By Marie Noire
Chapter Seven : In the Potions
Master’s Chambers
Chantal
wheezed as she was swept up into a hippogriff-sized hug by Hagrid, surrounded
by her students and being applauded by the entire school. When had that ever happened? Luckily Hagrid released her before she could
pass out and she was attacked by a hundred smaller hugs from the children. Dumbledore nodded in her direction, the
merry twinkle that always inhabited his eyes gleaming more brightly than usual. Remus was brave enough to press a quick kiss
to her cheek and she teased him for it.
“Ah,
what’s a little kiss between best friends?” he shrugged as the students began
to disperse to attend their well-deserved feast.
“I’m
just a little startled Remus… it’s not professional, you know.” She replied, her
smile belying her scolding. “You were
never the flirtatious one before… you left that to James and Sirius.”
“You
knew my parents?” a voice piped up from behind her, making her jump around in
shock.
“Harry! Mon dieu… do not sneak up on your
professors like that!” she panted.
“Yes… I knew your parents… Lily and I were best friends.”
Harry
smiled a bit. “You did? What… what was she like?”
“Lily
was… very ambitious. She studied like
her life depended on it. But, alors,
did she have a temper… I lost count of how many times she slapped, smacked,
punched or otherwise hit Sirius because he wouldn’t leave her and James alone.”
Chantal remembered aloud.
“Really?”
Harry’s eyebrows disappeared under his fringe as Remus resorted to snickering
behind the sleeve of his robe.
“I’ve
got a photograph of Sirius’ black eye to prove it somewhere.” She added
conspiratorially with a wink “Go join
your friends at the feast and I promise I’ll find it for you later, oui?”
“Oui!”
he replied excitedly before running back to his table.
Chantal
watched him thinking not for the first time that if Harry looked anymore like
James, it would be beyond uncanny.
“He’s a good deal like James, isn’t he?” she asked softly of Remus.
“That he
is… the same talent for getting into trouble too.” Remus agreed. “But at least he hasn’t made it his business
to play nasty pranks on anyone yet.”
“That
was Sirius’ problem… always had to have the last word.” She grew silent for a
moment. “Severus… still has a grudge
about that doesn’t he?”
Remus
swallowed visibly. “That he does…
understandable, don’t you think? He
could have been killed… or worse.”
Chantal
nodded grimly. “True enough… but it was
Sirius’ fault, not yours. And James did
save his life.”
“He
knows… and it doesn’t sit well with him.” Remus sighed. “He’s been begrudgingly watching over Harry
from what Dumbledore’s told me. Trying
to keep him from getting into trouble by punishing him to the full extent when
he catches him. Problem is, Harry
doesn’t get caught easily.”
“I
imagine not… with his father’s cloak helping him along. Even I borrowed that from James once or
twice to sneak around after-hours.”
Remus
paused. “It’s so strange…” he remarked
quietly.
“What
is?”
“You… me…
Harry… even Snape all being here at once.
Almost… almost feels like old times.
Like I should be sneaking out with you and Harry to the Shrieking Shack
any night now. I can’t tell you how
many times I’ve half-expected Harry to come running up to me to tell me the
latest prank he pulled on Severus.” He sighed.
“I know…
it’s odd. I almost wish Sirius were
here too…” she nodded. “Has there been
any word on his whereabouts?”
Remus
looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Not
that I know of. And, to tell you the
truth, I don’t think Sirius did it anymore… there was… something else at work
there.”
“I wish
that were true, Remus. Sirius and I may
have parted on bad terms, but I never thought he was capable of that.” She took
a deep breath. “But never mind that…
you should go join the feast, I’ll be along in a bit.”
She
watched Remus walk back towards the faculty table a bit reluctantly. She knew full well that while both she and
Remus had grown up… she still felt for him as she would an older brother. It was becomingly increasingly clear that
Remus wanted a bit more than that. He
wasn’t overt by any means, that just wasn’t Remus’ style… but in his own quiet
way he was letting her know that he cared for her to such a degree. The way he sometimes passed his hand over
hers during dinner sometimes was a prime example, as was his change in vocal
tone whenever he spoke to her. His grey
eyes always said far more than what actually came from his mouth. How could she tell him that her feelings for
ran only towards the sisterly?
She
sighed… maybe what she needed was time.
In the
meantime, she wanted to go find Severus and ask him what he thought of the
concert. He had left so quickly that
she feared his answer… but she also knew that no matter what he thought of
her, he would tell her the truth. Just
as Remus’ character was to be soft-spoken… Severus’ was to be brutally honest.
The walk
from the main hall to the dungeons seemed to take forever. Just as it had when she was a mere student,
the further down she went in the castle, the spookier it became. She wondered briefly why on earth Severus
chose to have his chambers in such a sinister place… even if it was close to
his classroom. She nearly tripped down
the two stairs that led down into the classroom itself, forgetting that they
were there, just as she had several times in the past. Towards the back was the large oak door that
led to Snape’s office and then his private chambers.
The door
was ajar slightly and the light of a fire flickering from within. She knocked hesitantly, feeling more like a
frightened student that a fellow teacher seeking an opinion. No answer.
“Professor? Are you in?
Hello?” she called softly, peeking her head through the door to find the
office empty. His office was a tad on
the cluttered side, but she supposed that there was a rhyme and reason to it
that only Severus could follow. Jars of
pickled things sat on the shelves, making her shiver a bit despite knowing that
there were ingredients for potion-making and not some sick form of decorating.
Then
again, with Snape you never knew.
The next
door led to his chambers and she knocked after a deep breath.
A pause…
then a muffled voice. “Who is it?”
“It’s
Chan- It’s Professor Duquesne. May I come in?” she replied, almost reverting
to the first-name basis that they hadn’t been on for over twenty years.
Another
pause. “Come.” He answered, his voice
begrudging. Most likely, he just
couldn’t come up with a polite reason to get rid of her, she thought vaguely.
She
slipped through the door and stopped, amazed at what met her eyes. Far from the dark and dreary room she’d
envisioned for Snape’s bedroom, this place was surprisingly warm if a little
plain. Dark, smooth floorboards and a
simple rug of a dark weave… a simple armchair before a banking fire… a bed that
differed from the students’ only in that it was far larger… and bookshelves,
bookshelves covered every available wall.
“Well? What do you want?” he asked, irritated by
her sudden perusal of his space.
“I
wanted to ask your opinion of this evening’s novelties.” She asked after yet
another deep breath. “You left so
quickly that I didn’t have time to catch you upstairs.”
“And why
should my opinion of your little fun and games interest you?” he retorted,
although not as harshly as she might have expected. Meanwhile, a furred shape was slowly circling her… good gods… he
had a kneazle?
“Didn’t
we have that discussion twenty-three years ago? Because you won’t lie to me.
If you thought it was tripe, tell me… if you thought it was good, tell
me.” She sighed, trying to watch both him and the rather beautiful kneazle at
the same time.
He
seemed to consider his answer for a moment.
“Sentimental… a tad overdone perhaps.
Most carols are dreadful things that only succeed in sugar-coating an
already saccharine holiday.”
She
nodded slightly. “A little… but that’s
why I chose more serious carols and not Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer,
not one mention of Pere Noel. I
thought of doing Handel’s Messiah, but thought it might go over the
student’s heads a bit… except perhaps for messieurs Potter and Malfoy.”
“Yes…
Malfoy sang very well… excellent performance.
Ten points to his House should cover it, I think.” He added smugly,
knowing that she likely still took House points as seriously as she had before.
She
merely smiled. “I already awarded each soloist twenty points each for hard-work
and dedication. Your Slytherins are a
surprisingly talented bunch when they decided to actually work at something. Dare I ask what you thought of my
Gryffindors?”
He
glared at her. “Stop fishing for
compliments, Duquesne… you know very well what I have to say about your entire
performance.”
She
stopped, her smile fading. “And that
is?”
He sighed,
his dark eyes never leaving hers although the glare softened somewhat. “It was beautiful.”
That
said, he turned and strode over to his armchair, a clear signal that their
conversation was now over. A clear
signal that she chose to ignore.
“Seriously? Severus, please, wait.” She implored him,
coming to kneel on the floor next to his left arm. It was the first time since they were students that she had
called him Severus to his face.
He
turned on her, snarling. “I told you
what I thought. Isn’t that enough for
you? Now go away and leave me in
peace.”
That
sent her back on her feet a bit, biting her lip. “No… I want…”
“What?”
he snapped impatiently.
“For us…
to be friends again?” she asked, meeting his eyes steadily but without the
normal glint of challenge.
He
stared at her for a split second before regaining himself enough to be
indignant and cold. “And why should my
friendship mean so much to you now? You
were so eager to deny it before, weren’t you?
One comment from your precious little chums and I was thrown aside like
yesterday’s garbage.”
She
stared back in disbelief. “Alors,
Severus… I was seventeen! And
can you honestly tell me that if your good buddy Lucius had asked, you would
not have denied feeling anything but contempt for me? All right, I was wrong.
I admit it! Is that what you
want to hear? I was wrong and I am
sorry.”
His eyes
narrowed. “You may be sorry now, mademoiselle. But how can I be certain you wouldn’t do the
same again if dear Lupin asked you tomorrow?
You betrayed much during that chaste little duet of yours.”
She
looked down and he had the odd feeling that she was blinking back tears. Good… let her hurt. However, he was unprepared for her next
question.
“Is that
what this is all about, Severus?
Because you’re jealous of Remus?
Bloody hell, Severus we’re friends.
If he and I were lovers don’t you think I’d be in his chambers
now, not yours?” she asked softly, in a voice almost identical to the one she’d
possessed as a seventeen-year-old.
He
scoffed. “Jealous? Of that monster in human guise? You insult me!”
It was
her turn to narrow her eyes. “He is no
monster, Severus… no more than you are.”
A grim smile,
one that lent no warmth to his cold expression. “So… you would equate me in the same league as your beloved
werewolf and ask me to be your friend in the same breath? You always were a silver-tongue, Duquesne.”
She
stood, anger warming her cheeks and sending sparks from her eyes. “Just because Remus turns in to a wolf once
a month does not make him a monster! It
is not his fault he was bitten! No more
than that mark on your arm makes you a monster.”
He rose
in an instant, fury blazing in his dark eyes, ripping back his left
sleeve. “All this mark proves is that I
once made the wrong decision! I seem to
have made specialty of putting my trust in those who would betray me. A mistake I refuse to make again!”
She met
his gaze insistently, even after tracing the dark images on his arm with her
eyes. “We both made mistakes, Severus…
must you make me pay so dearly for mine?”
The fire
in his eyes calmed slowly, his expression now one of puzzlement… but he
remained stubbornly silent. Could she
possibly be serious? His heart pounded
in his throat as he wondered… what if he would allow them to try again? They were adults now, after all… and
governed by forces more important than peer pressure.
His
silence was heavy and Chantal took it for a refusal. Looking down again, she turned and began her way back out the way
she had come. “I guess so. I will see you tomorrow at breakfast, Severus. Goodnight.”
He
watched her retreating figure with a peculiar mixture of longing and relief; if
she had stayed much longer he might have done something he would never hear the
end of later. Nevermore followed
Chantal’s path to the now completely closed door and meowed in his raspy
voice. He sat sullenly, looking back
and forth between the door and his wizard with a grumpy pout, almost as if he
were asking Severus what stupid thing he had done to chase away Chantal.
“What?”
Severus asked the sulking kneazle irritably.
Like most kneazles, Nevermore did have the uncanny ability to know when
someone was up to no good. The one time
Professor Quirrell had had the misfortune of crossing Nevermore’s path, he’d
nearly had his face removed by eight sharp little talons. Nevermore had a strange dislike for Filch
and his mangy fur-ball as well, although he supposed that was more of a
personality conflict than anything else.
So why on earth did his discerning pet have a sudden attachment to a
witch that he couldn’t decide whether to love or hate?
Splendid…
if Dumbledore wasn’t giving him entirely too cheerful and vague advice… his
bloody cat was!