Now that he'd talked to her, he suddenly saw her everywhere. It was no real mystery—they lived and worked in the same place—but she truly was everywhere. And when she wasn't, he found his eyes searching for her.
Ultimately, Snape opted to ignore her.
Professor St. Ange tried a few times to catch his eye—staring at him—as they passed in the hallways, the staircase—the courtyard. But she never seemed to match his gaze. It was as if they hadn't ever spoken.
That next Friday, Professor St. Ange appeared at his office. She didn't even have to knock before he opened the door. Without a word, he stepped aside, seemingly a signal to allow her to enter.
The young professor tried to adjust: She took her seat while Snape sat back down behind his desk. As he did, she wondered if she could ever get him to sit beside her, at a table, as equals. Perhaps she'd make it her own personal challenge. See if Severus Snape could be a typical coworker and not some shadow in wool who roamed the halls.
"Good afternoon, Professor," she said, "I trust you had a good week?"
"It was passable."
"And you got a copy of my paper? I sent an owl on Monday-"
"I did." Snape glared at her, unimpressed, knowing she was waiting on him with bated breath, "oh you're just aching to know what my thoughts are on it, I'd imagine?"
She blushed, ready to contradict him—
"—well then," he began, pulling out the paper from his desk drawer and reviewing it with eyes half mast, "you have a shocking amount of naivety to your approach, nor do you choose to grapple with the realities that amortentia sometimes changes brain chemistry or its possible lasting effects. Not to mention the unreasonable call to action regarding a ban and not merely calling for certain restrictions. Sounded more like a political paper than an academic document."
"I see," her heartbreak was palpable—but why did it goad him further? He was quickly intoxicated by it.
"And you resist to engage in other's perspectives—why?"
She was silent; he didn't care to hear the answers, she surmised.
"I also disagree fundamentally about your definition of true love," he went on, gaining steam as he spoke, "I believe it is more nuanced than merely 'trust, attraction and mutual respect', and that there are multiple valid perspectives on this topic. Free will, moreover, is not absolute. But—"
She froze.
"The work you've done—and a large part of your results—" he flipped the pages and read aloud, "that amortentia, when present in a wizarding romantic interaction can increase the likelihood of sexual assault by 25% as it removes all consent—"
Snape looked at her: "that's hugely important. It challenges dominant perceptions and raises important questions about the nature of love and genuine intimacy. You presented that section quite well. Further, the call for continued scholarship and deeper interrogation of the presented topic is appropriate."
She was encouraged by his words. "Well, I—"
"—I'd imagine this did not go over well at the ministry?"
"Oh, well—I completed it during my time there and—"
"I see," he said quietly, sensing something, but he was not quite sure what it was (yet), "well, this paper shows great potential—" she raised an eyebrow "—but overall, I think you provide a capable argument. Limitations acknowledged."
He acted as if it hadn't been published in two journals already. She didn't know what to make of his roller coaster of an opinion, "thank you…?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself. I am not in the business of meaningless flattery. Right," he said, "anyway, shall we get on with it? Required reading list, I suppose?"
"Uh—yes," she scrambled to open her notebooks and grab a quill, "I drew up a list—"
"I did as well," Snape was quick to jump in, "Ethicks in Magick: A Comprehensive Study by Chawley; The Dark Arts in Practice by Groman, Love Potions and their Uses by de Montmorency and Applied Deception in Magic by Littlefoot."
He presented her the list, and she reviewed it with wide eyes. Erzulie laughed—in something of a short, glittery sort of way.
"What?" He curled his lip, unsure.
She unrolled her parchment and showed him her list: Applied Deception in Magic, The Dark Arts in Practice, Ethical Application of the Magical Arts by Haviland and Jones, and Love Potions and their uses.
Snape gave a small smile in spite of himself.
"50% overlap. Perhaps we are slightly more aligned than we think," Professor St. Ange grinned broadly.
Snape said nothing.
"So," she continued, "I think I'd be open to adding the Montmorency tome, of course. What about the Ethical Application of the Magical Arts?"
"No," he declined, "no. It's not comprehensive enough in potions; it would be a waste of time."
He braced himself for a fight. An argument. Would the color rush to her cheeks again?
She considered his words, "I think that's all right—though the chapter on potions has some compelling points; perhaps the students can just read that excerpt?"
Why was she so reasonable?
He shrugged in begrudging assent.
The next hour flew by as they worked through lesson plan outlining for the first unit—veritaserum.
"But surely the uses are important within the interrogation sense," Snape pointed out.
"I can see that—but the interrogation must be established as ethical—"
"Of course, that's impossible in some cases—"
"Yes, and that's why it's controversial. Who gets to decide?"
"Precisely," Snape said, "and when it's good versus evil—"
"Well, good and evil can sometimes be relative," Erzulie cut in.
"But," Snape said, "when lives are on the line, veritaserum's use is critical—especially if one does not want to use the cruciatus."
"I can see that—definitely a preferred alternative," she responded. "But you don't think evil can turn good—and vice versa?"
Snape went quiet. "Perhaps they were never evil to begin with then."
Professor St. Ange stared at him for a silent moment. She jumped when there was a knock at the door.
Lupin, like the week before, appeared, "ah—thought I'd find you here. We're on our way out—"
"Yes, I'll catch up, Remus," she responded, "you go ahead with the others."
Snape fumed at the interruption and viscerally did not appreciate how Lupin gazed at St. Ange. At all. Not in the least. Red hot flames of-
Lupin nodded with a thumbs up and disappeared down the hall. Professor St. Ange turned back and looked at Snape—to wrap up.
She was slightly flushed now.
"I think this might be a good place to stop," she said, "we can pick up next week; we got a lot accomplished—"
"But we haven't even covered the unethical uses of veritaserum—or decided which case study we'd like to include—"
"Yes, but we can do it next week."
Snape was irritated, "possibly; but I think we could consider delving into the dangerous uses of the potion further."
"I agree."
Why was she too easy to work with?
She smiled, a little puzzled, "Professor, I think you just outlined our agenda for our next session."
He stared at her, stony.
"Do you want to join us this week for a drink?"
Another invitation. This time Snape was haunted by the look Lupin had given St. Ange just then. He shifted in his chair as he weighed the options.
"No," he said, "I don't think I will."
She nodded and started to gather her things, "well you're always welcome."
"Welcome to a public place—how revolutionary."
She ignored his comment, "and we always do star gazing every other Saturday night."
"Oh—so you've folded in your professional life with your social life—I'm sure that's uncomplicated."
"We are all close, it seems," she admitted, "I don't mind it."
"You don't think it's…unethical?"
She laughed as she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, "unethical to have work friends?"
Work friend? Oh, is that what Lupin was?
"It depends, I suppose, on one's behavior," Snape commented.
"…What is that supposed to mean?"
"Gallivanting around the local town every Friday night," he said, "up and about in the castle late at night when one should be setting a good example for the students."
"I most certainly set a good example for students! But I am not to be cloistered—unlike some people."
"Some people—oh, me?"
"You said it, not me."
"Well, it's better than championing ethics all day and acting unethically during off hours."
"Sorry—what exactly are you accusing me of? Especially when you barely know me?"
"Professor, I am here because I have a job to do," Snape shot up out of his seat so that he had the physical upper hand; his height over her was something he could always play, "I've acted ethically in my position—" she scoffs "—which is more than I can say for you, given your confession here."
"Confession?" she cried, "are you implying I am a hypocrite?"
He shrugged as if to brush off the accusation.
"I can assure you sir," she fumed, "I am not."
"Let's not get worked up, Professor."
She could strangle him at this moment and a flash of that possibility coursed through her eyes. Snape, of course, noticed. To capitalize or not?
He regarded her with a cool sense of measured calm. "What? What's there? Just behind your eyes?"
She held his gaze, boiling.
"Curious," Snape whispered to her now, "perhaps your entire job is just a farce to make you feel superior over others? Hm?"
Professor St. Ange could not speak—out of anger, despair, even confusion—hadn't he just complimented her scholarly research? Snape was elated he could elicit this type of strong response from her.
"Hm? That it?"
He really thought he was doing something.
She took a deep breath, her mouth a sharp line, "you're projecting, sir."
"Oh?"
She nodded vigorously, still struggling to get words out through the anger; she wished she could be quicker—to match him. His experience with probing to find weak points was expert.
Snape didn't necessarily set out to make his new coworker tear up, but he was fascinated—almost taken aback—by it when it started to happen. In fact, he was rendered speechless.
She looked at him silently, and he didn't want to admit that he saw her eyes ask him why he'd done it.
"Perhaps," her voice was barely audible, "perhaps you were right."
Snape was quick to jump, "what about?"
"Perhaps I should go back to Dumbledore and ask him for a better suited partner. Perhaps this is a waste of time."
Later that evening, the happy hour crew was hiking back to Hogwarts. The crescent moon was high in the sky but offered little illumination. Sprout, Flitwick and Sinistra headed up front, wands illuminated, while Lupin and St. Ange hung back.
"Severus can be irrationally cruel, it's true," Lupin explained to her, "but… even for him—honestly, it sounds like you activated something in him. Of course, that's not to say any of it is your fault! Just…an observation of mine. Whatever it is, it's more of a 'him' problem, than a 'you' problem. Usually, others avoid him, and he works in solitude. You could appeal to the headmaster—"
"And tattle like a small child? I should be able to handle it."
"But if he's being cruel, Erzulie—you shouldn't have to handle it."
"It's like—whatever I do, whatever I say, whatever I offer—it's always wrong."
Lupin was silent for a moment as they walked; he gazed up at the night sky. "I've known him for decades. Let me talk to him. We have…an understanding." Or at least, Lupin thought they did.
"Whatever works—I just want to get through this unscathed," Erzulie shrugged.
Snape glanced up from his reading when the knock wrapped at his door. It was 11:45, quite late, but perhaps she was there to apologize. Perhaps she'd come to her senses.
But when the potions master opened the door his face fell.
"Lupin."
"Have a moment, Severus?"
Snape cocked his head, "hm, whatever could this be about?"
Lupin gave him a look. "She was holding back tears tonight on the way back from Hogsmeade when she told me what happened today—with you."
"Remus you should know better than others that it is not my responsibility for how others react to my words."
"Severus—be decent."
"Decent…?" Snape scoffed. "You're telling me to be-Oh Lupin, I don't need your bleeding-heart preaching because I dosed your work wife with some brutal honesty."
"—Work wife—that's a good one," Lupin chuckled in quiet amusement tinged with disdain, "you'd be wrong, of course. We're only friends. But she's a good person and a good fucking professor. Don't ruin this. Care about the integrity of your work, eh?"
"How dare you—"
"If you do care, then show it," Lupin's tone shifted now, more pointed, "Dumbledore mentions your integrity—I honestly have no fucking clue what he's talking about, but I believe in him. Right now, you're proving him wrong. Don't make him look like a fool; he's across too many things to deal with your-antics."
Snape turned on his heel and went to his private stores. A second later, he emerged with a tiny vial.
"Your monthly dose, Professor," he spat, shoving the bottle into Lupin's hand, "was there anything else you wanted to pontificate about?"
Lupin clutched the vial casually, "only to start with an apology. She'll be in the library all tomorrow grading. Good night, Severus."