Secrets

Chapter 4

Potions classes for the next month became almost unbearable. Even Hermione was forced, more than once, to reconsider her estimation of Snape's evilness -or lack thereof. He was exhibiting such levels of cold viciousness that even the Slytherins found themselves occasionally the victims of his temper. To have said that he was in a bad mood would have been the understatement of several centuries. Of course Gryffindor bore the brunt of most of his anger, but that did not mean that any of the other Houses were exempt from it.

By the end of November Harry, Ron and Hermione were wondering how they were going to be able to make it through to Christmas.

'He just keeps getting worse every time we see him,' Harry whispered as the three of them scampered away as quickly as possible from yet another particularly unpleasant Potions class.

'What is his problem, anyway?' Hermione breathed when they were sure they were completely out of earshot and disappearing round the corner of the corridor.

'You mean he needs to have a problem to be the most obnoxious git in the universe?' Ron spat, viciously.

'Well, I mean, he wasn't this bad about a month ago, was he?' Hermione said in her most sensible tone.

'I think that's debatable,' Ron insisted.

'Have either of you noticed that he seems to be staying away from Professor Raveneye, lately, too?' Harry asked suddenly, a slightly guilty expression on his face, as if it somehow wasn't appropriate for him to notice such things, what with him being a boy, and everything. Ron and Hermione turned and stared at him, wide-eyed.

'What?' asked Ron.

'You mean you noticed that too?' Hermione asked, almost simultaneously. Ron turned from staring at Harry, to staring at her.

'What has that got to do with anything?' he spluttered.

'-And she from him,' Hermione added, heedlessly. Harry nodded.

'Do you think they've had a fight, or something?' he asked. 'That would explain the temper.'

'Oh, you mean like a different fight from what they usually have WHENEVER THEY'RE IN THE SAME ROOM TOGETHER!' Ron almost screamed. Harry jumped and turned to stare at Ron in surprise. Hermione, instead, rubbed the ridge of her nose and shook her head in theatrical despair.

'Ron,' she said patiently, 'I thought we covered this topic. They don't fight. They banter! Different thing, altogether! You might be right, Harry,' she continued, abruptly, turning to him. 'That might be it.' Then she stopped, suddenly, and her eyes narrowed as if something had just occurred to her and she was contemplating its possibilities. 'Unless...' she said very slowly.

'What?' Harry asked eagerly, but she didn't seem to be listening to him. She seemed completely wrapped up in her own train of thought.

'...unless he has just realised...' and there she abruptly stopped.

'What?!' Ron and Harry cried, simultaneously. She looked up at them, a startled look in her eyes, as if she had just realised they were there.

'Nothing' she said flatly and walked off. Harry and Ron scampered quickly after her.

'What?' they both insisted excitedly. 'You can't just stop there! What might he just have realised?!'

'Nothing,' Hermione repeated again, the tone of her voice making it very clear that she was not going to answer that question no matter how hard they begged, or how long they pestered her.

'Hermione!' both Harry and Ron exclaimed in exasperation. She ignored them completely and continued walking quickly away, Harry and Ron still close on her heels.

They turned a corner and skidded to a stop to avoid running into Professor Raveneye. Hermione squealed and Harry and Ron gasped. Iris too had stopped dead in her tracks and was looking at the three of them through narrowed, glinting eyes.

'Miss Granger,' she said calmly, a hint of danger lingering in the depths of her tone, '-and Messrs Potter and Weasley. Where are you all running off to in such a hurry?'

'Er...'

'We're just late for... er... Herbology, Professor,' said Hermione quickly recovering herself. Raveneye's gaze narrowed even more.

'I had no idea that Herbology made people look this furtive,' she said quietly. 'Maybe there's more to it than meets the eye. Move along then,' she concluded and watched them as they scampered off with a definite air of relief about them.

'Phew!' breathed Hermione as soon as they had passed out of earshot.

'That was a close one!' Ron agreed. 'Can you imagine what would have happened if she had walked in on us discussing her and Snape?'

'I don't want to imagine!' Harry said with an edge of panic in his voice.

'Neither do I!'

'Well, she didn't,' said Hermione, pulling herself together remarkably quickly, 'so, enough of that now. We need to get to Herbology anyway. We really are late!'

Harry and Ron knew better than to pursue the subject any further.

*

'Hades!' Iris called softly, and the enormous male crow fluttered to her wrist. She smiled at him. 'You really are amazing,' she said to herself, more than to him, 'Maeve really did know what she was doing when she recommended you!' She brought the crow in from the window of her rooms, high up in the Ravenclaw tower, and sat down with him in her large, comfortable winged armchair. Her own familiar, Maeve, sat quietly on her perch, regarding them with interest through one beady eye.

'Ok,' said Iris again, looking the crow in the eye. 'Now, not a word of this to Snape, alright? This is our little secret. And, remember: it's all for the best!' She was aware, as she spoke, that anyone listening in on her right now would have reached the inevitable conclusion that she had finally gone barking mad. It was not important, however. What was important was that she and Hades understood each other; and they seemed to be doing that just fine, thank you very much!

She settled comfortably back in her chair, took a couple of deep, relaxing breaths and closed her eyes. With her free hand, she gently stroked the crow's head. Then, she started reaching out with her mind, slowly, tentatively, going first through the feeling of the crow's silky plumage and the feeling of it's claws, firmly, but not painfully, gripping her wrist. Slowly, she moved inwards, sensing its steady, soft breathing first, and then the rapid, regular beating of its tiny heart. Further in, she went, and cautiously grasped for the edges of its mind. She felt the crisp, sharp boundaries of the crow's world, standing wide open and unguarded, and then she spoke -

'Participo,' she breathed, and suddenly she was in.

She looked at herself, sitting, eyes closed and relaxed in her armchair, the image sharp and clear, colours somehow strangely distinct from one another. The little jewellery she wore seemed remarkably bright, much brighter than she ever remembered it being. There was something inevitable about the way the silver glimmer seemed to grasp her attention. Behind her, she felt the gentle, cool breeze coming from her window and it occurred to her that it should have felt much colder than that. Yet, now, it felt inviting and she experienced a sensation of almost irresistible need for flight.

'A bit later,' her thoughts suggested quietly from somewhere strangely far away, in much the same way that thoughts are experienced during a dream when one realises one is dreaming. To her delight, Hades stayed where he was.

'How about something a bit harder now?' She forcibly stopped herself from thinking in words. Instead, she magnified, in her mind, the desire to look left. Almost immediately, her field of vision swivelled and she found herself looking at Maeve, who was looking back at her interestedly. In her mind, she smiled. Hades also seemed exceedingly interested in what he was seeing. She felt another, almost overwhelming, need for flight well up inside her, as she watched Maeve ruffle her feathers. Quickly, she projected her need to look away and her field of vision swivelled again.

'Ok, Hades,' she thought with another delighted smile, 'that was worth a reward. Let's fly!' she exclaimed and, immediately, she felt Hades spreading his wings and taking off through the open window. The sensation was indescribable. It didn't seem to wear thin, no matter how many times she experienced it; the wind, rippling through her feathers, while she soared, glided and dipped, feeling its invisible support under her wings as if it was something solid. From incredible heights she could distinguish the smallest objects on the ground. She could recognise people from distances which, without Hades's vision, would have rendered them nothing more than dark specks.

She saw Maeve fly, and dip by her, and she felt Hades's urge to follow her. She countered this, immediately, by magnifying her own need to circle the castle and fly out towards the Lake and the Forbidden Forest. Without so much as flinching, Hades swooped away from Maeve and dove towards the forest.

'Oh yes! You certainly are a piece of work!' she found herself thinking. 'Not much practice needed here then! Snape has already trained you well -not that I think you ever needed much training. I wonder what it's like with him in your mind!' but she didn't really want to consider that as she sat quietly in her little corner of Hades's simple, clear mind. The only reason she could actually do what she was doing right now, was the fact that Hades had only been with Snape for around a month. Soon, Hades would become accustomed, and attached to Snape and vice versa. Any attempt from her to share the crow's mind in secret would leave in its mind a sensation so alien that it would a) have been easily detectable by Snape and b) have been vehemently opposed by Hades himself. However, if Hades became used to her now... it would give her easier access in case of emergency...; Only in case of emergency.

She returned to the comfort of her armchair over an hour later, the feeling of exhilaration that accompanied her flight with Hades still fluttering inside her. She smiled quietly and sat there, eyes closed, breathing steadily while she allowed herself the time to readjust to being exclusively human again. She had let Hades go in mid-flight and the adjustment she had had to perform was not only abrupt, but also disorientating; but it was something she needed to practice and be able to do instantly.

Finally she opened her eyes, slowly, and looked around her room. Maeve was still flying off somewhere and Hades, presumably, was either with her, or had gone off back to Snape. A slightly accusatory-sounding meow coming from somewhere near her feet made her look down. She smiled, seeing Hecate there staring grumpily at her.

'Come here,' she said softly and the cat immediately leapt up onto her lap, looking distinctly smugger than before and purring loudly. 'If I've been neglecting you, I'm sorry,' Iris told the cat cajolingly as she tickled her under the chin. 'Want to go for a walk with me?' she asked the cat, and Hecate meowed once in a way that sounded very distinctly affirmative. 'It's a good job we got that cat-flap, isn't it?' Iris continued making casual conversation with her cat, without displaying any obvious intention of getting up from where she was sitting. On the contrary, she seemed to settle back into the armchair in much the same way she had done earlier, while Hades was the one in her lap.

When Hecate left the room just a few moments later, through the aforementioned cat-flap, she wasn't alone.

*

It was early December when Iris Raveneye found herself forced to go looking for Snape. On a frosty Tuesday morning, with frozen fog still hanging in the air at eleven o'clock and a weak sun not even making its usual feeble attempt at light, she made her way to the dungeon, knocked on his office door and waited.

'Come in,' she heard the rumble of his quiet voice from inside.

She opened the door and walked in to see him sitting back in the large, winged armchair behind his desk, apparently engrossed with an enormous, leather-bound tome entitled Innovations in the Use of Noxious Flora in Potion Concoction. His eyes flickered in her direction briefly and then looked back down at the page he was reading.

'Yes?' he inquired coldly.

'I wonder if I might have a word...' she said calmly, and waited. With a barely disguised sigh, he slammed the book shut and laid it down on his desk, then folded his arms across his chest and leant back in his chair, raising his head to stare at her.

'What can I do for you, Professor Raveneye?'

'I'm afraid I have been called away, urgently, for a couple of days, and, since it is an unavoidable obligation, I was wondering whether you would be so kind as to cover my Defence Against the Dark Arts classes until I get back.'

He remained silent, his eyes still locked onto her own.

'Well, one good turn deserves another,' he said silkily in the end. 'I suppose I could just about find the time to cover your classes in your absence. Are you going to be away long?'

'As I said, only for a couple of days.'

Silence.

'Fine,' he said in the end, and he reached for his book again. Knowing that this was all she could expect from him, she turned to leave. Her hand was hovering over the door handle when he spoke again.

'This wouldn't have anything to do with those two new disappearances reported in the Daily Prophet, yesterday, would it?'

She froze.

His voice had such an exaggerated quality of disinterest that the only assumption she could make was that his sharp, calculating little mind had put two and two together and had come up with forty-two: 'the answer to life, the universe and everything'[1] -as she had read in a Muggle book once. Either that, or he had been using Hades to spy on her, which would serve her right, in a poetically ironic kind of way. Although, come to think of it, there really wasn't much that Hades (and Snape) could have seen, even if they had been spying.

Would it do any good for her to deny it, or would it just reinforce his suspicions? She couldn't afford to hesitate too long, and she felt that she had already crossed the boundaries of what might be considered acceptable hesitation in reaction to a strange question. She turned, slowly, round to face him.

He was looking up at her from the open book in front of him, his black eyes flat and expressionless.

'I have no idea why you would think that I would have anything to do with that unfortunate incident,' she said calmly. She could have stopped there, but, considering her track record in repartee with Snape, what she had just said would only give him the impression that she was being defensive, at best, evasive at worst. 'Is it just my imagination, or are we starting to become slightly paranoid?' she added sneeringly.

His eyes blazed up, suddenly, in anger and he pushed himself up from where he was sitting.

'Paranoid?' he growled. 'You seem to forget: you are the one here about whom we know absolutely nothing, with your strange little ways, spying animal menagerie and important little secrets. Dumbledore has trusted people he shouldn't have trusted before. What makes you exempt from suspicion?'

'Nothing!' she replied sharply, anger now rising up inside her too. 'As nothing makes you exempt. Only in your case, people's mistrust of you is based on legitimate reasons!' she added meaningfully.

His eyes narrowed as he glared at her and his face grew even paler than usual, his lips tightening in barely contained fury. He swept round his desk and strode menacingly towards her. She didn't move, but looked up at him defiantly.

'How dare you?!' he hissed. 'How dare you question my loyalty?'

'Why shouldn't I?' she countered. 'I've only known you for three months. You have yet to earn my unequivocal trust! And I tell you, Snape, with your past, you're going to have to earn it!'

His eyes widened now in blazing rage and he clenched his fists tightly until his knuckles turned white and a faint blush of colour tainted his usually pallid cheeks. He was shaking.

'You -know -nothing -about -me!' he barely managed to growl.

'On the contrary, I know a great deal about you,' she said. 'I would not have taken the job otherwise!' Her own eyes gleamed angrily as she stared up at his, unblinkingly.

'And what job is that, exactly?' he hissed dangerously, 'because you don't fool me for a second, Raveneye! You are not here to teach! Do you think I'm stupid?' he spat at her viciously. Her eyes narrowed and she fixed him with a stare that would have made hell freeze over.

'No. I think you're too clever for your own good,' she said and turned to the door, making as if to leave.

'Oh no, you don't!' he roared and grabbed her arm just as she was reaching for the door handle. He forced her round to face him, the darkness in his eyes glinting brightly through stray strands of his black hair that had fallen over them.

'Who do you work for?' he snarled, his face now only a few inches away from hers. She stared calmly at him. Anyone else in her place would, by now, have been at least a little bit apprehensive, but she felt nothing.

'It is none of your business,' she said coolly, knowing that that answer would infuriate him even more. His eyes flared up again.

'Everything and everyone that may put this school in danger is my business!' he roared, almost beside himself with anger.

'Then you should spend more time looking in the mirror!' she hissed, maliciously. A strange strangled sound rose from his throat and she felt his hand, still grasping her own begin to tremble again.

'A -Lunarior -has -no -place -IN THIS SCHOOL!' The sentence began as a forced, barely managed growl and ended as an outraged roar. Her eyes flew open in surprise at his words, but her surprise only lasted a moment. The next instant, with one small, sharp flick of her wrist she had broken free from his grasp.

'You are out of your mind!' she said calmly. 'You think I'm a Lunarior?'

'I'm sure you're a Lunarior,' he hissed in her ear. 'The only thing I'm not yet sure about is what you're doing here. But, rest assured, I will find out!'

'For the love of Merlin, Snape, get a grip!' she said, most of her anger having miraculously dissipated now. She couldn't afford to be angry at this point. It was too important to manage to convince him that he was wrong, and to do that she need a cool, clear head.

'I mean, I'm flattered you think I'm up to that sort of job, of all things, but, what on earth would a Lunarior be doing at Hogwarts?'

Through narrowed, calmer, calculating eyes, he observed her closely. To be certain, her reaction seemed genuine, but he wasn't one to go by appearances only. Besides, if she really was a Lunarior, her highest priority would always have to be to protect her identity. If that was the case, then she wouldn't go around admitting to being one, just because he had made an educated guess.

'Maybe, you are here to keep an eye on certain, not entirely trustworthy, members of staff, on behalf of the Ministry,' he growled in her ear. She looked him straight in the eye and sighed.

'Why would they waste a Lunarior on an assignment like that when that "someone" is right under Dumbledore's nose, day in and day out? Is there anyone the Ministry would trust more than him?'

'Fudge doesn't quite see eye to eye with Dumbledore any more, you know that. And things have changed since last year, Raveneye, with Voldermort back -in the flesh, so to speak; so don't play stupid with me!' he snarled in the end.

'And you shouldn't be playing stupid with me either,' she retorted sharply. 'You know that Lunariors are not overseen by the Ministry of Magic and Fudge, but by the Department of Mysteries. Fudge has nothing to do with them!' She paused for a second to see if he was going to attempt to answer that but was met by a thoughtful silence, so she kept going.

'Look, there is nothing more I can say that might convince you that I'm not a Lunarior. Even if I were, I wouldn't be able to tell you, so let it go. As I told you once before, you're just going to have to trust me -or not, whichever you prefer. There is not much more I can offer you in terms of evidence, either way.'

Snape drew away from her abruptly and walked over to his desk, his back turned to her. He didn't like admitting he was beaten, but she was right. No matter how hard he suspected her of something -of anything -he had absolutely no evidence either way. If she really was a Lunarior she wouldn't have evidence lying around to attest to the fact. Besides, if that were the case, then she was definitely there with Dumbledore's knowledge and approval. If, on the other hand she was something entirely different and, somehow, she had managed to fool Dumbledore about her true intentions and identity, again there was nothing more he could do but wait for her to make just one wrong step. Up till now she had made none.

He grabbed an empty blue potion vial off his desk and hurled it against the wall where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

'I will cover your classes for you. Now go,' he growled, forcedly, without turning.

She turned to the door for the third time and grasped the handle. Behind her, she heard something else shatter as she opened the door, but she didn't turn. She had had quite enough of this already, and, if he wanted to demolish his entire office, then that was his prerogative and his problem.

Hurrying quickly down the corridor, just out of sight, Harry, Ron and Hermione scurried towards the Library.

'Now THAT was a fight!' Ron exclaimed in a whisper.

'Oh yes, that was a fight,' Hermione agreed for once.

'Well, that settles it,' Harry joined in resignedly. 'They're not going to talk to each other again all year.'

'And we might as well kill ourselves now, because I don't want to know what Potions classes are going to be like for the rest of the year, after this!' Ron said, bitterly.

'If you're going to do it, do it quickly, because you're going to find that out in about one hour when we have our next Potions class,' Hermione suggested.

Ron and Harry both groaned in despair.

Iris took one step out of Snape's office and into the corridor when a sudden, strangled, groan behind her made her turn this time. She was back inside the office so quickly, she hardly even realised she was doing it, the door left ajar behind her.

Snape was almost down on his knees as he leaned against his desk, grasping his left forearm with his right hand.

'Get out,' he grunted, sharply, his face pallid and drawn with obvious pain.

She ignored him.

'Cut it out, Snape,' she said calmly, as she hurried over. 'I'm not stupid, I thought we established that. You think I don't know?'

'Get out!' he growled again and he tried to push himself away from his desk. She reached out and took his arm, helping him to stand and guiding him around to his armchair. To her surprise, he didn't put up much of a struggle. He slumped down in it, breathing roughly and still grasping his forearm.

'Let me see,' she said, calmly.

'There's nothing to see,' he snarled. 'Just leave.'

'How long does this last for?' she asked heedlessly, her voice quiet and composed. He didn't answer immediately.

Then, after a moment -

'Until I go...'

'And if you don't?'

'... It -depends... Hours... Days...'

'This could go on for days?!' she asked, incredulously. 'Is it always this painful? Doesn't it subside at all after a while?'

'Not always. Depends... You get used to it,' he said roughly in the end. 'Now will you please go away?'

'No,' she said simply. 'Let me see. There might be something I can do.'

'The Dirimire spell doesn't work.'

'If there's one thing you have to admit it's that I've never treated you like a moron, and I'm not going to start doing it now. I assumed you'd have already tried that. Now, stop being pigheaded and let me see!'

His eyes flared up in anger for a second, but the fire in them died down quickly as his brow twitched, his lips tightened and turned white in pain.

'Ok, that's it,' she breathed and whipped her wand out from the within the folds of her sleeve. She grasped his right hand and pried it away from his arm. 'We can at least try!' she added and pushed up his sleeve, baring his left forearm and the Dark Mark on it, now glowing an angry, burning black.

She touched the tip of her wand, gingerly, on it and with utter astonishment saw pale grey smoke coming up off the tip. She would have to do this quickly, she realised, or her wand would go up in flames.

'Tolere!' she exclaimed softly, and pulled her wand away, still smoking slightly. The Mark was glowing as angrily and ugly as ever.

'I told you it doesn't...' he began hoarsely, but his voice drifted off into silence before he could finish the sentence. She looked up at him expectantly. The lines of pain on his face had started to soften; colour started rushing back to his lips and his eyes regained their usual sharpness.

She smiled triumphantly and straightened up.

'The trick is, not to try and neutralise the effects of the Mark's power, but to enhance your tolerance of them. I'm sure you'll be able to deal with a little bit of pain!' she added in the end with a wry smile.

'I'm sure I don't want to know how you knew what to do in a situation as bizarre and unlikely as this one,' he said gruffly as he fingered the red Mark on his arm, delicately. 'However, I would be ungracious if I didn't admit that I'm impressed,' he added, turning towards her, eyes piercing but not cold.

'Educated guess,' she said lightly. 'I don't think I've ever before had to counter the effects of a Dark Mark on someone. I believe this qualifies as a "learning experience",' she added.

'If we take your word for it,' he purred dryly.

Her eyebrows rose.

'I thought we covered this subject from every conceivable angle,' she said meaningfully. 'Now, do you want me to let you get on with demolishing what's left of your office, or would you like a cup of tea while you regain full use of both your arms?'

Silence.

'I think I'll wait for the demolition exercise until I can use both arms efficiently.'

'Wise choice,' said Iris as she headed for a handsome, cast-iron kettle sitting in the corner of a shelf of an enormous bookcase that lined an entire wall of his office. She made the water boil virtually instantly with the use of her wand and brewed a very strong pot of tea and found two identical black teacups which she brought over to the desk.

He was still rubbing his arm, slightly absentmindedly, as he eyed her thoughtfully under a heavy frown.

'That's not an Ollivander wand, is it?' he said quietly as she drew up a chair and sat down facing him.

'No.'

Snape's eyes held her own calmly and his right eyebrow rose slightly as if to say 'yes...?', as she passed him his tea.

'It's a Guillaume de Labatton. You wouldn't know him. He's not well known in this part of the world. In fact, he's not that well known in France, either, anymore. He makes the wands himself -always has -but he's getting on quite a bit now. He will only work by commission, and only if he thinks it's worth the effort. I was lucky. It's virtually impossible to get a Labatton wand nowadays. Word has it that he's getting pickier and pickier with age. He will just refuse to make a wand for someone he thinks is not worth the effort.'

'How does he come by that conclusion?' inquired Snape, finding himself deeply interested in her story.

'You just have to show up, at his house -if you manage to find it, that is -and, if you're lucky, he will make you coffee, and make small-talk, and at the end he will inform you if he's going to bother making a wand for you or not. That's if you're lucky. If you're not, you show up there, he takes one look at you and says "no", and slams the door in your face.'

Snape snorted.

'You mean to tell me that you went through all that just to get a wand at the age of eleven?'

'Oh, no. He will not make wands for children; only for witches and wizards that are of age, who are interested enough and take the trouble to try and find him. My first was an Ollivander wand,' said Iris and sipped her tea idly. Somewhere in the back of her mind it struck her how bizarre it was, sitting there and chatting amiably with Snape when, not more than a few minutes ago, they had had an absolutely blazing row; the sort after which people rarely talk to each other again.

Snape's mind worked along different lines, clear and always calculating; he had been aware of this same fact from the moment she had mentioned the word 'tea'. He filed this realisation neatly away, however, in the same compartment of his brain where all uncomfortable thoughts regarding Iris Raveneye were stored, always to hand and available for future reference, but not of immediate interest.

He looked at her wand, lying in front of her on his desk.

'May I?' he inquired smoothly, indicating the wand.

'Be my guest,' said Iris and pushed it towards him. He picked it up carefully and examined it with interest for a full couple of minutes. It was long and slim, about sixteen inches, he calculated, only slightly flexible and the wood seemed to be...

'...Yew?' he asked in mild surprise.

She nodded.

'Inside?' he asked again, still turning the wand around in his long, pale fingers.

To his surprise she smiled shrewdly.

'Pegasus hair. Mane.'

Snape's eyes widened slightly and his eyebrows rose.

'Indeed...'

'Yours?' she asked casually.

He reached into the folds of his robes and produced his wand, which he set down in front of her on the desk. She leaned over and squinted at it. It was dark, almost black and looked sturdier than hers, around eighteen inches in length. She picked it up.

'What is it?... Oak?

He nodded.

'I'm afraid it's not as original as yours.'

'Oh, I don't know... It feels... interesting. Inside?'

'Griffon feather. Wing.'

She smirked.

'Told you it felt interesting,' she said as she weighed it in her hand. 'How many other people do you know that have a Griffon feather wand?'

'Not many,' he agreed. 'However, I know of no one else with a Pegasus hair one.'

'It's rare, I admit, but I'm sure there must be others.'

'I would expect so. Only I know of none of them,' said Snape as she handed his wand back to him and slid her own wand back inside her sleeve.

His eyes flickered briefly over to something that caught his attention behind her and they sparkled dangerously for a moment.

'I believe it's time for my next Potions class,' he growled softly as he rolled down his sleeve, only barely able to refrain from wincing as he did so.

'Did you see that?!' Ron hissed as he Harry and Hermione hurried past Snape's office door, still standing ajar.

'I can't believe they're calmly sitting there having tea, when less than an hour ago they were practically tearing each other to pieces!' Harry whispered as they approached the dungeon that served as their Potions classroom.

'Neither can I,' Ron agreed. 'It's good though, isn't it? I mean, if they're talking again that means he might lighten up a bit now! Maybe I won't have to kill myself, after all!'

'What do you think, Hermione?' Harry asked, since she hadn't yet said a word about the peculiar scene they had just witnessed, as they walked into their classroom.

'I don't know,' she said, and took her usual seat. 'It's certainly strange. That fight, earlier, sounded much more serious than just a little tiff between.... Ahem,' she coughed, blushed and began busying herself fussily with her potions ingredients.

Harry and Ron grimaced in disgusted horror, first at Hermione's hair, since that was all they could see of her, and then at each other.

'That is disgusting!' Ron exclaimed. 'You're not still convinced about that, are you? It's the most ludicrous idea I've ever heard. And I've just been proven right, too. People that, even remotely, like each other don't row like they just did. I mean, they were practically bringing the place down around them! Didn't you hear all those things breaking, and everything?'

'I did,' said Hermione, still refusing to look up at them. 'That's why I said I thought it was strange. And, yes I'm still convinced about what I said; and no, it's not a ludicrous idea.'

Ron shook his head and shot Harry a look of exasperation, rolling his eyes theatrically.

'Some people will just refuse to see the obvious, won't they?' he said and Harry nodded in agreement. He, too, was starting to be convinced by Ron's arguments.

'You both seem to chose to ignore the fact that you just saw them both sitting quite amicably together and having tea,' said Hermione calmly, turning her back to them and continuing to set out all her ingredients tidily on her desk.

*

Snape followed Iris to the door of his office, but once there, she stopped, abruptly, staring at it.

'Someone just saw us, didn't they?' she said, realising that the door was still standing ajar, as she had left it.

'Yes.'

'You saw who it was? -No, let me guess! You only get that sinister look in your eyes when Harry Potter is in the vicinity.' She turned and looked up at him.

'Astute, as always,' he said with a faint sneer. 'Mister Potter and Co. just went by, and yes, they did see us. Judging by the thunderstruck expression on their faces, they must have believed it inconceivable that we might choose to be in the same room together without going for each other's throat.'

'Either that, or they also heard our earlier er... disagreement,' she offered.

'Precisely.'

She paused to think about this.

'It would be unfortunate, if that were the case... Not something that couldn't be remedied, however,' she said in the end.

'I should think not,' he said silkily, and reached over her shoulder for the door. She had to take a step back to make room for it to swing open and, somehow, she managed to back straight into him. She jumped, as she realised what she had done and that made her lose her balance for a moment. Immediately, she felt him grasp her arm, firmly, with one hand, and he steadied her.

'Sorry,' she said quickly, turning to face him.

'No need,' he said, in his usual, casual tone. 'It was entirely my fault.'

She was still standing up-against him, having turned exactly where she stood. Realising his hand was still on her arm, he pulled it quickly away.

And yet, neither of them moved.

Silence...

expanded...

... and began breathing...

Time stretched, inexplicably.

He leaned, slowly, towards her.

Her eyes, large and gleaming, locked unto his, inviting him closer.

She felt his breath, warm, on her cheek, and something tingled at the base of her spine. She didn't even realise that her fingers were now clutching his upper arm tightly.

His muscles tautened, suddenly, at her touch and he would have gasped, if he had been able to focus on anything but her embracing eyes and flushed, parted lips. A delicate scent of jasmine spiced with lavender assaulted his senses as a lock of her hair brushed his cheek. He felt a shiver go down his spine, and linger in his abdomen.

Their lips were almost touching and still they held back. She savoured the familiar scent of musk and dried herbs she could smell on his skin, while his hand found its way around her waist without him even realising it. They could almost taste each other, already.

Suddenly, with a strangled, hoarse cry he pulled away, staggered a few steps back and spun around, turning his back to her, shoulders heaving as he fought to control the pounding in his chest and his breath, coming in ragged gasps.

'No!' he whispered forcedly.

For what seemed like a long time, a heavy, buzzing silence and the sound of his laboured breathing were all that could be heard. Then, the deafening sound of the door being slammed shut behind him, made him whirl around again.

Iris stood there, exactly where he had left her. Her hands were now on her hips, her eyebrows drawn in a frown and her eyes gleaming in a manner that could only have been described as menacing.

Silence.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she got there first.

'If you use the words "class", "late", or "go", in your next sentence, I swear to God, I will kill you,' she said so calmly, it made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, 'So, please choose your wording carefully.'

He opened his mouth again, but struggled to find the words. She could see that he was still panting, heavily.

'I swear, I have never found it so difficult to leave anyone's office before in my life!' she said instead. 'I believe I have made at least four attempts today, all of which have failed miserably. So, until we sort this out, we're not going anywhere. Your class can wait. I'm sure they'll be only too happy to do so!'

After a moment, he turned away from her again and walked slowly over to lean on his desk.

'This is madness,' he growled, finally. 'I don't even trust you!'

'Undoubtedly,' she said, coolly. 'And neither do I. Now, would you also care to enlighten me on what "this" is, because I admit ignorance.'

He spun around to face her again.

'This!' he snarled, waving his arm expansively to include the both of them. She stared back at him silently.

'Yes...?' she encouraged him coldly.

'It can't happen,' he said flatly.

'What can't happen? Because I believe that something has already happened.'

'Well, it can't go any further,' he insisted vehemently. 'It has to stop!'

'How?'

A roar rose up in his throat and he whirled around, grabbed another vial off his desk and hurled it at the wall, where it joined the remnants of the other two potion bottles. She didn't so much as blink.

'It's the wrong time...!' he almost screamed.

'Undoubtedly,' she repeated, a few seconds later.

Silence.

She watched him seethe for a few moments, as he stalked up and down the room, physically shaking with frustration and anger.

'No strings,' she said calmly, in the end.

He froze, in mid-step, his back to her. He didn't turn, and didn't speak.

'You are right,' she continued in the same flat tone. 'There couldn't have been a worse time. However, things rarely happen when it's convenient. So, no strings attached. We get on with our individual lives, no interference from either of us, no compromises, no radical changes in our lifestyle, and, most of all, no expectations.'

He turned slowly to face her and stared at her intently for a few moments.

'It's still madness,' he stated quietly.

'Yes, it is,' she agreed. 'If you have any better ideas, I'm open to suggestions. Or, if you prefer we drop the issue, altogether, then that's what we'll do.'

'You cannot possibly realise the implications of this; or the risk!' he added meaningfully in the end.

'You underestimate me. I am perfectly aware of the risks involved. However, you are probably right. Perhaps it's better to forget this conversation ever happened.'

'I believe it is,' he managed to breathe in the end.

For the first time in his life, he didn't feel triumph or pleasure at being right. He still didn't trust her, and he knew that he was not exaggerating the dangers accompanying any such venture, but he also couldn't deny, any more, the reality of what had just happened.

She acknowledged his decision with a slow nod of the head and she turned to leave. Her hand was on the door handle, when she felt his hand on her shoulder. She hadn't heard him move. Before she could react, he had forced her around and his lips were on hers. Strong, but not violent, they felt soft and cool. She responded, unthinkingly, drinking in his essence, her tongue snaking languidly into his mouth.

When he pulled away from her, she felt flushed and her lips tingled. She looked up into his eyes and saw them wide and their blackness gleaming.

'Go,' he breathed forcedly, his voice no louder than a rumble.

She looked at him for a moment, then turned, opened the door and walked away.

*

Snape stalked into his classroom ten minutes late that day, which was the first time in the students' experience that anything like that had happened.

It was the quietest, most uneventful Potions class yet. Even Malfoy abstained from mischief. There was something in Snape's eyes which activated a latent survival instinct in them all. This produced the desirable effect of inhibiting any and all possible misbehaviour and promoting never before seen efficiency. For the first time in four years, even Neville Longbottom managed to produce a potion that actually worked.

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(Chapter end)

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