Promises (Temporarily on Hiatus)

Thursday was entirely uneventful (no Potions class, thank the Lord) and my other classes were exceedingly easy by comparison. Much of the day was spent reworking my U&A App. and taking into consideration the comments Professor Snape had scribbled down; talk about illegible penmanship. I hoped he would be pleased with this less smarmy version.

Nine o’ clock seemed to come more rapidly than I would have liked. I arrived five minutes early so as to not anger the man further; being late to a detention that was a caused by tardiness probably isn’t the most amusing form of irony, especially after you are informed one of your students is a member of a barbaric, murderous, blood-thirsty wizarding clan… which I wasn’t; guilty by association, really.

What sort of excruciating torture does he have in store for me? Lines, cauldron washing, organising his ingredients alphabetically by colour?

I stepped into the room and was surprised to see a large pewter cauldron at my workbench. A vast array of ingredients formed a semi-circle around the kettle: azalea, asphodel, oleander, pennyroyal, and an assortment array of herbs and extracts necessary to concoct the potion from yesterday’s class. There was a note Spello-taped to the copper dome scrawled in spindly black letters:

Miss Harper,
I have some business to attend to, and as I trust that you are a careful young woman, I will allow you to make up the potion you missed due to your outburst. This is NOT a detention and you will have to make it up at a later date. I expect the potion to be completed by eleven o’clock. You can take a zero for today and leave right now if you like, but I strongly advise against it.
Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master

“Must he be so pompous all the time?”

Of course, I chose to stay and finish it. It was a relatively simple brew. I say relatively because compared to other potions I had concocted for my OWLs, this was a colossus of a task. I removed my robes, pulled up the sleeves of my jumper, and set to work. It was slow progress; each ingredient had to be sliced, diced, julienned, and added with the utmost precision and care. I was making good time, and only three quarters of an hour had passed before I had reached a point where I could let the mixture froth and stew. I passed the next twenty minutes looking at the shelves of pickled, fermented, congealed things: creatures with flayed spines, boiled skin, empty eye sockets, and assorted other maladies. The preserving fluids contained bits of skin and membrane, orbiting around whatever grotesque figure was housed in the jar. Eventually, I had to tear myself away from the grisly ornamentation and return to finishing my potion. By that time the liquid had settled into a thick sap-like substance, bubbling and gurgling away. Once again, I set to work chopping the other required constituents for the elixir.

Maybe I can slip some out of here before Snape arrives. I have no immediate plans, but better safe than sorry—

“Good evening, Miss Harper,” my professor breathed on my neck. It reminded me of the dream I had had a few nights previous. I had the strongest urge to lean into the man and thrust my arse right up into his nether regions, but I felt as though it might be taken the wrong way. So, utilising what little self-control I had, I nonchalantly attempted to remove my hand from his grip, which had carefully slipped over mine.

“No, Miss Harper. I’m going to demonstrate the proper technique for cutting, so as to prevent any future accidents. I’m tired of having to smear salve on your abrasions and perform stitching spells every class period. Now close your eyes.”

I tried to crane my neck around to see his face, but he used his other hand to turn it back around. I sighed, but closed my eyes as instructed. His hand gripped my free hand gently and led it up to the little bundle of herbs I had yet to cut, and the other hand cupping mine began to rhythmically move the blade across the fragrant pennyroyal.

“Can you feel it, Miss Harper?” he breathed in a low tone into my hair.

Oh God I wish I could; just move a little closer, sir.

“Feel the rhythm, Miss Harper. Focus on the sound of the steel hitting the thick wood of the table, the motion of the knife moving back and forth and again and again and again.”

I struggled to gain my breath as he whispered me those entrancing, vaguely erotic words. My mind soon drifted away, the minty redolence swirling up towards my nostrils. I inhaled deeply as the blade slicing through the waxy leaves. The man positioned behind me smelt of laundry, soap… and alcohol. There was a crisp harshness to his breath, clinical and biting.

He’s drunk, Evelyn. No wonder he’s pressed up against you. And for God’s sakes he’s wielding a knife.

I opened my eyes and saw that the bulk of the leaves had been slashed beyond all recognition, the oil collecting in a neat pool near the centre of the remains. I was transfixed by the quick, deliberate motions of his hand over mine.

“Professor Snape,” I managed to say. “I think I’m supposed to add the essential oil now.”

He quickly let go of my hand and stepped back, his face impassive, betraying nothing. Even tipsy the man was the most reserved, in control figure I had ever encountered. While he left me completely dazed by the frisson that passed between us, he seemed entirely unaffected.

“Miss Harper, if you botch this potion, not only will you receive a zero on this lesson but I’m going to add another hundred centimetres of parchment to the other hundred centimetres you earned for your cheek this afternoon.”

“But I apologised,” I mumbled while I used my wand to add the oil to the potion. It was highly toxic, and even touching the sap could cause skin irritation.

“Not nearly soon enough.”

He sat down on the bench and watched silently as I continued to work, occasionally making a comment about my performance or offering a piece of advice.

“Miss Harper, we need to talk,” he said quite suddenly.

“Are you breaking up with me?” I inquired jokingly as I stirred the contraceptive concoction. It had turned a rather sallow shade of goldenrod and (hopefully) would soon be opaque.

“What?”

“That’s what people supposedly say when they’re trying to end a relationship”

“Well, that’s ridiculous. The person should just say it. Then I suppose ‘we need to talk’ is a euphemism for ‘I’m not interested in screwing you any longer’.”

I shot him a scandalised look. “Professor, how delightfully inappropriate! Besides if no one used euphemisms, we would all be abrasively blunt ogres and would never procreate because we’d all despise each other.”

“True, but I can say that if everyone was just more honest, it would save us a lot time and energy, but I digress. The conversation between Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Yaxley…”

“What conversation?”

“Feigning ignorance is not a wise course of action here. This cannot get out, nor can we allow Mr. Malfoy to usurp power as such. It would be one of the most detrimental acts ever to affect these halls.”

“Don’t I know it! The man’s scum.”

“Don’t be so crude, Miss Harper, really. But you’re right. I just had a lengthy discussion with him about the subject, and he seems unwilling to listen to reason. I’m going to address the staff at our next meeting, and I’d like you to be there.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t hear their entire exchange; you did.”

“Sir, I don’t know if you heard this bit about him already having someone convinced, but if we announce it to the staff, won’t that just tip Malfoy off? Aguamenti.” That last spell added a gentle stream of water to the potion, and it was finally complete.

“Thank you for informing me of that fact. I suppose I’ll have to address everyone individually. Now, as for your punishment in regards to speaking ill of me with Professor Flitwick…”

“Sir, I was only teasing. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

He snorted derisively and watched as I ladled the clear liquid into a flask. “I have no feelings. Now, as I was saying: as punishment, you will be required to help me bring the flasks up to the Astronomy Tower to ferment in the moonlight.”

The Contraceptive Philtre needed to be set in direct moonlight for at least an hour before it became effective at all. The longer it was left out there, the more potent and trustworthy it became. Unfortunately for me, the journey from the dungeons to the astronomy tower was about a half an hour trek, and it was already eleven o’clock. I glanced at the timepiece, so as to point out the lateness of the hour, but the professor just smirked.

“If I remember correctly, you don’t sleep, just hide in alcoves and listen in on people’s conversations. Now come along.”

He handed me a crate of ten or so flasks and grabbed a box himself.

After forty minutes of huffing and puffing up the numerous flights of stairs, we finally stumbled onto the turret’s roof. I set the box down and collapsed to the ground, laughing at our lack of physical fitness.

“That was pretty pathetic,” I wheezed.

“Speak for yourself,” he coughed back.

There was a pause before I burst out laughing again; Professor Snape begrudgingly smirked in acknowledgement.

“Get up, you lazy slattern, and line these up.”

“Piss off,” I promptly slapped my hand over my mouth and tried to stifle a giggle from escaping my mouth.

He just shook his head and... smiled? I didn’t know what a smile looked like on him, as I had never witnessed it, but that was the first time I had seen his lips curve in that particular way. It made him seem almost human, however awkward.

He must be awfully drunk; really awfully drunk. I do hope that he sobers up soon enough or I might be unable to restrain from taking advantage of him.

“Anything else, Professor? Should I do your laundry? Clean your room? Draw your bath?”

“I think that’s enough for tonight.”

The silence that ensued was slightly awkward, perhaps contemplative. I leaned back and looked at the stars, identifying the constellations that I remembered from Astronomy class and recalling the stories they told: Cygnus and Leda, Virgo, Orion.

“Guess what, professor?” I said cheekily, glancing up at him. He was leaning against the stone turrets, arms folded over his shoulders and legs crossed. He was very attractive, especially in the moonlight. His skin, hair, and persona seemed infinitely more alluring in the softening rays of silver.

“What, Miss Harper?”

“I lied.”

“You undoubtedly have; about many things I’d imagine.”

“I lied about the fact that I find you insufferable. I think I should have liked to do my apprenticeship with you; it would have been an interesting experience to say the least.”

“Why didn’t you then?” I could sense the disbelief in his voice.

“I suppose it was because I didn’t think you’d want me too; I’m far too proud to ask someone something when there’s any chance of rejection. I don’t deal with it well, I’ll have you know. And then, when Professor Flitwick said that you had expressed interest in my ‘future’, I was angry you didn’t say anything to me about it. But I don’t regret it. Choosing Charms, I mean. I’m quite good at it, and you know that Potions isn’t exactly my forte.”

“Miss Harper, you would be my best, most able student if you would just slow down. I can’t even count the number of times you’ve sped through the potion just so you could get to reading whatever novel you have tucked away in your bag.”

“To be honest, sir, I would take my assorted novels, anthologies, and notebooks over concocting a four hour long potion that cures an ailment a charm could in thirty seconds. It’s just not practical. Rest assured, sir, I have the utmost respect for what you do; and I admire you patience and skill, but the nuances that fascinate you so just don’t appeal to me.”

“You would be pleased with a quick, temporary fix, which is what Charms are, so you can bury your nose in a book?”

“You make me sound like I’m an addict.”

“What you infer from my speech is none of my concern.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from you, it’s that nothing should be taken at face value.”

“Oh, how do you mean?”

“Well, on the exterior you appear to be quite rude, intimidating, and for lack of a better word: snarky. But it is so apparent that on the inside, you're a kind and gentle being, like Hagrid or... Jesus.”

I waited a few moments before allowing myself to burst out laughing. It seemed like hours before I finally caught my breath, and I wiped the tears that were leaking from the corners of my eyes.

“Oh yes, absolutely. Hagrid and I are practically soulmates, brothers. Surprised you haven’t noticed it sooner.”

That set me off into a new fit of giggles and it was a few moments before the painful spasms of mirth subsided.

“You’re quite funny, sir, but I knew that already.”

“Did you?”

“Oh yes. Your sense of humour is so dry that one might erroneously assume you don’t have one, but I’m not fooled.”

“Miss Harper, did you just compare me to Jesus?”

“I believe I did.”

“You’re religions then?”

The conversation was steadily turning sour, and I picked myself off the ground to peer over the battlements. It was a lovely, clear night, a slight breeze blustering through the grounds. I looked down at the grass below and remembered seeing Dumbledore’s body spread eagle on the ground, blood leaking from the corner of his gaping mouth. I was only a third year at the time, but the memory burned brightly in my mind. Finally, I cleared my throat and answered his inquiry.

“I was born and raised a Catholic. Strange, I know; very few wizards believe in deities. But I was—am a Delaney, and they’re all monotheistic, God-fearing men that murder and pillage in His name, so I suppose… It’s difficult to articulate my feelings towards spiritualism and God. I’m young, sir—far too young to be concerned with such heavy matters as morality and mortality.’”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. I mean, what hardships or tests of faith have you known?”

I tensed up and could feel the blood rush to my face; he knew nothing about me, but he assumed I was like all the other Slytherins: silly brats that never knew what “real life” was like, that never experienced anything mildly unpleasant. Thank God it was dark. “I would like to point out that you hardly know me.” He was silent. “Never mind it.”

“Tell me, Miss Harper, did you enjoy Juliette?”

I blushed again and swallowed before replying with a wavering “yes.”

“Though, I’m not sure I’m so eager to move onto Justine. We will have to see.”

Suddenly, there was a large crash and Professor Sinistra, the svelte Astronomy teacher, burst through the doorway. She was a pretty woman with deep set eyes, full lips, and a massive amount of dark, curling hair. Needless to say, many of the male students fancied her, and I became instantaneously jealous as I felt Professor Snape’s eyes leave me and turn to her.

“Oh Severus, it’s just you,” she whispered in her heady voice. “I thought—what is she doing here? Isn’t it past your bedtime, Miss Harper?

I hated the condescending slag with every fibre of my being, and longed to give her a hard shove off of the ledge. I refrained from doing so, of course as it would be terribly messy.

“Detention,” I replied, masking my frustration. “Am I finished, Professor?”

He nodded shortly.

“Well, good night then,” I said dully to both of them and watched Sinistra slink closer and closer to him.

I turned to make the arduous journey down to the dormitories, dejected and frustrated. He would sober up soon; I had lost my chance.