Chapter Eight: Brandy and Broomsticks Snape stopped in mid-pace; I heard him. I tensed, unsure of what his reply would be and not really sure if I wanted to know or not.
“What about him?” There was no emotion betrayed in his voice. I finally gave in and risked a glance at him. He was facing me, arms crossed. His eyes were narrowed and he watched me intently. Strands of ink-black hair fell into his eyes and before I fully realised it, the urge to brush them back was there. I pushed it away with as much force as I could find in myself. Now was not the time to remember what I had lost.
I thought for a moment, wondering how I should bring this up. “What do you think of him?” Snape’s face was expressionless, giving me no hint as to his feelings whatsoever. The fire crackled behind me, a solid warmth at my back. Somehow, it encouraged me to keep going, to say what I wanted to say.
He looked at me hard, his expression suspicious and calculating. “What exactly do you mean?” It was as if he was waiting to see was my question a trap and if his answer would be later used against him. His lack of faith in me (though he couldn’t be blamed) was incredibly frustrating.
I threw up my hands and started pacing. “You’re his Head of House; surely you have some idea of what he’s like! He doesn’t seem a threat, not right now at least, I suppose. He’s incredibly smart, however, so he could be pretending... but I don’t think so, not from the times I’ve spoken with him...” I growled, racking my hands through my hair as I paced. I was developing several nervous habits, it seemed. “I mean, he’s lived in an orphanage most his life! He didn’t even know about Voldemort until he came here!” I finally shut up and rubbed my temples furiously to vent my anger, still pacing.
Snape’s voice was cool and indifferent, immediately bringing me back to reality. “Calm down, Potter. Sit.” I stopped and looked at him. He had his no-nonsense face on and I knew better than to try and argue. I sat down meekly and stared at my hands.
I was silent as he sat down opposite me, but I could feel his eyes on me. The silence spoke volumes while we were both lost in our own thoughts. Snape began to speak quietly, his voice low and deliberate. “Callidus is... enigmatic. He’s extremely intelligent, as you’ve said and he uses books as an excuse not to face people. From what Dumbledore told me, he has never met Voldemort, nor any of the Death Eaters. He had no idea where he came from, until he got his letter and came here. He started reading about Voldemort when he realised people feared he was related to him.”
I vowed to get over my fear of talking to Dumbledore as soon as possible, and have a long talk with him. It looked like I needed it.
“He knows about you and your situation with Voldemort as well,” Snape added and I stared at him. I hadn’t expected this. “He read about it.” I clutched my hands so hard that my knuckles went white. “But I doubt he wants to carry on Voldemort’s work even if he’s related to him or not. Whether he actually will or not is a different story.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Potter, you’ve seen how everyone treats him. You, Minerva, Albus and myself are probably the only people in this school who are willing to believe that he mightn’t be following in Voldemort’s footsteps. From the view of everyone else, he has already been judged and sentenced.” Snape’s face was grim as he spoke and he looked angry, but not at me. “That could be enough to push him to the Dark Side, sooner or later.”
“Oh.” I was deservedly subdued after his words. I went back to studying my hands. “It’s good you feel that way, I suppose,” I remarked carefully.
“And why is that?” The dry curiosity was obvious in his voice.
I threw caution to the winds and met his eyes directly, wanting to prove a point. “Trust me -- it’s always better to have your Head of House on your side.” The moment I said the words, I felt foolish. Snape had been here far longer than me; of course he knew that! I quickly looked away, hoping the fire didn’t highlight the blush that stained my cheeks from embarrassment.
But he surprised me. “You’re right. You usually are about these things,” he sighed. I blinked, my embarrassment taking second priority to my surprise at his words. Snape’s face was expressionless, as I had expected it to be. But I liked to think there might have been the hint of a smile on his lips when he looked at me. Perhaps, deep down, I missed him more than I wanted to admit to believe. Great. I could just imagine his face if I ever told him that -- right after he tried to strangle me. Charming thought.
“Now,” he said, bringing me back to the present and out of my haywire thoughts, “what did you want to talk to me about concerning Callidus? I presume getting my opinion on him was only the start of it.” I visibly squirmed and his gaze sharpened. He knew the reasons for the way I acted. Particularly the way I acted when I didn’t want to say something.
“I was talking to Callidus today,” I began at last, leaning back into the armchair and crossing my arms. A defensive gesture, though I hoped he didn’t see it like that. “I ended up having to explain the Chamber of Secrets to him and the fact that Voldemort used to be a Parselmouth.” Snape visibly stiffened and I gave him a grim smile. “You can thank Dolus Malfoy for that and practically accusing Callidus of intending to kill every Muggle-born in the school.” He winced and I felt slightly more hopeful; his reaction gave the impression that he wasn’t too thrilled with the Malfoy family in general right now.
“I’ll talk to him,” he murmured, looking sick and tired of it all. But I noticed the air of disappointment that clung to him about the situation. I frowned, but didn’t press him for details. However, I had to add something to it.
“Deal with him like you’d deal with any Gryffindor,” I said firmly, locking eyes with him. Something flashed in his midnight eyes, but he didn’t say anything, only tightened his lips and nodded curtly. The best agreement anyone could get from Snape.
“Callidus mentioned that he was looking forward to his first Quidditch match,” I went on, turning my head to look at the crackling fire. “But there’s something he’s not too happy about -- his broom.” Beginning interest flickered in Snape’s eyes. “Apparently, the school ones are getting worse and he can’t do anything with the broom he has.”
His eyebrows snapped together. He leaned forward, eyes watching me intently. “And what do you want me to do about that, Potter? Magic the broom?” His voice was cold. I had expected this.
I gave him a contrary smile. “Oh, I don’t want you to do anything... on your own.” I took a deep breath, distinctly aware that I was treading on thin ice and finally said it. “I want us to buy Callidus a broom.”
Snape froze, his eyebrows shooting upwards. He stared at me. He didn’t speak for a few moments; it seemed I’d made him speechless. I took temporary pride in that fact, before preparing to convince him. And judging by his face, it was going to take a hell of a lot to convince him.
I was certain that my suggestion was doomed even before he began to speak. It was simply too impossible to even hope that he would agree to it. But he surprised me -- again. “Exactly why do you want us to do that?” I was surprised he hadn’t tried to do anything to me yet, but there was an astute look in his eyes; his way of saying that he was listening.
The fire sparked. I paused, before shrugging. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “Maybe I think Callidus deserves something normal to happen to him like everyone else. He deserves the same chance in Quidditch like all the others.” I frowned and gave up trying to sound polite and intelligent. “Hell, I don’t know! Do I need a legitimate excuse?” My patience finally snapped. “Everyone thinks that I should be wary of Callidus and treat him like he’s glass! I want to treat him normal, is that too much to ask?!”
Snape’s was quiet when he answered, “But he’s not normal. He never was and never will be. He’s as different as you were at his age.” I paused and looked at him. His unreadable expression made me carefully consider his words. They made painful sense.
I sighed. “If anything ever goes wrong, I want him to remember me as a teacher who tried to help him, not condemn him. Even if that isn’t enough.” My face became tight and I stared down at my clenched hands.
“What about your precious Gryffindors?” he enquired mildly and I noted that he kept the usual disdainful sneer out of his tone. I could only imagine the effort that must have taken him.
“I checked,” I replied calmly. “They all have perfectly fine brooms, as do all of the others on the teams. Callidus is the only First Year on the teams, remember?”
“It’s rather hard to forget,” he answered dryly and I almost smiled, before I realised he hadn’t given me a straight answer.
Whatever patience that wasn’t already snapped, broke. Rising to my feet, I glared at him and said in a clipped voice, “Will you just give me a straight answer? I want us to buy Callidus a broom. Will you help me?” I crossed my arms and waited for his response. While getting into a waiting contest wasn’t what I really wanted, if it happened I was willing to have it out.
“Still as impatient as ever,” he murmured and my glare intensified. He raised an eyebrow, but gave me an answer. “If you want us to do it, why ask for my permission? I can count on one hand the number of times you ever did ask for my permission.” We were gradually becoming more at ease with each other as time went on, but there were still barriers between us, barriers we weren’t sure we wanted to break down. It was slightly problematic.
“Because.... because...” I struggled to give him answer that didn’t sound pathetic or pitiful. “Because I’m an adult now... and... well, it seemed right to ask for your permission,” I said awkwardly, wishing that I really had common sense. If I’d had, I would have known better than to have this conversation in the first place.
The atmosphere became very uncomfortable and both of us suddenly avoided looking at each other. Snape had definitely expected a different answer to the one I had given him. His knuckles whitened even further as his grip tightened on the arm rests. He was tense; it was obvious from his rigid posture and I began to heartily wish I had never done this. Temporary insanity had once again overtook me.
“Fine, Potter,” he said abruptly, apparently wanting me gone as quick as possible, “I’ll help you buy Callidus a broom. I’ll get an order form and I’ll give it to you when I’ve my part filled out. You can post it.” I nodded and prepared to stand up, suddenly wanting to get out as fast as I could. Something didn’t seem right about him right then, for some reason. But he was still talking. “Not a word of this to the boy, all right? I don’t want it to go round that I’m starting to take part in favouritism.” I arched an eyebrow, but nodded. I don’t think many would have believed Snape could have a favourite student , no matter what he brought them, but I had seen him showing slightly approval to students who had been quite talented in Potions a few times while I had been at Hogwarts. I suppose that was as far as he got with favouritism; he believed a student who found themselves in his good graces had to earn it.
Not many students ever reached his standards -- he was as critical as they came but he knew what he was on about and his criticisms were generally there to make the students learn from their mistakes... though it never felt like it at the time.
“I’ll go,” I muttered while edging towards the door, feeling something crawl down my spine and not liking it one bit. He looked at me quickly, when I reached the door and the look in his eyes made a chill run through me, as realisation hit like a bullet. My eyes widened fractionally, though I knew he could see it anyway. I didn’t wonder if that was a good thing or not. All I knew was that I had to get the hell out of there. The tension in the room was as thick as smoke and I felt like it was choking me and making me admit things I didn’t want to admit. With a strangled sound, I yanked the door open and bolted from Snape’s office.
I only calmed down when I reached my own office. After the door was securely bolted, I leaned against it and closed my eyes, breathing hard and trying to calm myself. That had been a mistake. It was as if I had gone down there begging for something to happen. And then something had happened and I, in typical style, had panicked and run -- again. Sooner or later, Snape wasn’t going to accept that and would come after me. Something would happen, then, but I hadn’t a clue what and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know or not -- or if I could face up to it... and my fears.
I knew one thing, however -- I’d managed to get myself into something far deeper than I’d imagined. And I didn’t know if I could get myself out of it again.
* * *
Hagrid was bent over a large box that looked more like a crate when I went down to him. At first I’d thought I’d imagined it, but then I realised he really was making soft crooning sounds, sounds that you’d usually make to a baby. But then, Hagrid generally tended to treat animals like people so I wasn’t all that surprised.
“Er, Hagrid?” I began cautiously, suddenly realising that I didn’t know what was actually in the crate and it was a rather large one. It was time to be careful, with Hagrid’s tendency to think the larger the animal, the less likely they were to be dangerous. Add this to his tendency to name huge, three-headed dogs “Fluffy”, a young Norwegian Ridgeback “Baby Norbert” and it was a wonder I didn’t go around Hagrid with a suit of armour on. But I trusted him and his animals usually didn’t attack anyone they saw was his friend.
He stopped and looked up at me. He smiled broadly when he recognised me. “Harry! What’re yeh doin’ here now?”
“Have some time to kill,” I replied with a shrug. “Thought I’d come down and visit. Besides,” I added with a grin, “I get to see what ferocious creature you’ve got before you poor students.”
Hagrid snorted. “This comin’ from the teacher who deals with Dark Arts!” I merely grinned. “Anyway,” he continued, indicating the crate with a nod of his head, “these beasts ain’t ferocious, even for my standards! Come an’ have a look.” Unable to resist, I did.
My first thought was that they looked like dogs. My second thought was the realisation they really were dogs. I blinked and watched as eight small puppies clambered over each other to gaze up at me, apparently thinking my glasses were something new to eat. I raised my head back up to a safe distance and glanced at Hagrid. “Crups, right?”
He nodded, grinning. “Yep. Cute, ain’t they?”
He was right; they were cute. There was simply no denying it. Resembling Jack Russells, they usually didn’t grow very large and had the unfortunate tendency to be extremely cute as puppies, but were wizard dogs through and through. The resemblance to a Jack Russell was the only trait they shared with normal Muggle dogs, as they were intensely loyal to wizards and downright vicious to any unsuspecting Muggles who came across them. Another difference was the forked tail they had, which was usually docked when they were a few weeks old, in case Muggles ever saw them. Explaining away a forked tail would be rather difficult, I imagine. It took a skilled wizard to correctly control them in areas where there were Muggles. Of course Hagrid would eventually come around to getting a litter of them.
I reached down and scratched the ears of the largest of the litter, who consequently squashed his brothers and sisters to get as close to me as he could. He yipped and half-closed his eyes, enjoying the scratch as any dog would. Then he proceeded to enthusiastically wash my hands. I sighed and rolled my eyes. I’d had an owl for the last eleven years; I wasn’t very knowledgeable about dogs. Hagrid sniggered and tried to look like he wasn’t. I gave him a dirty look.
“I bet everyone’s trying to buy one off you, eh?” I asked in amusement, knowing well how the students’ reactions would be; the exact same as any Muggle child who came into contact with a puppy.
Hagrid’s face turned gloomy and he nodded. “Yep,” he replied mournfully. “They’re becomin’ vicious now when I won’t give ’em one!” I laughed, knowing well that he was being completely serious. Even Seventh Years went gaga over dogs like these. However, my laughter immediately stopped when I felt something clutching the end of my robes. I looked down to see that one of the pups had managed to climb out of the grate and had decided my robes were the most delicious things it’d ever tasted. It was sprawled over the end of them, chewing the hems contentedly. I moved my foot slightly and it stared up at me with intelligent brown eyes. It went back to chewing my robes.
“Ah, that one,” Hagrid said in a knowing voice, looking down as well. “She’s the runt o’ the litter, no doubt about that. Whatever the largest o’ the litter does, she immediately tries to do as well.” There was never a runt in a Crup litter from the Muggle meaning of the word. A Crup runt usually meant the pup who was the most inquisitive and curious, constantly trying to do things that evaded them. They were usually the largest of the litter, but not always, as this pup proved.
“Appears she really likes my robes,” I remarked; she was still chewing my robes, apparently ignoring all of my efforts to dislodge her. Finally I gave in and picked her up. Immediately, she climbed up on my shoulder and started nuzzling my neck, licking my ear vigorously. I clutched her desperately, hoping she wouldn’t suddenly try and see how far she’d have to jump to get back down again.
Hagrid looked thoroughly amused and I gave him a dirty look. “Come inside,” he offered with a grin. “Yeh look like yeh need the drink,” he added, glancing at me, still amused. I had no choice but to take her in with me; she clearly wasn’t budging anytime soon. I didn’t know whether to laugh or be dismayed.
It was warm inside. I sank into a chair, as Fang curled up on Hagrid’s immense bed and promptly dozed off. The pup scrambled off my shoulder and immediately settled in my lap, gazing around with interest. I stared down at her and shook my head in puzzlement. One of Hagrid’s large mugs thumped down on the table before me and I picked it up. Without thinking, I immediately took a gulp and nearly spat it out as brandy scorched down my throat. Instead, I settled for wheezing and spluttering.
Hagrid raised an eyebrow. The pup looked up at me, her expression saying she wasn’t all that impressed with my odd noises. I finally got myself under control and gave them both an impressive glare that proved how embarrassed I was. “Forgot what it was,” I said shortly and promptly took another swallow. The pup snorted, and Hagrid sniggered.
Hagrid and I talked for a few hours and the Crup eventually dozed off in my lap. She was definitely the classic example of a Crup pup; alarmingly cute. Wizard children would have wanted her in an instant. Her coat was a rich golden-brown, fluffy, thick and warm, with the tip of her tail and her ears a darker brown. Her paws were white. And she was as contrary and as difficult as... as... me. The thought was slightly worrying.
At last the time came for me to go. It took a great effort and a lot of bribery to coax the pup, who had become quite comfortable, from my lap and when she was down on the ground, she looked up at me with reproachful eyes. I tried my hardest not to look guilty, while Hagrid tried not to laugh. The turning point came when I moved towards the door.
The Crup realised where I was going, tipped back her head and let out a howl that caused Hagrid to drop his mug and Fang to jolt awake, his fur standing on end. As for me, well, I was on the floor by then trying to get over the shock. She tore over to me and flung herself into my lap, settling down again with a smug expression. I stared at her, at a complete loss. Hagrid blinked for a moment and then grinned.
“Yeh’ve just found yerself a new companion,” he told me and I balked, staring down at the dog in my lap. “They only howl like that when they’ve found someone they want to stay with an’ she ain’t leavin’ yeh anytime soon.” My jaw dropped open.
“But I haven’t a license for her! I can’t take care of her!” I protested, trying to shove her off my lap so I could get up again. She growled and even I was smart enough to stop trying then.
Hagrid shrugged. “Don’ think yeh have a choice, Harry. She’s chosen yeh. Yeh’re stuck with her.”
I muttered angrily and rubbed my forehead hard. “Typical. The difficult one chooses me.” Hagrid snorted -- a vain effort not to start laughing. I sighed, looked down at the dog, then looked at Hagrid, who shrugged again. I sighed again, before taking her in my arms and standing up. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other for a while,” I informed the dog ruefully. I glanced at Hagrid. “Are you sure this is okay?”
He nodded. “Yep. The next time yeh’re near the Ministry, yeh can apply fer a license, anyway. Besides, yeh need a companion besides Hedwig. It’s safe to talk to a dog an’ yeh’re not considered insane.” He grinned as I glared at him. “Any ideas on a name?”
“Hmm...” I looked down at the dog, then looked over at the bottle on Hagrid’s table and back to the Crup again. Her coat was the same colour as... “Brandy,” I decided. “I’ll call her Brandy. And something tells me I’ll need a lot of it when dealing with her. Let’s hope I don’t become an alcoholic.”
Hagrid snorted, not looking very worried.
* * *
Brandy soon became a permanent addition to my life and within a few days even, I found it hard to remember what life had been like without her. And as Hagrid predicted, I soon began talking to her when we were alone. She couldn’t talk like a human, but she was a great listener. At least no one could declare I’d finally cracked because I’d started talking to my dog; it was a fairly normal thing to do. Or so I hoped.
For the first few days she was content to stay with Hagrid, who was usually outside until the end of classes, as all of his own classes were held in the outdoors. She spent the rest of the day with me, dozing while I corrected work and then enthusiastically playing with me. I wasn’t surprised that she won every tug-of-war we had. She usually started the night in a basket near the bed, but by morning she ended up curled beside me on the bed. Eventually we both forgot she ever had a basket in the first place.
By the beginning of our second week, however, she refused to spend the day with Hagrid, though he had told me the students loved her. Many of them had been extremely disappointed to learn Brandy belonged to me and wasn’t for sale. It didn’t take rocket science to know she wanted to spend classes with me. I also knew her well enough by then to be certain that no amount of bribery would change her mind. Finally I sighed, told her not to disrupt the classes, or disturb any of the creatures I brought in and she could come with me. She barked happily, jumped off the bed and raced to the door. She then looked back at me, wagging her stump of a tail, her expression clearly saying, So what are we waiting for?
It soon became common sight for her to trot alongside me in the halls. She rarely stayed with me; sooner or later a student or teacher would cause her to race away for some attention and with luck, the prospect of food. I learned not to wait for her -- she caught up with me when she was ready. She kept quiet during classes, after all of the students had greeted and petted her (of course) and even seemed to take an interest in them (if Crups could). I had to remind myself that Crups were wizard dogs, not Muggle ones and so didn’t fit the idea of dogs that I’d been raised with. I’d never known any dog really well, anyway -- they had all been afraid of Dudley.
She eventually ended up in the Great Hall during meals, much to my dismay, but managed to get into the good graces of the teachers. I began to suspect they snuck her food. Professor Vector, who never ate a lot, and Hagrid usually spoiled her rotten. Even Dumbledore paid attention to her and she seemed as loyal to him as she was to me. It seemed Dumbledore had the same effect on animals as he did on people.
As far as I knew, she hadn’t approached Snape yet. I wasn’t sure how to react to that, as I was very anxious to know her opinion of him, and deep down I was afraid she wouldn’t trust him and therefore, never like him. I kept denying this to myself, naturally.
Hedwig’s was another opinion I was uneasy about. If she didn’t like someone, nothing would change her mind. If she didn’t like Brandy, I had a problem on my hands. It was actually when I visited the Owlery that Brandy and Hedwig met; she followed me up. I nearly had a heart attack when she trotted passed me and gazed up at Hedwig in curiosity and fascination. My owl’s amber eyes blinked as she regarded the enquiring Crup staring up at her. Immediately, she looked at me with an expression that clearly said, And what is that doing here? I merely shrugged, as Brandy took matters into her own hands.
Balancing her front paws carefully on the crate Hedwig was perched on, she stared right at her, her nose almost touching Hedwig’s beak. I moved forward to yank Brandy away, fearing Hedwig would snap at her, when Brandy suddenly licked the aforementioned beak. I stopped, my jaw dropping open in amazement. Hedwig screeched and flapped her wings indignantly, but Brandy refused to move. In the end, Hedwig calmed down and gave the dog a long, searching look before folding her wings and clicking her beak softly. My Crup had just earned her approval.
Brandy had a way of deciding who she could trust and who she couldn’t. She knew the people who would lavish attention on her and possibly snacks as well, and also the people she trusted enough to be affectionate to herself. These were Hagrid, Dumbledore and a few more of the teachers. And eventually two more people were added to that list.
I had been talking to Hagrid, as he had recently acquired two Hippogriffs and I wanted to bring my classes down to them so the students could observe them at close range. Brandy had been nearby, dozing with Fang and occasionally having a tug-of-war with the large dog over a bone, when she suddenly jumped to her feet and pricked her ears. I knew the signs meant she had just seen someone who was a potential ‘victim’ and didn't pay much attention to her, continuing on with my conversation with the half-giant.
She broke into frenzied barking and bolted forward, enthusiastically flinging herself onto her chosen person. I groaned and stepped forward, intending to call her off -- she was being a bit too enthusiastic with her sniffing and bouncing around -- when I recognised the person she had run to and stopped. Hagrid’s jaw dropped open, as Fang came to his feet, looking interested.
It was Callidus, who had been walking through the grounds. His bag was tossed carelessly to the ground and he was kneeling on the ground, talking softly to Brandy and rubbing her vigorously, much to her joy. While that was astonishing enough -- the people who were gawking around us were proof of that -- what caught my attention was the expression on Callidus’ face. His face had lit up and he looked to be genuinely enjoying himself. It appeared the lonely boy was a firm lover of animals. Well.
It was then Callidus looked up and saw me standing nearby, watching them. His face became guarded once more and he quickly coaxed Brandy off his lap, much to her dismay. Picking up his bag, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” He wouldn’t look at me, so he didn’t see the puzzled look on my face. What had changed between us? I’d thought he knew he could trust me... what had made him doubt that?
“It’s fine,” I quickly assured him with a smile. “You’re welcome to see her anytime you like -- she obviously likes you very much.” As if confirming my words, Brandy barked, causing Callidus to smile slightly.
“Thank you, Professor.” He glanced at me quickly and the smile still lingered on his lips. “I’d like that very much.” With that said, he quickly walked towards the doors, leaving Brandy and me to stare after him.
That was the moment Hagrid also changed his opinions on the boy, becoming less suspicious and cynical of him. I suppose he couldn’t really dislike anyone who liked animals as much as Callidus obviously did.
But still Brandy never came into contact with Snape and I’m afraid I was becoming quite impatient about that. But short of deliberately leading her to the dungeons there was nothing I could do. She’d meet him in her own time. And when she actually did, I was completely unprepared for it.
We were walking to the Great Hall for dinner one evening in the middle of October and I hadn’t really been watching Brandy, too involved in what I was going to do with my Second-Year class, who had all seemed completely hopeless on the topic of banshees. It was astonishing and very frustrating, as they had all made good process up to then. Thanks to my preoccupation with that, it was only when Brandy was already rushing towards someone coming from the opposite direction, did I pay attention to her. As she had been in a more hyper mood than usual, I was slightly worried.
When I recognised who she was careering towards, I froze, my stomach rolling unpleasantly as my mouth dried up and my eyes widened.
Snape only saw Brandy at the last minute and was completely unprepared for when she leaped. He caught her with amazing quickness, a soft “Oomph!” of surprise coming from him. I winced and wished a more calmer, sensible Crup had taken a liking to me, instead of one who was clearly deranged. Knowing I couldn’t just leave her with him, I sighed, muttered unflattering things about my dog and started walking towards them.
Dogs had been the one thing I hadn’t known Snape’s opinion on, so I’d had no idea on how he would react to Snape. But I was surprised, as I usually was.
When I reached them, Snape was scratching behind Brandy’s ears with an almost affectionate expression on his face. Brandy, for her part, was loving it, naturally. I stopped and stared at them, utterly astonished. And then it hit me; Brandy had been in the school for almost three weeks now -- unless he had gone completely deaf or blind, Snape had obviously seen her around. He knew who she was. And he knew she belonged to me -- students talked, of course. Usually they never shut up. I think I must have figured Snape would dislike her because she was mine. Thinking about it now was enough to show me how stupid and childish I had been. I started walking forward again and Snape looked up, his eyes locking with me. I struggled not to look away.
Neither of us spoke, as the minutes drifted by. I tried not to fidget, plunging my hands into my pockets so I wouldn’t do anything with them. I kept my eyes locked with his, black clashing with green. Finally, it was Brandy deliberately butting her nose against Snape’s chin that broke the staring contest between us and he spoke at last. “Your Crup is... enthusiastic with her affections, Potter. A pity her owner isn’t the same.”
It took me exactly ten seconds to realise what he was on about and I turned a violent shade of red, glaring at him furiously. Not provoked in the slightest, he simply raised an eyebrow and gave me a small smile, before dropping Brandy to the ground and turning into the corridor beside us, continuing to the Great Hall. Brandy glanced up at me, waiting for me to start walking again. When I didn’t, she tugged at the hem of my robes, impatient to eat. When I still didn’t move, instead staring vacantly into space, she gave me a disgusted look and trotted off in the direction Snape had gone. She could always find her way to the food.
It took me at least ten minutes to realise that Snape had just been teasing me, that he hadn’t wanted to argue with me at all. It was how he had acted back in the old days, when we were still together. But the last time we’d been together, I’d run from him -- again. Why would he tease me? I shook my head furiously, sick of being confused, before I realised I was really late for dinner and if I wanted any food, I had to run for it.
But there was a smile on my face when I entered the Great Hall. Maybe things weren’t as bad as I’d thought.
* * *
The day things progressed a bit more between Snape and myself, I was reading a letter from Lupin and trying to ignore Brandy’s insistent nips on my ankle, her way of telling me she wanted something to eat -- pronto. I struggled to read Lupin’s words; Brandy’s sharp nips were becoming harder to ignore. Finally I gave in, grabbed two sausages from my plate and held them out to her, where she sat at my feet under the table. “I spoil you completely, you know that?” I informed her dryly. She simply gave me a look that plainly said she didn’t believe a word I said, yipped in thanks and grabbed the sausages from my hand. I snorted; she ignored me.
Shaking my head, I went back to Lupin’s letter. It started off fairly normal -- the greetings, expected questions and an update for me on their life. I grinned; Sirius had a job at the local garage and was having the time of his life restoring motorbikes. When Lupin wasn’t getting him out of hot water when some of them started flying. Thankfully, it was a small town and things hadn’t got completely out of hand yet. Although the couple who owned the garage had a rather large amount of Memory Charms placed on them. I felt immensely sorry for them.
I shook my head again, wondering how my godfather seemed to be the child at times and I the adult, realised it was purely futile to try and find the right answer and went back to the letter. This was where it got serious.
Earlier in the month, I’d written to Lupin, asking him if he’d mind coming in to talk to my students on the subject of werewolves. While the content of my textbook was extremely good on the topic (I’d made sure of that), I knew it’d be hard for the kids to generalise on werewolves if they met Lupin and realised what a polite, well-mannered, friendly guy he was. I’d never forgotten how Ron had reacted in Third Year, when he’d discovered Lupin was a werewolf.
He’d written back to say he’d be delighted to come and help me, since it’d give him an excuse to come and see me. Sirius was practically spitting fire, he informed me, because he couldn’t get time off work to come. He was thoroughly convinced it was a side-effect of all the Memory Charms and was, naturally, blaming Lupin, even though he’d put the majority of the charms on. It was an amusing situation and it made me smile, which was what I needed most. Lupin intended to come sometime after Halloween. The next full moon was at Halloween, ironically enough. It made sense. There were some students here now whose older siblings had been at school around the same time as me. It was likely they’d have heard about Lupin and would no doubt tell others who were ignorant of the information. It was better to come at a time when he knew he wouldn’t change. I’d have to tell Dumbledore, but I was certain it would be okay. Snape would probably try and raise a fuss, but I knew better than to be worried about that.
I had just finished reading the letter and Brandy had started nipping my ankles again, when gasps and shouts from the students made me look up, startled. The post had come, but now four owls had flown in, all of them carrying a package together carefully, wobbling slightly. I frowned, narrowing my eyes slightly. The shape looked rather familiar... I recognised it abruptly and choked on my tea. I watched as the four owls flew towards the Slytherin table. All eyes were on them, trying to see who the package was for. I held my breath as the package was dropped in front of Callidus, who caught it just in time. His usual composure was shattered, as he stared at the broomstick-shaped package in his hands.
Immediately the others near him started shouting at him to open it, their fear of him discarded for a moment. He hadn’t expected that; he stared at them with wide eyes before, frustrated and excited, they helped him untie it. When they saw the broom, the students near him screamed and yelled in surprise.
It was a Firebolt, after all.
Their price had come down a bit thanks to the war, and as no new model had yet to be produced (the broom industry was still recovering from the war), the Firebolt was still the best broom in the market. Thankfully, Snape and I hadn’t damaged our bank accounts too badly. Of course, he was never going to let me forget about this either, but I could live with that. And as long as the Gryffindors didn’t find out I’d given a Slytherin a broom, I’d be fine too.
Hedwig fluttered down beside my cup and clicked her beak. I let her nibble my toast and stroked her plumage affectionately. I had sent Hedwig in the hopes Callidus would recognise her and realise who had sent him the broom, so I wouldn’t have to tell him outright. It seemed wrong to tell him like that, for some reason. I didn’t know whether to mention Snape or not. He was Callidus’ Head; he knew him better than I did.
I sent Hedwig away quickly, hoping that none of the students had seen her and put two and two together. I don’t think anyone had, as everyone had been too concerned with the fact Callidus had got a Firebolt from someone, and if any student had seen my owl, I figured they were smart enough to keep quiet. I went back to finishing my breakfast in relative peace -- Brandy had gone off to beg from another teacher, but the chaos in the students’ tables made up for her absence. I happened to look up once and found Callidus looking straight at me. He knew it was me, I saw it immediately in his eyes. He smiled slightly at me and I returned it.
I was finishing my tea when I felt eyes on me again, but it wasn’t Callidus. I met Snape’s ebony eyes and waited for his reaction. He nodded to me and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. I returned the smile and hoped none of the other teachers had seen it. The last thing I needed was for them to discuss my love life (or lack thereof).
While getting an almost-smile from Snape was brilliant in its own right (I could count on one hand the people he ever greeted civilly, never mind smiled at), it hadn’t been what had caught my attention that something was up. It had been his expression, something in his eyes... Things were definitely improving between us, but there were still walls between us that we were reluctant to break. A combination of my lack of trust and his confusion and irritation with me, I suppose. And the fact anytime Snape tried to figure out what was wrong and get somewhere with me, I tended to bolt as fast as I could.
It was confusing. Sometimes I wanted him back so badly it hurt, when it was late and I was alone and as lonely as hell. Brandy had improved that slightly, but she couldn’t make up for Snape. Other times I hated him so much for what he had done to me and I wished him dead. But lately, the urge to kiss him instead of scream at him was stronger and I had no idea on what to do now. I thought I knew what I wanted, but I was too bloody scared to go out and get it. It made me want to hit something, but I didn’t think that would be very productive or useful.
I had finally reached the conclusion that life just got harder the older you got. And I had a lot more of life to get through yet. The prospect wasn’t looking too good.
