Promises (Temporarily on Hiatus)

After I had exited the room, I felt a surge of relief flood my tense and over-worked mind; it was as though I had taken a large dose of pepper up potion (without the steam pouring out my ears, of course).

He, Professor Severus Snape, was going to “work with me”... which in my mind obviously meant he wanted to shag me. My age, my sexual frustrations, and my undeniable attraction to this man all combined to make a deadly, lovesick sort of sensation come over me whenever I encountered him.

I wonder how much time I’ll actually get to spend with him. Maybe he’ll finally realise that we should be together. Stop it, Evelyn. You’re starting to sound like all those other mooning teenagers. You want to fuck the man, not marry him. You’re not soul mates, it’s not destiny, and he’s not that interested in you… But he did almost smile.

“WILL ALL STUDENTS REPORT TO THE GREAT HALL FOR DINNER AND A SCHOOL CONGREGATION IMMEDIATELY” McGonagall’s voice echoed off the halls as she made the announcement. It was rare occasion that dinner was mandatory and even more uncommon to have a “school congregation.” In point of fact, I had never heard of such a thing.

Maybe they’ve finally selected a new Headmaster.

The Great Hall was abuzz with gossip: someone was murdered, they were closing down the school, Filch was going to be Headmaster. Each Head of House was attempting to quiet down their respective group of students. The Slytherins, of course, were silent, awaiting whatever it was the professors needed to announce. I looked contemptuously over at the other tables; their immaturity and idiocy never failed to astound me. The Gryffindors were ignoring McGonagall’s attempts to shush them; the old bag had to dodge a couple of punches that some fifth years were aiming at each other. Their rambunctiousness was mortifying, as I could see that we had guests; or we were going to. The staff table had been extended massively; at least a dozen seats were tucked under an entirely new section of the massive piece of furniture. And as for the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs… the former at least had some semblance of being civilised beings, while the latter sat there like the hebetudinous cows they were.

I looked around conspiratorially before letting my hand wander down towards my bag. As quietly and inconspicuously as possible, I removed a fat and slightly weathered paperback from the depths of the pack, rifling amongst the copious amounts of scribbled loose-leaf paper, textbooks, snapped quills, and half-finished novellas that I hadn’t managed to complete. What I held in my hands was my greatest treasure thus far in my seventeen years of existence: L'Histoire de Juliette, Sa sœur ou les Prospérités du vice. I managed to smuggle it out of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France in Paris without my chaperone, Mme Cullard (I referred to her as Mme Lard-Cul when she was out of earshot), noticing. My own personal library was quite varied and vast and this latest score was a brilliant edition to the wide variety of illicit literature that was currently in my possession.

“Je fus maniée, pelotée, battue, souffletée; mon con, mon cul, mon sein, ma bouche, tout servit: je désirais avoir vingt autels de plus à présenter à leur offrande.”

I stopped reading for a moment to see a line of stuffy, pompous men march into the room. Most were wearing cloaks trimmed with fur and silk lining, trousers that barely contained their massive stomachs and overly-shined shoes that slapped against the floor as they processed forward. I recognised them all immediately: Bones, Bole, McKevitt, Yaxley, Rosier, Whtiby, Edgecombe, Guerin, O’Rourke, and Malfoy; otherwise known as the Board of Governors and primary financial contributors to the institution that was Hogwarts School.

I counted them again and noticed something quite odd: there was an eleventh man standing with them at the front of the Hall. The wizard’s robes were rather tatty and faded and his shoes quite scuffed. I was too far away to discern his facial features… but then I saw his hair; a bright shock of orange stuck out in tufts all along his scalp, giving him the appearance of being a mangy kneazle.

Weasley.

It was decided that the ever charismatic Malfoy Sr. would be the one to prelect. “Good evening, classes,” he chimed.

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy,” all four hundred and thirty seven of us droned back in unison. Our voices lacked the sincerity that the elegant man’s voice contained.

“You’re probably wondering why we’re here, aren’t you?” Silence. Mr. Malfoy cleared his throat and continued. “You see, the Board of Governors, myself included, feels as though this wonderful establishment has gone without a Headmaster for too long. We have taken it upon ourselves to select one for you, basing our decision solely on merit.”

Oh right, Malfoy. The prick is going to be pure-blood and richer than God. I bet you all the Galleons I’ve got in Gringos that you’ll end up naming yourself “Grande Emperor of Hogwarts” or something along those lines.

“Furthermore, we feel that the quality of education here is somewhat lacking. Durmstrang and even that French school, whose name escapes me at the moment, now surpass us in exam scores, which is unheard of. To remedy this situation, myself and my fellow governors will be conducting a full review and survey of the school and its premises. We will also be sitting in on your classes-”

Quite suddenly, one of the Gryffindors stood up. He was a lanky seventh year with pasty, spotty skin and lots of curly brown hair. “Like that Umbridge woman!” he called out impassionedly. “I remember her. You’ll ruin this school like she tried to.” Though the way in which he expressed this sentiment was embarrassing and foolish, I found myself agreeing with his observation.

But by this time, McGonagall had reached the cocky adolescent and demanded he sit down. Ten points were deducted from Gryffindor. I heard the rubies tinkle in the newly constructed hourglasses in the entrance hall, the others having been destroyed by a stray spell in the Battle.

Malfoy continued on as though nothing had happened. “A lucky few of you will also be shadowed by members of the school, acting as ambassadors of sorts. They will follow you to your classes and observe your free time to see how all of you brilliant students spend the precious few hours of relaxation you are allotted. I assure you that we will not encroach on your privacy; all of us realise that you are at an age when-” I had stopped listening.

To have some morbidly obese toff follow me around like a puppy dog... Who could ask for anything more?

He rambled on for some time longer, and I went back to reading. Snippets of his speech made it through the slew of brutal buggery that the Marquis was crooning to me, phrases like “slipping standards” and “betterment of the academic society.”

He concluded relatively quickly, and the students slowly came out of their boredom induced stupor and began piling food on their plates. Naturally the entire school was whispering conspiratorially about the events that were going to ensue, while simultaneously cramming food into their mouths. They were an uncouth bunch. I ate little, preferring instead to let the aberrant words of de Sade to spoil my appetite.

“Miss Harper,” the voice intoned from behind. It was the only voice, in my opinion. I didn’t have time to languish in his heavenly drawl, however quickly thrust the massive novel into my bag, attempting to bury the contraband as deeply as I could manage. The man narrowed his eyes.

“And what, pray tell, are you reading, Miss Harper?”

“Dubliners,” I blurted out stupidly. That book was nearly a tenth of the size of the novel I had been reading. “I mean Middlemarch. Yes, Middlemarch. George Eliot and whatnot. Love muggle literature.”

We both knew I was lying, and badly for that matter, but he spared me and nodded curtly. “Follow me.”

I did as I was bid, lugging my bag along with me. I grabbed a green apple off the table and stuck it between my teeth like a suckling pig on the spit. I caught up to Snape and fell along side of him, trying to mimic his defined gait.

“Where are we going?” I asked, apple still clenched between my teeth.

He glared and refused to answer. I took a bite of the pome and fell silent as he led me through the corridors of the school. For some wild minutes, I thought he was going ravish me in some secluded alcove, but my hopes were dashed when we reached the staff room and I heard other voices coming from inside.

I was surprised to see the Heads of Houses, governors, and a selection of students conversing awkwardly and trying not to step on each other’s toes, literally and figuratively (the room wasn’t made to hold so many people and was quite cramped).

“Students, I’ll make this quick,” McGonagall snapped sharply. “You’ve been selected by lottery to have these gentlemen ‘shadow’ you. They will attend your classes, dine with you on occasion, ask you questions, and you in turn will be, as Mr. Malfoy put it, ‘ambassadors for the school.’ Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” everyone replied awkwardly and dispersed themselves through the room.

“Excuse me, professor,” I said quietly, attempting to attract too much attention to myself. “What if we’re not up to being an ‘ambassador for the school’?”

She shook her head. “Suck it up, Harper. Talk to your Head of House about it, not me.” Though displeased by her response, I admired the woman’s candour. I stood there lamely for a few moments, glancing around the room. I met eyes with Professor Faire and offered a false smile. He grew excited and began strolling my way.

Shite. I have enough on my plate as it is: NEWTs. The U&A app., Snape’s essay. I don’t have time to babysit some-

“You look quite familiar, Miss…” A rotund Yaxley grinned widely in front of me, his arm extended as though to shake mine in greeting. Faire backed off quickly.

“Harper. Evelyn Harper,” I replied smoothly, taking his hand briefly.

“Not old Timothy’s daughter!”

Oh God.

“Yes, Timothy… Harper is my father. I’m surprised you remember him, it’s been so long since we’ve… I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“How could I forget Tim?! I knew I recognised you; although, you look more like your mother, as I recall.”

“So they say.” The entire conversation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

“I remember you when you were just a tot, running around in your nappies.”

I was blushing deeply by this time, and continued my silent imploring that the man would stop talking.

“Enough, Hadrian, you’re embarrassing the poor thing,” Lucius Malfoy chided facetiously. He was grinning rather rakishly. “And if I recall correctly, this one preferred to prance around sans nappy.”

WHAT?! Oh God, make it stop. Please make it stop.

“You had such long, pretty hair then. You’ve gone and chopped it off.” He extended his fingers to play with the edge of my hair, before allowing the digits to bush against my cheek and jaw.

“Yes, well, it’s certainly more efficient this way and rather chic, Mr. Malfoy. No one wears their hair long anymore.”

“Short hair is for librarians, spinsters, and other utilitarian ciphers. And since you are none of those things, it’s hardly appropriate. If you were mine, I’d forbid you to cut it.”

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not yours, now isn’t it?”

I was peeved by his highly inappropriate remarks and perhaps a bit unnerved, but I wouldn’t let on. People like Lucius Malfoy feasted off the weakness of others, and I wasn’t keen on empowering the wizard further.

He was about to retort when the weasel-ish Weasley scampered over.

“You must be Evelyn,” he said with a large simper on his face. “I’m Arthur. Arthur Weasley.”

“Pleasure,” I said, mustering up as much warmth as possible; the man had a distinctly northern burr that tested my patience.

“It’s been decided by Professor Snape that I’ll be the one to shadow you. Isn’t that marvellous?!”

Malfoy and Yaxley both looked inflamed and turned to glare at Snape, who was currently standing by the egress.

“I have your schedule here. You seem to be taking quite a few advanced classes; can’t say I’m looking forward to sitting through such a difficult curriculum.” He chortled, and I genuinely smiled back at the ridiculous man. He was innocuous. The same couldn’t be said about the two clearly agitated men shooting daggers at the redhead. “I suppose I’ll meet you in...” The man pressed his nose against the parchment, trying to read in the dim light.

“NEWT level Transfiguration,” I replied.

“Ah yes, splendid! I will see you then.”

Again I smiled and noticed that Professor Snape was beckoning me over.

“Good night,” I said to the trio and strolled over to the imposing man.

“You are dismissed, Miss Harper.”

I nodded and bit my lip.

“What is it?”

“I don’t think Mr. Malfoy is pleased with your decision.”

“He wouldn’t be. I’ll deal with him. You need to go back to the dorms, since it is passed curfew.”

I opened the door and was about to leave, when he touched my shoulder. “Are you pleased with my decision? Mr. Weasley is a respectable, genuine man, and I expect that he’ll be on his best behaviour around you.”

“He seems like a very nice person. Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, and Miss Harper?”

“Yes.”

“I suggest you read Juliette in the privacy of the dormitories. Surprisingly, some may not be as tolerant as I am when it comes to your taste in novels, yes?”

Dear Lord.

The hand slid from its purchase and allowed me to hurry from the room.

After I was sure the door was securely shut, I allowed myself to perform a rapid jig of contentment. Errant fantasies of Professor Snape and illicit literature filled my head as I glided back to the dungeons.