Liz had all but forgotten that she'd been nervous about something. Turned out, snogging in broom closets was great stress relief.

Not that they were in a broom closet, that sounded uncomfortable. (She had gotten off in one, once, but she'd been desperate, and hadn't had time to get back to her room.) This was one of the various common rooms scattered around the school, though an unusually small one — there was only a single sofa and a pair of armchairs, arrayed in front of a lowly-crackling hearth, Ravenclaw-themed tapestries and a couple dusty, mostly empty bookshelves along the walls. There were a couple doors besides the one they'd come in through, one leading into a functional bathroom — complete with a sizeable tub, even — but the other ones didn't seem to be go anywhere at all. Space inside Hogwarts could be weird and unreliable (she suspected a lot of it was duplicated into expanded space, so technically didn't exist), and it seemed like this had been a flat for a professor or someone at some point in time, but as it went empty the living room kept being used by the students, so it had been retained while everything else slowly faded out of existence. A similar thing had probably happened with a lot of the public common rooms, actually.

Now that Liz knew the castle's wards were conscious in some form, she suspected that some of the weirdness about rooms coming and going or moving around seemingly at random was something the wards at least had partial control over. Like, in this case, the bedroom and stuff wasn't being used anymore, so the castle had gotten rid of it, but the students had taken over the living room to hang out in — it was in a convenient place between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and most of their classes, not a bad neutral spot to linger in for a bit — so the wards had decided to keep this part. It seemed like that theory would explain a lot, but Liz couldn't explain how the castle could just make things appear and disappear at will — messing around with things under its control, fine, but outright conjuring and vanishing objects seemed like too much.

And this room was still used — Liz had learned about it in the first place from someone's head. Apparently, some of the upper-year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors used it as a make-out spot...and sometimes more than that. People had definitely had sex on this sofa before, but the dust on the shelves was pretty minimal, so Liz was sure the elves cleaned it regularly.

(She didn't just know what this sofa had been used for from people's minds, she knew it, but she couldn't put words to how, exactly — apparently her psychometry was getting sensitive enough, or she was just becoming sufficiently consciously attuned to it, to pick up echoes of that sort of thing now, because being a Seer was bloody weird sometimes.)

(It made her slightly uncomfortable, honestly, but it wasn't strong enough to distract her from Daphne.)

It'd been several days since the First Task now, and it was pretty much the only thing people had been talking about ever since. It had been pretty short, but also very busy, providing people a lot of shite to obsess over, and gossip about the Champions in general and speculating about upcoming events, and just on and on. Liz seemed to have made it through okay — at least she'd managed not to make an idiot of herself. Some people were annoyed with her for scoring better than Cedric, as she'd anticipated — Cedric himself insisting that his slightly lower score was really his own fault for getting in over his head in the aerial fight didn't seem to help — and the people who'd already been convinced she was a super scary future Dark Lady or whatever were only more terrified than they'd been of her a week ago, because of course.

Though, as Liz had noticed way back in first year, they didn't seem to be actually scared of her — if they were, they probably wouldn't randomly taunt her in the halls about how totally evil she was. Whatever they were feeling, there was an odd eager thrill to it that was at least fear-adjacent, not sure what to call that, along with an almost smug sort of... She didn't know, exactly. It seemed really similar to how people could get all obsessive about celebrities and the like, with all the making up gossip and trying to get their attention for no apparent reason, but, like, a negative version of it? somehow? She didn't know, it didn't make any bloody sense to her at all.

Ronald bloody Weasley had seemingly taken her being scary in a fight as proof that she definitely could have killed his sister. Which, obviously she was capable of it — she was capable of killing practically anyone whose occlumency wasn't good enough to stop her from, say, compelling them to jump off the Astronomy Tower. That she could have killed Ginny didn't change the fact that she hadn't. If Weasley kept being so fucking annoying, he might just learn how easy it would be to off him and get away with it, one day...

(Of course, if Weasley did jump off the Astronomy Tower, Severus and probably half of her friends would guess she was responsible — so, actually, she wouldn't get away with it — she was just saying, she was getting really sick of him.)

The point was, a lot of people were being a bit more of a pain than usual. Even walking around the halls could be annoying, people who didn't like her for one reason or another taking the opportunity of sniping out rude comments, or just glaring while thinking unpleasant thoughts — which actually bothered her more than just saying shite out loud, despite normal people thinking that a lesser offence — a couple times even throwing jinxes at her when they thought she wasn't looking. Of course, none of them actually hit her, she could always feel them coming, but it was still irritating. From some people, anyway, the ones more stubborn about disliking her (especially older Gryffindors), but even a subset of the student population being awful could be a fucking pain...and even the people who didn't hate her were paying more attention to her than usual, which was always uncomfortable.

And the Yule Ball was less than a month and a half away now, so apparently that meant it was time to start being ridiculous and silly about that. Some of her classmates had started pairing off and finding dates already, being all gossipy and giggly about it, and Blaise had even asked Liz if she wanted to go with him, of all people — he knew she was with Daphne, of course, but he'd assumed they wouldn't be going to the ball together, for silly pureblood politics reasons Liz didn't entirely follow. (He was maybe forgetting that Daphne was a Mistwalker and Liz was, well, Liz.) He'd been trying to be helpful in a weird pureblood sort of way, Liz was pretty sure, but it'd still been super awkward. They weren't very far into it, yet, most of Liz's friends didn't have dates and there was still plenty of time left, so she assumed that was just going to get worse as the weeks went on.

And, on top of all of that, Dumbledore wanted to talk to her about something. This wasn't the first time that'd happened, but before Severus had played along with her not wanting to deal with him, and this time he'd said she should see him, that it was important. Which was...kind of concerning, honestly. She didn't think Dumbledore would take advantage of the opportunity of having her alone in a room to do anything to her — if nothing else, Severus would definitely know, and would find a way to sneakily murder him or something, and she'd bet Dumbledore realised that. But she had no idea what Dumbledore could possibly say to her that Severus might think was worth listening to. She had a bad feeling, that was all, she'd been nervous ever since Severus came to her about it, a couple days ago now. Severus being uncharacteristically anxious about it himself wasn't helping.

Daphne was a good distraction, though.

They'd had a couple hours before Liz had to go, and they didn't have anything better to do, so, they'd slipped away up to this little room. It was an even chance whether there'd be anyone here or not, at this time of day, but they'd gotten lucky — Liz had covered the door with locking and sealing charms (if nothing else alerting anyone coming up that it was occupied), and, well. They'd talked a little bit, about, you know, whatever. Liz tended to be really bad at remembering where all a conversation had gone afterward. Shite going on at school, and outside politics stuff, mostly. There was politics stuff going on, more about the big realignment that'd happened recently and reorganisation at the Ministry, and also weird nationalist shite, Liz wasn't really paying attention. Daphne's mum kept her at least passably informed, since she was the future Lady Greengrass and all, but Liz paid Sylvia to take care of all that.

They'd spent most of the time kissing. Which was still kind of a surprise to Liz, honestly — she'd known, from people's heads, that some of the older students could spend a significant amount of time snogging, but she'd always thought that was...completely fucking absurd? Like, it didn't seem that entertaining from the outside. But here she was, however long later, and, yeah. She got it now.

Well, she didn't get it, really, but life was weird like that sometimes.

It hadn't taken very long for Liz to move into Daphne's lap. As kind of embarrassing as it was — Liz was so sick of being stupidly short — it was convenient, this angle much easier on her neck. Since Liz was tiny, her weight wasn't really a problem, but there were bony bits in her arse that could dig into Daphne's thighs if she stayed in one place too long. Of course, that was only a problem if Liz was sitting sideways, but if she was, you know, facing Daphne, that could get overwhelming pretty quickly, and she'd end up having to take a break before too long.

(As much as getting very turned on snogging your girlfriend was a normal thing to happen, Liz, just...wasn't ready for that yet.)

She had had a random crying episode a bit ago — because of course she had, Liz couldn't do fucking anything like a normal person without making a mess of it. It was fine, she'd just waited for the bloody thing to pass, cleaned herself up with a couple charms. (She'd leaked all over Daphne's shoulder, very gross.) Before she left, she should probably drop by the bathroom to wash her face or whatever, but she already planned on changing first (she was still in her school robes), so that wasn't a big deal. She'd been a bit sore after, because it turned out crying fucking hurt — she'd even managed to pull something in her side while she was at it, because of course, Liz couldn't even cry properly — and she'd felt kind of gross, but Daphne hadn't seemed to mind, so they'd ended up gradually falling into kissing again.

That had been...a while ago, Liz didn't know. Time could be weird, lost in the slow soft back and forth, sunk deep into Daphne's mind all bright and warm and comfortable, distracted by one hand wandering over Liz's waist and hip, the other rather high up her thigh under her robes — she wasn't sure when that had happened — Liz's fingers tracing over her cheek and down her neck, following along the collar of her robes, and, just, it was...kind of hard to think about anything else.

She was pretty sure she wasn't late yet. Honestly, it was difficult to care — this seemed way more important than whatever the hell Dumbledore wanted to talk about, at the moment.

She might have ended up being late if Daphne didn't do something to startle her out of it. She could tell that Daphne was, well. Sometimes, she could get a little impatient. Not in, like, a mean way, she didn't blame Liz for it, exactly. Just, Liz knew how bloody maddening it could be to get all worked up and not be able to do anything about it, and Daphne didn't have the same hangups Liz did, and sometimes she...really wanted Liz, very badly, and it could get a little frustrating that she, just, wasn't up for that yet. She usually tried not to let Liz see that, because she was aware it was something Liz couldn't help and she didn't want to make her feel badly about it, but sometimes she couldn't help it.

(Honestly, it was still a little baffling that Daphne actually liked her that much — her mental image of Liz was even much more accurate now, with her scars and everything, and it hadn't seemed to make a difference — but whatever.)

Daphne was rather preoccupied with the hand on Liz's thigh, fingers gently tracing over her skin — it was a little ticklish, honestly. That'd kind of just, gradually happened, the way Liz shuffled over into Daphne's lap pushing the hem of her robes over her knees, Daphne's hand starting down there and slowly working up, though Liz hadn't really noticed when exactly it'd gotten so far up there. Her fingers hadn't quite reached Liz's shorts, but...pretty close, really, very distracting. And not just for Liz, Daphne was... Well, she kept thinking about, um, going higher, whether Liz would react badly, that probably wasn't a great idea...

...Liz kind of wanted to suggest she try it. But, she was also aware that that was probably a bad idea — a bad brain moment would just make crossing that line even harder next time — so, yeah.

She hadn't really meant for Daphne to catch that thought, but it was honestly kind of hard to tell where the edge of her mind was, and whether Liz was thinking something inside her (where she might see it) or not. But apparently that thought was close enough, because there was some kind of lurch in Daphne's head all around her, a pulse of...something. (Liz had no idea how normal people knew what word to put with which feelings, it was hard.) But Daphne didn't, just, do it, instead sent her a mental image, with a little thrill that had a shiver crawling down Liz's spine in response.

...Was that a good idea? Liz did have to be somewhere, and she had no idea what time it was. (Not that she really cared if she was late, at the moment.) That was mostly where her head went, because, the suggestion wasn't really anything that different than they'd done before. One fewer layer in the way, true, but, Liz thought it was probably fine.

Yeah, why not. It took a little doing, shifting her weight around, having to partially untangle herself from Daphne. Turning more toward her side, getting a foot down on the cushion next to Daphne — raising a twinge of pain at one point in the process, must have pinched something — her hands on the backrest, managed to push herself up a little. Moving to, um, straddle Daphne (was the word, she guessed) was kind of difficult, with her robes getting in the way, Daphne helping to pull the shite up to bunch up around her thighs. And also distracting, because, her legs had been held pretty close together, and, she could feel the (damp) cloth of her knickers shifting against her as she moved, her breath catching as, just, ugh, that was all. She gently sank back into place, her arms wrapped back around Daphne's neck, fingers in her hair, Daphne's robes scratching against the insides of her thighs, catching Daphne's mouth again, hot and wet and slow...

Daphne's other hand was under her robes now, one on the outside of each thigh, slowly tracking up, Liz twitched a little as a fingernail caught her skin, she could practically feel Daphne's heartbeat in her fingertips and her lips, moving up over her hips, Liz's skin crawling in a sharp little thrill. And up toward her waist, enough that Daphne's fingers started being pinched under the tightly-cinched cloth — Liz let out a distracted hum, freed a hand from Daphne's collar to reach around, running her fingers up her own side, a thread of wandless magic loosening the ties, the release of pressure making her shiver.

Daphne's fingers wandered up to the small of her back, under her vest, directly on her skin, Liz's breath catching in her throat. Her face burning, she was having trouble focussing on the kissing, she broke away and turned her face into Daphne's neck instead, hot and soft and citrusy and vaguely floral with her...shampoo or lotion or something, who cares. Her own fingers directionlessly worming under Daphne's collar, shivering at the touch tracing over her back, starting off light and gentle before pressing in, following the knobs of her spine, one hand digging along the back of her hip, and Liz couldn't help pressing in against her, completely unconscious, hardly even realised she was doing it, Daphne shivering a little from the breath hot against her neck, thick and harsh in Liz's throat, fuck, fuck, fuck...

Daphne's hands wandered down, over her shorts again, fingers splayed over her arse, Liz's breath catching in her throat and her hair seeming to stand on end, she grit her teeth as her everything seemed to thrum, a little flash of pain from the mind around hers as her hands clenching unintentionally scratched Daphne a little. Daphne's hands tightened, Liz's head and chest pounding and her skin crawling, Liz rocking without thinking about it, completely unconscious, Daphne's back curling, pressing up, seeming to twist in place a little, trying to offer a convenient—

Fingers crawling around, Liz noticed Daphne finding one of the lines high on the back of her thigh, and after a second realising what it was.

Liz was slapped over the head with an icy gust, her stomach dropping — suddenly, in the space of a heartbeat, she wasn't having fun anymore.

Leaning back, hard and tense, "No, stop." A sharp edge of something unpleasant shivered through Daphne's head, but she immediately let go, her arms worming their way out from under Liz's robes. Liz turned with a push, and let herself flop boneless onto the empty half of the sofa, her limbs splayed limply wherever they fell, her hair scattered over her own face. For a moment she simply lay there, staring at the ceiling turned patchy and blurry from her hair in the way, trying to catch her breath, high and harsh and shivering.

Well. That sucked.

Her stupid brain moment had thrown her into an odd jumble of contrasts, feeling flushed and chilled at the same time, rigid with tension even while still all soft and warm and... It was very uncomfortable, really, she'd rather one or the other go away now. (Still feeling turned on while having a bad brain moment just felt very very gross.) And she could definitely do without the lines on her arse and thighs throbbing cold and sharp. (She knew that was in her head, but it felt so— Ugh, for fuck's sake, stop it.) Forcing out a sharp sigh, Liz stiffly pushed herself up to a seat — Daphne, still sitting nearby, looked about as flushed and out of breath as Liz felt, her face very red, her hair and robes an uneven mess. "Sorry, brain moment."

"It's all right," she said, her voice sounding rather breathless. And she did mean that, Liz didn't feel a lie — even while simmering with disappointment and frustration, there was an edge of... Liz didn't think "pity" was quite the right word, something like that. (She had recognised what the scar was from, after all.) And she felt a bit guilty too, which was ridiculous, Liz had practically asked for it... Daphne paused to swallow, before asking, "Are you okay?" Mostly motivated by that bit of guilt, Liz thought, worried she'd pushed too hard.

"I'm fine, it's just..." Not sure how to explain it, exactly, Liz waved vaguely at her own head. "It's okay, really, but I feel really gross now." Her own body still being all warm and keyed up was actually making her a bit nauseous, because of course. "I think I'm done for the day."

Daphne wasn't sure what Liz meant by "gross", but didn't think she wanted to ask — mostly because she suspected Liz wouldn't answer. (Which, she wouldn't, if only because she wasn't really sure what she meant either.) Sinking a little deeper into the sofa, Daphne let out a sigh. "That's probably for the best."

"...What?"

"What time is it?"

Frowning, Liz concentrated for a second, and cast the charm with a snap of her fingers. "Oh shite, you're right, I should probably get going."

"I thought you weren't going to be seeing him until five — we still have a little time."

"I was going to change first." Also, Liz didn't know exactly how long it was going to take to get wherever she was meeting Dumbledore, she'd planned on showing up at Severus's office early just in case.

"Ah." A weird cool little shiver went through Daphne's mind, definitely an unpleasant feeling, but not sure what it was about. Probably just about Liz seeing him — she wasn't any happier about it than Liz was. A teasing slant coming over her, shooting her a smirk, she said, "What, have to look all nice for the former Chief Warlock?"

Liz snorted. "You're hilarious. I just don't want to show up in my school robes. Don't know why, just...seems the thing to do."

"He was a professor and later a headmaster of this school for most all of his adult life — I imagine you wish him to not see you as simply another of his many, many students."

"...I don't know, maybe." That did sound plausible, but it could be hard to tell with Liz's brain. "I was just going to go with one of my normal everyday dresses, you know, because I also didn't want to look like I'm trying too hard."

"I understand."

"Well, at least one of us does."

Daphne flickered with amusement, just for a second before sinking into a cool moodiness — odd for Daphne, her mind usually so soft and warm. "I don't like this, whatever it's about. I can't imagine it will be anything pleasant."

"Yeah, I don't like it either." Forcing out a sigh, Liz pushed herself upright, grimacing a little at a hint of stiffness she hadn't noticed a second ago. Didn't know what that was about, but her body was fucking trash, whatever. "I'll be okay. I'm pretty sure Severus wouldn't cooperate if it were something too bad — he did say it was important, so." He hadn't seemed happy about it either, but she hadn't caught a lie when he'd said she should do it.

"I suppose. Regardless, look after yourself, Liz."

"It's only a talk over bloody tea — a long overdue one, I guess. I think you might be worrying too much."

"At leat one of us has to."

Liz worried all the fucking time, seemed like, she was just better at not showing it...

Before leaving, Liz leaned over to give Daphne a quick kiss, just because. Liz still felt pretty gross — eyes crawling on her skin like ants, the lines on her back burning, her stomach twisting — but it seemed like Daphne could use it, so.

She didn't have a lot of time, by this point, so Liz took a couple shortcuts to get down to Slytherin. Quick dipping by the bathroom, she didn't look that bad, but she could tell she'd been crying. Washing her face helped with the little bit of leftover mess, the cool water reducing some of the puffiness (though some of that might be from the snogging, she guessed), but didn't do shite for the red in her eyes — that would have to do, she guessed. She quick changed into normal muggle-style clothes, but included her beaded bracelets and things, wearing a couple of them as a necklace. (Obviously they didn't fit over her head, but it was pretty easy to transfigure them open, get them around her neck, and then cancel the spell to 'repair' them.) They would pass for muggle easily enough — Liz didn't actually know where they were going, so best play it safe — but also Dumbledore would realise it was Mistwalker stuff. Liz was pretty sure he didn't like the Mistwalkers, so, maybe niggling him a little bit.

(Like, maybe if you'd done your fucking job when I was a bloody infant I wouldn't be such a fuck-up — so this is your fault, really, look upon your failures and feel bad. Not that Liz thought thinking the Mistwalkers were kind of neat was a sign of being a fuck-up, but she had a feeling Dumbledore would.)

Anyway, that seemed fine. Liz emptied some of her school stuff out of her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and walked out. She caught a couple glances crossing the common room to Severus's office, but at this point Slytherin was used to the idea of Liz and Severus's thing, so they weren't quite so weird about it anymore. The door was cracked open, she knocked before sticking her head in. "Hey, is it about time to go?"

"Yes. Close the door behind you." Severus had been sitting at one of the chairs in front of the fire reading a magazine — couldn't see it from here, but from the rough, plain texture of the paper presumably one of the absurd number of academic journals he read — but as she came in he abandoned his reading and stood up. He was also dressed unobtrusively, in black trousers and jacket that Liz recognised as magic-made (the way the light played over the cloth gave it away) but could probably pass without notice in the muggle world, so, the muggle clothes had probably been a good bet. "Do you need anything before we leave?"

"No, I should be good."

"If you plan to take a dose of calming potion before we arrive, now would be a good time."

...Well, that depended on where they were going, and how uncomfortable Dumbledore decided to be about things. "Where are we meeting him, exactly?"

"Dumbledore's home. It may interest you to know that he suggested a public place, but I thought you might find the other minds in the area an unnecessary distraction."

That wasn't a bad thought, actually. Especially if they were going to be talking about something private, which was pretty much guaranteed, she might feel weird about that no matter whatever privacy spells they were under. And as odd as it sounded, it was probably better to have their little talk at Dumbledore's house instead of, like, Severus's — if it went badly, she didn't want to be reminded of it every time she dropped by. "Yeah, that's better, I think. Um, I don't know, about the calming potion. I feel fine now—" Because it turned out snogging in broom closets was great stress relief, and her bad brain moment had mostly worn off by now. "—but if it gets tense, who knows. I can always retreat to the toilet or something if I need to sneak a sip, it should be fine."

There was a little flash of exasperation in the middle there — Liz suspected that thought about snogging might have been loud enough for him to catch it. Oops? Whatever he was thinking about it, he didn't comment, just moved right on. "Very well. We'll be apparating there. I thought it... There are topics best discussed without my presence. If for whatever reason, you need to leave before the planned time, simply walk out, and I will find you."

It was slightly creepy that Severus could easily find her whenever he wanted to, but he was a big Dark Arts nerd, so. If she thought Severus was likely to try to fuck her over, she'd probably worry about that, but as it was, whatever, not a big deal. At least if she got kidnapped or something it shouldn't take him very long to come find her (and fuck up whoever'd taken her), so. "What are we talking about anyway?"

"A number of issues. It is best left to Dumbledore to explain, but I believe that the events surrounding the end of the last war and the possible return of the Dark Lord will feature." Yeah, Liz had kind of guessed the latter might have something to do with it. "My understanding is that he intends to apologise, if that makes any difference whatsoever."

Liz snorted. "A little fucking late for that, don't you think?"

A shiver of cold, dark amusement running through his mind, Severus drawled, "I had suspected you would think so, yes. If he does manage it properly, and you are willing to part with it, I would like to see the memory — I don't believe I've ever heard a forthright apology from Dumbledore given without self-justifying prevarication and excuses. He took no responsibility whatsoever when speaking to me of that Hallowe'en, as an example."

And her understanding was that the protections on their house had been his idea, so he really probably should have. But, Liz had noticed before, that a lot of people in the Light seemed to think that the measure of being a bad person was having bad intentions — if you were trying to do the right thing, but then it went and blew up in your face and got people killed, well, that wasn't your fault, was it? You were trying to help, so it was fine! She'd heard people saying that sort of thing about Dumbledore specifically all the time too, the excuses people made about all the shite that'd come out about him over the last year or so, it was ridiculous...

(Sometimes, she wondered if people who thought that way really believed the people they thought were evil or whatever were doing 'bad' things on purpose — she meant, consciously doing things they knew were wrong, like full-on storybook villain stuff. As far as Liz could tell, most people did what they thought was best in whatever situation they found themselves in, with the resources and information they had available, so, getting special allowances for having good intentions didn't make any sense because that was kind of the default? There were exceptions, sure, but nobody wanted to feel like they were the bad guy, people pretty much always thought they were in the right. So, she had to be missing something, because she didn't really get it.)

They apparated off, again doing the thing where Liz actually did the magic for herself and Severus just steered them — it was a good idea to get a little practice now and then, and also it was way less miserable than proper side-alonging. It was cool where they landed, a little windy, and very cloudy, the sun should be low in the sky by now but it was completely hidden. The land was very flat, a mix of stubborn green and winter brown, mostly fields with a few lines of trees around. To one side was the edge of a muggle town, modern rowhouses with television antennas and electric streetlamps and the like, but on the opposite side of the street was what was definitely a magical spot, the houses more old-fashioned-looking with no signs of modern technology, but far more varied in their shape, colourfully decorated with paint and beads and curtains.

"Where are we?"

"Dorchester." Letting go of her shoulder, Severus walked out from under the tall oak tree they'd appeared under, started leading the way toward the magical side. Liz felt a tingle of wards passing over her as she stepped out of the shadow of the tree — an apparation point, just outside of the magical district proper but shielded from muggle view. "Dumbledore has lived at Hogwarts for most of his life, and I understand any home he had outside of the school had long since been sold off. The Order kept a safehouse here, donated to the cause by Benjy Fenwick. Upon his death, his will requested the Fenwicks pass the property to Dumbledore, so it could remain in use — there was a brief dispute on the matter, but in the end the family respected his wishes, and Dumbledore inherited the property. I suspect, upon finding himself removed from Hogwarts, he had nowhere else to go."

...Liz hadn't realised people had been literally donating houses to Dumbledore, but okay then. Or, if Dumbledore hadn't had anywhere else to go, maybe this was the only one he'd actually ended up personally owning? Liz knew they'd had safehouses where people could gather to have meetings and discuss intelligence and the news and stuff, and it was public knowledge that they'd sneak muggleborns and their families or people targeted for whatever other reason across the border, usually to Holland or France — they needed somewhere they could hide them until they could get their transportation and a spot for them on the other side arranged, they'd used the safehouses for that too. She had no idea how many they'd had in total, probably like a dozen or something, but she hadn't realised Dumbledore still had any of them.

The little magical part of the town was somewhat more modern than, say, Hogsmeade, the cobblestone streets and brick-and-slate houses looking more like something out of the 18th or 19th Century. It could almost be a dated district in some really old town somewhere, if it weren't for all of the houses being shaped slightly differently, little additions tacked on seemingly at random, the overwhelming colourfulness, and the complete absence of any modern technology whatsoever. Honestly, magical society could be pretty ridiculous sometimes, but Liz thought how colourful everything could be was one of the few things they had that was just plain better than on the muggle side — also, muggle housing developments could be so boring and blocky by comparison, she preferred to have a little variety.

They didn't go very far before Severus turned onto a little brick path, crossing one of the little house's gardens. (They all had pretty sizeable gardens, Liz assumed they all grew herbs and vegetables and stuff, but it was mostly all dead for the winter.) It was a pretty modestly-sized house, a single storey, didn't look any different from the others — besides the garden being somewhat empty, with few touches of personality visible from the outside, rather plain in comparison, but Liz guessed Dumbledore hadn't even been here half a year yet. Severus's mind shifted a bit, reaching back to check that she was still right behind him, before knocking on the door.

They stood waiting on the doorstep for a moment, Liz trying to stop herself from awkwardly shuffling in place. She was just wondering if Severus should maybe knock again when there was a clacking, the door was pulled open. "Ah, Severus, Elizabeth, right on time, come in."

Liz had never seen Dumbledore in anything other than his ridiculously overdone robes — instead he was in trousers and a thick long-sleeved shirt, the legs and the sleeves loose and baggy, a fuzzy housecoat sort of thing belted on over it for extra warmth. Of course, it was all still stupidly colourful, in reds and yellows and whites and greens, the hems of the shirt stitched with little Celtic-knot-ish curlycues, the housecoat printed with random forest animals, birds and squirrels and foxes and deer and shite, very busy. He didn't have a hat, which Liz realised old-fashioned people considered acceptable only in private, his long grey-white hair let to tumble wherever it liked. He wasn't even wearing shoes, instead just fuzzy wool stockings in vivid purple and white — not matching anything else he was wearing, naturally. Very casual, but then, they were in his house.

There wasn't an entryway or whatever, the door instead leading right into a sitting room, overstuffed felt furniture arranged around a fireplace. The walls were thick with bookshelves, showing practically none of the material beneath, most of the shelves stuffed with books and magazines and even unbound papers loosely bundled together, in some places instead taken up by framed photos or little enchanted bits and bobs. One spot empty of shelves had a liquor cabinet, hanging on the wall above it a magical painting of a pair of lanky red-headed men and a somewhat shorter blond man, in formal-looking trousers and jackets and all looking a bit solemn. Liz didn't recognise any of the men, but the style was rather dated, the men might be much older now — she'd guess one of them was presumably Dumbledore himself, but it was impossible to tell which.

No wait, the ginger on the right was Dumbledore — Liz had seen old pictures, like from around the Revolution, but only a few times, she hadn't recognised him at first. From the medals hanging from ribbons around all three men's necks, she'd guess this was just after the Revolution, after Dumbledore had gotten an Order of Merlin but before his mysterious premature ageing had started to hit hard. Seemed like an odd thing to have on the wall, but whatever.

Dumbledore babbled on with the expected pleasantries, hello, how are you, how are things at the school, blah blah. Liz hardly even listened to most of it, barely responded to Dumbledore's greeting. She did let him take her cardigan (it was November, she could use the warmth), but she didn't take off her shoes — if she decided she wanted to leave, she didn't want to have to slow down to put them back on. While Dumbledore was hanging that up on a hook by the door, Severus was already dismissing himself, he'd be back to pick her up around six.

Before leaving, he turned to Liz and suggested they pick up dinner at the pizza place in Charing on the way back to Hogwarts, if she wanted — oh, well, Liz hadn't expected that, but sure. She couldn't help wondering if magic pizza was supposed to be a bribe for putting up with Dumbledore, but she didn't say that out loud, with him standing right there. There was an odd moment where Severus hesitated, a sharp cold flash crackling through his mind, muttered something about answering any questions she might have afterward, and then he was gone, the door clacking closed behind him.

...Okay, that was weirdly awkward for Severus. Now that she thought about it, when he'd said there were topics best discussed without his presence, he had seemed a bit... She didn't know, exactly. She'd have to ask him what the hell that was about later, she guessed.

Yeah, this scene got stupid long on me again, and tipped over my 20k mark. Not only do I not want to dump that many words on you guys all at once, but also proofreading all that in a sitting can be a pain? So I chopped off this first part — which isn't so much a half as a quarter. As awkward as the break is, and as uneven the split, there really isn't a more convenient point in the scene to put it. Unless something goes wrong, the second part should be posted tomorrow.

Um, I mean later today — fuck's sake, I need to go to bed...