One wish alone have I

Chapter 13 (part 2)
And other full moons followed...

“Merry Christmas, you sleepyhead!” murmured a hoarse voice next to me.

“Merry Christmas, you necrophile freak!” I murmured back.

“What did you just call me? A necro what?”

“Necrophile… comes from necrophilia… which is the sexual deviance that makes people be sexually aroused by dead people and objects related to death. Given the fact that you just energetically shagged a seemingly dead woman right in a coffin, I deduce that you suffer from necrophilia….”

“You make a poor comparison with a corpse, Tasia,” he naughtily commented, pinching my buttock to make me wiggle closer to him. “See? You keep moving all the time!”

“Is that a challenge? I could make a convincing corpse if I really put my heart into it! I could surprise you…”

“You know what? This conversation is becoming creepier by the minute… why don’t we go downstairs and join the others?”

“You go join them, dearest… That was very nice of you to sleep in my coffin for a change this morning, though I strongly suspect you did it for secondary gains, which I most generously provided during the last thirty minutes or so. But I barely got an hour of sleep or so… I am exhausted,” I said, tilting my head back in a yawn.

“You’re right… get some rest, I’ll entertain the guests,” he said, pleasing my neck with tender kisses.

“Thank you, you are an angel,” I murmured, drifting back to sleep already.

“I will try to convince Molly to make a slight change to tradition and have a Christmas dinner instead, but she really seemed to have set her mind on a lunch yesterday evening. I might come to wake you up at noon if I can’t convince her,” he said, opening the lid and stepping out of the coffin as gracefully as Mister Moody would manage to get off a hammock… humans just never get it right.

“Do not insist too much; if she really wants to do it that way… let her do it her way, I do not mind… but let me sleep, ok?” I groaned, curling up on my other side.

“Ok, pumpkin… good morning…”

“Guh mmmmmonin….”

~*~

“Take care, ok? I’ll be back in a few hours at the latest!” said Remus, giving me a last kiss before he plunged into the coldness outside.

I went back to the loveseat, in front of the fireplace. That seat was becoming far too familiar, but it was still the best in the whole house. I let out a sad sigh and wrapped myself tighter in Mrs Snape’s shawl. Fred and George Weasley had left the house shortly after Christmas to go back to work, but Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and her parents had stayed a bit longer with us, until the second part of the school year began. They had left already a week ago. We had a nice time together; it was nice for us to have the house filled with people for more than an hour or so. Remus and I prepared the house for our guests with a lot of joyful anticipation, retrieving various Christmas decorations disseminated in odd places all over the house.

I had been curious to meet Harry and, quite frankly, the first thing I felt for him was sadness. He carried a heavy load in his heart and soul; it was something I felt during the very first minutes I spent with him. With time, however, I also quickly felt that Harry was surrounded with people who genuinely cared for him and he seemed to have a lot of fun with his school friends. Speaking of which, Ron and Hermione were nice people, too, though Ron did not really talk to me much, Hermione and Ginny were most curious about my life in Transylvania. Hermione almost harassed me with questions about cainites’ lifestyles, powers, beliefs and such. She also asked me many questions about the Death Eaters’ meetings, which seemed to irritate Molly quite a bit, but they did not have anymore success with me than they had with Severus. I remained completely silent about that point.

Thinking about Molly, however, I remembered her peculiar attitude throughout all the holidays. She seemed to have an issue with me that went beyond my presence at Death Eaters’ meetings. I thought about the day I overheard a conversation she had with her husband and sons, in early afternoon, when they thought I was still sleeping. I was in the kitchen retrieving some item in a lower cupboard behind the counter, so they did not see me and sat at the dinner table. Molly expressed many worries about my obvious relationship with Remus. She said she did not mind my condition (but even that sounded a little unconvinced) but that she did not see how our relationship could have any future. Her husband and sons seemed a bit surprised by her rather harsh statement, but she simply said that she was worried about the intensity of Remus’ feelings. She sensed that he had fallen too fast and feared that he would eventually end up alone again and broken-hearted.

“Molly… Remus is a grown man; don’t you think he can take care of himself?” said Arthur, in a comforting tone.

“As always, you anticipate the worse, Mum! Can’t you assume that things will go just fine, for once?” said Fred.

“Besides, if old Remus can have a little fun, I don\'t see why he shouldn\'t!” added George.

“Watch your language, George Weasley!” snapped his mother. “I have not raised my sons with such casual values!”

“I agree with you, Molly,” said Arthur in the same unconvinced tone, “and boys, you should still call him Professor Lupin…. But George may have a point, you know. Even if their relationship is a short-term one, it might be what they agreed on… one way or the other, it is not our business.”

“But have you seen the way he looks at her, Arthur?” she insisted. “She might be thinking short term; he is definitely not. I bet you his head is already filled with dreams about the future! Somebody should warn him; I don’t want her to savagely break the dreams he might have. And Alastor agrees with me; he’s been having doubts since the very day she settled here!”

“Molly… Remus could take it badly if you say negative things about Antanasia, no matter how good our friendship is. He might not be ready to hear what you have to say. Leave it; just let them figure it out by themselves…” he said, in a conciliatory voice.

Molly groaned her disapproval and made a few additional comments, but she did not seem to talk to Remus, after all. Sitting most uncomfortably on the floor, I debated for over half an hour whether I should just walk through the dining room with an innocent air or stay there until they either found me or left… none of these options seemed appealing. Wishing hard that my Transfiguration would not make too much noise, I waited until they got caught in yet another heated discussion about the way George and Fred were running their shop and Transfigured into the smallest possible animal in my repertoire: a mouse. Holding my breath, I tried to walk as slowly as possible to avoid catching their eyes with a fast movement and I gradually made my way along the walls and into the staircase, all the way up to my resting room.

I curled up more comfortably in the loveseat, wrapping my legs with my arms and leaning my chin against my knees. I had waited until the Weasleys’ departure before I talked to Remus about the conversation I had overheard. He seemed a bit surprised by the extent of Molly’s reaction, but also a bit embarrassed. If I remember well, that discussion was not very productive. I did not really dare to confront him about the genuine expectations he had towards our relationship. It was in part because I had not really been able to answer that question myself. But it was also very selfish, because I did enjoy Remus’ attentions and tenderness and I did not want to risk losing them… I did need them. By Cerridwen, I should have known better… but things are not always so clear when your heart is a turmoil of contradictory emotions, even if everything becomes obvious once you look back at things out of the heat of the moment, just like I am doing now.

But there I was, on that cold evening in January, obligated to confront the question alone as I sat by the fire, with Remus gone for a part of the evening. There was this dancing light of happiness in his lovely blue eyes that began to alarm me, now that I noticed it more. Could he see that light in my eyes? And why was I so alarmed if, after all, my feelings for him were true? Were they?

What were those feelings, anyway? They were probably sincere; I have never been the type of woman who intentionally plays those types of games. I tried to really examine the question. Remus had been agreeable in all ways since my arrival. He was affectionate, sweet, caring, funny, cuddly, he was a resourceful and imaginative lover, and he was sensitive. There was no question about my feelings for him; I did love him. In fact, we had already gone far beyond the first, unnerving, difficult to finally pop out “I love you” over a month ago; Remus had whispered it in my ear shortly after our first moment of physical intimacy. Actually, we did overuse it a bit when we were alone together. It started to feel a bit too casual when it went through my lips. I did not like the sound it was slowly taking.

Therefore, the question to ask myself was not if I loved him; I did. Did I love him enough? That was a tough one. And again, enough for what? Marrying was completely out of the question. I had really begun to feel how my grief was slowly healing; it already felt different in my heart. It did not mean that I was ready to welcome another man that privately into my afterlife. Become his… let him become mine… Would I feel jealous if Remus slept with someone else? Yes, the answer was definitely yes, at the time. Though I had lived far too long not to know how any physical and emotional intimacy between two people, human or not, can never exist and last without a tad of jealousy or possessiveness. At that point however, I already knew that an eventual unfaithfulness from Remus would not have destroyed me that much, despite the anger I would probably feel…

The answer was not there, either. I had no precise future in mind for our relationship and did not wish to imagine one; I wanted to think of it in the present tense. Did I want to do everything for his well-being? Of course! I was already doing just that. Did I feel happy with him? Yes, I did. Though something was slowly growing, inside my heart. It was a bit too discreet for me to be aware of that presence at the time, but I still felt its consequences. My happiness was definitely not complete. If at first my evenings in that loveseat were just sweet and agreeable, they were becoming a bit tedious with each passing week. The Christmas holidays had made an interesting diversion and cheered me up, but after a week without our guests, I started to feel it coming back. And my dear Remus was not able to fill that missing part.

He came back home that evening and found me still deeply buried in these serious and slightly confused thoughts. The warmth in his smile made me forget all my worries and I spent the rest of the night playing cards and reading with him in the drawing room. The following nights we were kept busy by one of Charles’ contracts; it kept my mind off that difficult thinking process the whole time it lasted. And then Remus left for a spying mission once more. I found myself wrapped up in Mrs Snape’s shawl again.

This time, my thoughts turned to Severus. They had turned quite a few times to him during the holidays; I craved to have news about him, but I did not dare to ask any of the adolescents because I feared people would ask tricky questions. And it might have hurt Remus’ feelings if he had known about it. I did listen carefully to each comment the adolescents said about their lessons, however. From what I understood, Severus was detested by his students. Even that took me some time to figure out; I did not know what “old bat” they were referring to. To my embarrassment, I must admit that it is only when they mentioned “greasy git” that comprehension finally flashed in my mind. From his general personality and the way I saw him mark assignments, I was not really surprised. At the time, however, I blamed it a bit too much on students’ typical disinterest for Potions and greatly underestimated what was really going on in theHogwarts’ dungeons.

Nevertheless, Severus did Floo once to the Headquarters during the holidays, a few nights after Christmas. He said that Dumbledore needed some information from Arthur about the Ministry schedule during the holidays and that was probably the naked truth. On the other hand, him playing Dumbledore’s messenger was a bit less convincing, but he still stubbornly refused to stay and have a drink with us. I did manage to give him a cheerful kiss on the cheek to wish him a Happy New Year in advance (thanks to my second glass of Leukoscotch) and was rewarded with a horribly polite and distant handshake… and endless disgusted indignation from Ron, who said he would have bad dreams about the scene for weeks.

Severus… I had refrained from going back to his office and helping him mark some end of term papers. Given the rarity of Death Eaters’ meetings, I figured he would have plenty of time to do the work he was paid for and my insistence might have sounded peculiar. Did I miss him? Oh yes I did, nightly and with all my being, and I hated myself for that. There were evenings when I wondered if I stayed in front of that fireplace just in case he would pop his head in it like he used to do so often when Remus and I began our relationship. But he was doing it no more.

What was it about Severus that made my mind always travel back to him? He certainly did not make any effort to create occasions for us to meet and when we did, he was as bitter and distant as ever. He was such a contrast with Remus’ warmth; it completely filled a room anytime he came in. Severus, in comparison, was a much more difficult person and that austere coldness on his face rendered him far less handsome than Remus in many ways.

“And what about that evening?” I thought.

Ah, yes. There was that evening… when I had marked papers with him. He had been a bit different then. In a way, I preferred him tired. In Hogwarts as much as in Zaharia, his best times had almost always been his exhausted ones. He became far more human in those moments, both in expression and in feelings. When he had looked at me the way he did, that evening…

And there was Zaharia. At the time, I almost believed that the wizard I saw in Transylvania was a made-up one, that Severus was playing a role all along, trying to fool us about his real identity. The one he had made up, however, had at least charmed Cami and Catalina enough to risk coming back to his cell or chamber repeatedly. Though they might have come back for more… superficial reasons. Yet from a personal point of view, our numerous conversations together had coloured fall that year as much as the leaves themselves had brightened the day.

That evening, I had gotten the long awaited glimpse of the soul I had seen in Zaharia. The very soul that had made me jump right after him when he was thrown through the window into the night.

“Would you have jumped if it had been Remus?” said a nasty little voice in my head.

“God! I do not even want to consider that question!” I exclaimed out loud, rising from my seat and walking to the drawing room in order to chase away those uncomfortable thoughts with some task.

Even now, dearest reader, I could not really answer that question if you asked me. Let it suffice to say that despite all the events that happened after I arrived in England, I have never regretted the leap of faith I made that night. A part of it was impulsive, but the other part had been meticulously built through nights and nights of private moments between Severus’ soul and mine. As for my sweet Remus, I did do many things for him during the years that followed my arrival in England, always for the sake of his happiness; I do not regret them either. I do not think these actions could be weighed or evaluated superficially and compared. I certainly put all my heart into those actions when I made them. All of them.

Nevertheless, on the third week of January, I really started to feel depressed. Remus was feeling it, too; I knew it was worrying him. I had not been contacted for any Death Eaters’ meeting since before the holidays and almost wished things would move faster on Voldemort’s side. I could spend hours in the drawing room, contemplating the weak sunlight, playing with the lace of ice the frozen snowflakes were making on the window, rocking myself in a rocking chair, constantly wrapped in Mrs Snape’s shawl. I did not cry much; boredom was the most salient emotion I felt and with it my irritability became worse. I cannot say that I am very proud of the effect it had on Remus, who was doing his best to cheer me up but was failing night after night, always more miserably. At some point, he even began to seriously grate on my nerves with his cuddling hugs and his comforting smiles. They only made me feel deeply misunderstood.

On the early afternoon of a gloomy day during the fourth week of January, I woke up quite irritable already. I was losing sleep again and had spent the day tossing and turning in my coffin. I felt like seeing no one during the night; I wished hard that Remus would just leave all night on a guard shift and leave me alone to ruminate dark thoughts in peace. I grumpily lifted my coffin lid and met my usual first disappointment of the evening; Professor Nigellus was not in his frame. No message. I took a shower and dressed in my usual black robes (I owned three of them by then) and went downstairs. Sure enough, Remus was there, reading in front of the fireplace. Sure enough, there was no message anywhere for me on the dinner table. I huffed in exasperation.

“Good afternoon, Tasia,” said Remus, walking to me for a kiss, which I gave reluctantly. “You did not sleep well?”

“No. I am sleeping as badly as I did in Transylvania… if not worse,” I bitterly replied.

“I have good news for you, then; I have received no assignment tonight! So I can spend the rest of the evening taking care of you!” he announced, smiling.

“Are you not tired of sitting around here doing nothing?” I briskly asked, crashing in the loveseat, where he joined me.

“What do you mean, doing nothing? Taking care of you can be a big job, not that I\'m complaining!” he teased.

“I am being serious, Remus.”

“Well… I guess things are moving slowly these weeks… I can only wait for missions from Tonks or Dumbledore…” he explained, a bit more seriously.

“But other than the missions? I am sure you have not always only existed for the Order!” I argued.

“I already told you about this, Tasia… I am doing my best to find another job, but it’s difficult…”

“Or just easier to complain and be taken care of…” I uttered through clenched teeth, under my breath so he would not hear… but sure enough, he did.

“Hey! I never asked you for anything, Antanasia!”

“Still, you did not argue too much when I started preparing your meals and repairing your clothes!” I sneered.

“I never forced you either! I was doing all that perfectly fine before you came here, ok?” he snapped. “I don’t need a mother; if you don’t want to do it, just stop!”

I only snorted.

“What is it with you today? What have I done to deserve that kind of attitude?” he asked.

“Nothing… really, nothing,” I displeasingly sneered again, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I already told you many times, about the job… I do try to find something but most of the time, I cannot even get an interview.”

“Arnaud always managed to find something somehow,” I argued.

“Arnaud was a Muggle, Tasia. It’s much easier on the Muggle side; they don’t know about lycanthropy.”

“Why don’t you go there, then?” I asked, rising a critical eyebrow.

“It’s not my place… I would end up messing up everything and looking like a weirdo anyway,” he answered, rather embarrassed.

“Fine. Just stay the way you are if it makes you feel better.”

“You know what? I don’t care what bit you or what you bit, but I just don’t think I want to be around you right now,” he abruptly declared, rising from his seat. “I’m going out for a walk.”

“No! I’ll go. I need some fresh air anyway,” I snapped, grabbing him by his sleeve and making him sit right back in the loveseat.

“Hope the fresh air will clear up your mind!” he screamed from downstairs, as I put my cloak on.

I left without saying a word. Of course, I deeply blush at the horrible words I told him that afternoon because I did not really mean them. What really annoyed me was my own inactivity, but it was easier to just suffer and find someone else to blame. And my dearest Remus was the closest target I could find. Deep in my heart, I was still happy with the fact I helped him eat and dress properly; I think that it is what actually kept sadness away from me for that long, after all.

Obviously, as I Transfigured into my usual eagle form and took flight over London, I did not see things that way. I felt grumpy and angry towards Remus, while for some vague reason I knew that it was not the real source of my anger. I flew over the snow-covered roofs (the sight was lovely; I found it colourless and depressing) and finally remembered Severus’ words when I reached Diagon Alley.

“If one day you feel the irresistible urge to mark assignments again, do not hesitate; these piles will always be only one Floo away…”

They were only one good flight away that afternoon and, following what was indeed an irresistible urge to be somewhere else, I chose to go where my heart had been longing to be for a month.

I first reached his office windows and tapped my beak against them; he was not in there. Cursing winter for making him leave his windows closed, I flew in the castle by the owls’ trap window in the Great Hall and, hidden by a Disillusion Charm, I discreetly made my way to the dungeons. I quickly found him; his baritone voice resounded in the corridor through an open classroom door. I looked at my watch; it was barely three in the afternoon, he was still teaching. I first grumpily pouted about his temporary unavailability, but a name rang in my ears and gave me a very mischievous idea.

“Mister Longbottom, how often must I tell you; your fire is much too high! You will end up melting your cauldron again!”

My little prince! For some reason, his presence so near brought a sparkle of light into my heart. I closed my mental barriers in order to make my presence concealed from Severus and tiptoed into the classroom. There were about twenty-five students in there, and from the colour of their ties I deduced that they were from Gryffindor and Slytherin. I had barely walked a few steps inside the classroom that when I saw him.

Professor Severus Snape was there, walking between the tables, his robes billowing behind him as he surveyed each student with a hawk-like piercing glance. His expression remained completely set and in deep concentration, except when he passed by some students who seemed to particularly annoy him. I saw him stop at Hermione’s side and he looked for several minutes at what she was doing. She felt a bit intimidated, I could fully sense it, but she showed him none of it. She kept doing her task meticulously and calmly without even looking up at him. His lips finally curled into a sneer and he walked past her. Curiously, I felt a hint of frustration pass through his mind at that moment.

As he headed to the back of the classroom, I got a better view of his face. He was paler than usual; it told me at once that he was sleep deprived. Sure enough, his glance, though still sharp, piercing and alert, was underlined by dark shadows. The line on his forehead was deepened; a slight frown seemed permanently set on his face and his movements revealed a lassitude that I was not used to seeing him display. He went to a Gryffindor student I did not know and stopped dead in his tracks when he glanced at his cutting board.

“I do not believe the instructions mention chopping your Mandrake roots that carelessly, Mister Thomas,” he sneered, pointing an accusatory finger at the roots in question.

As he pointed the instructions on the black board, something slimy and round was thrown from one corner of the room directly onto Ron’s robes, passing a few meters in front of Severus’ outstretched finger. A few Slytherin students smirked and kept their heads bent over their respective cauldrons. Ron tried to wipe the slimy mixture off his clothes, but it stuck quite stubbornly to them and was spreading rapidly, covering his robes with blue sparkling foam. Severus, seeing that Mister Thomas was not paying attention to the instructions and rather watched Ron’s struggle, snapped his fingers a few times before his eyes.

“Five points from Gryffindor for not paying attention when I speak, Mister Thomas,” he murmured, menacingly. “And five points from Gryffindor, again, for disrupting the class!” he purred at Ron, before he addressed the whole group. “If Mister Weasley here had miraculously memorized a few of my third year lessons, he would have remembered that the best way to stop this type of reaction, clearly produced by a mixture made of octopus ink and catfish scales, is to rub it with a few drops of some rodent’s blood. Please Mister Malfoy, help Mister Weasley with his problem, will you?” he concluded most politely, as a blond adolescent walked to Ron with a superior expression.

Still standing at the back of the room, I was thunderstruck. I had not fully believed the adolescents’ statements about Severus’ teaching style and mainly attributed it to their low interest in Potions. But what I saw in front of me was obvious and clear favouritism! It was such a shame that he should only favour the students of his house that much because as soon as I saw him stop at one of the Slytherin students’ sides, I saw him change completely. I sneaked forward between the tables and walked as close to him as my audacity would let me. He congratulated her most genuinely before he took out his wand and spilled the cauldron’s content upward, and then examined it carefully. The potion seemed to be in a satisfyingly uniform shade of orange, except for a few blue lumps left here and there.

Severus held out his arm to let the student come closer, offering me a strangely familiar sight. Brutally remembering how he had done the same thing for me in my lab, I held my breath in anticipation of what he would do. But he simply put his hand behind his back and let the student see how her potion still had to be stirred. He gave her instructions in a silky and calm voice that did not have the slightest trace of derisiveness, though it was not what I could have called enthusiastic, either.

A quiet gasp behind me caught my attention before I could use Severus’ gesture to make my presence known to him with an ironic remark. I turned back and saw Neville looking alarmed at his cauldron’s content, which was still a bright shade of blue. He looked at Hermione’s back most intensely, probably in hopes that she would turn back and help him. Unfortunately, she was two rows in front of him and could not hear his silent request. He boldly grabbed a piece of parchment, shaped it into a ball, and then threw it right between her shoulder blades. She turned back at last and was making her way towards him when Severus made her stop dead in her tracks.

“Miss Granger, must I tell you each time?” said the low voice, in a dangerously warning tone. “Let Mister Longbottom get out of his pitiful mishaps by himself!”

“But sir, could I just--” she began.

“Quiet!” he warned, and Hermione went back to her cauldron and stopped arguing.

Severus walked to Neville and I felt his robes swish softly against my calf as he did. I shivered at the caress of the soft fabric delightfully mixed with his sandalwood smell. My Occlumency skills seemed at their best; he did not show any sign that he suspected my presence in his classroom, barely inches from his right shoulder. Curiously, that situation brought some mischievousness into my mood and I started feeling a bit playful instead of grumpy and depressed. I watched silently as Severus surveyed Neville’s potion with a derisive sneer across his lips. The more the seconds passed, the more Neville’s stirring became desperate and I even got a glimpse of some sweat drops flowing down his forehead over his temple. The poor boy looked completely panicked.

At long last, Severus only murmured that unless a miracle would happen, he would never get the potion right by the end of the class and he walked away. I looked on the blackboard. The potion they were making that day was a relatively complex version of an antidote for Acromantula venom. From the colour of his potion, he had gotten through the first stages well, but his potion just did not reach the right chemical balance to produce the desired reaction and turn to a bright orange, which would have indicated that the bezoar and mashed grindylow livers had finally blended together. For one thing, Neville’s fire was indeed much too high and he had probably gotten a few proportions wrong out of nervousness. I did not know what time the lesson ended, but a quick look at the other students’ cauldrons told me that he should have reached a much more advanced stage at that point.

I walked closer to him and stopped next to his left shoulder. He was feverishly going through the chapters of a very thick schoolbook, probably trying to find a solution to his problem. I decided to give him a helping hand. I did not want to risk startling him too much, however. At that point, I wanted to keep my presence unknown to Severus as long as I could, so I simply waved my hands towards the smoke emanating from his cauldron and, very slowly, my message appeared.

“Hello Neville! This is Antanasia. Do you remember me?”

Fortunately, Neville looked up seconds after the message formed and I saw, from the sharp move of his head, that he was shocked to find it there. He looked around and tried to see if someone was playing a prank on him, but all of the students were in deep concentration over their cauldrons. I vanished the message before Severus could see it and I wrote another one.

“We met in October, at night. I helped you with Trevor.”

I saw him slowly nod his head as memories of that night started to blossom into his mind. I admit that I might have helped him a little bit with a few Legilimency hints, but he finally figured out who I was. I saw him grab his quill and scribble something hastily on a piece of parchment.

Where are you?

“I am right behind you, on your left.”

I tapped my hand lightly on his shoulder and saw him turn his head towards me. Seeing nothing else than the usual classroom, he was even more puzzled than a few seconds before. I levelled my mouth with his ear.

“We can speak if we only whisper…” I murmured, keeping a grip on him so his reaction would not alert anyone. “I am hidden under a Disillusion Charm, which is why you cannot see me. Keep your face turned towards your cauldron and just answer me with a whisper.”

“Ok… what are you doing here?”

“I am glad you remember me, Neville, because I did remember you! I came to pay a little visit to my Prince, but I guess he stays in your bedroom now…”

“He escapes less often since I made the changes you suggested,” he giggled.

“I wish we could chat more, but we do not have much time. You look like you could use a hand with your potion…”

“It’s all messed up! I don’t understand what happened!” he whispered, with panic trembling in his voice.

“Do not worry, there is surely a way to fix it. First of all, turn those flames half down and tell me from what point the compound started to go wrong.”

“I added all the ingredients in the right order, I checked three times, as usual,” he explained, adjusting the flames under his cauldron. “I added the mashed livers and stirred as the instructions said, but nothing happened.”

“Did you add them gradually?”

“I… did at first and then Professor Snape walked next to me and… I dropped half of it at once into the potion… with the bowl…” he said, his whisper becoming almost inaudible.

“There is your problem, my sweet,” I answered, squeezing his shoulder to comfort him. “It is even better than I thought; we can technically save your potion before the end of the class. Tell me, why did the potion stay blue?”

“The mashed livers probably all accumulated in the bottom and formed a big lump that will just not break down, no matter how hard I stir…”

“Because…?” I prompted.

“Because my fire was too high and the other ingredients did not have enough time to mix with it before it fell in the bottom.”

“Excellent! See? You can figure it out! Now what should we do about that problem?”

“I don’t know!” he protested.

“Think about it… you have a big heterogeneity problem with your compound that is caused by an original incompatibility between the chemicals you used. What is the number one plant that can make it better?”

“Cactus!” he whispered, victoriously.

“Yes! Why cactus?”

“Because it offers a neutral chemical composition, though the liquid in the plant will break down the stability of the potion and give a chance for the lump to mix with the rest,” he answered, in one breath.

“There you go, my dear!” I whispered excitedly, hugging his shoulders. “I knew you could find it. Now do you have some cactus stems with you?”

“No…” he said, in a disappointed and slightly panicky tone.

“Do you think there could be some in the greenhouse?”

“Yes, Professor Sprout always keeps them in the third greenhouse, on the right; it’s the brightest spot in there…”

“You stay right here, I will get what you need. I will be back in no time,” I said, before I turned back to hurry out of the classroom.

I clasped my hand over my mouth to stop a surprised gasp. I almost ran right into Severus’ chest as he came back to see Neville’s progress. I stayed trapped in front of his body for quite a few seconds before he snorted and left for the front of the classroom. I tiptoed outside and took flight for the greenhouse by a window that I discreetly opened.

Neville’s instructions were clear and I found the cactuses in no time. I felt like a thief, hiding from the group of students that were having a lesson in another greenhouse nearby, but within minutes, I finally Transfigured back into an eagle and flew my way to the dungeons, through the same window that was still open. I hurried so much that I almost walked into the classroom without the camouflage charm, but I fortunately remembered to put it back on before I passed the doorstep again. Neville was still looking at his cauldron, rocking on one foot and the other, trying to look deep in thought. My discreet tap on his shoulder made him jump, but Severus had his back turned to us and only a few students saw his reaction. He quickly took the cactus stems from me and hastily mashed them. The victorious look on his face as he gradually added them to his potion, making it turn to a brighter orange with each passing second, sufficed to make me forget what had made me grumpy in the first place that afternoon. I smiled with him, too, and patted his back encouragingly.

“What do we do, now?” he whispered, in a more concerned tone, after he finished adding the mashed cactuses. “The potion has to simmer for forty-five minutes to be ready and the class will end in ten!”

“That will need a bit of help… I suppose Se… Professor Snape did not show you the Accelerating Charm?” I asked.

“He did not…”

“Ok, just move aside and tell me when he turns his back to us again. What I am about to do is--”

“Now!” he urgently whispered.

“Catalystere Totalitare,” I uttered, under my breath. “This is a useful little spell when you are in a hurry… it stimulates the potion at a molecular level and accelerates the maturation process. Always check the instructions before you do it because some potions do not react well to this…” I explained, as the mixture shook with hundreds of bubbles. “Keep an eye on your watch; we do not want to burn it. Give me a signal in four minutes from now.”

Those four minutes passed in the blink of an eye and I even let Neville end the charm, which he did fine. When Severus passed near to us yet another time, his ironic sneer froze at the corners of his lips and his eyebrows furrowed in a sinister expression. The result was rather diabolical. Neville instantly took a step back and seemed strangely influenced by gravity as his neck literally disappeared between his shoulders. To my satisfaction, Severus spilled the potion upward with a sharp wave of his wand and approached his face very closely to the mixture. After a careful examination, he turned to Neville, still holding the potion upward with both of his hands.

“Mister Longbottom, I would be absolutely fascinated to know what explanation you can give me about the way you managed to fix the problem with your compound,” he silkily said, loud enough so the whole group would hear, while eyeing Hermione suspiciously.

“I… I figured…” Neville stammered.

“Louder, Longbottom! Please share your amazing competences at potions making with the rest of the class!” he ordered, a sadistic smile on his lips. “What did you figure?”

“I… I figured that the problem with my compound was that I added the mashed grindylow livers too fast, so they did not have enough time to chemically blend with the potion and activate the bezoar’s properties,” he explained, while I encouraged him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Go on,” Severus prompted, very coldly.

“The mashed livers formed a resistant lump at the bottom of my cauldron, so I added mashed cactus stems to smoothen the compound enough for the lump to break up and produce the chemical reaction with the bezoar, sir,” he concluded, in a slightly out of breath but steadier voice.

“The potion needed to simmer for forty-five minutes. How did you make up for the time you lost figuring out your cunning plan?” he asked, in an ironic tone, not even taking the time to acknowledge his excellent answer.

“An Accelerating Charm, sir,” he murmured, in a very quiet voice.

“A what?” he asked, in disbelief.

“An Accelerating Charm, sir,” he repeated, barely louder than the first time, while giving quick worried side-glances towards the place he thought I stood.

“That charm’s difficulty level is far beyond this class’s capacities, not to mention the ones you personally own, Longbottom! Now give me a plausible explanation for this!” he snapped.

I did not miss my chance this time. I walked behind him and brought my lips to his ear on the other side, so Neville would not hear me.

“I thought you believed in miracles since his O.W.L. examinations…” I teasingly murmured.

The effect was immediate. Severus snapped his head towards me, and his nose was inches from mine, though he did not see me, of course. His eyes searched frantically in front of him for my presence, but my mental barriers still held strong and he did not establish any Legilimency link. He had stopped breathing, his mouth was slightly agape and his eyebrows were raised. Yes, both of them.

To sum it up, he was having a heart attack.

I tried not to laugh and gave him a few seconds to regroup. After those few seconds, seeing that he was still frozen in his awkward position, his head uncomfortably turned towards me while the rest was turned towards the cauldron and the spilled potion, I gave in to an old urge of mine and gently brushed a fingertip against the tip of his nose.

“Surprise…!” I whispered, very quietly.

A heartbeat later, I regretted my bold gesture. Severus was apparently very distracted by that innocent prank and inadvertently moved his left hand right into the spilled potion. It was obviously extremely hot, both from the natural simmering and the charmed one, so he severely burned himself. He gave out a brief and sharp yelp of pain and removed his hand, but it was too late. The charm holding the potion was broken and it all fell back at once into the cauldron, splashing everything around. Neville did not get any on him; he was so nervous that he made a big leap backward the second Severus burned himself, but the latter had hot potion spilled all over his robes. Fortunately, he did not burn himself more, but the fabric was freckled with smoking orange drops.

Severus was obviously completely furious, but he kept a very composed attitude all the same, despite the surprise and the pain. He sharply asked the students to bottle a sample of their potions and bring them to his desk and, as the bell rang, he cleaned the mess left by Neville’s potion all over the table with a wave of his wand. He walked to his desk and sat in his chair, hiding his hand under the table, and did not say a single word. Not even when Neville handed in his sample bottle and practically ran back to his table to clean his equipment and gather his books and supplies. He only got an infuriated look he did not deserve.

It seemed to take ages for the students to clean their work areas and exit the classroom. Severus’ hand was becoming redder and more irritated with each passing minute and many blisters started to form on the worst part of the burn, but he still did not speak. I do not know which was burning more between his mind or his hand… or the flush that spread all over my cheeks as I helplessly watched him, still concealed and standing at his side, hitting repeatedly on his mental barriers to try to talk to him. When the last student exited the room, I lifted the charm and put on my best repentant expression. It did not change things much. He sprang from his seat and stood right in front of me, stretched to the full extent of his menacing height.

“Were you out of you mind, woman? For Merlin’s sake, what were you thinking!” he spat angrily, inches from my face again.

“I am sorry… I did not know it would startle you that much, Severus,” I answered, apologetically.

“Startle me? You are lucky that I did not hex you! Coming unannounced in the middle of a lesson and talking to me like that…” he continued, in the same tone. “And what were you doing with Longbottom anyway? Did you fix his potion?”

“I did not fix it…” I began.

“Liar! The dunderhead could never have fixed the problem alone!” he interrupted, pointing an accusatory finger at me with his healthy hand.

“I did not fix it, I swear!” I replied, with mounting tension in my voice. “I barely questioned him and he figured it all out by himself! He is very knowledgeable in Herbology you know, that is what helped him.”

“And how would you know that?” he asked, in an offended curiosity.

“Because…” I sighed, “the last night I spent here, before I moved to London… I met him in the corridors.”

“Breaking curfew, just like any Gryffindor with an appropriate dose of self-respect would do…” he grumbled, under his breath.

“And we had a little bit of a chat together,” I continued, as if I heard nothing. “That is how he told me about the artificial climate and the environment he created for his pet… and that is how I saw how knowledgeable he is.”

“Does Dumbledore know that Longbottom saw you that night?” he asked.

“No… but I asked Neville not to tell anyone and he did not. I made sure he would not… I had to summon a few memories in his mind for him to remember who I was before I started helping him today.”

“Ah! So you did help him!” he exclaimed, snapping the accusatory finger back under my nose.

“In a way! Yes!” I conceded, rising my arms in an exasperated way. “Only with the Accelerating Charm, which he ended all by himself, by the way! For all the rest, I only prompted him and he answered very well, just like he did when you questioned him. I just retrieved some cactus stems for him in the greenhouse…”

“That explains a lot, I guess…” said a familiar voice, at the other end of the room.

We both turned to the source of the voice and found Professor Dumbledore, standing at the back of the classroom, with an amused smile on his face. He slowly walked to us, hands behind his back and with an innocent expression on his face… just as if he had not caught us in the middle of a fight.

“I am sorry I most impolitely jumped in the middle of your conversation, but Professor Sprout came to my office after her lesson to tell me a most fascinating tale about an eagle flying into one of the greenhouses only to leave a few minutes later with something clutched between its claws… which she guessed were cactus stems, from the ones that were missing when she checked the plants in the greenhouse in question. I was as puzzled as her at first, but then the thought occurred to me that I might check for that eagle’s presence in the dungeons…”

“Headmaster…” I began.

“Albus…” he mischievously corrected.

“Albus, I was merely helping a student, Neville Longbottom, with his potion. He needed those cactus stems to fix his potion and the lesson was almost over. I thought I would get them for him; he probably went to Professor Sprout at once after the class to explain the missing cactus stems to her…”

“It would be mature and responsible to do so on his own initiative; yet I will make sure he does go to her indeed,” he answered, still beaming at me. “Severus, has something happened to your hand?”

“Nothing, I just burned myself when Antanasia most tactlessly made her presence known to me,” he sneered.

“I already told you, Severus, I am sorry for what I did…” I answered, rather bitterly. “Let me take care of that burn; in Transylvania, I use an infusion of--”

“I can perfectly take care of that myself; you are not the only one who is knowledgeable in lotions, you know,” he snapped defensively, keeping his injured hand protectively behind his back as if I would attempt to snatch it from him.

“Antanasia, is there a problem at the Headquarters?” Dumbledore asked, in a soothing tone.

“No…” I answered, rather unconvincingly, feeling quite embarrassed. “I have nothing to report to the Order; things have been rather calm these past few weeks.”

“Then may I ask why you came to Hogwarts in the middle of the afternoon?” Dumbledore asked.

“She thought it would be entertaining to teach my students behind my back, I guess,” murmured Severus next to us.

“Antanasia, will you follow me to my office?” said Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling with thousands of mischievous sparkles while mine rather shone with awkwardness. “Severus, we will let you take care of your hand in peace. I will not keep her for long.”

“Keep her for as long as you want; just make sure you do not stand next to anything hot,” he grumbled, walking towards a cupboard in the back of the room.

~*~

AUTHOR’S NOTE
Just a comment... I know that some of you do not like the \"Remus detour\" as I call it. You have expressed it quite clearly already; there is no need to write more reviews if you just want to comment that again (though if some of you do like that detour, I need some encouragements, please!) I twisted the plot like that for a reason I thoroughly considered for a while and I think it just makes the plot sound more realistic and less \"Hollywood-like\" where things change abruptly and answer the viewer/reader\'s needs too fast and in a simplistic way.

I most sincerely hope that you will stick with me and eventually see the point of all this (which goes beyond the mere sexual aspect of it). I pray that the other parts of Chapter 13 (like this one) and especially chapter 14 will satisfy you better. I am still writing every day and part 3 is being edited! Chapter 14 should go to editing soon! Just be patient; your encouragement is always precious!