It Takes a Miracle

Chapter 7 – You’re taking over me


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It hit her somewhere between the first and the ground floors. Stupid girl! She got what she asked for, didn’t she? Grudgingly, but Snape agreed to speak with her. And there she was, running away, choosing to let her anger take the better of her, instead of acting as a mature adult and having that sought after meeting. Shit.

Gerry hesitated as the moving stars deposited her on the marble floor of the Entrance Hall. Snape didn’t have to be nice to her, did he? She bit her lip – she shouldn’t go to London.

However before her intent became a decision, she heard “Gerry!” Down the other flight of stairs hurried Jay, his robes - lime green with pink polka dots - flapping happily around him.

“Hey!” He was next to her, grinning widely. “I am glad you could make it!”

Gerry snorted at that and, suddenly, looking at the open, elated expression on Jay’s face, knew she wasn’t going to stay at Hogwarts tonight. Her own face split in an answering grin, and a giddy recklessness began to bubble inside of her. Oh, for the love of… Forget the arrogant bastard! Forget the Vita and the dreams. Gerry shook her head – she’s going to have good time and deal with all these shit tomorrow.

It was a sunny day, and Diagon Alley was buzzing happily around them. Navigating through the festive crowds and trading lighthearted banter with Jay, Gerry had no trouble putting all her troubles out of her mind.

At the broom shop they picked a very decent training broom and then lingered at the counter for a bit longer so that she could admire a new racing model. Smiling, the young wizard waited patiently until Gerry looked her fill. Then they had some ice cream in the little outside café, chatting about nothing in particular and laughing about everything else. They looked at dress robes in a window of a famous designer’s shop and spent a good hour in the newest joke shop. Gerry was pleased that Jay did not object to waiting for her at the bookshop and abstained from any kind of comments about her choice of books. “Val would have thrown a fit right here,” she smirked inwardly while paying for a couple of volumes with names that her companion could not even pronounce.

They left London and arrived at “The Three Broomsticks” way ahead of Valerius and Derek. With a jar of butterbeer, they took a cozy table in the corner and spent another half an hour chatting and laughing. Gerry caught herself thinking that it was a great idea to go with Jay. Even his limited knowledge of Quidditch was forgiven and forgotten. Fuck Vita Healing. Fuck her debt. Fuck Snape...

When Valerius and Derek came, the gang ordered food and more butterbeer. It took some time for the newly arrived, who spent the afternoon working, to relax and switch into a weekend mode, but they could resist the well-applied pressure for too long, and soon all four of them, full of alcohol and food, were quite cheerful.

The theme of the jokes that night was “the funniest face in the pub.” Jay was unquestionably the best at this game. He was able to find a reason to laugh at almost anybody he looked at. And the pub was offering a rather rich collection of faces.

As the night progressed, the place was getting more and more crowded, and the four young people merrier and merrier. They quietly sniggered at a couple of goblins, who kept checking their money bags, glaring suspiciously at each other. Then Jay pointed out a pretty, young witch, who was carefully yawning in her scarf while pretending to listen attentively to an old rich-looking wizard, who held her hand. Meanwhile, the witch’s eyes darted around the room, pausing on young, attractive wizards. Gerry picked a couple that was probably on their first date. Both the witch and the wizard kept blushing so profusely that it looked like they were having one extremely steamy conversation.

Several hours into the evening Jay noticed McGonagall standing at the bar. He immediately went to invite the witch to their table. She joined them for a short while and after bidding them “good night” asked Gerry to see her to the door.

“I am glad to see you having fun,” said the old witch once they stepped out of the pub. “I was beginning to worry that the…this thing of yours…was rather a heavy burden.”

“A heavy burden?” Suddenly Gerry didn’t feel drunk anymore. A cold emptiness set in her stomach, and it took her all the willpower she possessed not to snap at the Transfigurations Professor. “The woman is just concerned,” Gerry scolded herself inwardly. “Remember, fuck Vita Healing, fuck the debt, fuck Snape.” She managed a smile and said softly, “It does take time to get used to.”

McGonagall nodded sympathetically and said, “If you need someone to talk about it, I’ll be happy to help. Whenever you are ready, come for a cup of tea.”

“Thank you.” Gerry looked at the Professor, suddenly realizing something. “But…how do you know?”

“You are Dumbledore’s responsibility while at Hogwarts. And I am his deputy,” explained McGonagall simply. Then, she looked at Gerry and added, “The least I can do is to brew a really nice cup of tea for you.”

Gerry nodded and for the first time in a week thought that McGonagall was not as stern as she appeared to be. They were silent for a moment. Then in a completely different, business-like tone the older witch said, “By the way, dear, do be careful drinking with Jay. He is known for spiking the butterbeer with…hmm…questionable stuff.” With that McGonagall Disapparated.

Around midnight Gerry, Valerius, Jay, and Derek were finally out of the pub. After a short deliberation, in the course of which none of them was able to pronounce a full sentence at the first try, it was decided that there was no way in the world they could Apparate back to Hogwarts. Having almost fallen trying to produce a wand, Jay had to agree that walking seemed the only option.

At first, every step was an adventure in itself and a test of coordination and skill. Even Gerry, who drank less than the rest after McGonagall’s warning, was not much better than her friends. Little by little, though, all four of them, holding on to each other and giggling uncontrollably, began to move through the darkness of the night towards their ultimate goal – a bed in the castle.

At last back in their rooms in Hogwarts, Gerry and Valerius still could not stop laughing. It did not prevent them, however, from getting under each other’s robes in an awkward attempt at foreplay. It was their first lovemaking since Gerry’s arrival at Hogwarts, not counting the first day’s quickie before dinner, and both of them were determined to go through with it. They lost a whole week between Gerry’s stay in the hospital wing, and Valerius’s consequent reluctance to go much farther than light snogging, because he worried about Gerry’s illness. And Gerry, with her mind preoccupied with all that happened to her, wasn’t too eager for any intimacy either. But it looked like it was the night to get back to their normal life, in every respect.

In Valerius’s arms, in their bed, rocking underneath his firm, hot body, Gerry felt absolutely happy for the first time in a week. Even a giggle that would suddenly find a way out of her panting mouth (at least now she knew what McGonagall meant by Jay “spiking the butterbeer”) did not distract her from the feeling of joy that ran through her entire body. Riding the wave of a powerful climax, she was completely overcome by exhilaration, screaming on the top of her lungs, “Yes! Ye-e-es! Ye-e-e-e-es!”

It ended abruptly when the image of a wizard, draped in black, with magnetic black eyes and shiny black hair flashed before her mental vision. He was glaring at her, his arms folded on his chest, his cloak billowing about him. Shit.

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He knew it was time to give up and take a dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion. He was too tired to concentrate on anything productive that night. And he definitely did not want to run a risk of having one more of his stupid dreams. Reaching the dungeons, he, however, decided to stop by his lab first.

The moment he stepped in the room and his eyes caught the table he fell asleep on that very morning, several extremely disturbing images of the young witch paraded before his eyes with no regard of their being totally unwelcome. Snape banished them with a violent shake of his head and ground his teeth. It was appalling, really, how weak and foolish he could be. Angrily he muttered a couple of cleaning spells that took care of the mess, which had remained there since that morning, and left the lab.

Snape swept into his office and dropped into one of the armchairs. What a waste of a day. His concern that his constant travels could rise suspicions made him temporarily suspend his investigations of the Dark Lord’s interests in Asia. But here, at Hogwarts, it seemed his usefulness was questionable at best. Before his thoughts would go too far into an unwanted territory, Snape jumped up from the chair and began pacing.

“Shit!” His foot collided with a leg of the armchair that Albus had conjured earlier for Minerva. “Shit!” Snape flexed his sore appendage. Blasted house elves took care of the dinner dishes and the table, but for some reason left the added chair. What did they think? He expected more company? Well, he didn’t. Neither did he want any. With overly energetic swish of his wand Snape got rid of the chair. “Stupid creatures,” he murmured, dropping back into his own chair. He didn’t feel like pacing any more. He was tired. He had a throbbing headache. He needed to get some sleep.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Snape stretched his legs. Well, at least his conversation with Albus and Minerva yielded some positive results. The old witch’s report on well-being of the Boy Who Lived seemed to confirm Albus’ suspicion that the Dark Lord had severed his mental connection with the boy for the fear of this connection going both ways. As much as it was a relief for all of them, for Snape it also meant the end of hated Occlumency lessons with the brat.

“But, Severus, the skill could still be useful for Harry to have,” reasoned Albus. Thankfully, before Snape had a chance to bit back with a list of other skills the Boy Who Lived should acquire post haste to have a slight chance to continue to Live, Minerva unexpectedly had the good sense to interject and dissuade the older wizard. There was no point in penalizing both, the Spy and the Savior, she argued, with a forced cooperation. Seeing as it had been progressing thus far, it could end up in disaster - too high of a price to pay for too little of value the lessons provided.

Albus conceded eventually. Still, the Potions Master harbored no illusions as to the likelihood of him been left uninvolved in honing the weapon of the Dark Lord’s destruction. Arrogant, righteous, thoughtless little fool, who, like his father before him... Snape shook his head – no. He shouldn’t. No matter what he thought of the boy, he had to come to terms with the fact Potter had an important role to play in all this bloody mess, called the war with the Dark.

And, to be totally honest, having sworn his allegiance to Dumbledore and the Order of Phoenix, he had to do what needed to be done. He was neither expected nor allowed to have emotions. Still, it pained him to know that the son of bloody Potter was to become a Savior of the wizarding world, and he, Snape, was to become one of the boy’s stepping stone on the road to…what?...fame...popularity?...

Damn the bloody penance. Damn the madman and his damn war.

“Stop this rubbish,” he spat inwardly. He needed to get some sleep. He couldn’t think straight anymore.

He was ready to go to the bedroom when he remembered something else. Out of the inner pocket of his robes, Snape took a cramped piece of parchment. He carefully unfolded it and straightened it on his knee. With his long finger he traced the small round letters of the words that covered one side of the parchment. Childish handwriting. “She probably sticks the tip of her tongue out when writing,” a little voice in Snape’s head whispered. He scowled. He should be angry with her. He should be thinking of hundreds untraceable poisons that could teach that slip of a witch a lesson. He should be cursing her into Monday. Instead, he was sitting here, admiring her offensive note. With a flick of his wand he set the note on fire, threw it on the empty hearth, and watched it turn into a tiny mound of ashes. A thin, wavy line of barely visible vapor rose from the mound, and suddenly Snape smelled a faint scent of vanilla and peach. Shit…

After a full night’s sleep, conveniently fostered by the dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion, Snape was in a slightly better mood. Going through his morning routine, he considered if he should talk to Ms. Ardant as soon as possible, or wait until the end of the day. The first alternative would afford him an opportunity to get rid of her fast and have the library all to himself for the rest of the day. The second one, however, would let him teach her a lesson of proper behavior towards a Hogwarts’ Professor, so the next time… Wait, there was not going to be any next time. With that he pushed away the tray with barely touched breakfast and swept out of his rooms.

The wards on the library doors were lifted. “She is here,” thought Snape as he stepped in and softly closed the door behind him. Yes, there she was. Sitting at one of the tables, the witch was pouring over a huge volume in front of her. From time to time she giggled nervously, but did not take her gaze from the page she was reading. Only for a split second, Snape hesitated at the door, looking at the young witch, before striding towards her in his customary silent steps.

She did not hear or see him come and stand at the table opposite her. Still bent over the book, she seemed to be totally engrossed in her reading. Snape waited. Even from the distance of several meters he could smell the all too familiar scent. One of the girl’s wavy tresses that broke away from the confinement of the ponytail and hung in front of her face was trembling lightly from her breathing. Suddenly, Snape thought that for some reason, which he could not really explain, all he wanted to do was just stand here and watch her read.

That was why he practically pushed the words out of his mouth, “Ms. Ardant.”

The girl jumped up, startled, looked at him, her eyes wide, and giggled nervously. And then she breathed out quietly, “Oh, hello, Professor.”

Snape felt a tiny little shiver run through his insides and scowled.


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She did not sleep at all. First, she locked herself in the bathroom and cried in between the unpleasant fits of giggles for two hours. To Valerius she said she was fine and just needed a nice bath. He kept knocking at the door from time to time, but finally gave up and went to bed. She emerged from the bathroom after giving him plenty of time to fall asleep and spent the next several hours sitting on the windowsill, staring in the darkness of the night.

“Didn’t Mrs. Doomsfield say that the dreams should stop in a couple of days?” wondered Gerry miserably. “Why is this happening to me?” A mere week ago she was happily in love with her fiancé…

It began to rain, and Gerry could hear the soft tapping on the grass under the window. The air became damp and chilly. She shivered in her tread-bare t-shirt, but did not move, sitting and listening to the soothing sound of the rain...

Just as she promised Snape in her note, Gerry went to the library right after the breakfast. She saw Valerius off to the Astronomy Tower, still evading his questions about last night, and gave him a hurried smooch on the cheek, before marching away. She did not want to waste a moment; she needed to be sure she was in the library when (if?) Snape showed up.

She walked briskly along the hallways, thinking of the note she wrote to him yesterday. The daring ease of last afternoon all but evaporated, and she blushed recalling what exactly she wrote.

“It is with deepest regrets I have to decline your kind offer, since my plans (unfortunately, completely irrevocable) are taking me away from the castle tonight. However, since I am extending my vacation at Hogwart, I do hope that you will be able to locate another free fifteen minutes interval in your unquestionably demanding schedule to meet with me. I am prepared to interrupt my leisurely pursuits and forgo the pleasure of the company of your colleagues for your convenience, and will wait for you in the library starting tomorrow morning…”

Merlin, her temper was going to be her undoing.

Hogwarts library was predictably impressive. Gerry took her time, walking between tall bookshelves, running her fingers across book jackets. The dusty smell of old parchment and worn leather made her feel quite at home, and she scorned herself for not thinking of coming here before.

Very soon Gerry found a particularly interesting book and took it to the table. She was so engrossed in her reading that she did not notice Snape came in and jumped up upon hearing his voice. “Help me, gods,” she thought the moment she looked into the bottomless blackness of his eyes and murmured, “Oh, hello, Professor.”

He nodded, continuing staring coldly at her. Gerry bit her lip, summoned all the courage she possessed, and said, “Professor, I don’t think we were properly introduced. Could we start from the beginning?” Not waiting for him to respond, half expecting a cutting “don’t bother with this nonsense,” she went on. Offering her hand for a handshake, she stated firmly, “My name is Gerry Ardant.”

Snape eyed her carefully, glanced at the outstretched hand, but did not take it. Instead, he reclined his head slightly and uttered, “Professor Snape, the Potions Master.”

Gerry missed neither the absence of the first name, nor the disregard for her hand, but decided not to press.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Professor,” she said, motioning him to sit. He hesitated for a moment. Then he pulled a chair and sat across the table from her, arms folded on his chest, eyes glittering coldly.

“I know how busy you are, Professor, and I truly appreciate your coming here…,” Gerry was interrupted by impatient wave of the wizard’s hand. She swallowed nervously and giggled. “You will have to forgive me, sir, there is nothing I can do about this stupid giggling.”

Without a word, he fished a vial out of his robes and put it on the table in front of Gerry.

“Is it what I think it is?” she inquired, utterly surprised. “But how…”

“My colleagues are extremely predictable,” the Potions Master said smoothly.

Gerry glanced at the vial, then at the wizard. An unpleasant smirk played on Snape’s lips. “For someone who let herself get drunk in such questionable company, you can not possibly pretend to be that suspicious. Then again…”

Gerry glared at him and gulped the content of the vial. Her eyes watered as she fought to keep the vile liquid flowing down. Snape’s smirk lingered. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, thank you.” She clenched the teeth to make sure that the remedy would not escape her throat.

Snape pocketed the vial, crossed his arms on the chest once more, and stared at Gerry with an expression of slight contempt.

“So.” Gerry had all the questions lined up. She truly did. Up until the moment she heard his deep velvety voice saying her name. But she managed thus far, didn’t she? If only the stupid butterflies, more like hippogriffes judging by the size of them, would stop bothering her stomach. Gerry took a deep breath, looked the wizard in the eye, and said, “Before we begin with the…you know…the Vita business, there is something very important I think you need to know.”

The expression of slight contempt on the sallow face of the Potions Master became more prominent. He pulled his wand out and cast a silencing spell around them. Gerry could not believe that she did not think about it. She blushed and whispered, “Thank you. I didn’t…”

The wizard curled his lip in an obvious sneer and waved his hand dismissively again. “Obviously. Get on with it.”

“Right,” murmured Gerry and began, “Professor, when I performed…you-know-what, I made a mistake.” Snape raised an eyebrow. “Well, it was not exactly a mistake, more like…I overdid it.” Snape’s eyebrow remained raised, and Gerry thought miserably, “Oh sweet Merlin, how am I going to tell him that?” Out loud she continued, “I went in deeper than I was supposed to, and tapped into your…” She hesitated to use the word ‘soul’ and made a concession, “emotions.”

Snape’s eyebrow stayed raised, but he did not say a word.

“I am not sure how to describe the mechanics of it, since I am not too familiar with the whole thing myself, but the bottom line is…” Gerry took a ragged breath as her insides stiffened. “I’ve established a connection between us.”

Now, it was time for the Potions Master to tense. His eyes narrowed maliciously. He leaned forward and hissed, “Explain.”

“Well…the dreams, sir…” she whispered. There was not much Gerry could truly explain, since Mrs. Doomsfield did not go into the details of it. These dreams would go away. Soon. That was all she could say, trying to sound as convinced as possible.

Snape, however, was not buying the story. “Let me get it straight, Ms. Ardant. You…” He ground his teeth. “You tapped into my emotions, and now you are having dreams about me?”

“Don’t you…?”

“That’s none of your concern!” he bellowed before Gerry finished the question. Then he made a visible effort and his voice change to a waspish whisper, which sounded more dangerous than any screams. “What else did you tap into?”

“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” Gerry hurried with an answer.

“Thoughts? Memories?” the Potions Master continued probing.

“No, no, it was nothing like that at all,” she begged him to believe her. “I just realized that what I was feeling was not…what I…usually feel…”

“When did you realize that?”

While Gerry was telling him about the green fog, she, probably for the first time since it all happened, remembered what she felt back then. Not the physical pain, but the gloom, the despair… Was it really what he felt? Suddenly, she couldn’t think of him as a greasy git or an overgrown bat. Suddenly, she didn’t really care if he was nasty and arrogant. Looking at him, Gerry could barely suppress the urge to come around the table and run her hand through his black hair, whisper something comforting into his ear…

“Stop it! Stop it!” she screamed inwardly, painfully aware of how her heart was squeezed by an invisible hand...

“Green fog…” the wizard uttered slowly, as if deciding if he should believe her. “So, what did you feel?”

“I was…” she inhaled deeply, “sad… Well, miserable...”

Something almost like panic flushed in the wizard’s eyes, but quickly disappeared. He silently regarded her for a while.

“Sir, I am sure you have your reasons for not trusting me…”

“Ask your questions,” he interrupted her impatiently…


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In the end it was not as bad as he expected. The young witch was precise and rather reasonable with her questions. Once he accepted the fact that the weird dreams and visions, which were ruining his sleep, and life for that matter, were artificial, the Vita ritual induced, Snape’s resentment of the young witch had essentially subsided. He did feel a twitch of regret that the dreams would come to an end, because now he could admit, at least to himself, that in fact most of them were…tolerable. Some were rather… enjoyable. But he quickly killed that particular train of thought…

They both were surprised to see that it was lunchtime already.

“Oh, I am sorry, Professor, I have to run.” The young witch practically leaped from her chair. “I promised to pick up Val.”

What was he supposed to say? “Sure, go right ahead!” “Don’t go, ask me something else?” The annoying little voice in his head just kept on sniggering, “It’s not real. It’s not real. Got you, got you.” An obscene number of “shut-up’s” was not helping at all. He did manage, though, to keep his hand still on his knee and not to jump up and shake Ms. Ardant’s hand, which was offered yet again. And his nonchalant cold mask did not slip from his trained face.

Scowling, he curtly declined her suggestion to come to the dining room for lunch, and with that the witch thanked him yet again and headed for the door. Suddenly, she stopped, turned and asked quietly, “So, where is that beautiful garden?”

“At my mother’s estate,” he blurted out before he had a chance to stop and think.

A little nod, and she was gone.

“Bloody Merlin…” he thought, and the little voice snickered, “Not extremely articulate, are we?”

He just ignored the bugger. He was too busy trying to understand where exactly this nasty sensation of emptiness deep inside had come from. And why he did not feel relief now that the whole business with Ms. Ardant seemed to be over, and he had a good chance not to see the damn witch ever again.

He slowly got up and walked around the table to the chair that was so recently occupied. He stood for a while, running his fingers along the top of the wooden back of the old chair, inhaling deeply a practically unnoticeable, but so familiar scent of vanilla and peach…

After giving himself a little mental lecture about his priorities, and the importance of living in the real world, and who exactly he was, and who exactly this witch was, and…in short, it was that same lecture, which got quite a use during the last week, Snape sharply pushed the chair to the table. It collided with a dull thud with the table’s top. “Only dreams. Not real. Only dreams. Not real,” he repeated inwardly the last argument of the little lecture, turned around and stomped to the Restricted Section of the library. He had work to do. He had responsibilities to attend to. He had wasted too much time as it was...

A while later Snape returned to the main hall of the library with a dozen or so books. He carefully lowered the heavy stack of volumes he was floating in front of him onto the table and almost gasped (thanks to the years leading a double life, he did not). At the same table, where this morning’s conversation took place, there was Ms. Ardant, sitting with a book on her lap, smiling at him.

“Hello again, Professor,” she said, her insanely blue eyes, bright and warm, gazing at him.
The wave of relief that washed over him was sickening. That was why he glared at the witch and schooled his face into a perfect scowl.

“It’s raining outside, and I thought I’d come and read here,” she began meekly, the smile rapidly fading under his glare, “but if I am in your way, I’ll…I’ll just take this book and read it in my rooms.”

He glanced at the book on her lap and informed her, “Some of the books here are charmed against their removal from the library. I believe you have one of those.”

“Oh,” she breathed and made a move to get up.

Snape gestured her to stop. “It’s fine. You can stay. But you will be quiet and invisible.”

“Of course. I’ll be imperceptible.” The witch nodded quickly, offering him a refreshed smile.

“Shit. Must she do that?” he swore inwardly and glared at her once more, wondering just why, exactly, he didn’t kick her out. He grunted and turned to his books.

But it took Snape a while to summon his concentration. At first he had to wrestle with an unexplainable feeling of glee that was desperately fighting to reach his face. Then, he had to force himself to stop checking what exactly the young witch was doing. However, when he finally began to work, he was rudely interrupted.

“Sir?” The damn witch, who had promised “to be imperceptible,” was looking attentively at him.

“Ms. Ardant?” Irritated, he arched a brow.

“I beg your pardon, sir.” She chewed her lip violently. “If I am not mistaken, you are working on some kind of research project, are you not?”

“Ms. Ardant, I believe we had an agreement,” he said coldly.

“Yes, I am sorry for disturbing you, Professor, but I just thought that I might be able to assist you with your work.” She was almost whispering now, wilting under his gaze.

“Why?” The short question was full of venom.

“Well, it’s Saturday, and…you work… It looks like you have quite a lot on your plate… And I am not busy… I am free, in fact, and would like…would like it very much to…,” she was mumbling almost incoherently.

Snape smirked, inwardly congratulating himself on his ability to instill fear not only into his students but into adults too, and inquired once again, “Why?”

The witch looked crestfallen. There was no more smile on her beautiful face, and the gaze of her blue eyes stuck in some crack on the floor. Snape wasn’t sure why suddenly he wanted to go to her, cup her face in his hands, and… “Shut up, you idiot!” he screamed inwardly. Oh, he watched too many stupid dreams…

“So?” he urged the witch.

“I did some research work in Potions. I assisted Professor Grumbledam last summer. So, I thought, I could be useful to you,” Ms. Ardant finally offered, her voice progressing from to soft to barely audible.

“Professor Grumbledam, hmm.” Snape was impressed. Professor Grumbledam had a well-establisher reputation in the field. He wouldn’t allow just anybody to assist him. Snape regarded the slip of a witch in front of him and sighed, “Alright, Ms. Ardant, you can take notes.”

The young witch nodded frantically, giving him another infuriating, radiant smile. She straightened up in her chair, conjured a quill, and informed him, “I am very good at taking notes.” She scratched her nose with a tip of the quill and added, “And you can call me Gerry.”

“Gerry? What kind of name is that?”

“It is short for Geraldine.”

“Geraldine is a pretty name.” He regretted saying it even before it got out.

“Yeah, but try to swing it in an American school. Too long. Too complicated. Look at our Muggle Presidents -- half of them shorten their names.”

He shrugged, pushed one of the books towards her and announced curtly, “Jomby root.”

To his utter surprise, she nodded without asking any additional questions. Then she tapped the book with her wand, muttering something under her breath. The book shook slightly, and opened somewhere in the middle. Gerry quickly skimmed the page, found what she was looking for, and began to write.

Snape dragged his gaze off of Gerry (what kind of a witch would want to be called that?), kicking himself mentally for giving in to her pleading. However, much to his relief, the light screeching of her quill had quite a calming effect on him, and soon he was engrossed in his own book.

They worked in comfortable silence, interrupted from time to time by Gerry, when she asked for another book or inquired if she should add to the notes a bit, she perceived to be important, although not strictly related to the subject.

The arrival of Dumbledore startled both of them.

“I knew I’d find both of you here,” the old man announced with a small smile. “Ms. Ardant, Severus,” he nodded to each of them, and then turned to Snape. “A word, if you please. Would you excuse us, Ms. Ardant?”

They went out of the library.

“Severus, I need to go to London tonight. I just received an owl from Lupin about some goings-on in the Ministry. And there are two Aurors looking to get in touch with the Order.”

“Do you want me to accompany you, Albus?” asked Snape quickly.

“No, I’d rather you stay with Minerva here. I don’t reckon we should leave Hogwarts too vulnerable.”

“As you wish.”

They returned to library and saw the young witch, still fully engrossed in the book in front of her.

“Ms. Ardant.” Dumbledore was looking at her, his eyes reacquiring the twinkle that disappeared during his conversation with Snape.

“Yes, sir?” With an effort she tore her eyes from the page she had been reading and smiled at the Headmaster.

“Oh bloody fucking Merlin, who told her to smile like that?” swore Snape inwardly, keeping his face impassive under Gerry’s gaze, which moved from Dumbledore to him.

“I am afraid, my child, that Professor Snape has claimed your time for way too long.” With a chuckle the old wizard dismissed the hum of indignation from the Potions Master and protesting “but…” from the young witch. He simply said, “It is dinner time.”

“Merlin.” After a quick glance at her watch the young witch gasped, clasping the hand to her mouth. “I have to run… Val is expecting me…”

“Of course,” Snape sneered. “I was not aware that I was keeping you from…”

“Severus.” Dumbledore didn’t let him finish the sentence. “Why don’t you see Ms. Ardant to the dining room since Mr. Tresini is already there? And have a decent meal while you are at it.”

“But…” That was all that Snape managed to utter before the Headmaster’s look of “you’d better do what I say” cut him off. Scowling, he waved his wand over the books and parchments with notes spread on the table and muttered a non-detect charm. Then he nodded jerkily to Dumbledore and motioned the witch to the door.

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She was practically running and still couldn’t keep up with the wizard. “Shit, shit, shit,” she was repeating to herself, not particularly sure what made her so upset. On the one hand, she was not looking forward to meeting Val, who she basically stood up. On the other hand, she felt like she had lost something very important when the Potions Master, who became almost civil towards her this afternoon, suddenly couldn’t stand to look at her without disgust written plainly on his pale face. After a short consideration, Gerry decided that the latter probably bothered her much more than the former. With Val, it was just a matter of a couple of smiles, a hand on the thigh, a quick kiss, and things would go back to normal. But Snape…

Gerry was not sure what possessed her to offer her help to him. Not only offer, but practically force him to take it. He looked so overwhelmed, so tired that she felt that she would either ask him to use her help, or she would just kiss him into oblivion… Wait a second, where the fuck did that come from? No, no, no, what she meant was she would either ask him to use her help, or… “Stop right there, girl. Remember, it’s only a dream… Dreams...” She was trying to calm down. “Fucking nightmares…” Okay, start again. She wanted to offer her help, because she was curious what it was he was researching, and besides, she was bored out of her mind with having absolutely nothing useful to do for almost a week. There. This was much better.

In fact, it turned out to be a quite enjoyable experience. Gerry was very good at taking notes. Snape eventually realized that and stopped glaring at her. The number of his sneers largely decreased too. He turned out to be a very decent associate with what seemed to be an endless knowledge of potions, and he didn’t mind answering a question or two, if they were carefully timed.

And then Dumbledore came and asked him to take her to the dining room. Shit… Probably, Snape felt that he was asked to interrupt his work to play babysitter, and since he couldn’t blame the Headmaster, he blamed her. Shit…

Gerry was pulled out of her musing by the sight of the stairs that began to move away right in front of her. Snape, who walked a couple of meters ahead of her, was already down four steps, his back to her. Hurriedly Gerry jumped, but, landing on the top step, lost her balance and swayed. In a frantic attempt to keep upright she tried to grab the railing but couldn’t reach it. In a split second, before rolling down, she whispered, “Oh, shit!”

In less than a heartbeat Snape turned around, assessed the situation, jumped back a step, and offered Gerry, who began her fall, his chest to slam into.

Thud! Her face buried in the coarse fabric of his jacket, Gerry froze. For one long moment the world around her seemed to disappear. There were only Snape and she – the faint smell of potions, the hard chest, the rapid heartbeat, the soft breathing, the blinding heat. Somewhere, on the borders of her consciousness, Gerry was quite embarrassed to keep standing like that, pressed into a chest of a man, who disliked her so much. Yet she could not make herself move. With her head swimming and her ability to reason nowhere to be found, she was giving in to the inexplicable, intoxicating force that was pulling her to him.

It took Gerry an enormous effort to separate herself from Snape. Swaying slightly, she grabbed onto the railing to make sure she wouldn’t loose her bearing and land back on his chest. With her face ablaze from mortification, she barely dared to look at the Potions Master. He stood absolutely still, one hand hanging lifelessly by his side, another clenching at the railing next to hers. It seemed that he was not even breathing.

“Sorry, I am so clumsy,” she whispered. Summoning up all her courage, she managed to look him in the eye. There was a strange glimmer in his black orbs, and for a split of a second she could swear that she saw how deep down, buried in absolute darkness of his eyes, flickered a pain of longing. The same longing she saw in his eyes when he was giving her a potion in the infirmary. But she blinked, and it was gone, replaced by icy-cold emptiness.

“Probably, just a trick of the lights,” Gerry registered vaguely, while cursing the Hogwarts anti-Apparition wards.

“Yes, I think we’ve established that already,” came a nonchalant response. There was a light hoarseness in the deep velvety voice, but Gerry missed it, too preoccupied with the sheer outrageousness of her behavior.

They continued their trip to the dining room in a complete silence.
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A/N A huge thanks to my beta Odddoll