Mist and Vapors

Two nights later, green flames flared up in Hannah's fireplace, and the head of Frank Hannigan appeared. She turned around in surprise - she had not expected him to actually contact her again. Hadn't she been clear enough the last time he came?

"Have you made up your mind?" He bypassed any attempt at a greeting.

"I told you I didn't need time. I am not going to do that."

"You've made your choice, then. I told you what the consequences would be." His eyes squinted menacingly at her.

"A great loss, I'm sure. How often have I seen you in the last ten years? Two, three times?" she said, a sharp edge to her voice.

He ignored her words completely. "Did you tell anyone?"

"Don't worry," she said bitterly. "I promised I would keep your secret safe - as long as I could, anyways."

He nodded with grim satisfaction. "See that you do."

"Even though there is really not much incentive to keep the promise, is there? Why should I?"

He laughed harshly. "Because you take after your mother in that respect. She had the same inconvenient sense of integrity." His voice came out strained, through clenched teeth.

Hannah took a step towards the fireplace. "Father, please tell me..."

"Enough time wasted," he interrupted her. "If you change your mind, let me know. Otherwise, have a good life."

"I intend to," Hannah said, as the flames flickered out and his image disappeared. "And it can only get better without you in it."

.-.-.

It was turning cold - the last week of October brought fog and drizzling rain. Peter Pettigrew had long since left the farmhouse - it wouldn't do to stay too long in one place, not with the Auror force of the whole country after him.

He wouldn't spend the winter here, he had decided. An Apparition into a Muggle bank vault, and he would be set to spend the coldest months in style - the south of France, maybe, or the Adriatic Sea. Somewhere with sun and beaches. He would go Muggle, stay away from the magical world - and he would be far enough away from Britain to drop out of the Auror Office's sight for a while. And then...

He rubbed his chubby hands together in satisfaction. Too bad he hadn't been able to stay around to see Snivellus' face when he had come across the mess in his dungeon. It had been a lovely stroke of serendipity that he had found the place unwarded, with only one sullen student working inside. Much better than what he had planned originally.

Even so, it was getting harder to get into Hogwarts. Last time he tried, he had seen the little shepherd girl in the painting near the staffroom surreptitiously sneaking away. He had known better than to stay around after that.

There was a Hogsmeade weekend coming up though - that should award him plenty of opportunity to come up with something they would remember for a while. To let them keep thinking the final blow would fall at Hogwarts. He rubbed his hands together again and grinned - a few months in the sun, and he would come back and visit an old friend. And then the fun would really begin.

.-.-.

For once, the castle was quiet. Only the first- and second-years moped around the common rooms and the library, anxiously awaiting the return of their older housemates from the outing to Hogsmeade. Most of the other teachers had gone off to chaperone, which really didn't involve anything more bothersome than having a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Or, in Flitwick's case, a virgin piña colada with a cocktail umbrella stuck into it. Filius was quite fond of cocktail umbrellas. Hannah smiled at the thought.

She was walking down a second floor corridor when all of a sudden something hit her hard in the back of her neck, jolting her forward. Simultaneously, there was the sensation of ice-cold water splashing across her back and running down her spine. With a yelp, she turned around. A strange little creature with dark eyes and a wicked grin dangled upside down from the ceiling, holding another water balloon in his hand. "Haa! Gotcha!" he called out gleefully, cackling with delight.

With an effort, Hannah managed to compose herself. She looked up at him with a face carefully schooled into a bland expression. "You must be Peeves," she said calmly. "I have heard so much about you."

The second water balloon hit her on the left shoulder. The creature turned a somersault, and grinned from ear to ear. "Haahaa! Gotcha again!"

Hannah just stood there, smiling pleasantly. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. You are the resident poltergeist, right?"

In response, the little man blinked out, and a moment later reappeared, dumping the contents of a rubbish bin over her head while giggling maniacally.

Hannah continued to smile as a piece of orange peel made its way from her shoulder to the floor. "Well, nice to meet you. I'm sure I will see you around." Peeves' eyes narrowed in consternation. He stuck out his tongue, blew a loud and rude raspberry in her direction, and then careened off down the corridor while muttering angrily to himself.

Brushing bits of paper off her robe, Hannah looked at the mess around her with a sigh.

"That was quite an impressive display," a familiar voice came from behind her back.

Groaning inwardly, Hannah turned around to find Severus Snape looming behind her, an amused look on his face.

Hannah shrugged, an action that sent more orange peel flying. "From what I have heard about Peeves, I figured the best way to get him to leave me alone from now on is to not give him the reaction he wants, right?"

"Undoubtedly a wise decision." He reached up and, his nose wrinkling, plucked a piece of bread crust from where it had lodged on top of her bun. Holding it up for a moment between thumb and index finger, he looked at it disdainfully before dropping it on the floor. "I suggest you get yourself cleaned up. I will take care of - this." He indicated the puddle and the bits and pieces of rubbish scattered liberally across the floor.

Hannah blushed scarlet. "Thank you."

As she turned to leave, he was pulling out his wand. "By the way, the house elves have left a fresh pot of coffee in the staffroom," he said offhandedly, not looking at anyone in particular.

When Hannah, eyebrows raised, turned to look at him quizzically, he was busy vanishing the mess on the floor, seemingly oblivious to her presence.

.-.-.

After taking a hot shower and getting dressed in a clean robe, she made her way to the staff room. It was entirely possible that he had only wished to inform her about the availability of caffeinated beverages, but she hoped there might be a bit more to it than that. And she would take any overture he cared to make.

Since the day he had looked into her memories, things had really not improved that much. True, the anger and bitterness towards her that had radiated from him before were gone. She was more than thankful for that. Yet he seemed to be avoiding her - she had barely been able to get closer than ten feet to him since. She really was at a loss about what to do. Or even if she should do anything. He still evaded her eyes, and if she had hoped that there would be at least a partial return to the way things had been, she had been disappointed.

She was disappointed again when she found the staff room empty. She walked over to the coffee pot, poured herself a cup, and sat down in her favorite armchair. On the low table next to it was an assortment of magazines that various staff members had left out for the common use. She picked up a three months old copy of Witch Weekly and started leafing through it.

Someone had cut out the recipe above an article that screamed 'Magical Weight Loss - Peerless Potion Melts Pounds Away Painlessly!' in bold print. Hannah snorted. Sprout? McGonagall and Hooch certainly didn't need it. A few pages further, she came to a half-finished crossword puzzle. Here was something to pass the time, anyways. She had just filled in 24 Across - eleven letters, feathers from a ..., vital ingredient in memory potions - when the door finally opened.

.-.-.-

After he had sent her off to change and cleaned up the mess, he had continued to patrol the corridors. The corners of his mouth twitched as he recalled the image of Hannah Hannigan, covered in bits of garbage, water dripping off her robe, trying to converse civilly with a poltergeist. Ludicrous.

It had seemed like such a 'Hannah' thing to do, though.

It was almost forty-five minutes later that his rounds brought him close to the door of the staff room. He had picked up his marking down in the dungeon. Might as well bring along something to do. She wouldn't be there, of course. It wasn't like it had even been an invitation, really. And even if she had understood it that way, she would certainly have better things to do than have coffee with someone who had thought and said some more than uncharitable things over the last couple of months. Someone who then had listened to her defend him to her own father while invading her memories. Someone who then had been incapable of getting out the apology she deserved.

He took a deep breath and opened the door. She was there - curled up in an armchair, her feet under her, a copy of Witch Weekly propped up on her knees. The strange, unexpected twinge his heart gave annoyed him to no end.

By the time she looked up, the customary smirk was back on his face. "You are not actually reading that rag?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I was bored, and it beats Quidditch Illustrated. Oh, by the way - do you know what broomstick model was invented in 1901? By Gladys Boothby?" she asked, quill perched over page.

"The Moontrimmer," he said, walking over to his usual chair half-way across the room from her, pulling a table over next to it, and depositing a pile of parchment rolls.

"I should have known that," she muttered, as she filled in the blanks. "How about..."

"Really," he interrupted her, "I have better things to do than answer your trivia questions."

He unrolled a parchment and started reading.

"Oh. Sorry about that." He heard her get up and move towards the sideboard, then the clinking of cups and saucers. A minute later, she was standing at his elbow. When he looked up, she was holding a cup of coffee out to him. "I thought you might like a cup." There was a hint of humor in her voice. "It is good coffee."

He hesitated for a moment before reaching out to take the cup from her.

She mistook his hesitation. "You do take your coffee black, right?" she said with a note of uncertainty.

"It's fine." He finally took the cup. "Thank you," he added belatedly.

"Would you mind if I sit down for a bit?" She motioned to the chair next to him. "Or are you too busy? I'd just like to talk to you for a minute."

"I could spare a minute."

She sat down, and put her coffee cup down on the table in front of them. "I don't know about you, but it's been really - awkward for me since - well, you know. Some of the things you heard me say were not things I would have wanted you to hear like that." She looked up at him. "I know that the deal was to just go our separate ways after the holiday, and not see each other again. And I want you to know that I will completely respect your wishes if that is what you want. It's just that... well, I..."

She took a deep breath. "I meant what I said. I would like you for a friend, Severus. Just like in St. Comgan - someone to talk to, to do things with, sometimes. It's up to you, really. Again, I can totally understand if you just want to forget the whole thing and stay away from each other. As much as we can, working in the same place, anyways. I mean, if I were you, I probably would, too, especially with all that has happened since...knowing about my unfortunate relations, and such..." Her words were coming out in a rush. Her face had gone a shade paler. "I know you haven't wanted to talk to me, and I'm sorry if I'm putting my foot in it again...I seem to be quite good at that. It's just that I need to know not to bother you again, if you really would just like me to leave you alone. - But I was hoping..." She looked down at her coffee cup.

For a moment, it was quiet.

Then, before he had a chance to answer, there was the sound of running feet and excited, urgent voices coming from the direction of the entrance hall.

Severus cast an apologetic look in Hannah's direction, got up, and walked over to the door. She followed right behind him.

He stopped one of the students running by. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked harshly.

The boy stopped, wide-eyed, still panting. "It's Professor Lupin... He's hurt badly..."