It Takes a Miracle

Chapter 6 – Where would you go from yourself?


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The first thing Snape did the morning after his conversation with Lucius was meet with Dumbledore. The Headmaster agreed with Snape’s suppositions that the Malfoy’s visit was anything but a gesture of concern for an old friend, and it most probably had to do with the Dark Lord’s scheming. The two wizards spent some time discussing the likelihood of one or another role that might be assigned for Snape to play, but there really wasn’t much to go on. Except for Malfoy’s lengthy tale of his trip to Asia, a tale that was carefully devoid of any important details.

“I recon our answer is in Tibet,” pronounced Dumbledore, moving his long wrinkled finger over the map of eastern hemisphere spread between them. The map, ordinary and dull in some place, sparkled brightly in others, indicating the magic activities in those areas.

Snape’s followed the movement of the older wizard’s finger that stopped over the little country, which territory resembled a pinwheel. Then he looked up at the Headmaster and said, “Right. I’ll be off then.”

“Do take all the precautions, Severus.” The gaze of the blue eyes behind the half-rimmed glasses was somber.

“Of course, Albus.”

“And I’ll see what I can find from this end.”

“Very well.” Snape nodded. “Good day.” He strode out of the Headmaster’s office.

The older wizard furred his brow, surprised at the Potions Master’s willingness to leave the castle without so much as mentioning the harm of interruptions to his research. Hmm.

The next couple of days Snape spent on the road, coming back to Hogwarts only late at night. As much as he disliked traveling per say, for once he welcomed the chore - it gave him a perfect opportunity to stay away from the damn witch. Upon his returns Snape also made sure not to see the girl. He kept mostly to the dungeons, where no one else had any need (let alone desire) to go to, and was careful to avoid commonly used hallways and corridors, when venturing anywhere in the castle.

For the most part, he managed fine. But the nights presented a problem. If he detested the idea of running into the damn witch, the thought of having her in his arms as soon as he closed his eyes was simply terrifying. At least while awake he had some control over his actions, whereas asleep…

He did not want to take the Dreamless Sleep. It became less effective with frequent use, and he needed it for more serious matter. And he couldn’t rely on Occlumency either. With him being an active participant of the insufferable dreams, how would he block his mind from accessing his…mind? At the end, the solution was to work through the night and take Pepper Up potion at dawn.

By the end of the week Snape was completely exhausted. He dearly hoped that when Ms. Ardant departed from Hogwarts the visions would stop, and so he counted hours until Saturday, when the builders were to finish the inspection and leave.

Early Friday morning Snape fell asleep in his lab, sitting at the worktable, his head in the pile of freshly chopped ginger roots. He saw her right away. She was standing in front of him with an expression of total relief on her face. He smiled at her, because it was so sweet the way her blue eyes gazed at him, the way her lips trembled slightly in a hesitant smile. Without a beat, she threw herself at him, clinging to his robes as if her life depended on it. She was with him again. Finally. It felt so good, so right. He murmured something into her hair, the hair that smelled of vanilla and peach. And then they kissed. Gods, the feel of her lips sent a familiar bolt of electricity through his body. It was so good. Too good...

He woke up with a startle when the knife he held in his hand fell with a bang on the stone floor. Oh, no, no-o-o-o. He was ready to hit his head against the bloody table he slept on. Why was she haunting his dreams? He could not imagine any woman in her right mind would want to throw herself at him like that. Not that he could burden any woman with his attentions. What was it then? Where were these dreams coming from? And why the bloody hell did these dreams feel so real and so unreal at the same time? When he could say what he wanted to say... When he could do what he wanted to do... Like he was living in a normal world... Like he was living a normal life... Like he had a future...

No, he shouldn’t…he wouldn’t… Bloody Merlin.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. He could not afford to be completely out of control like that. If the Dark Lord ever sensed from him even a flicker of a thought about this witch, she could be as good as dead. If she were lucky... Snape gulped nervously. He did not want to think about what the Death Eaters could do to her.

He jumped from the bench and went pacing around his lab, the murderous scowl plastered on his face. Fuck. He used to dread the horrors of the nightmares, now he was scared to dream about a slip of a witch. Fuck!

Suddenly, he stopped, his breathing shallow. What if this nonsense wouldn’t stop with Ms. Ardant’s departure? What he was going to do then?

Snape looked wildly around the room as if searching for help. But there were none. Instead, he felt like the walls were closing down on him, and he knew he had to get away. Away from this choking lab, away from this damn castle, away from the girl who smelled vanilla and peach…

Snape ran out, not bothering to clean the table or close the door.

The chilly air of the summer morning cooled him down a bit. Half way to Hogsmeade his pace slowed and his breathing deepened. He may have overreacted. The troublesome dreams may very well stop on their own. And if not, he would find the way to subdue them. He was always able to keep his mind under a tight control, why should he start fretting now?

“Yes, the girl will leave tomorrow and take the dreams with her. Or you’ll deal with them on your own and enjoy all the cold water in Hogwarts for the foreseeable future. Which shouldn’t be terribly long.” Snape clenched his teeth, ignoring the nasty little voice in his head.

Later that day he was coming back from Hogsmeade. It was around lunchtime, and, having missed breakfast, Snape was looking forward to a nice meal. After spending several hours roaming the back streets of Hogsmeade and then another couple of hours in an apothecary, discussing the quality of the latest shipment of dragon blood with the shop owner and negotiating a reasonable price for it, he felt much better about the morning incident.

Why did he get all worked up? One lousy dream. He was still perfectly capable of willing his thoughts into the right direction, and he never had a reason to question this ability of his. Of course, this was a special set of circumstances, but he would manage.

When he saw someone flying over the Quidditch pitch, he stopped to watch. High up in the sky the flyer performed incredible stunts. Up and down, twirling on one spot, jumping left and right – the wizard in the air was one hell of a rider. Snape had to admit it to himself that his House’s team would have much better shot at winning the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup were this wizard a Slytherin, although the extra theatrics should definitely be curbed. Still, he stood there for couple of minutes, dazzled.

Suddenly he saw the object of his interest started to fall. He was falling straight down, still holding the broom. Snape went for his wand, hastily trying to come up with a good spell to stop the flyer from hitting the ground. However, before he decided on a simple levitation spell, he realized that the wizard on the broom was, thankfully, in control and that he was not falling, but hurrying to meet him. The bad thing, though, was that it was no other but Ms. Ardant, flushed from the exercise, smiling and waving. Grinding his teeth, Snape hid the wand.

“Good morning, Professor.” An open smile and unbearably blue eyes. She was standing right in front of him, clueless about being the cause of his troubles.

“Ms. Ardant.” He nodded curtly.

“What a great day to get the broom out for a spin, don’t you think?” She looked at him as if she was really happy to see him. “I saw you watching me. How is my flying?”

“It is... satisfactory.” He desperately needed to be himself, cold, emotionless, calculating, but the damn girl was making it so hard. He almost slipped!

“And what were you planning to do with your wand?” Before he had a chance to open his mouth to get a good sarcastic reply out, she continued, “My mom never watches me fly, says it gives her heartaches. She says that one of these days I’ll smash myself to the ground.”

“Hmm.” Snape was not about to discuss either her flying style or her mother’s opinions.

“Would you like to join me?” she asked grinning enthusiastically.

“Ms. Ardant, I understand that you are vacationing here. I am not. I have work to do. Good day.” He let the sneer curl his lip in a most spiteful manner he could manage and looked Gerry straight in the eye as if challenging her to raise to the bait.

She did not. Her face fell as if someone had just slapped her. She moved to let him pass, which he did without a second thought. He made several long steps before she called him, “Professor...”

“Yes?” He turned around with a swish of his black robes, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“I needed to ask you something,” she said very quietly, the grin gone, the lower lip between her teeth. “About that night...”

“What is it?”

“Well,” she hesitated, “I need to ask you about the...,” she looked around, “Vita Redux”.

“I do not think I could be of any use to you.” Snape wanted to finish the conversation as quickly as possible. This morning’s dream was too fresh on his mind to be comfortable around the subject of said dream. “I did not see, feel, or hear anything. I came to completely healed and that is all I can tell you.”

His annoyance was oozing from him. Usually, it was enough to make whomever this annoyance was aimed at wishing to end the conversation right away. However, the girl persisted.

“It is not only that, Professor. There is more to it.” She stopped to take a breath. “Like... dreams.”

Snape shoot a look of pure venom at her. “Ms. Ardant, you’ve been lied to. I am a Potions Master, not a dream reader.” He put so much contempt into his voice that the girl cringed.

For a moment it seemed she would finally give in. The witch stumbled backward, her unbearably blue eyes wide with anguish, trained on him. But she quickly recovered her composure, frowned, and, blushing crimson, began to talk faster, as if she was afraid that he would just turn and leave before she finished. “Oh, it is not... You did not quite understand me, sir. It is not about reading the dreams, it’s...” She obviously was not sure how to proceed. “See, when I was unconscious... The whole thing was so unexpected and new that I did not pay attention to what exactly was happening. But the thing is, sir, that I really need to find out everything I can about it. And the dreams, they are part of if. Professor, I need to know anything you might remember from that night. And afterward… That was what Ms. Doomsfield said. It can help me to master my...gift.”

The young witch was looking at him, her eyes pleading, her lower lip ready to burst from all the biting.

“I do not think you heard me the first time, Ms. Ardant.” Snape knew he had to get away from the witch at once, if not sooner. He was not going to discuss anybody’s dreams. Especially hers. Especially, when his own dreams... “Oh, no, not now, Severus.” He scowled and uttered in a very low menacing voice, “There is nothing I can tell you in addition to what I already have. Now, I have work to do. You are wasting my time. Good day.”

Back in the dungeons, he went straight to his storage room. However, instead sorting the ingredients that he bought, he just stood there, staring nowhere in particular, leaning heavily on the worktable. His arms, which supported him, shook slightly.

This was ridiculous. His reaction to the girl, the way he seemed to lose his ability to reason around her… Bloody Merlin. But the worst of his troubles was that the conversation that the witch requested was inevitable.

Loath he to admit it to himself, the girl had every right to ask him questions about that night. She saved his bloody life. Could he really deny her a conversation? Besides, if the dreams were a part of it, as she said, then the girl may have a solution to his problem. Right. Snape took a shaky breath. The conversation then.

The decision made, he pulled the vials of dragon blood out of his pockets and went to the cupboard to shelf them. If only the girl wouldn’t smile at him like…like she really enjoyed talking to him. Beautiful women didn’t smile at him like that! Especially when they smelled vanilla and peach... One of the vials slipped from his fingers and shattered on the stone floor, splattering his boots with thick red liquid. Damn!

He asked for his lunch to be served in his office, although he wasn’t hungry anymore. For some time he cut and mashed the food on the plate, while absentmindedly skimming through the “Daily Prophet.” Then he paced the room and, after house elves cleaned his desk and took back to the kitchen his lunch, defeated but uneaten, he wrote a note and asked a house elf to deliver it to Ms. Ardant.


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At first she got very upset. It took her a considerable effort to speak to him casually, as if he was not the wizard who invaded her dreams, but only a good acquaintance. Her easy friendliness was not that easy at all, with her insides quivering from the sheer proximity of the man. And all she asked for was a couple of minutes of his time. But his black eyes were so cold, and his attitude was so cutting that she kept stuttering, the right words evading her. She was too used to a different him, the other him. And after everything that happened between the two of them in her dreams, the last of which occurred mere several hours ago, the way he simply brushed her aside in reality, was too painful. Even if he was not affected by the Vita Redux connection, he did not have to be that rude, did he?

Gradually, however, Gerry’s hurt gave way to indignation. Why should she not be able to have a civil talk with a wizard? She saved his fucking life for crying out loud. And she was not asking for anything like that in return. Just a couple of questions answered without a sneer. Alright, let the greasy git (what a becoming name) sneer to his heart content, but give her the information. But no, he was too-o-o busy. He had work to do. Bastard.

Gerry stomped around Quidditch pitch for a while, but the mood for flying was gone. She decided to go back to her rooms.

As she was approaching the castle, her steps slowed, and her gaze involuntary went to the spot, where a week ago she found Snape, broken body and tormented soul. Gerry stopped. Wait a minute, what if she got it all wrong? What if the wizard was affected by the Vita Redux connection, and was having dreams about her also? Gerry chewed on her lip. It made perfect sense. That was why he did not want to talk to her. That was why he wanted to get away from her. That was why she never saw him around the castle. Oh, gods, he probably hated her and blamed her for... What? Ruining his nights? Invading his privacy? Shit.

Gerry slowly climbed the stairs, her earlier determination to claim her life back all but forgotten. And there she thought approaching the wizard about a conversation was difficult. “Wait till you explain the whole situation to him, girl,” she groaned inwardly.

Of course, he blamed her. Who wouldn’t? She at least enjoyed having him in her dreams, but he most definitely did not… Oh gods, did she just think that? Shit.

At lunch she pocked at her food, flinching slightly every time Valerius’ big hand would pat her thigh. She still couldn’t decide what to do about Snape. On the one hand, she believed she did need that talk with him. Seeing as she mucked up her first Vita Redux so that now she was…imagining things, and Snape was… Well, she’d better find out everything she could about that night. But on the other hand, may be she should just leave the poor wizard alone. He had been avoiding her like a plague for a good reason, no doubt. Gerry looked around the table as if to confirm the Potions Master’s absence and bit her lip. He already told her that he didn’t see or feel anything. As for the dreams, well, they would go away. Eventually.

When the door to the dining room opened, Gerry felt oddly disappointed to see a bulky figure of Mr. Broomshack entering the room. The wizard sat heavily next to Valerius and, with the usual sad smile on his face, said, “We have a slight change of plans, my boy.”

Apparently, he asked the Ministry to postpone a presentation of their findings until Monday morning. They lost almost two days between Valerius’ constant running to the hospital wing to check on sleeping Gerry and Mr. Boomshack’s accident, and had not been able to fully catch up.

“I am sorry, my boy, but your vacation will have to wait until Monday afternoon,” finished Mr. Boomshack with even sadder smile than he began. Valerius, though, didn’t seem to be upset at all.

“It’s no problem. Not at all,” he declared the moment his boss uttered the last word. Then he continued eagerly, “Mr. Boomshak, sir, could I do the last part here? All there is left to go through is an Astronomy Tower. I can do it, sir, and you can go home today and spend a weekend with your family. I’ll stay here and do the last bit, and then I’ll stop by your house Sunday morning, so we could go over my work, and if need be, I’ll have Sunday afternoon to tie up loose ends. Let me do it, sir.”

“Are you sure, my boy?” Mr. Boomshack’s round, saggy face turned almost miserable from the temptation. With his family of seven kids, his time off was never enough to spread adequately between his brood and his wife. “What about Gerry?”

Valeruis turned his pleading face to her. “Baby, you would not mind, would you?”

“But I promised my mom, that we will be there...”

“Baby,” he interrupted her, whispering hotly, “it is such an opportunity for me. For us.”

Regardless of how good Mr. Boomshack was to him, and how much he still needed to learn, Gerry knew that Valerius needed to prove he could work independently. It meant better assignments, and, ultimately, better compensation. The latter was too important for their future family to let the opportunity pass by. Gerry nodded to her fiancé in agreement, reasoning that she could always owl mom -- she would understand. There was also another matter to consider – extra two days to deal with Snape.

After a few moments of hesitation, Mr. Boomshak had agreed to Valerius’ offer. Dumbledore promptly extended an invitation for both Gerry and Valerius to stay at Hogwarts until Monday, and the matter was settled.

The conversation around the table broke apart. Valerius was listening to his boss’ suggestions, the Headmaster was discussing some school business with Professor McGonagall, and Jay was interrogating Derek about training brooms.

“Training brooms?” wondered Gerry, looking at the Apparition Instructor.

“Gerry, I don’t believe this guy.” Jay shook his had in mock bewilderment. “He is a Magical Objects Instructor. Should he not know something about training brooms?”

“I do.” Derek’s indignation did not go further than these two words.

“Yes, you do know they exist,” Jay teased his friend.

“What do you need to know about training brooms?” asked Gerry.

“I’m going to my sister’s tomorrow, and I want to buy something for my nephew. Didi, my sister, suggested a training broom,” explained Jay, “but brooms are not my thing. What would I know about brooms? Bulky and slow.”

Gerry chuckled. “How old is the boy?”

“Three.” Jay was looking at her with a hope on his clownishly expressive face.

“Well, there are several brooms to consider.” Gerry went into a mini lecture. And she had a lot to say on the subject. For one, she was an avid broom flier herself, and followed all the news concerning any innovation in the broom area. Besides, having two little brothers flying from an early age, she learned everything about training brooms as well.

Jay was absolutely thrilled. “Gerry, you have to go with me. You simply can’t refuse.”

“Where? What do you mean?”

“Great idea! Excellent idea!” Jay could not contain himself. “Do you have anything planned for this afternoon?” Before Gerry had a chance to open her mouth, he continued, “I know, you don’t.”

“So?” Gerry smiled.

“We are going to Diagon Alley,” announced Jay confidently.

“What?”

“Don’t you argue with me, Miss. You’re my last hope. We’ll leave now, Apparate to London, buy my nephew a broom, and be back before dinner.” Then he added as an afterthought, looking doubtfully at Gerry, “I am sure, we could do some more shopping, if you’d like.”

“What is in it for me?” Gerry narrowed her eyes grinning. “Shopping isn’t going to cut it, Mister.”

Jay though just for a split of a second before announcing, “Even a better idea! More than an excellent idea!” He looked at Derek, then at Gerry, and continued, “We’ll not come back here. We’ll go straight to Hogsmeade. Val and Derek will join us there, and we will have a great meal and nice drinks (yours is on me, Gerry) in a pleasant, cozy atmosphere. No stuffy business of London.”

Gerry glanced at Valerius, who nodded with encouraging smile, then at Derek, who gave her a “why not” shrug, and grinned at Jay. Yeah, why not? Even Dumbledore murmured something about being young and pleasantly drunk.

The prospect of leaving Hogwarts suddenly made her feel relieved, and she hurried to her rooms to get ready for the outing with a grin on her face. Gods, at least for a while she could forget about Snape, and Vita, and dreams, and… Yeah.

She changed quickly, darting around the room and humming merrily under her breath. She was almost out the door, when with a soft pop a tiny house elf appeared in front of her, silently handed her a note, and disappeared.

Surprised, she opened the parchment.

Ms. Ardant,

Upon revisiting my schedule, I located a free fifteen-minute interval before dinner tonight that I could offer you for a meeting. If this is acceptable, I will see you in the library (third floor, South Tower).

Professor S. Snape

This was an insult. Frowning, Gerry reread the note a couple of times. No, her first impression did not change – it was infuriating. Forget about an apology for “you are wasting my time,” forget about taking back “I have nothing to tell you.” The sheer tone of the note was of a bone thrown to a stray dog.

“Fuck you, S. Snape,” thought Gerry angrily. He didn’t even tell the house elf to wait for the answer! “Arrogant jerk!”

Quickly, she scribbled on the back of Snape’s note and sent it back with another house elf. Still fuming, she grabbed her bag and left.


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Snape was working in his private library when he heard Dumbledore’s voice coming from his office through the open door.

“I am in here, Albus,” he called, continuing taking notes from one of the large volumes spread open in front of him.

“Severus, good evening.” In walked the older wizard. “I see you are not wasting your time.”

“I do not have much of it left, do I?” Snape thought gloomily, nodding to the Headmaster.

“I was wondering, though,” continued Dumbledore, taking a chair, “if you can spare some of it to have a dinner with me.”

“What happened to the usual circus?” Without looking at the old wizard Snape raised a brow, his hand with a quill hovering over the parchment in front of him.

“And who exactly are you referring too?” Dumbledore smiled slightly. “Minerva, perhaps? She’d be delighted to know that she is still considered to be fun.”

“No. If I were to refer to McGonagall, I would use something like house pets, or...”

“Severus! chuckled the old wizard and waved his hand dismissively.

Instead of going upstairs, the two wizards settled in Snape’s office in front of the fireplace that came alive with Dumbledore’s snap of the fingers. They conjured a table that was immediately covered with plates of food and dug in.

“Could I ask what you are working on, Severus?” Dumbledore interrupted silence.

“An Anti-Crutiatus Potion,” came a curt answer.

The old wizard shook his head, looking at Snape, his blue eyes lacking the usual twinkle. “Do you reckon Voldemort doubts your loyalty?”

Snape cringed at hearing the name of the Dark Lord, but answered detachedly, “He doubts everybody’s loyalty. But I will be fine.”

The old wizard regarded the Potions Master for a moment before asking, “Is there anything you would like to talk to me about, Severus?”

“What do you want me to talk about? That I have wasted thirteen years waiting for the Dark Lord to come back so I could help take him down? That when he did come back, I had to resume the duties that I despise, dread, and abhor, even if what I do is in the name of Good? That my value to the Order is only in my ability to play a loyal servant to the Dark Lord, and if I do, I am loathed and mistrusted here, and if I don’t, I am dead (which I can’t allow because I gave you a word to stay alive)? That this redemption thing doesn’t work at all, because for every piece of information I get for the Order, I have to commit yet another atrocity, adding to the list, longer than anyone would care to know, and I will ever be able to atone? That my hatred of the Dark Lord et. al. and all they represent is not enough to justify the betrayal, because a turncoat is always scum? That sometimes I allow myself to become a punching bag for young Death Eaters for one simple reason – to avoid active participation in the Inner Circle’s “recreational activities”? That it is becoming harder and harder to play a “good Death Eater”? That sometimes I wish I did not strike a bargain with you all those years ago, and just went to Azkaban to peacefully die in there sooner or later? There...”

A drop of cold sweat slowly slid down Snape’s spine, as a wave of horror washed over him. Did he actually say any of it? Could the old wizard read it in his mind? Snape glanced quickly at Dumbledore, but the old wizard was looking at him very calmly, still waiting for an answer to his question. Even if the Headmaster sensed something, he did not let it show.

“Shit, this is getting out of hand,” Snape scolded himself inwardly. Of course, he thought about all of these from time to time, but it never felt so painful, so intense. Truly, these last couple of days tried and tested his self-control to the last bone. Snape glanced again at his companion, and letting out a breath he was holding, murmured, “I wish I could work on the Obtenio Potion again.”

“You will,” said Dumbledore, as if he gave an oath. He slowly turned his gaze to the dancing flames in the fireplace and sighed.

For a while it was quiet, both wizards were engrossed in their thoughts, before Snape said, looking at a little mirror on the mantel that showed the corridor leading to his office, “Minerva is coming.”

Dumbledore smiled and waved his wand to lift the wards on Snape’s office door. The Potions Master raised his brow, slightly annoyed, but said to the entering witch, “You may as well join us, Minerva. Albus is here to stay anyway.”

McGonagall heavily lowered her tall frame into a third armchair that Dumbledore had conjured for her, and uttered with a sigh, “I think I am too old for this war business, gentlemen.”

On Friday afternoons she usually checked up on Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, who was spending his necessary month at his Muggle relatives. Skulking around in her Animagus cat form for hours at a time, she could get close to the house without raising anybody’s suspicions. She would never complain about the assignment, but it sure was physically draining for an old witch.

“Nobody should be young or old enough to do it,” noted Dumbledore softly, looking over McGonagall, who was slumped in her armchair, with concern. “Are you hungry? Severus and I just had a delicious shepherd’s pie.”

“No, thank you. I stopped by Rosmerta’s on the way back, and she didn’t let me leave before I ate for two days in advance. Thank you, Severus.” The witch took a goblet of wine from the Potions Master.

“Any news?” asked the old wizard.

McGonagall shook her head. As an owner of “The Three Broomsticks,” Rosmerta was very well positioned to learn the things that people only whisper about. For McGonagall, who befriended her a long time ago, the barkeeper became a goldmine of intelligence that the Order of Phoenix desperately needed. Rosmerta’s reports contained gossip or outright hearsay rather than specific. However, in dark times likes this, these reports could give a glimpse of what was brewing underneath the surface of wizarding society. And no news could be a very bad news - it was always quiet before a big storm.

“Did you see our young gang there, Minerva?” The old wizard wanted to postpone serious conversation and give her time to take a breather.

“Yes, they actually invited me to join them,” smiled the witch lightly.

“Don’t tell me that you refused. You used to be quite a party girl.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he watched McGonagall blush a little.

“Albus,” she scorned him mockingly. “They didn’t need an old nagger to spoil their little outing. I did sit with them for a minute.” Snape smirked. “Just for a minute, Severus. But they had so much fun without me that I had to excuse myself.”

Snape snorted at that. The old witch glanced at him disapprovingly. “At the risk of sounding barking mad, I have to tell you, Severus, that it might be good for you too to join the young people for a spot of fun from time to time.” Before Snape had a chance for a scalding remark, she turned to Dumbledore. “You know, Albus, I am concerned about Gerry.”

“Gerry?” The Potions Master furrowed his brows.

“Ms. Ardant,” came an explanation.

“And why, pray tell, would you be worried about her?” Snape did not actually sneer, but he made a special effort to sound like he despised the whole idea of caring.

McGonagall regarded him for a moment, but he daringly stared back at her. She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, and finally uttered sadly, “I only hope that you thanked her properly.”

“I most certainly did.” Snape hated to come across as a defiant child, but he hated it even more when someone, especially someone whose opinion he valued, would point out his shortcomings to him. Yes, his social skills were rather inadequate, but in this particular case his conscience was clear. Besides, nobody had asked the girl to save his bloody life. She could have just helped him in or fetched Albus.

“Did she notice?” McGonagall meanwhile inquired dryly.

“It’s not for me to say, is it?” snapped the Potions Master.

“Severus, Minerva,” Dumbledore interrupted their bickering. The two glared at each other, but stopped. “So, Minerva, what does trouble you about Ms. Ardant?”

The old witch slowly moved her eyes to rest on the Headmaster and said after a pause, “This Vita business... I think she took it hard. And who could blame her - suddenly you find yourself facing a life of secrecy and pain?” Snape snorted again, but McGonagall continued thoughtfully, “When you do not have a choice; when you cannot just walk away.” Snape snorted yet again, giving an amused look to the old witch, but she continued forcefully glaring at him, “Don’t look at me like that, Severus. You know what I mean. We have chosen to fight, we have made a decision to stand up against the Dark Lord. And we can always change our minds. We do have a freedom to do so. Besides, we know there is going to be an end to this nightmare, and our lives will be free of the horrors.”

Snape briefly thought what he would give to have a life that was free of horrors, because the only way he saw an end to his nightmares was death. But he saw no merit in discussing it.

Meanwhile, McGonagall continued, “From what I gathered, they train their children from a very early age. They teach and prepare them. It takes time to get used to the whole idea, to accept this vocation. But in Ms. Ardant’s case...” McGonagall shook her head.

Dumbledore’s blue eyes behind his spectacles were not twinkling, but he said gently, “Minerva, I think you are overreacting. There are, I am sure, benefits of being a Vita Healer. A good compensation, for instance, which I recon, is of an enormous importance to Ms. Ardant. More importantly, though, they heal because they want to heal.”

“Perhaps you are right, but...”

“There is more to it than the Vita you are concerned about, isn’t there?” guessed Dumbledore.

The old witch smiled meekly at him. “You are right again. I suppose I have difficult time accepting her choice of fiancé...” McGonagall trailed quietly.

“Mr. Tresini?” Dumbledore showed only a hint of surprise. “He seemed to be a very nice young wizard.”

“That he is, but he is so wrong for her. He can never be able to appreciate her and give her what she needs.”

“What do you mean?” Snape blurted out before he thought better of it.

“Yes, Minerva, you’ve lost us there.”

McGonagall regarded both of the wizards with barely hidden amusement. “Oh, don’t you two tell me that you have never regretted seeing a talented witch giving up any kind of professional life for a loving husband and a bunch kids.”

“But wouldn’t it be her choice, Minerva?” smirked Snape unpleasantly.

“Yes.” The old witch looked sternly at the dark-haired wizard. “Unfortunately, out choices tend to be heavily influenced by our surroundings.”

“Everybody deserves the choice they makes,” Snape remarked contemptuously. Even he was not sure whom exactly his disgust was directed to. The older wizard and witch exchanged quick glances, but did not say anything to Snape. He noticed the exchange and asked with a sneer, “Why is this witch so important to you? She is not even one of your Gryffindors.”

“Minerva, he is goading you.” Dumbledore tried to prevent the customary row.

“After what she did for you, you dare to ask me why?” By now McGonagall’s face regained the usual stern expression, replacing the one of exhaustion she had when she just came in. The witch was looking almost with regret at the sneering Potions Master. “Sometimes I just wonder if there is anybody on the face of this Earth who could sneak into that heart of yours, and tell us there is one under all your black buttons.”

“Hope, you don’t count on it ever happening,” Snape nastily muttered under his breath, but following her little outburst McGonagall had already turned to Dumbledore. “Albus, you should have heard her dissecting my article in ‘Transfiguration Monthly’.”

For a moment Snape wondered if he should mention Ms. Ardant’s ability to recognize a rather rare potion. Not just recognize, but determine the unusual ingredient in that potion as well. Then again, why would he want to participate in any kind of discussion about the young witch? Neither her future occupation nor her private life were of any interest to him. Besides, he was angry with her because of her extremely disrespectful response to his offer to meet her. On top of it, he was not looking forward to yet another two sleepless nights, since the damn witch was to stay at Hogwarts until Monday.

Snape maintained a mask of total indifference on his face, lazily sipping from his goblet, listening to the exchange about Ms. Ardant. However, for some unexplainable reason he could not stop the tiny shiver of his insides when one of his guests would mention her name. Nor could he get rid of a faint scent of vanilla and peach that teased his nostrils. Shit... Snape was only too happy when the conversation had finally turned to Potter and the business of the Order of Phoenix...

The night was dark. A thin crescent of the new moon and the stars were barely visible behind light clouds. Standing on the top landing of the Astronomy Tower, Snape was looking thoughtfully at the dark skies. A light breeze caressed his face, and the fresh aromas of a summer night swirled in the air. All was quiet.

He was not sure why he came here tonight. The only reason he usually had for being here was to cut short students’ rendezvous, carried out well after the curfew, and deduct a healthy number of House points in the process. But there were no students in the castle, and still Snape was prowling on the top landing of the Astronomy Tower, surrounded by the darkness and silence. Not that he could see Hogsmeade from here. Merlin, did he just think that?

He was about to leave when he heard the muffled sound of laughter. He squinted, looking hard into the general direction of the entrance gates. In a moment, he saw a faint light moving towards the castle. After a few more minutes, Snape could see that the light was coming from the tip of a wand, held as a torch illuminating the way for a group of wizards.

“The circus,” the Potions Master thought grimly. Now he could recognize four figures, swaying unsteadily towards entrance door, holding onto each other. As they got closer, he could hear the annoying voice of Jay, interrupted from time to time with bursts of laughter. On top of three deep male guffawing there was a high-pitched melodic tinkle.

“Right.” Snape clenched his teeth. He turned around in a cloud of black robes and headed towards his dungeon.
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A/N A huge thanks to my beta Odddoll