Love in the Time of Carnaval

Safe in the warmth of the little cafe, Snape stirred his hot cocoa. He had accepted Rodolphus Lestrange's invitation and had now been in Quebec for a little over one wasted and frozen fortnight. He let the chocolate drip off the spoon before laying it carefully on the saucer.

The door was thrown open, nearly destroying the little bell that hung above it, and a blast of frigid air caused the somber patrons to noiselessly turn their heads to the new arrival with a gesture of mass disapproval.
'Bonsoir, mademoiselle!" shouted Regulus Black. 'Bonsoir, tout le monde!' Snape sighed and tried to ignore Black as he stamped his snowy shoes and scanned the assembled faces in search of his quarry.
'Ah, there you are, Sev! Don't be such an antisocial brute. Your talents are needed elsewhere. Vite, vite!'
Black then horrified a diner by prodding the poor man's croissant. 'Try the poutine. I hear it's vile.'
Severus finished his cocoa and shrugged apologetically to the waitstaff before leaving a generous tip and crumpled serviette. Regulus Black, the parasite, held the door for him as they left.
'Bella was looking for you. Things have gone all dull.'
Snape said nothing. Bellatrix Black was the reason for Regulus' presence here, and, truth be told, his own.

When he had arrived in Canada, Rodolphus had given him an abbreviated tour of the Lestrange estate.
'Hope you like your rooms, Severus. The house elves nearly wept when I told them how many people would be coming.'
Snape paused. 'And how many would that be?'
'Oh, well, you, me, Rabastan, of course. Bellatrix...'
'Bellatrix Black?'
'Yes, and she's bringing her cousin, Regulus. Close family and all that.'
'God.'
'Bertha Jorkins, you know her? And Nott. Nott's a good sort.'
Severus sat down lightly on one of the halls' straight-backed chairs. 'Why am I here, Rodolphus?'
'What? I don't see what you mean. Everyone knows that Severus Snape is the life of the party.'
Severus narrowed his eyes. 'Am I?'
'Well...no. But damn it, I need you here, Severus. I need your skills.'

Black waited for Snape to catch up.
'Tell me, Black, which one of my many talents is required by her highness today?'
'You'll see,' replied Regulus enigmatically.
They walked for some blocks before reaching an out-of-the-way handmade shoe boutique.
With a bow, slightly too elaborate to be witty, Regulus ushered Snape inside.
'Non, je ne les voudrais pas.'
Bellatrix Black.

'I'm in love with her, Severus,' Rodolphus had told him. Lestrange's normally nervous disposition had become almost antic as he had confessed to Snape his one, true, burning love. 'I can't get her out of my head.'
'So sleep with her. From what I've heard, it shouldn't take much persuading.'
Rodolphus considered striking Snape, but thinking better of it, decided to try a different tack.
'I love her and I want to marry her. I'm deadly serious. And I need your help, Severus.'
'Explain.'
'I need you to make for me a love potion.' Rodolphus couldn't bring himself to meet Snape's eyes. The loud snort that issued from the potion maker was humiliation enough.

Bellatrix turned to look at him. She smiled wryly. 'You're here, Severus? I hope we didn't pull you away from anything too pressing.' Regulus chuckled. The others circled her as if she were a queen and they her courtiers. Rodolphus spoke a quiet word to the clerk, who was rushing to the back to find another style of shoe. Bertha Jorkins gossiped to Rabastan in a corner, and Nott was, well, Nott.

Snape took a chair across from Bellatrix.
'You see, Severus, how difficult it is for me? I don't see anything I like.' She lifted a bare foot and stretched it out towards him, resting the sole on the top of the clerk's stool. Snape, aware of the challenge implied in the gesture, let his eyes roam freely up her leg to where her skirt was now slightly lifted to reveal the rounded bottom of her thigh. He smiled at her.
'None of us, not even you, can always get what we want.'
'How original. I suppose I should learn to settle.' She withdrew her foot as the clerk returned with an armful of exquisite shoes.
Snape fished in his pocket for a cigarette. 'Learn,' he advised, holding her eye, 'to be disappointed.'

'You're bound to be disappointed,' Snape had warned Rodolphus. 'That's the nature of love potions.'
'I just want her to be mine.'
'She'll be yours in body and in mind, but in spirit? No. Every time you look into those adoring, pleading eyes, you'll see a soul struggling to escape. Not very pretty.'
'Speaking from experience?' shot Rodolphus bitterly. Snape just smiled and, palms upward, mimed innocence.
Lestrange collapsed. 'What can I do, Severus? I need her. Help me!'
'I will make you a potion,' Severus decided wearily.
'To make her love me?'
'Better. To make you forget her. The Draught of Lethe. You will drink it and forget her. She will be dead to you.'
'No,' whispered Rodolphus, horrified.
'After I have the necessary parts, it should take me two weeks to complete. That should give you ample time to win her heart, if she has one. Two weeks.'
'And if I refuse?'
Snape smiled coldly. 'You won't, Rodolphus. You have asked for my help and you will receive it. Anyway, what are two weeks when you're young and in love?'