Quaffle and Chain

Chapter 2. Memories of Explosions Past

Celes made her way back to the castle, hardly feeling the cold this time around through her haze of anger.  The nerve of that man!  She stopped as she entered the Entrance Hall and doubled over in agony, forgetting her fantasies of Snape’s bloody demise and remembering why she’d gone to Hogsmeade in the first place.

Why couldn’t she have just ignored him and bought her ingredients?  She could have been brewing her potion and getting some relief this very moment!  Something about the man always made her feel both afraid and upset when he was anywhere near her, and in turn she would always stumble over her thoughts or forget them completely in his presence.

The pain subsided enough for her to move along to her private quarters and lay down, she could already tell this was going to be a long and painful day.  When was Poppy going to get back?

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Professor Snape was still staring at the jostled ingredients on the counter, replaying what had just happened over in his mind.  He usually never missed an opportunity to make the girl feel foolish, and after having to deal with her for 7 years of Potions he had plenty of material to draw upon.

In all those years she’d managed to turn a classmate blue, send countless goopy explosions flying to every wall of the classroom, turn Mrs. Norris into Mr. Norris for a while, and make another unlucky Potions partner’s hair fall out.

After her first 3 years taking the class it became harder and harder to find anyone willing to put their life and limbs at risk just to sit next to her during class, let alone be her partner.  In fact every class spent brewing potions usually consisted of nervous glances thrown her way, and a rush for the door when her cauldron would make even the slightest movements or noise.

The only way she ever made it through his classes was because of the seemingly endless detentions she had to endure due to her spectacularly terrible failures.  He would often have her come back to the classroom in her off time or early after dinner and clean up the messes she made.  After the room was back to the way it had been before her explosions she would again make the potion, this time under the very watchful eye of Professor Snape.

These extra Potion’s sessions were brutal, he seemed to criticize every stir of the cauldron, every uneven chop, every mistake in timing!  By the time the potion was finally finished she was shaking from head to toe and holding back tears that would later be unleashed all over her pillow back in the Hufflepuff dorms.

He would narrow his eyes at the bubbling cauldron, dip a ladle into the contents, and swish it around before pouring it back in to check for consistency and color, then he would finally release her with a scowl and all too often one last snarky comment about her nonexistent skills in the art of Potions.

He could only imagine what his former potion’s professor would have done had he been in Snape’s position, the man would have probably offered her a place in the Slug Club for her promise not to ever touch another cauldron again!  He smirked to himself at this thought before it was interrupted by the store owner who had finally made his way back inside.

The little old man came around to stand behind the counter, adjusted his spectacles, and looked curiously from the unkempt stack of ingredients on his desk to the commandingly dark figure looking down at him.

He cleared his throat, and shakily asked, “Ready to check out Professor?”

Snape looked down at the herbs one last time before returning his attention to the shop owner.

“I’ve come for the order I placed yesterday…”, He paused for a moment to look down at the little vials made for holding special potions, for 3 Sickles and 5 Knuts you could buy a vial and have it engraved with the recipient’s name. 

Was she worth the extra purchase?  Sure he felt guilty and knew he would be returning to the Potion’s Lab to brew the potion for her correctly when he made his way back to Hogwarts, but he could just as easily put the contents in a regular old vial.

But, if he made a point to single out a particular vial for the potion, that judging by her little tantrum she very desperately needed to take, then she would have to return directly to him for a refill.

A sly smile threatened to pierce his stony exterior at the thought of her depending on him in any way.  The thought was a little sadistic, but as long as he was helping her in some way at least it didn’t make him feel that terrible tightening of guilt in his stomach.

“And I’ll also take one of those vials there…..engrave it with the name Celes…”

The shopkeeper’s bushy grey eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he thought it best to just ring everything up and get this wraith-like man out of his store.  He carefully picked up a vial from the display shelf on the counter, took out his crooked little wand, and with shaking hands mumbled a spell to etch Celes’ name into the delicate glass.

The little old man breathed a sigh of relief as Snape’s imposing form disappeared into the snowy landscape, he wondered not for the first time if the Professor wasn’t actually a dementor in disguise or perhaps even a Vampire….

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It was around 8:00 in the evening when Celes was awakened by a soft knock on her door, she blinked furiously trying to will her eyes to stay open and looked outside the window to see nothing but pitch black sky.

Stifling a yawn, she stood up and clumsily pulled on her white silk robe, her abdomen shooting up a jolt of pain in protest of her movement from the bed.

*Knock knock knock*

“Ugh…I’m coming I’m coming!  Keep your knickers on!”

She opened the door, rubbing the sleep from eyes with her other hand. 

Snape stood there silently for a moment to observe her with amusement.  Her usually cheerful demeanor was replaced with a look of exhaustion.  Her hair, which usually framed her face and shoulders neatly in golden blonde waves was disheveled and stuck out at odd angles.  She was wearing a while silk nightgown with a lace design above the chest that came down to just above her ankles, and a matching robe that had drooped off her right shoulder lazily to reveal a small spaghetti strap.

He was well aware that she was 25, but had never thought of her as anything but that awkward teenage girl until presented with this clear vision of her womanly curves.  The silk of the nightgown seemed to hug every delicate crease and curve of her form.

Even through the wild mess of her hair and the sleep still clearly visible in her eyes Celes was quite a beautiful woman.  Snape, beginning to feel a little too warm under the collar for his tastes, held out the vial of light green liquid and tried to regain his usually stoic composure.

Celes stood blinking at him for a moment, still trying to wake up and put together just exactly what was going on.  She looked down at the vial, back up to him, and with a frown took it and slammed the door in his face.

Walking back to her bed she couldn’t help but smile and hope she’d whacked him on his large, hooked nose with the door.