Avenging Fire

Hi Mum and Dad.

First, something important. I was just talking to Dumbledore and before I left his office, Cynthia's letter arrived and he said it would be fine for her to visit me. I don't know how soon she plans to do so but if there is time before she comes, I need you to go down to your basement and pick out all Steffen's old journals and send them with her. If you can't manage to get them to her in time, send them back with Hieronymus. Thanks.

Now onto other matters. As far as the subject of my situation, I understand why I must stay here for the present time, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. After all, I was the one attacked yet I'm the one who is being confined and my freedom taken from me. I now have new empathy for the clinic's patients who were victims of violent crime and subsequently found themselves imprisoned, either in their minds by their own doing, or by others who thrust it upon them. After that, we'll just have to agree to disagree.

The twins are fine. Christopher is thriving here and has made friends with quite a few of the other children of his year and in his house. They all seem to be pleasant children for the most part except I have some concern over two in particular. A boy named Harry Potter has a very odd dynamic going on around him. He seems almost revered by most of the other children. Even Dumbledore seems to single him out. I can't be sure that I'm reading it correctly, but Dumbledore seems to treat the Potter boy as if he's made out of something quite precious. The rumors are that he survived when he (you're not supposed to say the name aloud) attempted to kill him. I have a hard time believing this. He seems like just a normal boy to me. A little shy perhaps, but nothing out of the ordinary.

The other of the two is a girl named Hermione Granger. Do you remember Mercedes Hall who went to primary with me? That's who this girl reminds me of. Aggressive, yet hypersensitive and self-conscious. She compensates for this by acting as a walking encyclopedia and is the classic overachiever. At least Christopher seems to like her well enough even though I see him rolling his eyes whenever she gets to rambling on.

Alexandria's situation is a bit more touchy. I'm still baffled as to why she was sorted into Slytherin. I don't think it's a good match for her but she is now insisting that she likes it. I was prepared to have her moved to another house but she says she wants to stay. She did have an altercation, however, with three boys, also from Slytherin. Apparently they had been picking on her excessively because of her blood status until she finally had enough and hexed all three of them. She transfigured an arse onto one of the boys forehead! Oh yes, she is indeed her father's daughter. I'm not sure where she learned to do that. Isn't transfiguration at that level only for advanced students?
I shall finish this now so hopefully Hieronymus has enough time to get to you before Cynthia's visit.

Much love from your displaced daughter,

Hel

As Helena began folding up her letter, she stopped and smirked up at her ceiling where her upstairs neighbor lived and worked and decided to add a quick postscript.

P.S., Tell Cynthia that I have no idea what happened to Queequeg or why he's acting the way he is.

Helena thought a little white lie would be better all around in this case, although the thought of Cynthia having it out with Professor Snape over her owl's nervous breakdown provided an amusing mental scenario.

After sending Hieronymus off with the letter, Helena debated on what to do next. It was Saturday so there were no classes to clear the halls of students. Because of that, she decided against going to the library to look through the almanacs from when Steffen was a student. Undoubtedly there would be a crowd of whispering students and a hypervigilant Madam Pince. She had sent her uncle's owl back with the request for her parents to send her all of Steffen's journals, and it might be a better idea to use them as a guide, instead of just the almanacs.

Helena and Steffen's father had always taught them to write everything down: ideas, homework assignments, important dates, and class notes. Every Christmas and birthday, she and her brother received blank journals along with their other gifts. When PDAs came out, Helena and Steffen chipped in together and bought their father one of the devices for his birthday. After playing with it a few days, the man declared that he could record his notes faster by hand. It was now collecting dust in a desk drawer somewhere.

Helena knew that Steffen kept up the practice during his Hogwarts years because when he arrived home, his trunk had at least two filled journals, along with pungent socks, trainers that could be declared a biohazard, rumpled Ravenclaw neckties, and robes missing buttons. Helena smiled at the memories of her mother gasping as she pitched the trainers into the trash, chiding Steffen for not using freshening spells.

Since she opted against going to the library, Helena decided to go to her quarters and start reviewing the Muggle Studies textbook after having a bit of breakfast in the Great Hall, which was awash in excitement when she arrived. The Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match was that afternoon and all talk around the tables centered on the upcoming game. Helena noticed that Professor Flitwick was conspicuously absent, probably due to the incredibly self-assured Professor Sprout, proclaiming to one and all that victory was "in the bag," while beaming down at her also incredibly self-assured Hufflepuffs.

After a long glance behind her at both the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, Helena sat down, poured some coffee from a carafe and placed two pieces of toast on her plate. The din in the Great Hall was loud enough to make it impossible to ignore so she quickly spread some jam on her toast, planning to eat it down in her quarters. Glancing up, she saw Professor Snape rubbing the bridge of his nose. As they met each other's eyes, Snape grimaced in exasperation at the noise while Helena rolled her eyes in agreement.

"Aunt Hel! You should come watch the Quidditch match with us!"

Helena's nephew, Christopher, holding a Ravenclaw pennant, was waving to her. She had surfaced from her quarters for some fresh air only to find a mass exodus of students heading towards the Quidditch pitch. Christopher was standing with two boys from his house: a timid looking boy with his hands shoved deeply in his pockets, and a cheerful black boy waving at other passing students.

"This is Neville and Dean, by the way."

Helena smiled and nodded at both boys. "Neville. Dean. Cheering for Ravenclaw as well?"

"Yeah, I am, but Neville's still on the fence," Dean answered. Neville managed to look sly and embarrassed at the same time.

"It's just...well, Hufflepuff has some pretty heavy hitters," the boy explained. Dean shot an exasperated look at Neville, implying that they'd argued about the qualities of the Hufflepuff team many times already.

"So? You coming?" Christopher was bouncing up and down and growing impatient.

Why not? She would welcome the distraction. She had just gone through the first four chapters of the Muggle Studies textbook and wasn't sure if she was more amused or concerned over how Muggles were perceived by the wizarding world. There was even an essay exercise on why Muggles needed electricity at the end of one of the chapters. She reminded herself at that point that she shouldn't take what she considered common knowledge for granted here.

"We ought to get going. Seamus, Ron, and Harry are saving us some seats. If we don't get there in time, someone else will take them," Dean urged.

"Lead on, good sirs," Helena gestured with a flourish of an arm to the impatient boys.

As they approached the pitch, Christopher, Neville, and Dean broke into a run towards the Gryffindor bleachers, having already forgot she was trailing along behind them. The slight nip in the air reminded her that autumn was fast approaching along with Dumbledore's Halloween Ball that she agreed to help chaperone. As she was thinking about what she should wear, Professor Flitwick fell in step beside her.

"Ah, Doctor! Come to watch the match?"

"Yes. My nephew encouraged me to come but I seem to have lost him and his friends."

"Then come and sit with me. Merlin knows, I could certainly use the support!"

A quick glance towards the Gryffindor section and observing the pre-game excitement rolling through it, she was confident that her nephew wouldn't miss her absence until the game was over. With a smile and nod of her head, she followed Flitwick to the faculty section where they eventually settled in behind Professor Snape. Sitting a row behind, Professor Sprout had situated herself beside McGonagall and Dumbledore. The Headmaster had charmed his robes so that one half was in Ravenclaw colors, and the other half was in Hufflepuff colors. The effect was rather garish. Snape, as usual, was sitting ramrod straight and alone.

"Turned out as well, Snape," Flitwick greeted.

Snape turned and quirked an eyebrow as if to say 'obviously.'

"What do you think, Doctor? Do we have any hope?" Flitwick sighed as Sprout let out a peal of laughter behind them.

"I think so," she answered. When Flitwick turned towards her, she explained. "The Ravenclaws were anxious and alert at breakfast. The Hufflepuffs were very confident and relaxed. When you're overly confident, you might not try as hard as you would normally. Then I noticed the Ravenclaw team huddled together this morning. I'd say they were going over their plays. I could be wrong, but I think your team will put everything they have into this match."

"Really? Hmmm, an endorsement from a mentalist. I suddenly feel hopeful!"

Helena was about to explain that she wasn't a mentalist, when Snape, without bothering to turn around, interjected.

"I concur."

"Oh! Well then," Flitwick rubbed his hands together. He turned and caught Sprout's eye, smiled sweetly, and waved at her. Sprout smiled back just as sweetly and patted her pocket to remind him that they had made a wager that he was going to lose. Just as Helena noticed how Snape's hair was so black that it seemed to have blue highlights, the match started.

Each team entered the pitch and took to the air to showboat for the spectators. The Hufflepuffs did loop-de-loops and figure eights to enthusiastic applause. Ravenclaw performed a complex ballet that made it appear they were knitting the very air in which they flew. After, both teams landed and walked towards Madam Hootch and waited for her to launch the balls into the air. The game was on.

Hufflepuff scored a goal within the first few seconds. As Flitwick moaned and hung his head, Professor Sprout's jubilant bellow would have put any football hooligan's war cry to shame. As several "Ten points to Hufflepuff," squawked from the loudspeakers, Helena wondered if she was wrong in her assessment.

"Here. I can't bear to watch," Flitwick groaned as he passed her his binoculars.

Watching the airborne action began giving Helena whiplash so she swept Flitwick's binoculars over the spectators, halting at the Slytherin section. After a few moments, she located Alexandria and her friend Sage, who appeared only mildly interested in the game and mostly were chatting with each other, and to a few other girls who Helena was pleased to observed seemed to be behaving in a friendly manner.

"Ten points to Ravenclaw!"

Flitwick snatched the binoculars back and eagerly tracked the players, chanting encouragements, if only to himself.

"Another ten points to Ravenclaw!"

"That's right! Do me proud," breathed Flitwick.

Approximately an hour into the match, the Ravenclaw Seeker caught the Golden Snitch as the team's Chasers and Beaters performed a complex blocking maneuver to distract the Hufflepuff seeker.

Helena quickly turned around when "Ravenclaw wins" sounded over the loudspeakers. Professor Sprout's jaw dropped open while Flitwick slapped his knees and roared with laughter. He wasted no time in holding his outstretched palm to her and pointing at it. With remarkable agility, Flitwick scrambled over to Sprout to further rub her face in Ravenclaw's victory.

Grinning, Helena stood to make her way down the faculty bleachers but stumbled on the first step. Snape, who was directly in front of her, held his arm out to assist her in her descent in a surprising display of gallantness.

"Watch your step, Doctor. Even Madam Pomfrey cannot repair a broken neck."

As they descended away from the sound of Flitwick's gloating, Helena tried to make conversation with Snape.

"So you agreed with my evaluation of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff teams? I wouldn't have guessed you were into Quidditch."

"And why would you think that?"

"You don't seem all that interested in it, that's all. You don't participate in the fevered discussions about it around the faculty table."

"On the whole, you are correct. However, as a Hogwarts teacher, I am expected to put in appearances and at least feign enthusiasm. I do take more of an interest when Slytherin plays for obvious reasons. "

For Snape, this was almost friendly banter. Helena decided to push her luck and ask him if he would like to have another glass of wine with her. She had really begun to miss having company of her own and since he had agreed the first time, and since he was her peer at least in age, he may be willing to do so again. Besides, Snape interested her. There appeared to be much more to the man than sullenness and a prickly disposition. His facial expressions and body language were subtle, but they were there, and they spoke of a man with deep concern and even deeper thoughts, disguised behind the harsh mask he perpetually wore. As they reached the ground, Snape withdrew his arm, inclined his head, and began to walk away.

"Would you like to stop by my quarters for another glass of wine tonight?"

Snape turned abruptly at the question. He had not expected another invitation.

"Unless you're busy or have other obligations, of course," Helena quickly added.

After another uncomfortably long, evaluative stare by Snape, he consented with a condition.

"I make rounds at nine o'clock. They are usually over in a half an hour. Sometimes more if I happen upon mischief. If you think you'll be awake at that time, I shall come to your quarters."

"I will. I'll see you then."

With another inclination of his head, Snape turned and billowed away. Helena, too, began to make her way from the pitch and towards the castle, waving at her nephew when
she spied him craning his neck, searching for her. As she was swept along with the rest of the Gryffindor house rehashing the game, she felt better than she had in a while. It was true that she was still bitter at her confinement and the interruption of her personal life, but today, she had been amongst people and had enjoyed herself. Sniffing the nippy air, she decided she would take a run around the grounds before the castle doors were locked and before her guest would arrive.



"Serves you right for getting out of shape, lazy cow." Helena's heart was pounding and her leg muscles were burning from her first run in several weeks. She had always been active; on the fencing team at University, then later recreationally, and later still chasing her niece and nephew around as toddlers. When her brother and sister-in-law were murdered, and she found herself having to stifle her own emotions so she could tend to her mother's grief induced depression, as well as the twin's emotional devastation, she took up running to cope. Running gave her mind a time to rest and physically exhausted her so that she would sleep.

As she stood stooped over with her hands on her knees, panting, she added 'get back into shape' to her to-do list. A light was shining from Hagrid's shack and after catching her breath, she walked over to say a quick hello and good night. Voices coming from inside halted her knuckles from making contact with the door. She heard Hagrid's hushed voice along with what sounded like children's voices. Feeling a little guilty, she peered in a window and was surprised to see three of Christopher's housemates sitting at Hagrid's table. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley were deep in discussion with Hagrid.

"Something's going on, Hagrid. I can feel it. We all can," said Harry, picking at a squashed and shapeless round cake .

"I don' know wot you mean, Harry."

"Well, I overheard Professor McGonagall and Professor Vector whispering something about creating new protective spells for the castle. The teachers are anxious and nervous about something, you can tell," Hermione said.

"Wot's wrong with that? There's a reason why Hogwarts is the safest place in the world an' it isn' 'coz Dumbledore's content with the same ol' spells year af'er year," Hagrid retorted.

"And a few nights ago, I was looking out of the dorm's windows, and I thought I saw someone at the edge of the forest. He was just standing there, looking up at the castle," Harry said.

"Migh' 'ave been me, Harry. Af'er all, I am Gamekeeper an' I go in there a lot."

"He didn't seem as big as you, Hagrid," Harry protested.

"It's really strange," Ron finished.

"'Strange,'" Hagrid laughed. "You're at wizarding school fer Merlin's sake an' 'ere you are goin' on about 'strange!' Lissen, you three need to be makin' yer way back to the castle. It'll be detention for you lot if yer caugh' pas' curfew. Best be off!"

Ducking behind the side of the shack, Helena watched as the three children were ushered out the door by Hagrid. As they scurried up the hill, she retreated further behind the shack as Hagrid began glancing around nervously. The half-giant was intently looking into the darkness and listening, as if he expected someone to be out there, watching and waiting. She held her breath when it seemed as if he might walk around the side of his hut. It would be a terrible betrayal of their burgeoning friendship if he caught her spying, even if it was inadvertent. She let out her breath when he finally retreated into his shack and locked the door behind him.

Wondering what that conversation had been about, Helena took the hill at a brisk jog to squeeze out the last little bit of reconditioning from her run. The clock was just chiming the nine o' clock hour as she entered the castle and began making her way to her quarters. She was surprised to find Hieronymus waiting for her, perched on the same broken sconce across from her door.

"That was fast! Poor bird, I didn't mean for you to have to make a round trip."

The owl puffed his chest up to remind her of his avian prowess and heartiness. After she removed the letter tied to his left leg, he flew off, to hunt in the rodent rich grounds surrounding Hogwarts.


Cynthia will arrive Monday after she's done at the firm, journals and care package in tow! She says she will take the carriage up from Hogsmeade and to meet her at the front gate at 5:30 p.m.

Love,
Mum

Feeling even better at the news of her witch aunt's impending visit, Helena went to freshen up and wash her face and hands before Snape arrived.


Snape finished his rounds and returned to his office. The only evidence of mischief he found were the words "Hufflepuff got stuffed" charmed onto the walls outside the
entrance to the losing team's tower. It was highly possible that the culprits were Ravenclaws, in retaliation to the jeering they had endured in the days leading up to the match, but it was just as likely that a few of his Slytherins had done the deed. In which case, identification of said graffiti artists would prove to be a bit more difficult than average. If possible at all.

He went into his quarters to take off his teaching robes and put on his preferred frock coat. Standing in front of his full length mirror, he thought of the unexpected second invitation he had received earlier that day while he fastened his coat's numerous buttons. Perhaps there was something else she wanted from him, some other bit of information. He couldn't see why she wanted his company when there were other, more genial choices. She obviously had ulterior motives that he would eventually uncover. He really hadn't endeared himself to her in any way after all.

As he fastened the last button of the coat's high necked collar, he tugged it straight and plucked a stray bit of fluff from off a sleeve.

Look at you, Snivellus. Preening for your date? Enjoy it while you can. She'll see through you soon enough and then she'll know what you really are.
Snape frowned at the critical inner voice that all too often sounded like Sirius Black. Glancing once more in the mirror, he resolved to ignore it. He would not do well to call on Dr. Nyx in a perturbed and sour mood. He had no desire to be unnecessarily offensive. He had done enough of that already. He remembered snarling at her the day he took her, and the odious Mr. Smythe, to the Ministry of Magic so that she could register as a Paranormal and frowned again at the memory of his unfortunate behavior.

Shaking himself to dispel the rumination, he made to leave his quarters but stopped and wondered if he should bring some sort of offering. This would be twice now that she shared her wine and it might be considered bad form if he did not contribute something. After a moment or two's thought, he snapped his fingers to summon an elf.

"Bring me a small platter of a selection of cheeses and a knife."



"Oh, there you are. Come in, come in! And look at what you've brought! Just the thing!"

Unable to help himself, Snape stood frowning in the doorway, the door of which had been standing wide open.

"Do you always leave your door open like this?"

"No, I close it when I leave. So are you coming in, or shall we have our wine out in the sub-dungeons? If so, I need to put on a jacket."

As Snape entered the room, he noticed Helena had changed her clothes from earlier in the day into running gear and her hair appeared to have been dampened around her hairline.

"Have you been running," he asked, still holding the platter.

"I have. Of course, I'm about to ruin it with this cheese, but oh well. I love cheese with wine!"

"Outside? At night?" He asked with growing alarm.

"Well, it was night when I finally stopped and came inside."

"You mustn't do that!"

"Why on earth not," Helena asked, beginning to frown herself.

"It is imprudent for you to be alone outside at night. If you must exercise, run inside the castle."

Helena began winding up to become angry at yet another restriction placed upon her person, but she stopped as she remembered the odd conversation between Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Hagrid, and how Harry had mentioned that he thought he saw someone through his window and how Hagrid looked worried as he scanned the sky and perimeter after the children left. And now Snape too was insisting that she stay inside the castle after dark. A cold feeling washed over her. Even if there was nothing to Harry's claim, she had forgotten where she was. This was a place that was home to magical creatures she was defenseless against.

"Yes, you're right. I'll...I won't run outside anymore. Please, sit down," she said as she took the platter from Snape's hands, deflated and embarrassed at her own lack of good judgment. She busied herself with pouring a glass of wine for Snape, then one for herself.

Severus was relieved. He had expected her to put up more of a fight and was glad that he did not have to come up with some plausible lie to dissuade her from running around outside after dark. He knew how frightened she would be if she discovered the same people looking for Potter were also looking for her. Although she knew nothing of the plot against the idiot boy, she knew more than enough about Death Eaters that her blood would turn to ice if she found out that he and Dumbledore suspected them of prowling around outside of Hogwarts's protective charms, under the cover of night, trying to break through the magical protections put in place. They knew, of course, that Potter was at Hogwarts but Helena's whereabouts was still unknown to them.

Severus had convinced the Dark Lord, with minimal effort, that he too was working on breaking the charms and spells from the inside as well. Voldemort was very familiar with Dumbledore's skill and also knew that ancient and archaic magic was woven into the very structure of the castle. Still, the Dark Lord's patience would not last forever. He wanted the boy before Harry reached maturity in both years and magical skill. Severus had broached the subject of spiriting Harry out of the country to Dumbledore but the old man had dismissed the idea. He wanted the boy where he could see him.

As far as Dr. Nyx was concerned, Dumbledore was just as reluctant to discuss alternatives. He insisted that he was bound by part of the Headmaster's oath which required protecting those in danger who sought refuge in the castle. But she hadn't really. She arrived not for protection for herself, but to determine the safety of her niece and nephew. Surely then the oath was not binding except--except that in her case she was most certainly in danger. If she left Dumbledore's protection, Szasz, idiot though he may be, would eventually find her and beneath the Dark Lord's eyes, extract revenge for besting him. Still, it did not quite add up unless Dumbledore was exploiting the uncertainty of the oath's application to her for some other purpose.

When Severus swore allegiance to Dumbledore, he discovered quickly that the old wizard was just as cunning as the Dark Lord. Everything Dumbledore said or did had some purpose, some motive, and usually known only to himself. But what possible purpose could Dumbledore have for the woman in whose quarters Severus now sat? The most obvious reason was that she was a Paranormal, but they weren't any more powerful than wizards and were limited to whatever abilities they possessed. In Helena's case, pyrokinesis and psychokinesis, while formidable, were not things that wizards could not perform as well. The only difference, of course, was that wands were required.

"Care to share any?"

Helena's voice interrupted Severus's thoughts, almost startling him.

"Any what?"

"Any of your thoughts. From the looks of it, there are quite a few bouncing around in there and I didn't get telepathy when I manifested. Thank goodness!"

"I was lulled by the warmth of the fire. I apologize."


Severus watched as Helena took a drink of wine and noticed how the muscles of her throat flexed as she swallowed. Her neck was graceful and his eyes were drawn along her clavicles to the hollow between. Of all the places of a woman's body that a man could favor, it was this space that Severus was most fascinated. When Helena rolled her head to stretch, he quickly dropped his eyes only to steal a glance before she stopped. Suddenly he had an unbidden image of pressing his face to her neck below her ear and breathing in her scent while she lay, naked, on top of him. Shocked at himself, he looked away quickly and drank deeply from his goblet.

"Are you alright, Severus? Do you mind if I call you Severus?" Helena was eyeing him. When he met her eyes, her expression turned to something akin to surprise, curiosity. Maybe even relief.

"That is...acceptable," he answered.

Another unbidden vision flooded his mind, this one of her spread out beneath him, writhing and gasping with pleasure at his slow invasion of her body. Severus shook himself and crossed his legs. The popular perception that he possessed a eunuch-like disinterest in women was false, but was one that served to protect him. The night he begged Voldemort to spare Lily's life, he received several Cruciatus curses for his weakness.

"How dare you plead mercy for a Mudblood! For filth! Crucio! Never ask me for such again. Crucio! You are weak, Severus. You require correction. Crucio!"

Voldemort himself was a virgin, having never partook in what he considered the base and animalistic act of sex. Conversely, however, he indulged and encouraged his Death Eaters to satisfy this need, believing them unable to discipline themselves as he had done. He truly felt that he had transcended his own humanity but that they had not. And of course, he readily endorsed rape. It wasn't enough to snuff out their lives, the Dark Lord wanted complete debasement and violation of his victims.
The night Severus took the mark, Voldemort rewarded him by ordering Bellatrix to take his virginity, even though she was betrothed to Rudolphus at the time. He tried to resist, but his traitorous body mutinied. He still remembered her maniacal laugher as she watched his internal struggle while she rode him to his release.

It sickens me to have your half-blood seed inside me. If our lord had not ordered this, I would never touch you, ugly vermin.

Later that same night, as he scrubbed his skin raw in the shower, he mourned his loss. He hadn't held any romantic notions about saving himself, it was just that he hoped that when he took the final step towards manhood, it wouldn't be through what had been essentially rape.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, Severus? I know that I'm not magical and..."

"I am not a bigot," he said defensively.

At least now you aren't. You've seen too much Muggle blood spilled to deny that it is indistinguishable from that of a wizard's.

"Alright then." Helena was regarding him with concern and a small amount of caution.

Severus took another, slower, sip from his goblet, thinking feverishly to come up with a change of subject. Inspiration did not take long however.

"How are you progressing in mastery of your abilities?"

Helena had not expected the blunt question and her eyebrows raised. She looked down into her own goblet and shrugged after she took a drink.

"I suppose I'm doing well enough. In fact, here."

The platter of cheese Severus brought levitated in the air and floated over to where he sat. With an acknowledging inclination of his head, he took a slice.

"And here."

A few sheets of parchment glided over and settled on his lap. Line after line of scrawling text had been written. The top lines looked as though a young child, practicing her alphabet, had written them, only to evolve into smoother, yet still clumsy, handwriting on later pages.

"I practice my psychokinesis this way. I think it's a much better way to perfect it."

"Indeed. And as to the other?"

Helena smiled at his veiled reference, stood, and in the middle of the room, manifested a flame on an outstretched palm and allowed it to spread until she was entirely ablaze. After allowing Severus to take his fill of the sight, she extinguished the fire and self-consciously shrugged her shoulders again.

"That's about it. I seem to be only be only a two-trick pony."

"You shouldn't dismiss it as such. You possess abilities that wizards don't, except with a wand."

Helena cast a doubtful look at him then twitched her head to allow him his opinion. She returned to her chair and nibbled at a slice of cheese as Severus once again scrambled for something to say. He was flummoxed as Helena usually filled the role of the consummate conversationalist. He thought suddenly of the unfortunate therapist that had been assigned to his late, alcoholic father when the man had run afoul of the law. He had been in a dingy pub close to their home, drinking the dole as usual, when the inane argument he was having with another dole-drinking alcoholic about the government turned deadly. Tobias Snape tried to strangle the other man. Instead of incarcerating the elder Snape, the lenient judge released him with the stipulation that he receive treatment for his alcoholism. His wretched father cleaned himself up only until he had fulfilled the court's requirements, then it was back to the pub. Severus wondered how the therapist handled the verbal abuse his father had undoubtedly flung at him. This thought sparked a small amount of guilt over the harsh way he himself had treated the woman whose hospitality he was now enjoying.

"I finally got around to reading Gavin's, Mr. Smythe's, book about us," she said, almost as if she sensed his conversational ineptitude.

"And what have you learned?" Severus asked, relieved that the burden of speech was once again foist upon Helena. He hoped too that her response would answer the question as to why Dumbledore insisted on holding the her here, instead of working on a solution.

For the next half an hour, Dr. Nyx summarized Mr. Smythe's Paranormal tome and to Severus's dismay and irritation, it answered nothing and produced a niggling suspicion that he had missed something important.

"So, there you have it," Helena said in closing.

Severus's goblet had long been emptied of elderberry wine and the hour was approaching midnight, but he did not want to leave Helena's quarters for the cold trek to his. It had been a long time since he felt comfortable around another human and it made him greedy for more but he knew he must extract himself. Placing the goblet on the table between them, he began the first processes of polite retreat.

"Very interesting, Doctor. Helena. I'm sure that the problems Mr. Smythe outlined will not adversely affect you."

"Well, that makes one of us, at least. Are you leaving," she asked as he stood and tugged his frock coat into submission.

"Yes. It's late and I have imposed on you enough."

"How can you impose on someone who invited you here in the first place?" Helena's brow furrowed slightly as she stood to see him off.

"It has been my experience that even the most liberal generosity has its limits. Good night, Helena, and thank you for your hospitality. Most pleasant."

With an almost inaudible sigh, Helena walked with him to her door. She opened it for him and with another inclination of his head, he stepped over the threshold, and began walking towards the stairwell. After only a few steps, he stopped and decided to throw his caution to the four winds. He would invite the woman to his quarters next. That was what people do in a polite society after all. Although he had no idea of the mechanics of how to entertain her, he would extend the invitation. The probability was high that she would accept and this was what bolstered his courage as he turned on his heel, only to stand muttering silent oaths at the already closed door.


~~~~~~~~~


A/N: Yes, I know it has been so long since I've updated that you've probably forgotten most of the story. That's ok, it's my own fault.
You may yell at me in the reviews!

I'm glad Sprout lost, aren't you? =)