Assassins and Lovers

Earlier that day, the owls had delivered notices to all the professors to gather for an emergency faculty meeting at 3:00. Dumbledore had stated no reason for the meeting, and Snape rather suspected that it was merely to arrange an assassination. Everyone had arrived except for Sirius Black and Professor Sprout. The rest were gathered haphazardly around the old table, Hermione trying to avoid conversation with Fleur--I can't imagine why Fleur wants to talk to that Gryffindor know-it-all--Bill and Rachel sitting conspicuously far apart--I thought those two were friends?--and Trelawney suggestively batting her eyelashes at Snape. He refused to waste a proper glare on the woman.

"Well, I'm glad to see that everyone is here," Dumbledore began.

"But everyone isn't here," Snape said. "Sirius Black is late, Professor Dumbledore.".

"Sorry about that," Sirius said, walking in the door.

"No problem, Sirius," Albus said. Snape glared at Sirius. It was pathetic how much the new professors could get away with. "And, as you failed to mention, Severus, Professor Sprout is not here. She was detained in the hall, and she should be regaining consciousness in about three minutes."

Snape found himself increasingly annoyed by Minerva's smirk.

"The first item on the agenda is to discuss the progress of the Assassins game. Since I just killed Professor Sprout, we have five contestants left: Snape, Delacour, Lancaster, Minerva, and myself. I want to remind the rest of you that you are not allowed to assist any of us at all."

At this point, Professor Sprout entered. "Ah, Professor Sprout, you regained consciousness far faster than I expected!" Dumbledore said. "Let me offer my condolences."

Professor Sprout, whose mouth was filled with lemon drops, was unable to reply.

"As for the remaining contestants, I want to assure you that I will not hold it against you if you assassinate me." Snape strongly suspected that this was largely because he did not expect anyone to assassinate him. This irked him. Albus Dumbledore is not invincible, and he needs to know that--and he will if I have anything to do with it. I doubt he'd mind getting a kiss of death from Minerva--losers, both of them--but unfortunately for the old man, that isn't the way it's going to go down. Oh, no. Snape fingered the vial in his pocket.

"But I didn't call you all here just to talk about the Assassins game. I also want to discuss the possibility of holding another Yule Ball here in December." This confirmed Snape's suspicions that the agenda had been constructed for the sole purpose of making the meeting seem legitimate. The Yule Ball had been a regular event for the past several years, and he could imagine no reason why this required any discussion. Besides, it was still September. Christmas was months away. "Is anyone opposed to holding another Yule Ball?"

Snape raised his hand immediately. "I, for one, would prefer to avoid all of the silliness that invariably accompanies that ridiculous ball. For two months before Christmas, I'll be unable to conduct classes because all of the students will be whispering and gossiping about who is taking whom to the ball. And then, once the event actually arrives, the castle will be filled with ridiculous decorations--even more than we used to have--and for four hours, horrendously loud music will plague my ears. Besides this, the house elves will be forced to work far harder than usual." At this, he saw Hermione nodding her agreement. "This, though irritating, is, of course, nothing compared to the loss of class time. This is a school, not a social club."

"Thank you for that assessment, Severus. Does anyone else have an opinion?"

"Well," Hermione began, "I agree with what he said about the house elves, but I think the ball will be a good time for the students to learn social skills, like dancing."

Snape was again reminded of just how much he despised Hermione Granger.

"Anyone else?"

No one raised a hand.

"Well, let's vote on it. All in favor, raise your hands." Everyone except Snape raised a hand. "All opposed. . . Sorry, Severus. It appears that the ball will take place this year. But you have my permission to be away from the castle at that time."

Despite his opposition to the ball, Snape seriously doubted that he would bother to leave.

"And finally, item three. Minerva, can you pass out the pieces of parchment?" Minerva quickly nodded. "On your piece of parchment, I want each of you to write your birthday and your favorite flavor of cake. The kitchen staff has expressed its desire to bake birthday cakes for all of the professors." At this point, Severus no longer had any doubt that this was a bullcrap agenda. Birthday cakes? And he called us to an emergency meeting for this? Well, really, it was so he could kill Sprout. It's like. . . something I would do. . .

Snape quickly wrote, "January 17, dark chocolate."

"Well, if you've all completed your parchments, this meeting is adjourned." Slowly, everyone left the room. Severus wrote some more on his parchment--"with cherry on top"-- as Dumbledore walked out triumphantly. Then he walked to the left wall and shifted a picture to the side, just as he had seen Minerva do last week.

-----

Minerva was pleased to see Rachel Lancaster waiting alone in her office immediately after the faculty meeting. Some idiots made things far too easy. "How are you doing, dear?"

"I'm doing pretty well. I just came here to talk to you about Bill."

"Oh, yes?" Minerva smiled. "How is that going? Are you enjoying your location any more than you were last time we talked?"

"I suppose so. Bill is awesome; we are such good friends. And, well, I care for him, but I've decided that I want to leave things the way they are."

"But, Rachel, if you care for him as more than a friend, why not give it a chance?"

"I don't want to risk getting hurt. I would hate to find out that he doesn't feel the same way."

Minerva frowned a little. This was hitting far too close to home. "Rachel, sometimes living life means taking risks."

"I've already decided, Professor McGonagall. I just thought, since I had discussed it with you earlier, that I should tell you. I've decided never to say anything to him."

Minerva felt that it would be hypocritical to try to talk her out of it, but it hurt more than a little to see her so resolved against a small risk. "Well," she said sadly, "if that's what you've decided, Rachel, far be it from me to try to talk you out of it. I couldn't honestly tell you that I would act any differently myself."

"Thanks for listening," Rachel said. "I'll see you later, okay?" She turned to leave, hiding her devious smirk from McGonagall.

"Rachel, dear, just one more thing. . ."

When Rachel turned around she was staring straight down the barrel of Minerva's wand.

-----

"Minerva, has your shoulder been feeling better?"

"It's perfect now. I suppose you want to be complimented on your healing skills."

Albus laughed. "Is there anything wrong with my being concerned?"

"Certainly not. It's rather. . . sweet. But I'm certain you were in no doubt of the success of the procedure."

"One never knows. I must admit that I did not believe it to be very likely."

Minerva took another sip of her coffee. It was particularly good tonight. . . "You did a fantastic job on the coffee, Albus. It's even better than usual."

"I'm not sure what's different about it. . . But you're right, it tastes particularly full tonight."

"You've certainly drunk yours quickly."

"Are you implying that I'm intoxicated? I'll have you know, Minerva, that I'm only high on life," he announced, raising his chin exuberantly.

Then something happened. Albus's hands began to shake quickly, and he seemed unable to speak. His neck went limp, and his chin drooped to the table, his merry blue eyes shut tightly and his beard flying everywhere. It was as if all his life had been sucked out in the course of a second.

Forgetting to restrain herself, Minerva jumped out of her seat and ran to his side. She picked up his left wrist and checked his pulse--nothing. She cradled his head and checked for any sign of breath. It was impossible. . . Albus appeared to be dead. Her earlier conversation with Rachel suddenly flashed through her mind; the enormity of what she had lost gradually stabbed deeper and deeper. You can't have expected him to live forever. . . She mindlessly threw her arms around him and burst into unrestrained, uncharacteristic tears. After the first few sobs had left her mouth, she, too, drowned in darkness.

-----

When she came to, Albus was kneeling beside her. Without speaking, he showed her his right hand: DEAD.

Her stupidity during the last few minutes was embarrassing. In what position had Albus found her when he regained consciousness? But did that matter? He was alive! She was assaulted by a fit of bizarre laughter. "Oh. . . my. . ." she giggled. "I'm an idiot!"

"Of course not, Minerva. But you are," he picked up her hand, "dead."

"Oh," she said, her laughter slowly dying down. "That sucks, Albus."

"Well, it's not so bad, Minerva. We put up a good fight."

"We certainly did. We beat most of those young people, and we should have won that game. Next time, things will be different. . . Wait," she said, the moments before her unconsciousness coming back to her, "you had no pulse, Albus. A normal Sleeping Draught wouldn't produce that effect."

"I think this must be Severus Snape's idea of a joke--to show us that he could slip a Death Feint Draught into the Headmaster's coffee. You know he's never satisfied with doing anything halfway, and he always has to slip in some little jab at the Gryffindors. I can't imagine that any of the other professors would have gone to such trouble--or been able to make that potion, to begin with. At least, I hope no one else would have attempted it. It would have been far too easy to inadvertently kill us both--that is, really kill us."

"Severus Snape. I'd like to slap him."

"I wouldn't mind watching that."

"So it looks like we lost."

Albus managed a smile. "At least we went out together."

"Of course we didn't," Minerva replied. "You died first."

-----

When Fleur Delacour glanced at her target sheet, which she had left sitting on her nightstand, she was alarmed that she did not see Minerva McGonagall's name. What happened?

She looked at the name that had replaced it: Severus Snape. Half a dozen theories ran through her head in the course of a second. When she realized what had happened, she was thoroughly irked. Severus Snape had assassinated her target, and now she and Snape were the only players left in the game.

All that planning, brewing the Polyjuice Potion--it was pointless now. She emptied the cauldron and put in some new ingredients. Severus Snape was about to be subjected to Fleur Delacour's Plan C, and he might not find it entirely to his liking. The arrogant bat was about to be conquered--or at least, Fleur hoped so. For the first time in the game, Fleur was very unconfident about her ability to defeat her target. She knew enough of Severus's skills to realize that she was in a great deal of danger--in more ways than one.