anybody else who cared to see it.
Callie heard Ron call out, "Bloody HELL!" and a few in the crowd began hooting and hollering. He certainly gave them all plenty of time to get a glimpse of him unabashedly snogging the woman as though he were about to be shipped off for duty. A simple peck it was not, but the kind of kiss that made one forget they were surrounded by a roomful of onlookers.
When he'd decided they had seen enough, he set her upright and declared, loud enough for the others at the bar to hear, "Right, then. I'll see you at home." And with that, he made his way back through the crowd.
Everybody sat in shocked silence for a long moment, Callie included. It was quite comical - six of the seven faces around her were open-mouthed and wide-eyed, and the trainee healer knew they were all thinking, What the fuck did we just witness?
It was only Neville who'd remained composed, and with a smirk, he said, "Secret's out, I guess."