A Likely Story

"Before you start today's potion, place your essays on Mandrake Draught in front of you," commanded Snape. As everyone brought out their essays, he summoned them to his desktop, where they piled neatly. He leafed through them and directed his glare at Tonks sitting in the middle of the Gryffindors.

"No essay, Miss Black?" he sneered.

Tonks cowered convincingly. "I only just arrived here, sir."

He swept down the aisle stared at her down his long nose. "You are correct," he conceded. "Only five points from Gryffindor this time. Next time, I won't be so lenient." He whirled and stalked back to his desk, and Tonks felt a wave of nostalgia overtake her as the Slytherins sniggered and the Gryffindors glared at the Potions master's retreating back.

"That's not fair!" whispered one of her putative housemates angrily, and Tonks held her breath in anticipation as Snape paused almost imperceptibly. But he continued to the front of the room as if he hadn't heard anything. Her perceptions heightened by Auror training, Tonks had quickly realised that Snape missed nothing but ignored a lot. Was this always true? She resolved to ask him.

"Today you will be making Blood Replenishing Potion. The ingredients are here." He flicked his wand at some cupboards, opening them. "The directions are here." They appeared on the blackboard. "Keep in mind that too free a hand with the dragon scales will destroy the blood's ability to clot, causing the ingestor to bleed from every tiny cut and orifice." He smiled unpleasantly. "I will be looking for volunteers at the end of class. You have one hour."

Tonks glanced at the cone-shaped flask on Snape's desk with amusement, recalling her terror in this class ten years previously. He still didn't bother to mention to the class that he kept the antidotes close at hand.

Snape caught Tonk's eye and sneered. "Staring at the directions will not conjure this potion, Miss Black," he chided, and she shook herself out of her reverie and set to work.

Half an hour later, she was very pleased with herself. Her long-fingered hands, so unfamiliar to her, were unexpectedly dexterous. Her partner, a shy boy who haltingly gave his name as Siddiq, was not, and Tonks rescued more than one flask before it hit the floor. She was wondering how he'd ever made it into the NEWT class until he'd prevented her from adding an ingredient too soon, and recalled he'd only glanced at the blackboard before beginning his preparations in a way that only looked bumbling. She smiled her thanks, and Siddiq blushed vividly. She looked up to the blackboard to see what she had been about to do wrong and caught Snape looking at her, slight amusement colouring his dour expression, before he turned back to marking the heap of parchments.

On her way to lunch, Tonks came face-to-face with Harry, who was walking away from the Great Hall, a sullen and slightly puzzled look on his face, being led by a smug-looking Filch. Tonks looked quickly away to avoid catching his eye, but he did not seem to notice her and soon vanished around a corner. Some of what Filch was saying drifted back.

"...if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now?" Filch was sounding positively gleeful.

Tonks stopped in her tracks, turned, frowned, and hastened back up the corridor as if she'd forgotten something important on her way to lunch. Quickly catching up to Filch and Harry, she stayed an unobtrusive distance behind them as they continued walking, but increased her pace when they stopped and Filch said, "Here we are," knocking three times on a door. As Harry and Filch entered the room, Tonks strode past the door without slowing or stopping. She glanced sideways and caught a glimpse of a horrible, toad-like mouth stretched in a wide smile, kittens on decorative plates gamboling about in the background. A board on the desk read, "Head..." something in raised gold lettering; Harry was standing in the way. Tonks turned around for another pass and heard a resounding "Thunk" as Filch closed the heavy wooden door, and there was the faint hiss of a sound barrier going up as an Imperturbable Charm was applied.

Tonks continued to walk smartly, as if she was now rushing to lunch. At her approach, Filch stopped and sneered at her, revealing mossy teeth.

"The Headmistress' business is none of yours," he growled. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion, but the eyes of the scrawny cat that leapt into his arms were wide open and seemed to glow faintly in the dim corridor.

Tonks quickly affected a look of confused nervousness. "I wasn't...I mean, I was supposed to meet..."

"The Headmistress will not be undermined," he snarled, gently stroking his cat, who continued to stare in that unblinking way cats have, that makes the person being stared at grateful not to be mouse-sized. "Anyone who tries will be severely punished. Oh yes, they will, won't they, my sweet?" He giggled in a slightly maniacal way.

"May I go to lunch, sir?" Tonks asked with forced politeness.

He waved a hand dismissively before resuming the patting of his cat. "Remember when we used to starve them, my sweet? When we'd lock them in the dungeons and give them nothing but stale crusts of bread and a slimy bowl of water? We'd starve them until their teeth fell out." He cackled. "And then the matron would grow them new teeth, of course," he added regretfully. He pulled aside a tapestry and disappeared behind it, though Tonks could still hear his cheerful humming, receding as he continued down a hidden corridor.

"Creepy, isn't he?" said a boy's voice.

"He's the mayor of Creepytown," said another boy with a similar voice.

Tonks turned and smiled, stopping herself from saying, "Wotcher." Be timid, she reminded herself. "It's...Fred and George," she said shyly, looking from one to the other. "Or is it George and Fred? I'm not very good with names." She looked at her feet bashfully.

Fred--and she knew it was Fred because, in fact, she was very good at names--said, "Everybody's lousy at names when it comes to us. Even our own mother."

"We switch places in class sometimes, and only McGonagall and Snape ever notice."

"Yes, but we've been able to fool McGonagall sometimes, but never Snape."

"He just looks in your eyes and says, 'Five points from Gryffindor, and get back in your proper seats.'"

"We've met you before, haven't we? I mean, before today."

Tonks had an explanation ready. "Maybe from Zonko's? I remembered you because you knew loads about pranks."

George frowned slightly and started to say, "Perhaps..."

Fred was looking down the corridor, and cried, "Look out!"

Fred and George both grabbed Tonks and pulled her to the wall beside them. An enchanted flaming parrot came screaming around the corridor yelling swear words. With a final, "Shiiiiiiiiit!!" it crashed into the wall at the end of the corridor, exploding into smaller birds of a sort Tonks didn't recognize, that kept saying, "Fuck! Fuck!" so quickly it sounded like chickens clucking. These smaller birds then disappeared with some muttered imprecations and a sparkling, "Poof!"

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Tonks with real enthusiasm. But Fred and George were ignoring her, whispering to each other, and Fred had just said something about a crate one floor below when there was a window-rattling, "Boom!" Bits of dust and tiny chunks of masonry drifted down.

"In here!" whispered Fred urgently, and they ducked into a vestibule hidden behind a painting of a vestibule just before a door opened, and Dolores Umbridge came wheezing down the corridor, short wand clutched in stubby fingers.

George peeked out from behind the painting and snickered. "The stairs changed just as she was stepping on them. She had to leap like a frog."

"You mean, like a toad."

"Toad, frog. What's the diff?"

"Toads are the ones with warts on them."

"You're absolutely right, brother. I stand corrected."

"We'd better take the other stairs."

"They are the other stairs now," noted George as he continued to peer out. He smiled at Tonks. "We have nothing to lose. But you stay here."

Tonks opened her mouth to protest but the two were already running down the corridor with a long-legged teenage boy stride she could not possibly match. As the two disappeared down the stairs, she was about to step out from behind the painting when Umbridge's office door opened again, and a bewildered-looking Harry peered out before walking down the corridor past her. She waited until he'd descended the stairs as well before she crept out and started towards the Great Hall, enjoying the fireworks all the way to lunch.

*****************

"They won't be playing any of their pranks in my class," said Snape silkily, sipping a drink. Tonks had contacted him after lunch, telling him she'd seen Harry being lead into Umbridge's office, and Snape told her to come to his office in the evening before curfew, bringing Potions books as a decoy.

She'd told him all she knew about Harry's interrogation, which wasn't much. Now she sat on a low stool in front of his desk and watched him drink. She shifted slightly on the stool, wincing from the splinters. "So you know about Fred and George's little sideline?"

He set the drink down and scowled at his heap of marking. "I told them to remind their customers that I had special punishments in reserve for students using those Skiving Snackboxes in my classes." He threw down his quill and scrubbed a hand across his eyes. "I don't have time for pranks."

Tonks thought about her arrival at the castle, when she ambushed Snape by morphing into her student form while kissing him, with a twinge of guilt. Or maybe that was a twinge from her arse--she tried not to aggravate the splinters by wiggling around. The three-legged milking stool she sat upon was not quite as high as her knees or as wide as her hips, and damned if she was going to tell him how uncomfortable it was.

Given his history, Snape was expected to be a little thin-skinned with regard to pranking but if he was allowed to be a snide, arrogant, obnoxious, sarcastic, bullying git, then she was allowed to be whimsical. It wasn't like she tried to get him eaten by a dark creature. And conjuring a butt-breaking chair for a visiting fellow Order member? She added petulant to the list.

She stared at him with her deep-set eyes. "I'm only here to help, you know," she snapped.

He looked at her and his eye narrowed. "You want to help? Catch." He threw something at her and she caught it easily, feeling slightly elated at her newfound physical coordination despite her anger.

Puzzled, she regarded the small bottle in her hand. "You want a sample of something from me, Severus?" she asked snidely. "If you want the blood of a virgin, I'm fresh out."

He raised an eyebrow, then looked away, turning back to his marking. "Fill it up at the tap," he said curtly.

"I'm not your house-elf," she snapped.

He looked up. "You said you're here to help." He took another essay from the pile and began marking it, quill scratching audibly across parchment.

Her retort died on her lips. He glared up at her, dark circles visible under his dark eyes even when he looked back down to the enormous heap of parchments, selecting another with ink-stained hands.

Even if he was being a prat, it wasn't too much to ask, really. She found the faucet and filled the bottle, careful not to get a single drop on the outside, and handed it back to Snape. After he capped the bottle, he touched the cap with his wand and a white ribbon-like substance about an inch wide materialised and wrapped around the lid and neck of the bottle, forming a tidy seal.

He looked up, a glint of mischief briefly visible through his dour expression. "Umbridge took the 'last' bottle of my 'Veritaserum' to interrogate Potter. I need to have another bottle ready."

"You have Veritaserum running from the taps in the dungeons? Can't say I'm surprised."

He flipped his quill in an irritated gesture. "Yes, I've got hot and cold running Veritaserum down here. That's why I only drink whisky." As if reminded, he lifted his glass to take another sip.

And that's why you don't wash your hair, she thought.

He glared at her. "Very funny." He bunged the bottle into a drawer in his desk and gestured vaguely. "Order meeting tomorrow morning at six. Minerva thinks you shouldn't need the Time-Turner, and I agree. You can just sneak out of bed. If you're caught, a Gryffindor violating curfew is normal behaviour around here." He yawned enormously. "And then I've got Remedial Potions with Potter tomorrow evening." He leaned his head into his hands, fingers buried in greasy hair.

If it weren't for You-Know-You, he'd be his own worse enemy, Tonks thought. He's easily the hardest-working member of the Order, and nearly everyone in it thinks of him as the greasy git who's probably hedging his bets by playing both sides against the middle. Like Bill Weasley, and what has he done lately, besides give Fleur English lessons?

"I'm sure she's giving him reciprocal French lessons." He was looking up at her, smirking slightly.

She looked away from his penetrating gaze.

He continued, "Some people's thoughts are easier to see than others."

"Are you saying I'm simple-minded?" she retorted.

He shook his head. "Stupid people are harder to read because their minds are chaotic, disorganised." He made a wry face. "If they were easy to read, I'd have fewer explosions in my classes." He tossed another parchment on what she presumed was the "finished" pile.

Tonks sat silent on the stool, contemplating what he'd just said. Did he just say she wasn't stupid? If he did, coming from him, it would be high praise.

"If you're not going to offer me a drink, I'm going," she announced.

He paused in the middle of uncapping a fresh bottle of red ink. "You're too young to be drinking," he said, pointedly taking another sip of his drink.

She grinned. "Am not," she said in mock petulance and morphed into her adult appearance.

His eyes widened. "Are you mad?" he snapped, warding the door to his office. "What if Draco Malfoy had walked in just now?"

"I'd say, 'Wotcher, cousin,' and I'd Obliviate him quicker than he could say, 'half-breed,'" she replied, conjuring a glass and pouring herself a drink with long, graceful fingers before sitting back down on the splintery milking stool. "By the way, you were wrong about the Slytherins not smuggling Firewhisky anymore."

He narrowed his eyes at her. What game was she playing? "I've had enough of your pranks," he hissed.

She raised her slightly more bushy eyebrows at him. "Pranks? I didn't know you thought my talents were a joke, Severus."

"It's the way you use your...never mind." He rested his head upon his hands again. "Just leave."

In response, she came to sit on the edge of his desk.

He looked up and sighed. "What are you doing?" he asked in weary exasperation.

"Don't be ridiculous," she replied, scooting further onto his desk. She went to lean back on one hand and upset the bottle of red ink. "Whoops!" She regarded her dripping hand ruefully. "Old habits die hard."

He promptly vanished the ink before it flowed onto the floor. "Another zero, Miss Tonks." He lifted her ink-stained hand and vanished the ink. But he did not release her hand, instead cradling it slightly as if he were admiring her long, slender fingers.

"Sorry to spoil your marking," she said.

He released her hand and tapped the side of his desk. A lower drawer slid out, revealing orderly rows of red ink bottles completely filling the drawer.

She peered at the bottles. "If you'd rather keep working..." She started sliding off his desk.

He grabbed her wrist. "I don't think so." He seized her chin and turned her head so that she was facing him directly and stared into her eyes.

"You are sure about this," he said after a moment, and released her wrist. He turned and regarded the shelves on the wall behind his desk and muttered an incantation, disappearing through the wall without looking back.

Tonks stood and approached the same wall. On the back wall of McGonagall's office there hung an attractive tapestry of Scottish countryside in the spring. Before she walked through that wall, she felt as if she was about to step into the middle of this scenery, even thinking she could momentarily smell spring flowers in full bloom.

The shelves on the back wall of Snape's office, much like the shelves on the other walls, were laden with jars of potions ingredients. This wall seemed to be reserved for the especially stomach-turning potions ingredients: many-eyed monstrosities she'd never seen in a living state, a row of jars containing what looked like shrunken heads, and various mutilated bits of things twisted as if in agony, suspended in murky gelatin. Students standing in front of the desk had no choice but to look at these when they glanced away from the teacher's face.

She took a deep breath and held it before stepping through the wall and found herself in Snape's sitting room. And she found Snape, bumping into him before she'd taken half a step on the other side of the portal.

He seized her upper arms, peering intently into her eyes. "Have you any idea how dangerous this is for you and what the consequences would be for you if I were found out?"

"I can't imagine any place safer," she replied, and meant it. As if Hogwarts wasn't safe enough without being behind metre-thick stone walls and the wards of the Slytherin head of house.

As he embraced her, he said into her ear, "This may be the stupidest thing you've ever done."

She chuckled and replied, "I'll tell you later if I think so, too."