The Fire You Touch

Chapter 13: The Turn Of The Screw

"Professor?"

Aeryn rapped on Gilderoy Lockhart’s office door. There was no answer. She waited a moment and rapped again, a bit louder this time, but there was still no answer.

It was the end of September, and Aeryn was finally feeling adjusted to normal life at Hogwarts. It was much more fun to have other students around. Fred and George Weasley had already shown her several places to hide in case Mr. Filch, the caretaker, was on her tail. Aeryn had already used one of the hiding places one rainy Saturday afternoon after she had taken a walk to the lake to see the giant squid and got mud all over her shoes. The curmudgeonly caretaker had followed her footprints, cursing every step of the way, but Aeryn neatly tucked herself behind a nearby gargoyle statue and escaped detection.

Aeryn tested the door handle. It was unlocked, so she gently pushed open the office door. She couldn’t say that she was Hogwarts’ top student—Hermione had her beat when it came to brains—but her marks were better than average, so it had been a complete surprise to her when Gilderoy Lockhart asked her to see him in his office that afternoon to discuss her grades.

Over a dozen framed photographs of Gilderoy Lockhart—some complete with autographs—turned and winked as she entered the room. After a moment’s hesitation, Aeryn walked over to his desk. There wasn’t anything on it that would be considered professorial, unless one counted gaudy peacock-feather quills a standard issue for professors. Letters from adoring fans littered the top of the desk and spilled onto the floor. The only thing that even remotely linked Lockhart to his teaching profession was a tattered, old book resting on top of the piles of parchment. Slightly curious, Aeryn walked around the desk to look at it. The book was open, but its pages were blank.

Aeryn sat down in Lockhart’s chair and pulled the book over to her. It was a very thin book. The cover looked as if it had seen better days, but the inside was clear and as bright white as if it had been purchased yesterday. Intrigued, Aeryn flipped the book open to the front. On the very first page were the words January 1. She ruffled through the rest of the leaves, but there was no writing.

After a moment, she shrugged and pushed the book away. Someone must have given him a diary for Christmas and he never got around to writing in it, she reasoned. She sighed and rocked back in his chair. Perhaps he didn’t have time to write in a diary because he was expending all of his creative juices writing his God-awful books. Aeryn had attempted reading the assigned pages in Lockhart’s books. Once. After that, she relied on Hermione to give her and Ron and Harry a summary before classes.

There was a rustle at the office door. "Miss Blake!" exclaimed a familiar, cheery voice. Gilderoy Lockhart, resplendent today in robes of pale mauve, swept into the room with a brilliant smile. "So glad to see you!"

"Hi, Professor," Aeryn said, getting out of his chair as Lockhart walked over to the desk. "You weren’t here, so I let myself in."

The handsome professor winked at her, which was mirrored in the numerous photographs lining the walls. "Not a problem, my dear, as long as you didn’t look in my closet! I keep some of my more dangerous trinkets I’ve picked up over the years—I almost got in trouble last week when Miss Lavender Brown came for a conference in my office, and she accidentally opened the door—I almost had to use a Binding curse on some of the Grundy-glows hiding in there, I—"

"Um, I noticed you have a diary on your desk," Aeryn broke in, not wanting to hear another long-winded story about Gilderoy Lockhart’s brave exploits. "Are you working on a new book?"

It could have been a trick of the shadows, but it seemed for a moment that the smile lining Gilderoy Lockhart’s face flickered for a moment before righting itself firmly back in place. "Oh, this?" he asked casually, waving a hand at the tattered book as he sat down in his chair.

"One of my students gave it to me before the semester began. I believe you know him—Draco Malfoy? A very nice young man, and so knowledgeable about my works! Did you know, he memorized the entire introduction to Magical Me?" Lockhart’s eyes misted over and he gave a sniff. "He presented me this diary in Flourish and Botts—a present, he said, to welcome the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to Hogwarts. I was quite touched, really, especially when he said this diary had been handed down in his family to be used only for someone whose memoirs were truly worth telling—well, I tell you, Miss Blake, how can you refuse such a compliment as that?"

How indeed, Aeryn thought sourly.

Lockhart pushed the diary to one edge of the desk and motioned for Aeryn to sit down. "But, down to business, Miss Blake. I wanted to speak to you about your grade in my class."

"What about it, Professor?" Aeryn asked politely as she seated herself in an ornate Queen Anne chair.

Lockhart shook his head, clucking his tongue. "I’m truly quite surprised in you, Miss Blake," he said sadly. "You’re such a fine student otherwise, and I would hate to give you failing marks. But your performance in my class reflects otherwise."

Aeryn cocked her head and looked at him sharply. "I don’t understand, Professor. What am I doing wrong?" Especially since all the homework we’ve been given has been composing sonnets praising your bravery…although you might not like some of the rhymes I thought up for "Lockhart," but still…

"Class participation, Miss Blake!" Lockhart pounded a fist onto his parchment-lined desk, and his photographs nodded in assent. "You scarcely ever volunteer questions or answers in class, and sometimes—" Here he leaned across the desk and looked sorrowfully into her eyes "—it seems as if you’re ignoring my lectures!"

Aeryn bit down firmly on her lip to keep a giggle from escaping. So this was what this whole charade was all about. Aeryn was the only female in Gilderoy Lockhart’s class who didn’t listen to him with a look of utter rapture on her face. In fact, most of the time she, Harry, and Ron struggled not to laugh as the lovesick students cooed and gasped to another episode of Lockhart’s Most Dramatic Adventures. She was also the only female who didn’t raise a hand in class to comment on any of Lockhart’s exploits, which was probably what he meant by class participation.

"Oh," she said after a moment. "I didn’t…realize."

She swallowed the guffaw in her throat and plastered a benign look on her face. "I’ll…try to better…from now on."

Lockhart smiled widely. "Good. I knew you would understand!" He leaned across the desk and patted her hand. "You’re such an intelligent student anyway—I was sure this was only a slight disruption of communication." He got up from his desk and ushered Aeryn to the door. "Now, I want to let you know that you are welcome in my office anytime—during regular office hours, of course—and if you ever need help with anything, you just speak to me."

"I’ll do that," Aeryn gasped, feeling laughter well up in her chest.

"Don’t forget the essay on the history of Witch Weekly’s

Most-Charming Smile Award that’s due tomorrow!" he reminded her.

"Okay," Aeryn muttered through trembling lips.

He waved cheerfully at her and shut the office door. Aeryn was able to control herself until she heard the click of the door, and then collapsed onto the stone floor in a fit of laughter. It was a good minute before she could collect herself enough to crawl back to her feet and stagger towards Gryffindor tower, giggling the entire way. She couldn’t wait to find Ron and Harry and Hermione and tell them what had just happened.

* * *

"We are going to get reamed," Harry grumbled as they hurried into Potions after a thoroughly mind-numbing Defense Against the Dark Arts class. "Snape’s corrected our essays on the seven most deadly poisons, and I heard Malfoy saying that all the Gryffindors failed."

"And you trust Malfoy?" Hermione sniffed as she sat down at her desk. "I’m not sure about you three, but I know I didn’t fail. Plus, Malfoy should shut his big mouth—I saw Crabbe and Goyle in the library getting books for him, and he wasn’t even looking in the correct section for references!"

"And we won’t flunk, either," Ron muttered to Aeryn in a low voice. "Hermione corrected our essays before we turned them in."

The bell rang, and Snape swept out from the storeroom to his desk with a bundle of parchment in his hands. Without a word, he turned to face the students, his coal-black eyes smoldering.

"I have never had a class of second-years more inane than you," he hissed, fixing the cowering Neville Longbottom with a stare that could melt steel. "I assigned the essay on deadly poisons to give your feeble brains an attempt at an easy grade. Half of you failed to do the correct research, and those of you that were able to find the remarkably easy facts could barely string complete sentences together."

The class collectively shrank in their chairs. With a swirl of his black robes, Snape began pacing between the desks, dropping the essays on the correct desks along with a suitably blistering comment.

"Miss Brown, I did not know it was humanly possible to repeat the word very fifteen times in one sentence. Your vocabulary is pathetic. Longbottom, your handwriting is atrocious, and the words I could make out from your chicken scrawl were practically incomprehensible. Potter—" he stopped in front of Harry’s desk, an amused snarl twitching the edge of his lip "—once again, you have proved that a person’s relative fame is indirectly proportionate to the amount of brains he has."

Even the Slytherins were not immune from the wrath of Snape.

"Crabbe, your essay is six inches too short, and Goyle, make an attempt to remember the topic I assigned!" The usually smug faces of the Slytherins drained as Snape calmly shredded Millicent Bulstrode’s essay and dropped the pieces on her lap with the cold comment that he had seen better compositions on the stalls of the boys’ restroom.

"How’d you fare, Hermione?" Ron muttered under his breath.

"I got a B," Hermione hissed, viciously shoving the parchment into her bag. Her face was furious. "I’ve never gotten a B before! What’d you get?"

"I don’t think I’m going to tell you," Ron whispered, hastily putting his essay away.

"Me either," Harry added, quickly hiding his essay.

Aeryn resisted the urge to chew on her fingernails as the bundle of essays grew smaller and smaller. She hadn’t gotten hers back yet, and the awful image of Snape reading it out loud to the rest of the class was giving her heart palpitations.

Snape dropped the final parchment on the lap of Lucinda Vali, a forlorn-looking Slytherin, and stalked back up to his desk. "Since all of you have demonstrated your complete ignorance on poisons, the lesson I had planned for today will be pushed back until Thursday. Ten points will be taken from both Gryffindor and Slytherin for this inconvenience."

"What?" shrieked Draco Malfoy, leaping to his feet. "Professor Snape, you can’t—"

"Quiet, Malfoy!" Snape roared, his sallow face twisting into a hideous snarl. "And before you say another word, let me assure you that I have no qualms whatsoever taking points from my own house!"

The classroom became as silent as a tomb. After an awful moment, Snape’s features relaxed and he began lecturing pacing along the rows of desks to the accompaniment of hastily scratching quills.

Harry glanced over at Aeryn as Snape stalked past them. Where’s your essay? he mouthed, his jade-green eyes curious.

Aeryn shrugged, a difficult feat to accomplish while scribbling notes. He didn’t give it to me, she mouthed back. Harry raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything back as the professor glared at them and they quickly bent their heads diligently over their quills.

Snape finished lecturing a few moments before the end of class and turned his cold stare onto the students. "A rewrite of your essays are due on Thursday," he said silkily, clasping his hands behind his back. "Since I have outlined the facts for you in class today, the rewrite will be twenty-four inches instead of twelve." He stared down his hooked nose at them with a fierce gleam in his eyes. "I expect nothing less than perfection."

The bell rang, and there was a frantic flurry as the students gathered up their bags and raced for the door. Aeryn could hear the outraged shrieks of the Slytherins as they excited the classroom.

"Ten points! From our house! I don’t believe it! And

a rewrite due on Thursday!"

Aeryn began putting her notes away a little more slowly than usual. Snape still hadn’t returned her essay, and she needed it for the rewrite. Something about this scenario didn’t sit well with her.

"Hey, Aeryn, hurry up," Ron said. He, Harry, and Hermione were almost to the dungeon door.

Aeryn paused for a moment, then shook her head. "I’ll catch up with you in Gryffindor tower." Ron looked as if he wanted to protest, but a quick glance at Professor Snape convinced him that waiting for Aeryn outside would be the best idea, and he, Harry, and Hermione hurried from the dungeon.

Aeryn got to her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Professor Snape was sitting on the corner of his desk, his arms folded as he regarded Aeryn intently.

"Yes, Miss Blake?" he asked coolly.

Aeryn swallowed. "I didn’t get my essay back," she said quietly.

"Ah, yes." Snape’s sallow features remained impassive, but he tilted his head slightly to one side. "Your paper I saved for last, Miss Blake, and I did not finish correcting it before class today."

"Oh. So can I get it tomorrow?"

Snape stroked his chin with one long finger. "How important is this paper to you, Miss Blake?"

She shrugged, forcing herself to keep direct eye contact with him. It was like staring into the center of a flame, and it took all her willpower not to tear her eyes away. "I’d like to get it so I can do the rewrite."

He was silent for a long moment, gazing at her unblinkingly. Aeryn’s breath was heavy in her chest, and she dropped her eyes to the stained stone floor.

"I will bring your essay to dinner this evening," the professor said finally. "Come to the staff table after you have finished eating and I will give it to you."

Aeryn looked back up. The Potion master rose to his feet, his eyes dragging across her face as he slowly walked around the edge of his desk and sat down in his chair. He leaned over to pick up a scrap of parchment from the floor. As his intense gaze slipped from her, Aeryn hurried from the dungeon without a word.

* * *

Aeryn glanced over at the staff table. Most of the professors were finished with their meals, but Headmaster Dumbledore and Snape were still eating. Aeryn absently pushed a scrap of steak around the golden plate with her fork, waiting for an opportune moment to retrieve her essay. A bright flash of light illuminated the Great Hall; a few of the first years winced, but everyone else seemed unconcerned. There was an enormous thunderstorm beating at the walls of Hogwarts castle, and the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall reflected the turbulent weather outside, complete with flashes of lightning.

"It doesn’t look like he has it," Hermione commented, peering towards the Potions master.

"He’d better," Aeryn muttered. "I need that paper for the rewrite."

Hermione sniffed. "I still don’t see why I got a B," she murmured to Aeryn. "I know all my information was correct! And Harry and Ron used the same books as I did for research, and they got worse grades then me." She shook her bushy brown head violently. "If you ask me, I think Snape’s just being spiteful."

"Wouldn’t be the first time," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of potatoes. "He’s probably still angry about all the things we did to him last year—I mean, it wasn’t really our fault, we did think that he was the one after Harry, and he certainly didn’t act like he was helping."

Aeryn, who had already heard all the tales about her friends’ adventures last year involving the legendary Sorcerer’s Stone, nodded absently. The conversation inevitably turned to Quidditch, and Aeryn glanced back over at the staff table. Snape had finished his dinner and was getting to his feet. Aeryn rose from her seat and hurried over to the professor before he could leave the Great Hall.

"Excuse me, Professor Snape."

He turned at the sound of his name. "What is it, Miss Blake?"

As if he doesn’t know. Aeryn refused to be cowed by his cold stare. "I need my essay."

"And I promised you I would bring it to dinner." The Potions master shook his head slightly. "I completely forgot about it until right now."

Go figure. Aeryn stifled an exasperated sigh. "So when can I get it from you?"

Professor Snape shrugged and pushed the huge double doors open. "If you absolutely must have this paper tonight, Miss Blake, you can come with me to get it."

Aeryn could think of a hundred other things she would rather do than tag along after Snape, but she did need her essay. The only time she had to work on the rewrite was tonight, since she had promised to watch Harry’s Quidditch practice tomorrow evening. After only a moment’s hesitation, she followed Snape out of the Great Hall. They strode through the hallways and down the entrance to the dungeons. After twisting through the many turns of the labyrinthine passageways, Snape stopped in front of a bare, damp stone wall.

"Eel-lips," he muttered, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. He marched through it, and Aeryn, with a sudden pang of uncertainty, followed after him. She knew how to get to Snape’s office, and this wasn’t the way. They entered into a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them.

"Where are we?" Aeryn asked warily, stopping in the middle of the room.

"The Slytherin common room," Snape answered, walking over to a door on the other side of the room. "I corrected the essays in my room last night before I went to bed." Noticing that she had not moved towards the door, he paused and turned back towards her. "Well? Are you coming?"

Aeryn shook her head. "I think I’ll just wait for you to come back here, thanks."

Snape’s voice, when he spoke again, was as icy as the North wind. "Miss Blake. I am not your errand-boy, to run things from my room to you. If you want your essay, you will have to come to my room to get it."

I could skip the Quidditch practice tomorrow. Harry would understand. But leaving right now was probably what Snape expected. It would just be like him. Aeryn gritted her teeth and followed the professor through the door. They walked down a stone hallway lit with more greenish lamps until Snape pushed open a heavy door at the end of the hallway and ushered her into his chambers.

Aeryn found herself standing in a richly decorated sitting room. Although there were no windows, the room was brightly lit with candelabras and flickering globes of light. A fire crackled in the elegant fireplace, and was surrounded by a comfortable-looking set of brocade couches. Although she couldn’t say the same about his wardrobe, Snape had an excellent taste in furnishings. The stone floor was lined with rich Oriental rugs, and the cabinet resting against the wall was made of darkly finished cherrywood.

"Wait here," the Potions master commanded her, and he slipped through a darkened doorway. The uncomfortable silence of the room pressed suddenly upon her, and Aeryn rocked back and forth on her heels, peering curiously around at the décor but unwilling to venture closer. A mirror, rimmed with heavy silver, hung on one wall. From where she stood, Aeryn could glimpse the barest reflection of her black robes as she hopped from one foot to another.

A small antique table had been placed beneath the mirror, on top of which rested an intricately carved wooden box. Something silver had slipped from beneath the wooden cover and had pooled on the tabletop. Aeryn looked over at it curiously. She glanced towards the darkened room where Snape had disappeared, and when he did not return after several more moments, she tiptoed over to the table and carefully opened the lid of the carved box.

A beautiful pendant winked up at her. It was small and circular, about the size of a Galleon. Filigreed silver cradled a sapphire as big as her thumbnail, and was attached to a delicately wrought silver chain. Aeryn drew an admiring breath and lifted the pendant free from the box, letting it spin and catch the firelight.

The faintest rustle of robes whispered behind her, and Snape loudly cleared his throat. Aeryn turned. The professor stood in the doorway, tapping her essay thoughtfully against his open hand.

She winced, bracing herself for a suitably scathing comment.

"You know, Professor, you probably shouldn’t leave something as valuable as this lying around the room," she said, spilling the pendant into her palm.

Snape took a step towards her, the firelight pooling across his hawklike features. "Are you a connoisseur of fine jewelry, Miss Blake?" he asked softly.

Aeryn blinked, taken aback. With slow, deliberate movements, the Potions master walked up to her. He laid the roll of parchment on the table and took Aeryn’s clenched hand in his.

"This necklace is one of my family’s greatest heirlooms," Snape said, gently uncurling Aeryn’s fingers from around the pendant. "A very powerful wizard—one of the founders of Hogwarts—crafted it for my many-times-great grandmother in thanks for saving his life." He hooked one long finger into the chain and lifted it from her palm, letting the silver setting spin before her eyes. "He told my grandmother it was a suitably beautiful token for a suitably beautiful woman."

"Which founder?" Aeryn asked quietly, although she was fairly certain of the answer.

"Salazar Slytherin," Snape said musingly, twisting the chain in his fingers to catch the firelight.

Of course. Aeryn reached along the table for her essay. "Well, it’s…very lovely." Snape’s eyes swiveled slowly to rest on her, and the sudden intensity in his gaze made her skin crawl. "Um, thanks for getting me my—"

"It has been a long while since this necklace was worn," Snape interrupted silkily. "Why don’t you try it on?"

"Oh, I really don’t think I should," Aeryn began, trying to slip around him, but he stepped into her path and snaked his arms around her neck before she could stop him.

The cool weight of the necklace slithered around her throat. He bent down to fasten the clasp, his breath burning against her neck, and Aeryn suppressed a shudder as his inky black hair brushed against her face. His hands slid across her shoulders and he turned her to face the mirror.

"Voilà. It becomes you, Miss Blake."

The necklace did look good on her, Aeryn had to admit. The sapphire was almost the exact shade of her eyes, and the scooped neck of her robe framed the pendant excellently. But Snape’s hands were resting far too comfortably on her shoulders, and the gleam in his coal-black eyes as he stared at her in the mirror sent alarm signals through her body. Aeryn brought her hands up to the clasp of the necklace. "It’s very nice, Professor—"

His hands caught hers. "It becomes you very well,"

he purred into her ear, his voice unusually hoarse. His long fingers spidered out along the skin of her neck. "You should keep it."

The alarm signals were now full-fledged warning sirens. The clasp came loose in her hands, and she wrenched free from Snape’s grasp. "Thanks for the essay, Professor," she gasped, dropping the necklace to the table and grabbing her essay. Without giving him a chance to stop her, she slipped past him and hurried for the door.

"Miss Blake." His voice had resumed its usual iciness.

Aeryn paused, her hand on the door. "Yes?"

But he did not answer. After a moment, Aeryn pushed open the door and hurried from the Slytherin chambers.

She was safely back in Gryffindor tower before she remembered the essay she clutched in her damp palm. With a sinking heart, she unrolled the parchment. Emblazoned at the top of the paper in thick green ink was the letter A. Aeryn ran an astonished eye down the length of her essay. At the very bottom of the parchment was a sentence written in spidery handwriting:

A truly excellent overview, Miss Blake. No rewrite required. –S. Snape

Aeryn sat down on the bed, absently placing the essay next to her. For a long moment, she stared out the window of the room, watching the driving rain pound against the glass.