Chapter Nine: Hogsmeade Of course, when I’d convinced Snape to help me pay for Callidus’ broom, I’d forgotten that Dumbledore might have something to say about it. This hit me the day after the Firebolt came, but I tried to put it to the back of my mind. But I couldn’t ignore it, it was always there, nagging and making me worry more and more as time went on. Did Dumbledore approve of blatant favouritism? Well, nothing had been said when McGonagall had given me my Nimbus Two Thousand. In the end, what I was giving to Callidus was what had been given to me. But was that a good thing? I worried endlessly, much to Brandy’s exasperation. Worrying usually meant staring into space, which frustrated her to no end. My hems were a sorry mess by now.
Worry made me irritable and edgy, even though the sensible part of my mind argued I had nothing to worry about. Classes were hell and my temper became strained. The students finally realised my mood swings were as bad as theirs, and if I was in a bad mood the first joker usually got landed with a detention. The worst thing was that I could offer them no proper explanation for my moods and could only let them assume I was having personal problems.
It was on a Tuesday that everything came to a climax, or at least, as far as I was concerned. I was facing a pile of correcting (which was all I seemed to do these days), when McGonagall came up to me after dinner. “Albus would like to see you now, Harry. Password’s ‘Sugar Quill’.” Her tone told me that this was a fairly normal occurrence, but my stomach automatically clenched with nerves. But of course, I had no option but to go (I couldn’t exactly refuse the headmaster, could I?) and reluctantly started up the stairs.
I began to heartily wish that I hadn’t eaten beforehand, as my dinner was now being clenched into a ball and I didn’t feel well at all. The walk to the gargoyle didn’t seem to take as long as it usually did and before I had even blinked (or so it seemed), I was standing before it. I sighed, gave it a glum look and muttered, “Sugar Quill.” It immediately jumped aside so I could climb the steps to Dumbledore’s office, but it gave me an odd look as I passed.
I stared at the polished oak door of his office, took a deep breath, hoped I didn’t look too pale and knocked on the door. As I waited, I tried to arrange my face into a politely interested mask and prayed it would stay that way. When Dumbledore’s voice invited me in, I gritted my teeth and opened the door, stepping inside.
“Ah, Harry,” Dumbledore said, smiling at me as he indicated the chair by his desk. “Tea?”
“No, thank you,” I replied quietly, as I sat down and tried not to appear panicked. I found myself gazing at the portraits of the previous Headmasters, remembering all the times I had been here as a student. I’d probably been in this office twice as much as anyone in my year.
“How are you finding teaching?” he asked mildly, watching me fiddle in my seat as he poured tea for himself. I was so surprised that I jerked in my seat, gripping the armrests tightly as I blinked at him; the question had been unexpected, to say the least.
I finally shrugged in answer, saying, “It’s... different than being a student here, but that was to be expected, wasn’t it?” It was the truth, I suppose, but I wondered where he was going with this all the same.
Dumbledore nodded, still smiling. “That was much the same as to what Severus told me when I first asked him,” he said, but continued before I could to him pulling Snape into the conversation. “The students seem to like you, however, I think that’s a good sign. You’re reasonable to them as well, and fair. That’s another advantage to them as well, considering their Defence Against the Dark Arts exams are quite difficult, aren’t they?” I nodded; out of my class, Hermione, Ron and myself had really been the only ones in any way prepared for it, and that was only because of the extra work they’d had to do with me in the numerous things we’d got mixed up in.
“You enjoy it, though, don’t you?” he persisted, giving me the piercing glance I’d almost come to expect from him. I nodded vigorously; teaching was wonderful when I didn’t have to yell at them. I felt guilty then, though I knew I’d have to get out of that habit quickly -- a teacher couldn’t become guilty, no matter how nice they were, or the students became uncontrollable. Snape’d have a field day rubbing in the fact I was an incompetent teacher, as well as an annoyance of a person as well. Ironically, it was what Snape thought that was the final say in many of my decisions. It was intensely worrying.
“That’s a relief,” Dumbledore murmured and I tried not to be suspicious, but didn’t really succeed. As if seeing that I was sceptical, he started talking again. “Snape told me that you and he... bought Callidus’ broom together.” I nodded, wondering if Snape told Dumbledore everything? A sudden thought struck me... did Dumbledore know that we had, in every sense of the phrase, been together years before? If he did... oh, dear God. “He seemed slightly grumpy at the fact you made him give up a considerable amount of money, but he seemed pleased as well.” I allowed myself a small smile; that was Snape, all right.
“Headmaster,” I said suddenly, straightening in my seat. Dumbledore took a sip of tea and watched me from above the rim of his cup. “Do you believe Callidus has already had his faith decided for him?”
He didn’t say anything at first. He simply looked at me, and I had the impression he was seeing further inside me than I could imagine. I fought the urge to squirm. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and serious. “No, I don’t believe that. In the end, we all make our own choices. Eventually, Callidus will have to decide whether to remain with us, or continue Voldemort’s work. Hopefully, he will choose the right path.”
I looked at him, my eyebrows jutting together. This hadn’t been what I had expected as an answer. “What do you mean?” It was as if... “Are you telling me that someone is after Callidus?” It had been the very last thing I had been expecting to hear, the last thing that would have crossed my mind.
“I’m not sure,” Dumbledore admitted. “But there are signs of unrest -- there have been for some time now. People have made the mistake of thinking now that Voldemort is gone, there is no more evil. But there is, there always was, more evil than just him. There still is. They were just more quieter than he was, more careful and stealthier.” He gave the appearance of being calm, but there were flickers in his eyes that I didn’t like, flickers that made me uneasy.
Something was wrong, and it was larger than anyone could realise, though no one really knew it at the time.
“Are you saying that they’ll try and get Callidus in with them, and use him as Voldemort’s heir?” I asked, now deeply disturbed with my mind going a hundred miles an hour. It made sense, though was extremely morbid. Voldemort had terrified people on an entirely different level. People had never really known evil and fear before him and hopefully they never would. What he had done had never been accomplished before, and would, thankfully, probably never be again. But to have to go through it all over again... and with a strange boy who had the same surname as Voldemort... there’d be complete panic all over again.
“Callidus was given to an orphanage when he was three years old,” I whispered faintly. “The longest he ever lasted at a family was four months, because he was strange, dangerous and did odd things. At the age of six no one would adopt him and he lived there until he came here. He has no friends, is too intelligent for his own good and can try anything he wants and succeed at it. But he’s a loner, eccentric and does things his way always. The other students fear him because they don’t understand him and because he holds the surname of Voldemort. No matter his academic achievements here, he has no friends. That kind of rejection alone could send him to the Dark Side.” I closed my eyes in growing horror. “It’d be Voldemort again.”
“No.” My eyes snapped open, and I stared at the headmaster. His eyes had gone hard. “Voldemort went to the Dark Side because he wanted power. If Callidus does the same -- and we must ensure he won’t -- it will be because of loneliness and rejection. Not power. He already has the power.”
I was silent. He was right and I had overreacted. I swallowed. “What must I do?”
“Continue to support him and cajole him to realise others his age aren’t that bad. Try and find suitable students and... give them a push in the right direction concerning friendship. Look to the future and try and destroy the dark ‘what if?’. Try and get Callidus to be normal, or as near to it as you can. We can’t let him go in the same direction as Voldemort did.” It sounded simple, and Dumbledore made it sound even easier. But I knew it wouldn’t be. It’d be a huge task; Callidus was too used to being alone, and the fear the other students held for him would take a while to dispel. But I knew I had to try. And I would succeed.
I rose from the seat. “If you don’t mind, Headmaster, I would like to return to my office. I have some thinking to do.” And a lot of planning. A brief image of Callidus with Brandy filtered through my mind and the idea solidified a little but more. Now, I had more than an idea; I have a sold, real plan that might actually work.
Dumbledore nodded. “Of course. And thank you, Harry. Other teachers would have been far more hesitant.” I gave him a small smile and walked to the door. I had my hand on the handle, when Dumbledore had the final word. “Oh, and Harry?” I turned to him, naturally having no idea what he was going to say, thus completely unprepared for it. “About the... situation with Severus and yourself.” I froze, my eyes widening. My throat dried up. Dumbledore paused to stir his tea and I wanted to scream at him. He looked at me again, and I swore there was amusement in his eyes. I wanted to hurl the nearest object at him, and considering he was the headmaster, that was a big thing to want to do. “Think carefully,” he finally said, and there was no laughter in his voice. He was serious. Completely serious. “From what Severus has said about you when we’ve talked, it is obvious -- to me, at least -- that he still cares about you. You are both too alike for your own good. You are both proud. You expect the other to apologise, even though you know it will never happen. In the end, you will have to figure out if you value your pride more than each other.” Unless my eyes deceived me, there was a flicker of sadness (and perhaps... regret?) in his eyes. Then I blinked and it was gone.
I was stunned. Utterly stunned, with my head swirling in strange ways. I could only stare at him, dumbfounded, until Dumbledore smiled again. “You may go, if you want,” he reminded me and I started in surprise, before nodding and practically bolting from his office.
I leaned against the opposite wall, breathing hard and trying not to get hysterics. I closed my eyes, grimacing at the sensation of my clammy hands pressed against the cold stone. Now was not the time to have a breakdown, to start screaming, to start punching the wall in rage or even to start crying, which even seemed like a possibility at the moment. I couldn’t stop shaking and the breaths I was struggling to take were catching in my throat. I almost wanted to believe that this wasn’t happening... but it was foolish to think that, when I had been trying to get something to happen for almost two months.
He knew. Dumbledore knew. My eyes snapped open and I stared at the polished oak door without really seeing it. I seemed to have a fine habit of bolting from people lately. Oh, God. I swallowed, trying to think clearly. Had Snape told him? I knew Snape held Dumbledore in very high regard and had much respect for him, but I had always thought there were things the Potions Master hadn’t told him. Hadn’t told anyone. We all had our secrets. It seemed doubtful that Snape would have told him; he was extremely possessive of his private life. And Dumbledore had other ways of finding out what went on in his school; I had always known that.
Of course, the obvious answer was to go and ask him. I was going to go -- I had taken the step forward -- when I actually thought about it, and stopped. The memory of what had happened the last time we confronted over something floated through my mind. I winced. Maybe having another argument so soon wasn’t wise. I chewed my lip, thinking hard, and sighed. No, not right now. I’d leave it and wait for a suitable time to being it up. If a suitable time ever came up, which I doubted. I’d wait and see. I’d try and figure it out, while attempting to carry on like everything was normal. But Snape was always there and it was hard not to remember. The urge to bash my head against a wall was strong. But not very productive in the long run.
Besides, I had more pressing matters to deal with than my messed-up, highly confusing love-life. Callidus had a dangerous road ahead of him, a road that would come to a fork that would be the most difficult decision of his life. I wanted to keep him from the Dark Side, as did Dumbledore, as did Snape, as did probably everyone when they really thought about it. If encouraging him to make friends was part of the way to go, then so be it. I had a subtle (or not-so-subtle, depending how things went) plan to figure out. Visibly calming down and getting myself back together, I rubbed my hands on my robes, took a deep breath and started down the steps to the gargoyle.
It seemed that school years were going to be just as hectic as a teacher, perhaps even more so then when I had been a student. I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not. All I wanted was a calm, problem-free life... Now that was wishful thinking.
* * *
The First Year Slytherins weren’t paying a scrap of attention to me. That was plainly obvious. I hid a smile, as I leaned against my desk and watched them. Halloween was close and they were excited about the feast, as usually First Years were. As there were only a few more days left before the holiday broke out they weren’t paying any attention in classes, as was to be expected. I watched them talk quietly amongst themselves or chatter excitedly, depending on their dispositions. Others dozed on their desks. All but one. My eyes strayed to him.
Callidus sat silently, his chin propped up on one hand. He stared absently at the blackboard, clearly not seeing a thing on it. He twirled a quill with the other hand. There was a pensive expression on his face, one I didn’t think he actually realised was there. He silently screamed: I’m lonely!
With this in mind, I coughed pointedly. No response. I coughed harder. Still nothing. My eyes narrowed, I grabbed the duster, steeled myself and slammed it down on the desk. My ears boomed, as quiet immediately filled the room and all eyes turned to me.
I smiled at them. “Now that I have your attention...” A few blushed, but nothing else happened beyond that. “I have a project for you all.” Dismayed expressions appeared on many faces and I fought not to smile. “It will be due by late November and you will be in pairs for it.” Wariness replaced the dismay. I noticed they all did that at the mention of ‘pairs’. “As you know, Hagrid has acquired Hippogriffs. I want all of you to observe them and learn how to react to them. You will do your reports together in your pairs and I will grade them.”
“But, sir,” one of the students protested, “Hippogriffs aren’t Dark Creatures, not really. Why are we doing a project on them?” It was a good question -- a really good question. While I knew my plan had many holes in it, I had spent a long time thinking up every protest and question they could come up with, and I had my answer ready. And in the end, I was the teacher. They did what I told them to do (usually). It was petty, but it was my last resort.
I gave her a level gaze. “Hippogriffs, while not typical Dark Creatures, are quite dangerous if you don’t know how to act around them.” Malfoy was the example of that. “What if you ever come across one in the future? Knowing how to properly act will keep you alive.” This really wasn’t what I was expected to teach. Care of Magical Creatures was a popular subject and the reality was that only a slight few in front of me wouldn’t end up taking it. But I had been racking my brains trying to think of a way to get Callidus to open up. The only time I had seen him truly relax was when he had met Brandy. A project on animals it was.
There were a few more murmurs and many attempts at changing my mind, but when they realised I wasn’t budging they settled down, albeit they were a little grumpy now. Callidus was watching me with growing interest in his eyes.
I held up a roll of parchment. “I’ll call out your names and you’ll see who your partners are.” I knew better than to let them choose themselves, especially when I saw the sparks of unease in Callidus’ eyes. As time had passed here, it had been more and more difficult for him to keep on his masks. He showed emotion now, whether he realised it or not.
The students waited patiently for me to get through the whole class, some smiling at the choice of partners, others grimacing. I got to the final names: “Jasmine and Callidus.”
The class froze. Callidus became expressionless. Jasmine started and looked up at me in surprise. I said nothing, merely rolled up the parchment and dismissed them. Jasmine was a quiet girl, but was popular because of her kindness and the way she was pleasant to everyone. Callidus had never spoken to her. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, she gave him an apprehensive look, her brown eyes wary but curious. She fiddled with her coal-black hair for a moment, before shouldering her bag and approaching his desk. All the others had left the room by now, and I could see her friends waiting outside, apparently thinking I was speaking to her.
“Um... hi.” She carefully masked her face of any trepidation she felt, something I approved of. Callidus stopped putting his books into his bag and stared at her in astonishment. “I just... well, that is...” She stopped, going red with embarrassment.
Suspicion entered Callidus’ eyes, though maybe he didn’t realise it. Perhaps it was so like second nature to him at this point, that he didn’t even feel himself do it. My stomach tightened, but I stayed silent. “I’m looking forward to doing the project with you,” Jasmine blurted out. “You seem to know a lot.”
“Oh.” He relaxed, but there was still wariness in his eyes. He didn’t believe her. I fought the urge to shake him; it wouldn’t help matters. “Thanks.”
She gave him a small smile. “Sure.” Then she turned and hurried out of the room, saying, “Happy Halloween, Professor!” as she passed my desk. I only managed to return the greeting before she rushed out the door.
I was thinking of lunch, when I realised Callidus was standing before my desk. I stopped battling with my briefcase to glance at him. “Is something wrong?”
“No, Professor,” he replied, his tone making me look at him hard. Before I knew what was happening, a trace of a smile danced along his lips and his eyes took on slight warmth. “Thank you, sir.”
He was gone before I could reply.
* * *
Halloween was on Thursday this year. Of course, the morning of it dawned wet. Extremely wet. The students allowed to Hogsmeade were dismayed. While visiting Hogsmeade was good, it was better when it was dry. I found myself remembering all the times I had gone to Hogsmeade when it was wet. A large dose of Madam Pomfrey’s Pepper-Up potion had followed, to make sure I didn’t get a flu along with the soaking. Judging from the extra bottles of Pepper-Up I saw Poppy collect after breakfast, things hadn’t changed.
A few hours before the feast, I was in my office, correcting papers. I had learned the hard way that anything benefiting the students usually meant more work for me. I should have given the Fifth Years that assignment after Halloween as I had planned, instead of letting them sweet-talk me. They just hadn’t wanted to work during the break: instead, I was.
The papers had been done too quickly and were, to be mild, a complete disaster. I gave up halfway through them and decided to just make them do the assignment again. Realising that I suddenly had a lot of time to kill, I grabbed my cloak and turned to Brandy. “I’ll be back in time for the feast and I’ll let you out for it, okay?” She half-opened her eyes, grunted and went back to sleep, clearly not as bored as I was.
To the students’ relief, the rain had stopped, but the temperature had plummeted. I pulled my cloak closer to me as I walked, wishing I’d brought gloves with me, but nothing could be done about it. I’d just have to bear it.
I’d sent Ron my annual reminder not to forget his anniversary with Hermione; their first date had been at Halloween in our Sixth Year and Ron was hopeless at remembering it, for some bizarre reason. I think Hermione knew I reminded him every year, she just didn’t say anything. Naturally, Ron didn’t actually thank me until well after Halloween, in case Hermione ever read the note, not realising she probably already knew. It was an odd thing, and in my case, a funny one as well.
I went to Honeydukes first to stock up on Chocolate Frogs (twenty-two and I still had a sweet tooth. How embarrassing.) and got a few packets of Fudge Flies for Brandy, who’d recently developed a liking for them. I wished I’d paid more attention to the fact that Crups were bottomless bits and ate anything; I would have been more prepared. Still, it was better than Brandy having no appetite and making me worry. Putting everything into a bag, I went outside again.
When the full force of the wind hit me, I knew enough was enough and turned in the direction of the Three Broomsticks; I needed to warm up somehow. I was more concerned with the cold than where I was going, so, naturally, I ran into someone. Three guesses who it was?
“Are you following me?!” I asked in exasperation, unable to ignore the fact I seemed to meet him everywhere. I glared at him and then shivered before I could help it. Damn, it was cold.
“I can assure you, Potter,” he answered dryly, his dark eyes intent on me, “that I have far better things to do than follow you around.” His eyes were cold and I wished profoundly that he hadn’t such bad mood swings. It seemed that he’d been civil to me two weeks before, or something near to it, and now he had gone cold again. The urge to kiss him just so he’d relax was intensely strong, but I managed to keep a grip on my emotions, thank God. Instead, I went red as he looked at me again, taking in the fact I was now shivering uncontrollably and my hands had become almost numb.
What I said next was a mixture of loneliness and was probably incredibly stupid. I suppose I’ll just use the temporary insanity excuse again. Anyway. “I was just about to go into the Three Broomsticks for a drink,” I said, meeting his gaze with a determined expression. “Would you like to join me?” Some part of me started panicking after the words left my mouth, but it was a small part and I managed to ignore it, convincing myself I was doing the right thing. I’d apologise to Snape for everything I’d done, he’d do the same and that would be the end of it. Now, I wonder if I hadn’t been drunk right there and then because that was just naive thinking. It could never end cleanly for us... if it could ever end for us.
Snape raised an eyebrow, gave me a questioning look, but nodded nonetheless. But he grabbed my arms when I took a step towards the Three Broomsticks. When I looked at him, he said, “Do you really want the students to see us drinking together?” I paused and thought about it. I winced and Snape nodded grimly, before tugging me in the opposite direction.
The Hog’s Head was a much smaller pub and people really didn’t stay sober for very long in there. Students weren’t encouraged to go there and they didn’t; it wasn’t very student-friendly. I had been the only exception to the rule; Snape and I had met there when I had still been in school, for the owner had never asked any awkward questions. I can safely blame my first experience of getting drunk on Snape; he hadn’t paid attention on how much I’d drank.
I received a jolt of memory when I stepped inside, and shivered, but not from the cold anymore for it was quite warm. Snape eyed me sceptically, but merely asked me what I wanted. “Wine,” I said, after a moment of consideration. I’d almost said whiskey, but I knew that would put me in the danger zone. While I didn’t drink much anymore, I’d ended up depending on drink far too much during the war, to numb all the pain and depression that had descended upon me. We all had. Near the end of the war, Snape hadn’t allowed me to drink anymore. I’d run the risk of becoming an alcoholic. I knew I wouldn’t get drunk now, and I had faith in my level of tolerance.
I should have known better than to believe something like that.
Snape gave me a sharp look, as if he knew why I had chosen wine, but he went for the drinks anyway, while I found a table that was heavily shrouded in shadows, but with enough light that we could still see. Paranoid, me? Never!
It seemed like he had come back in seconds, which he probably did and I just couldn’t think straight. Still watching me intently, he put the glass before me and I watched the liquid swirl, the movements almost mesmerising. I sighed. This was dangerous. Shit.
Snape gave me a severe look. “You’re only getting the one glass, Potter. If you think I’m letting you get drunk, you can think again.” He made his feelings clear. Crystal clear. I growled at him.
I laughed bitterly. “Your concern for me has been noted.” His eyes narrowed. “But I’m not a kid,” I continued, picking up the glass and taking a swallow. It curled down my throat like a burning river, as I inhaled the sharp scent. Part of me relaxed, though I didn’t realise it at first. “You can’t choose for me anymore.”
He snorted, taking a sip of his own wine. “You have an odd way of acting like an adult, then. A rather childish way.”
I smiled at him. He should have taken it like a warning. If he still knew me, he had. “Fuck you.” His eyes widened and a dangerous glint flashed in their midnight depths. No one, simply no one cursed at Snape. The few times I’d done it, I’d usually paid for it in some way.
His lips sneered and I wished I hadn’t done that, but there was no way to take it back. He leaned in closer to me and I could see the fury on his face. “As I recall, Potter,” he snarled in a low whisper, “you did that to me just fine and you enjoyed it.” I froze, but he wasn’t finished. “What? Can’t admit you liked sleeping with the greasy Potions Master?” He was near breaking point -- if I said the wrong thing, he’d explode and all hell would break loose.
So I said nothing. I just looked at him, realising too late that my face had a stricken look on it and downed the rest of my wine far too fast. Trying to ignore the fact that my head was starting to spin in a rather unpleasant way, I made my way to the counter and ordered another wine.
I deliberately ignored Snape’s attempts to keep me sober.
His eyes narrowed at me glass when I returned, but he said nothing, instead gazing moodily into his drink. Finally he spoke and it was like he was forcing the words out. “I shouldn’t have said that. Neither of us need to be reminded of the past.” He tried to keep his voice neutral, but I could hear the unsteadiness in it because I knew what to listen for. When I looked at him, I could see the betrayal in his eyes. He still didn’t know why I had ended it, but here wasn’t the place to explain... was there any good place to explain, really?
And it was obvious that Snape was in denial as much as I was. We both acted like we didn’t care that things had ended so badly between us... but we remembered... and neither of us had ever recovered from it.
Now that was a hint of how stupid we were, wasn’t it?
I took another swallow and the wine burned down my throat again, much to my relief. If I imagined hard enough, I could believe it was burning away my guilt. Wishful thinking.
Perhaps it was the warm feeling inside me, or the pleasantly fuzzy sensation in head that helped me speak. Either way, I said things I normally wouldn’t have. “All I wanted was to put things right between us,” I said peevishly, practically boring holes into the glass with my glare. “I was going to apologise, so were you and we could put it all behind us.” I laughed bitterly and took another swallow.
“We can never put this behind us,” Snape murmured quietly, taking a sip. His eyes were locked on the glass rim. “It can never end cleanly between us.” His gaze flickered to me and I found I couldn’t look away. His hand reached towards me for a moment, then he paused and brought it back to his side. I fought to keep my face expressionless. Part of me wanted him to touch me like he used to. But it was impossible.
I stared glumly into my glass, my eyes captivated by the spinning liquid. “Wishful thinking, wasn’t it?” Snape nodded slowly, suddenly appearing to be tired and weary. Probably of all this. “I’m sorry,” I blurted out, taking another swallow of wine. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. None of it.” I pressed the heels of my hands against my forehead and tried to calm myself, tried to get my emotions under control.
“It’s a bit late to tell me that,” he remarked, running a fingertip around the glass rim. I felt my cheeks redden again, but stayed quiet. “But why did it happen in the first place?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft. He leaned in closer to me, his eyes smouldering. I looked at him and felt rising panic.
“This isn’t the place for discussing that!” I hissed at him furiously. He watched me suspiciously, before folding his arms. “If we’re going to argue, we’ll do it in private!” He raised an eyebrow, while I gulped the rest of my wine and signalled for another. I was drinking too fast and rapidly approaching my danger zone, but right then I just didn’t care.
“You’ve had enough to drink,” Snape told me flatly, slamming his palms onto the table. He was angry, but so was I and I deliberately didn’t pay attention to him. Foolish, childish, but damn satisfying.
I snarled at him. “You’ve no right to tell me what to do anymore!” I growled from between clenched teeth. I was dimly aware that I had started shaking, but it definitely wasn’t from cold.
His eyes narrowed to a dangerous point, but was silent as my third glass was brought over. He was motionless until the witch had gone, and I had put the glass to my lips. Before I knew what had happened, the wine had been wrenched from my grasp and blazing dark eyes filled my vision. As I reached for the drink, Snape caught my wrist in his hand, his grip surprisingly strong. I stared at it, dumbfounded.
“You may think that, but I don’t,” he ground out, his eyes vicious ebony flames. “As far as I’m concerned, you need someone to keep an eye on you! You don’t like being on your own and you can’t cope with it!” His words were so true, they hurt.
Naturally, I spluttered excuses and denied everything, but his words hit home and they stayed there. The loneliness I’d felt since the end of the war and the end of our relationship flared up again and I couldn’t ignore it this time. Not with him there.
“Well, whose fault is it that we’re both alone?!” I snapped, guilt making me defensive. I tried to wrench my hand out of his grip, but he held on, his lips pressed to a thin line.
“Don’t you dare blame this on me!” he hissed in a malevolent whisper. His eyes glinted. “You ended it, not me!” His hand tightened painfully on my wrist and I fought not to wince.
“After what you did to me, can you blame me?!” I snarled, getting my hand out of his at last. I grabbed the glass and downed it slowly and steadily, keeping my eyes on him. His face tightened.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded, giving me a hard, searching look. I couldn’t hold his gaze for long and ended up staring at the table. My head was starting to swirl unpleasantly and a dull throb hammered in my skull. Sparkles burst in my eyes and nausea filled my stomach. It wasn’t looking too good. I realised that I hadn’t as much tolerance anymore for alcohol as I’d originally thought. Shit.
“I can’t deal with this,” I choked out, getting to my feet and stumbling towards the door. I felt worse than ever and the nausea was growing. Behind me, I vaguely heard Snape curse and follow me. The last thing I wanted or needed. Trying not to panic again, I stepped outside.
The cold hit me like a slap and I gasped, starting to shiver violently. I heard footsteps coming nearer and my heart jolted uncomfortably. I tried to start walking (running wasn’t something I was going to attempt right then), but my head roared and the world tilted strangely around me. I felt my balance slip and realised too late that I was falling --
-- strong arms grabbed my waist and held me upright. I whimpered, closed my eyes and wished the world would stop spinning. Dry laughter filled my ears and I automatically growled. Snape’s amusement grew and I felt my cheeks redden and my embarrassment grow.
“Why do I always end up getting drunk with you? I never get drunk with Hagrid.” I shoved myself away from him, my cheeks flaming. I took one step forward and nearly hit the ground. I groaned.
He steadied me once more and I finally gave up, leaning against him. “When will you learn?” he sighed, amused and exasperated with me. “Getting drunk never solves anything.”
“I know.” My voice was muffled because I had pressed my face into his shoulder. “But it seems like a good idea at the time.” God, my head hurt.
He laughed wryly. “It always does. Come on. I’ll help you. Having the students seeing you plastered would never be a good thing. Although...” I cracked open one eye and saw him checking the time. “... they’re all at the feast now, so I doubt anyone will see us come in if we’re quiet.”
The feast. Halloween. Oh, damn. Dumbledore would notice our absence. He might politely inquire about it -- no, I knew he would. I wondered how he would react if I told him I’d gotten completely and utterly stoned to make Snape furious. Very mature. He’d kill me. So would Brandy, for that matter.
I groaned. “Aside from Dumbledore, we tell everyone else we tried to make peace, all right?” It was more saving my pride than Snape’s (who hadn’t even finished his glass, the insufferable git) and I was asking for a lot.
“All right.” His was clearly amused. I wanted to hurt him. Though, seeing as I could hardly think straight, I decided to leave it for another time, if I managed to remember this night at all.
Somehow, we managed to make it to my office and then to my chambers, though later I couldn’t really recall it that much. I did remember what happened when we reached my chambers, however. It was difficult not to. I sighed heavily, wincing as Brandy’s shrieking barks each felt like a knife in my head. I dimly heard Snape telling her to be quiet, and felt oddly pleased that he had some sympathy for me.
He was turning to go to his own chambers (there was no point going to the feast now, as we were abhorrently late), when I managed to say, “Wait.” He turned and walked back to me, where I was leaning against the wall, trying to get my bearings and balance back. He watched me, a smile twisting his lips. He was enjoying this, the prick. I tried to glare at him, failed miserably and only caused him to be further amused.
I was very drunk. I couldn’t really think straight. And I was touched that he had helped me back to Hogwarts, when he could have just as easily left me there after what I'd said to him. So, my mind came up with the twisted logic that I should thank him. So... well, I kissed him, the one thing he hadn’t been prepared for. As my lips pressed against his, he stiffened and simply froze, his mind apparently gone blank. Realising that he wasn’t going to respond, I broke the kiss and flushed.
Knowing well that I had overstepped a boundary, I risked a glance up at him and saw there was a peculiar expression in his eyes. Suddenly he smiled again, slightly, and kissed me as suddenly as I had him. He tasted of wine and brought back a hundred different memories of the past. Kissing him had always been an overwhelming experience, just as it was now. My knees buckled, and he caught me, bringing me closer to him. I automatically wrapped my hands around his neck without realising what I was actually doing, as the kiss deepened and my mind swirled and my body reacted to him in ways I’d almost forgotten existed.
When the second kiss ended, I was gasping and not able to stand on my own. Now openly amused to the point where I wanted to slap him (if I had the energy), he led me over to the bed and helped me onto it. I wouldn’t allow him to undress me, the last of my logic realising where that might go, and instead murmured, “Thank you.”
A cool hand lightly trailing my face was the only answer I got. I pressed my overheated face against the cold pillow and never heard him leave.
* * *
Snape was making his way towards the dungeons, when a mild voice asked, “Had a good evening?”
The Potions Master stopped and sighed. I thought he’d at least wait until morning... apparently not. Keeping his face carefully blank, he turned and gazed at the other man. “As well as can be expected.” Actually, more than I expected... far, far more.
“Care to elaborate?” Dumbledore walked towards him, his face calm, but Snape saw the twinkle in his eyes and groaned. Dumbledore being pleasantly contrary was never a good experience.
“I ran into Potter in Hogsmeade, if you must know. We went to the Hog’s Head to try and resolve our differences. Potter got drunk to anger me. It worked, though I ended up having to help him back here as he could hardly think, never mind walk.” Snape pressed his lips to a thin line, crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
“But surely something good came out of it?” Dumbledore enquired, watching Snape closely. There was something about the man that made him wary. Something else had happened, that he hadn’t yet told him.
Snape sighed. “I think so. I have more of an idea of why... things ended, at least more than I did a few hours ago. And --” He broke off, suddenly embarrassed. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and Snape admitted defeat. “Harry kissed me. And I kissed him back.”
If the headmaster noticed Snape’s change to Harry’s first name, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he said quietly, “I see.”
“If it helps, I don’t know what to make of the situation either.” Well, he did know one thing -- it had just become a thousand times more difficult than before. Not a good thing, because now he didn’t know where either of them stood with each other.
Now Dumbledore grew concerned. “You simply kissed him with no idea of what it would mean?”
Snape frowned. “He kissed me first. And yes, I did. It bothers me too, if you really must know.” He scowled. “Why did you bring him back here? I know things with Callidus may become dicey, but really--”
“It was safer to bring Harry back,” Dumbledore replied, unusually short. He looked quite grim. “You and I mightn’t always be able to keep an eye on Callidus.”
“Neither will Harry,” Snape pointed out, but Dumbledore was already continuing.
“As for this matter, I expected more control from you than this.” While Dumbledore was making a reasonable amount of sense and was making a point, Severus found himself becoming quite annoyed. He was tired, emotionally drained and had the mother of all headaches coming along. Plus the fact that kissing Harry had brought back unwanted memories -- and feelings -- from the past that he’d thought he’d laid to rest, but apparently hadn’t. Getting a lecture from Dumbledore was not something he could handle right now.
“Headmaster,” he interrupted, rubbing his forehead and fighting not to snarl. “I mean this in the least offence and greatest amount of sincerity...”
“Yes?”
“Bugger off.”
