Tete-a-tete

“Kiss me kiss me kiss me!
Your tongue is like poison
So swollen it fills up my mouth.”-The Cure, The kiss.

M. Florence Midgen hated breakfast. She hated it because of her housemates.
They wouldn’t leave her in peace, but she couldn’t eat in her room--that
was against the rules. So she made her way to the Hufflepuff table in the
Great Hall and tried to find a place to sit. This was much more difficult
than it sounded. First, she slid in next to a group of fifth- and sixth-year
girls. She thought she was doing fine until a blonde said: “Could you sit
somewhere else? We’re afraid your ugliness is contagious.”
She tried her luck with the boys, but they threw crumpets and stale
toast at her.
Then she tried a bunch of first-years.
“Ewww, Dumpkiss, eww, she has yucky germs, we have to get away… ” one
of them said.The others giggled and moved away.

"Even first-years make fun of me," she thought. "What did
I do to become the idiot of this village?"

She just wanted to curl up into a sobbing ball, but she looked
down at her plate and forced herself to eat some fried tomato. Owls were delivering letters. The only post
she ever
got was from Jenny. Her parents never sent her anything, it would be pointless
when they lived so close and her father was a Professor. Today, however,
a small scruffy-looking owl swooped down and perched next to her.
"That’s Hecate, Severus’ owl. What’s she doing here?" Florence
thought.
Her question was answered when she saw a letter attached
to the owl’s leg. Florence removed the letter and opened it to find the
tiny, cramped writing of Severus.

Florence-
What happened last time was regrettable. I wasn’t thinking clearly, pain
had clouded my judgment. I was wondering if you will be
meeting me behind Greenhouse Three on Sunday to practice hexes and curses
as per usual. Please reply yes or no.
P.S. My arm has nearly healed,
and I haven’t heard anything about Thursday’s events, I don’t think anyone
else knows about the fight.

She knew he was watching from the Slytherin
table, eating his miserable plain porridge and drinking that horrid black
coffee. "Should I reply to him?" she thought. "On the one hand,
he’s my only friend here and I haven’t spoken to him in three days… I do
miss him. On the other hand, he was total git on Thursday, even more so
than usual. But he is resipiscent… and he does have a good excuse. Oh,
I could use someone to talk to. But I’m going to see Mother on Sunday…"
The sight of Hecate devouring her sausages and bacon shook Florence from
her internal monologue.

“Clear off, you greedy little bugger,” Florence said, shooing
the owl off her plate.
Hecate fluffed up her meager wings and was about to fly away in a huff.
“No, no… I have to reply to his note, bloody stupid animal…”

The owl stopped and swiveled its head, giving her what appeared to
be a very nasty look.
She took out a quill from her pocket, turned over his note, and wrote
on the back:

Dear Severus,
I have some family business on Sunday.
If I finish it in good time, I will meet
you behind the greenhouse, but don’t get your expectations up too high;
this arrangement is labile.
Your partner in crime,
M. Florence “Midge” Midgen
P.S. Your nosopoetic owl has eaten half
of my breakfast.

She looked over her handwriting and tied the note to Hecate’s leg. Hecate
bit her finger harshly, then flew off. She watched as the owl flew out
the window, then circled around, entering another window and heading for
the Slytherin table.

She had finished her breakfast when Hecate returned, another note
on her leg, looking angry that there was no food for her.
Florence untied the note, Hecate ruffled her feathers and took off.
Over at the Slytherin table, some students were enchanting stale scones
to fly around, quidditch players pretending they were quaffles and
one hit Hecate causing the owl to go down like a rock.
Florence; didn’t like Hecate, but knew she was a tough little owl.
She untied the parchment from the prone bird's body and read Severus' response.

‘Midge’-
When exactly will you be back from
your family business?
I haven’t got all day to wait around
for you; I have better things to do.
Can you give me a time, and when
exactly I should stop waiting for you and move on to productive activities?
Also, I heard that Jorkins is spreading
a laughable rumor that we rob graves and then fuck corpses we find in them,
before chopping them up for potion ingredients.
-Severus
P.S.: Hecate did you a favor,
I know what you eat for breakfast. You’ll die of a heart attack at 25 if
you keep at it.

Florence read the note twice; she couldn’t believe that even Bertha
could come up with such vile filth. The worst part was that she knew they
would believe it; at least half of the school would think it’s true or
at least something to snigger about. They always thought the worst of Severus
-- yes, he wasn’t the nicest person in the world but still, it was unfair
and she-- she was just-- just a joke to them. They didn’t care, they didn’t
try to understand, why would they? After all, Severus and she were just
two little weirdos. It made her feel sick and twisted up inside. A swell
of feeling overwhelmed her, and she broke down, weeping and wailing loudly
as waves of nausea overtook her. She left the Great Hall in a fury.

She entered the girls' dormitories, and as soon as
she was sure no one was around, she started screaming at the top of her
lungs -- not; words, just a long, loud wail, her face red from crying.
She kicked over her trunk. She tore the blankets from her bed and tangled
them into a heap at the end. She roughly punched her pillow a dozen times
and ripped the curtain of her four-poster bed down. She crumpled up scraps
of parchment into balls and shredded them into confetti. Finally, she collapsed
into her bed, curled into the fetal position and buried her wet, red, blubbering
face in a pillow."I’m such a fucking loser, I’m not right inside.
I have this invisible badge of sickness on me that generates; either
sympathy or loathing. I should just end it… then they’d be sorry…"
she thought as she cried into her now-damp pillow. She felt a hand in her
hair and turned over, finding herself staring into a pair of large grey
eyes. Startled, Florence jerked her head back and wiped the tears from
her eyes to look at the wizened, hunched form of an old house-elf in a
tea-towel that bore the Hogwarts crest. Recognition immediately clicked
in her brain.

“Hebe, what are you doing?” Florence said.

Hebe was the first friend Florence had made at Hogwarts. During her
first year she had gotten terribly lost coming back from the library one
evening, and Hebe (who had been tidying up) had guided her back to the
Hufflepuff house. They had been close since then.

“Malvina Florence Midgen has clotted cream in her
hair. Hebe was removing it,” The house elf said in a creaking voice.

“Oh, thank you, Hebe,” Florence sighed. “I walked all this way here
with clotted cream in my hair and no one told me? Well, they did point
and laugh, but they always do that.”

“At your age, Malvina Florence Midgen, humans worry about how they looks,
then how others feels,” Hebe commented as she smoothed out Florence’s hair.

”Yeah… what brings you up here?” Florence asked.

”Hebe came to clean up the mess Malvina Florence Midgen made with
her fit,” Hebe nodded and began tidying up the trunk. “You isn’t looking
well, Malvina Florence Midgen.”

“I’m not feeling well, Hebe. Do you know what it's like to be alternately
ignored and despised?” Florence said. Hebe lowered her head. “Oh, I forgot.”

“You is not needing to apologize, ‘tis how us house elves has always
been treated, with few exceptions,” Hebe said. She had already finished
putting away the things in the trunk.

Florence blinked, wondering how that was possible.
“Well, at least being a house elf is useful. I wish I could say the
same about myself. I’m worthless,” Florence sighed.

”Now, Malvina Florence Midgen shouldn’t be saying that about yourself.
Florence, you is very smart witch. You is knowing many things other
students don’t,” Hebe said as she shooed Florence off the bed.

Florence moved to sit on the floor. “Yes, I’m very smart, but that doesn’t
matter. I can’t do things well, I can’t finish what I start, I don’t apply
myself in my school work. What do I know, Hebe? Nothing, just a bunch of
useless nugatory magic. What am I? I’m fustian and I prefer using grandiloquisms
to make myself feel superior to the rabble that attends this school. But
you know what, Hebe? The rabble are the ones actually doing things. I just
whinge and moan, and waste my time with Severus. I should kill myself,
but I’d botch that too," She sighed.

Hebe, who had just finished making the bed, turned and scowled at her
disapprovingly. “Hebe didn’t understand half of what you is saying. But
Malvina Florence Midgen, killing self isn’t a good idea. You is young
yet and you would be making many sad, if you took your life, Malvina Florence
Midgen.”

“Who would be sad?” Florence sighed.

”Your Father,” Hebe said.

”He’d be relieved and grateful. I’m not a boy like he wanted and I’ve
always been a disappointment to him,” Florence said.

“You is his only child. He would be missing you. Hebe knows he loves
you, Malvina Florence Midgen, even if he doesn’t show it in the normal
way,” Hebe said.

Florence rolled her eyes and sighed.” Yes, I know. Who else, Hebe?”

”Your mother. Hebe has never met her, but Hebe has been a mother herself,
so Hebe knows what a mother feels for her children,” Hebe said, taking
a seat across from Florence on the floor.

“Mum would be sad, but she could use it to her advantage, it would be
a valid excuse for her usual moping and staying indoors,” Florence
growled.
”Well, Hebe would miss you terribly if you killed yourself. Hebe has
come to know you, Malvina Florence Midgen, and you is very dear to Hebe’s
old heart,” Hebe said, putting her tiny wrinkled hand on Florence’s hand.

“I know you love me, but you’d find someone else to take of. There are
hundreds of students in Hogwarts,” Florence said.

”You is a very stubborn, silly girl, Malvina Florence Midgen,” Hebe
scolded. “What about Severus Snape, he would be missing you too, you is
his only company, Malvina Florence Midgen.”

“Him? He wouldn’t care one way or the other, I suppose. He’s been through
a lot of awful things; one more wouldn’t make a difference,” Florence sighed.

“You don’t know your friend Severus Snape as well you think, Malvina
Florence Midgen. He cries in his sleep. You is his only true friend, Malvina
Florence Midgen, he would be lonely and missing you greatly. Seeing another
awful thing, if you took your life, Malvina Florence Midgen... would not
be good for his sanity,” Hebe said.

“Oh, really…?” Florence was shocked "He never told me he cries in his
sleep.”

“This is a fact Severus Snape would like to keep to himself, but house
elves are always listening,” Hebe said. “Malvina Florence Midgen is feeling
better?”

“A bit. I’ve got some studying, some school work. I have to write to
Jenny and work on my term paper,” Florence said, getting off the floor
and smoothing out her robes.

“Hebe will bring you lunch here, though Hebe knows it against school
rules, you is needing time alone,” Hebe grinned.

“Yes, thank you, Hebe. You’re wonderful,” Florence said.

~~~
Severus walked down the hallway with an unconscious Hecate tucked under
his right arm, his other arm in a sling. He was taking her to Professor
Kettleburn, who could heal her. He ignored the odd looks and whispers.
He always got odd looks and whispers, why should be today be any different?

“Aw, poor Snivellus, his owl got conked out delivering
love letters to his girlfriend,” snickered Clovis Bridgegate, a Gryffindor
sixth year. “Just took one look at her face, and that was that!”

People giggled and made similar comments. Severus gritted his
teeth. "Why does everyone think Florence and I are a couple? Just because
we are always doing things with each other, it doesn’t mean anything… well,
I did kiss her… but that was only three times and no one saw so it doesn’t
make us a couple… and I doubt I’ll get the opportunity to kiss her again…
not that I want to… it is Midgen after all. "

“Hey, Severus,” a voice called out behind him, and he turned around.
It was Nott, and he was holding an envelope in his hand. “You forgot this.”

“Thank you.” Severus said, reaching for the envelope.

Nott pulled his hand away. “Everyone at the table was dying to get a
glimpse of this, but I know how it is. I wouldn’t want anyone reading a
love letter from my girl. So I took it to you immediately, however, I do
want one minor favor…”

“What?” Severus sighed tiredly.

“I want the answers for the test Smythe is giving in Potions next Friday,”
Nott said.

“You could just study for it like everyone else,” Severus said in the
same tired voice.

“Would be a shame if this letter fell into the wrong hands, all that
soppy, stuff Miss M. Florence Midgen must write to her Darling Sevviekins,
it could really hurt you…”

“Fine, I’ll give you the answers,” he replied. "Why does it seem
that I'm the only in my house who studies?" he thought. "I am forever
helping my housemates."

“Good man,” Nott said and handed over the envelope .

Severus inspected it and found that the envelope had not been
opened, at least not by any physical means.

“This is a letter from my family, for your information, ” Severus said
between gritted teeth and it actually was, but he didn’t want information
about them getting around either. “And not that it’s anyone business, but
Florence Midgen is not my girlfriend,” he continued. Seeing the twisted
grin forming on Nott’s face, he added “She’s not even my friend, really;
just someone who follows me around…”

“Yeah,” Nott shook his head in agreement. “Who would actually want to
spend time with that annoying cow? Bye then, Severus.” With that, Nott
turned and left.

"Annoying cow?!" Severus thought as he walked towards the staff
room. "She might be annoying but at least she’s not a stupid cheater
like you. At least she’s interesting to talk to. Unlike you -- always blathering
on about how good you are at Quidditch and which girls you’d like to fuck.
Midgen wouldn’t stab me in back like that. She’s loyal to the point of
being fanatical. She’d never deny she’s my friend, even under torture.
I repay her by denying any possible connection between us. She’s my friend.
After all this time I have to admit it; she’s not just some poor ugly duckling
that follows me about..."
Then he remembered the incident at breakfast today,
she just got a few stale pieces of toast and crumpets chucked at her and
she threw a temper tantrum like a baby! He had been called plenty of names
and gotten plenty of things thrown at him over the years. He hated it,
but never shrieked like a Banshee over it, and she did this nearly every
time. It made him want to slap her, or shake her, or yell at her, he despised
it so much. It was so melodramatic, so immature. He remembered why he couldn’t
be associated with her in public, to be connected in any real way to that
sobbing, screaming, messy-haired thing that she became when upset.
It wouldn’t be good. His housemates would revile him (not just ignore him,
like now) and Bellatrix -- as wonderful as she was -- she’d never
talk to him again.
He knocked on the staff room door, and waited. While he was waiting,
he noticed a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision, and turned.
Potter, Black and Pettigrew were whispering together and staring in his
direction. His hand jerked to his wand. Just then, the door opened. It
was Professor Midgen

”Mr Snape, is that you? Well, what is it you want?” Professor Midgen
said.

“Sir, my owl has been injured. I was wondering if Professor Kettleburn
was in?” He whispered in a polite tone.

“Yes he is; Anthony, could you come here? A student wants to see you,”
Professor Midgen called into the staff room.

Professor Kettleburn limped out. He was a grizzled-looking man in brown
robes, and he had a hook for a left hand.

“Thank you, Robin, I’ll take it from here,” Professor Kettleburn said.
"What' seems to be the problem here?"

"My owl sir," Severus said.

“Young man, just give your owl to me,” Snape did so. Professor
Kettleburn took Hecate in his good hand and examined her for a minute.

“Oh, she’s just had a bit of a bump on her head, she’ll be right as rain
in two minutes, just leave her to me,” With that, Professor Kettleburn
went back into staff room.

Professor Midgen was looking at him appraisingly. He spoke to Severus:
“My daughter tells me you broke your arm in a fall down some stairs
-- Severus, is it?”

“Yes, sir.” He answered promptly.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear about that. But it seems to be healing nicely.
She wanted to visit you to get out of our studying sessions. She told me
you didn’t scream or complain. You’re a good example to her. She could
learn a lot from you,” Professor Midgen said.

“Thank you, Sir.” He said quietly.

~~~

It was Sunday, and Florence was in Hogsmeade, walking down Verbena
Street. Good old familiar Verbena Street -- it never changed. Mrs. Galdson’s
yard still had the enchanted plastic flamingoes, Mr. Peeper’s dog Mitzi
still yapped in the window as she passed. At the very end of the
street was her family's house: a little Tudor-style cottage with the curtains
drawn, and a stone path leading to the door. Florence rang the doorbell
and felt a twinge of guilt. She had never responded to Severus’s note;

"He could be waiting for hours. No way, this is Severus; he’ll grow impatient
and leave after the first fifteen minutes," she thought. "Besides,
we’ll have tea, make some small talk, she’ll complain about my appearance,
and I’ll leave, like always. I’ll be out of here in an hour or two and
be able to meet up with Severus then."
Florence was startled out of her reverie by the
sound of the door being unlocked . The door opened and her mother, a short
middle-aged woman with long dark curly hair, appeared in the doorway.

“Hi Mum,” Florence said in a bored tone.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you again!” her mother exclaimed, and threw
her arms around Florence in an enthusiastic hug, dragging her into
the house. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” Florence lied when her mother let go.

The inside of the house was very dark, owing to the fact that all the
shades were drawn. Mrs. Midgen always kept it this way when she was alone.

“Can I get you some biscuits, dear?” her mother said.

“Yes,” Florence replied nervously.

As soon as her mother had left for the kitchen, Florence shuddered
slightly and began brushing off her robes in an unconscious effort to get
rid of any possible Muggle residue.

“Your father was here yesterday, he was nice enough to do the grocery
shopping for me. I had almost forgotten,” Mrs. Midgen said from the
kitchen. “He tells me you’re doing well with your schoolwork.”

“Oh, he does? I wish he’d tell me this news,” Florence said with more
than a hint of bitterness in her voice as she walked into the kitchen and
took a seat at the wooden table.

“Your father thinks that if he tells you, you’ll get overconfident and
lazy. I don’t agree with that. I believe that a child needs some confidence
in their abilities to succeed. We had a row about it,” Mrs. Midgen said,
and put down the plate of biscuits in front of her.

Florence took one and nibbled at it tentatively, then put it down.
“I’m not hungry,” she said.

“Oh, then why did you say you wanted biscuits?” her mother sighed.

“I was being polite. I had a large breakfast,” Florence mumbled.

“But these are your favorite kind of biscuits, I got them especially
for you. They're expensive, you know, you used to get so excited about
having them,” Mrs. Midgen said.

“I just don’t feel like eating biscuits,” Florence said in her coldest
voice and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yes, but you don’t have to be so rude. I boiled some water for tea.
Would you like some?” her mother asked.

“Yes, tea would be fine,” Florence sighed.

She watched her mother take the kettle off the stove and pour the tea.
It was such a Muggle gesture; a real witch would have just waved her wand
at the kettle, which would pour itself. But Mother was a Mudblood. She
could pass most times, but sometimes it would just slip out. It made Florence
glad that Mother hardly ever went out in public; there were fewer chances
of a slip-up. It wasn’t right to dislike your own mother so, but this wasn’t
a socially acceptable thing and eventually, Mother would leave her alone
if she continued this behavior.

“Here’s your tea,” Mother said as she put two steaming cups on
the table.

Florence silently scooped five spoonfuls of sugar into her cup.

“You shouldn’t take so much sugar, it’s bad for you,” Mother clucked.

“I think it tastes better like this,” Florence responded and as she
sipped.

“I can’t see your face, your hair is in the way,” Mother said. “You
have such lovely hair, it would look so nice if you just took care of it.
I remember when you were little and I used to brush it out for you…”

Florence swished her hair out of her face and Mother shook her head.
“Oh dear you’ve really had a bad break-out of acne, haven’t you. I told
you to go see the school nurse about your skin, she could get rid of that
with some diluted Bubotuber pus-“

”I did go to her, she gave me some Bubotuber pus, but I’ve forgotten
to use it. I usually don’t have time to deal with matters of outwards appearance,”
Florence said.

“Florence, it makes me feel awful when I see how you’re neglecting your
personal appearance,” Mrs. Midgen said. “You’re growing into such a beautiful
girl.”

“I’m not, you’re just saying that because you’re my mother,” Florence
said.

“I wouldn’t say anything that’s not true, dear,” said her Mother. “It
just makes me feel so awful to see you looking like this when I know-”

“-Can we please change the subject?” Florence muttered, looking into
her cup of tea.

More mintues passed in silence. Mother broken the silence again.

“Has Jenny written you?” Mother asked.
Mother was originally from Canada, and so she was very excited about
Florence having a pen pal there.

“Yes, I got a letter from her two weeks ago,” Florence replied
in a calm but irritated voice, and took another sip of her tea.

“How is she doing?” Mother asked.

“She seems fine, just fine,” Florence said, trying to keep this
exchange as short as possible. They were silent for a while. The only sound
that could be heard was the clock ticking away seconds, and all she could
picture was Severus, pacing back and forth behind Greenhouse Three, getting
angrier and angrier with her. "I have to get out here; he could be waiting
for me, oh, he is going to be utterly furious if he’s waiting for me,"
she thought.

“So how is your friend … Sylvanus?” Mother asked.

“His name is Severus, Mum,” Florence said curtly.

“Oh, I knew it was something Latin,” Mother continued. “So how is he
doing?”

“He had a fall and broke his arm, but he’s doing better now,” she said,
adding with some harshness in her voice, “I’m going to see him later today.”

“That’s wonderful,” Mother said, her eyes glowing, not getting the hint.
“It’s so nice to see you making friends; you are so much smarter than the
other children. I know it’s hard for them to relate to you. I’m glad you
have something to finally take your mind off that crazy obsession with
the Dark Arts.”

Florence gritted her teeth. “Mum, Severus and I have been friends for
four years,” she said.

“I know, I know,” Mother said. “It’s just good that you two are
out doing things, and not poking around in the Restricted Section or some
rundown back alley Dark Arts shop.”

“Mum, it’s for research,” Florence said. “For my paper. I think magic
is simply a tool, like a hammer. You can use a hammer to build a house
or smash someone’s head in. Magic is the same way.”

“Malvina, dear, they're called the Dark Arts for a reason. The only
use they have is to cause harm. You’re too young to understand,” Mother
said.

“Don’t tell me I’m too young to understand! I’m smarter than you! Your
attitude is so typical of a backwards Judeo-Christian Muggle-born!
People like you are the reason the system is so oppressive,” Florence
said.

“I’m trying to keep you safe, Malvina. Stop this. Stop your mad obsession
with the Dark Arts,” Mother said, grabbing a copy of the Daily Prophet
from the kitchen table. ”Have you read the paper lately? A half-blood family
was massacred by the followers of this new Dark Lord. They
didn’t even spare the children. This game you’re playing isn’t worth the
price! They're killing Muggle-borns and half-bloods, Malvina-“

“Who’s going to know I’m a half-blood anyway, or that you’re a Muggle-born,
if you keep quiet and stay out of sight? You’ve never had a problem with
that! ” Florence snarled.

“They have ways of making you talk! You shouldn’t be getting involved
with dark wizards or witches; you can’t tell with them. You can’t trust
people like that!” Mother yelled.

“You're one to talk about trust, Mum! When you first met Dad, you told
Dad you were a half-blood who had left her family in Canada. It was years
after you married that you told him the truth -- that you were a
nothing but a Muggle-born orphan. Nothing but a big fraud, a liar! You’re
a fine one to talk about trust! If all Muggle-borns are like you, no wonder
they're being murdered!” Florence screamed.

Mother’s face went ashen, her eyes wide and shocked, and she gulped.
“Malvina, you don’t underst-"

“Don’t talk to me, Mother, I’m going. And by the way, call me Florence.
I despise the name Malvina,” She turned and stomped out of house.

~~~~

When Florence got to Greenhouse Three, Severus was not there, he wasn’t
even in sight. She kept looking, but there was no sign of the boy
anywhere. "I didn’t write him back," she thought. "He
has no real obligation to be here, why did I assume he’d be waiting? Why
do I always assume the wrong thing? I think I can know him, but what do
I really know?"

To amuse herself, she turned a beetle's carapace
into different colors, but when she tried turning it back to its original
brown, she blew the insect up. Why did things like this always happen to
her? Technically she was a genius, and she could do anything when she was
in a classroom, but when it came to using magic in real life, she was a
complete idiot. Sighing, she dusted her robes off and decided she’d go
back to working on her paper, add a page or two about the machinations
of Cadwallader Humphrey, his inflammatory speeches, and the vague classification
of ‘dark’ magic in the eighteenth century. Then she must add something
about the so-called Unforgivable Curses and instances where they had been
used for positive reasons…
She looked up. There was Severus, a green and silver
scarf around his neck. He was oblivious to her, intently performing a jinx
on a large spider.

“Hello,” she called out.

He jumped, at the sound and dropped his wand, then, noticing her, said:
“Oh, you’re here.”

“Yes, you sound awfully surprised that I am, considering you’re the
one who made the arrangements,” She said.

“Well, you didn’t write me back, and we haven’t been speaking for a
week,” He said a bit diffidently.” So I thought that meant you wouldn’t
be coming.”

“Oh, well… here I am,” she said.

“Yes, yes, you are,” he said. He had been really hoping for some time
to himself, the news from home hadn’t been altogether pleasant, he wanted
time to absorb it . He had never expected Midgen to show up.

“So why are you wearing the scarf?” she asked.

“I just came from a Quidditch game, Slytherin against Gryffindor,” He
said. “We would have won, if wasn’t for that blasted Potter.”

“He has an irritating knack for catching the Snitch at the last minute,
doesn’t he?” Florence said.

“Yes, but he did get hit with a few Bludgers,” Severus smiled.

“Did he get any in the face?” Florence asked with a grin.

“No, sadly,” he sighed. “I would have liked to see him try to strut
around with a smashed-in nose.”

“Your arm looks better,” She smiled.

“No thanks to you, as it turns out, the Numbing Charm prolongs healing,”
Severus said coldly.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I guess I wasn’t thinking straight. It looked like it
would help, “ she mumbled. "I knew I ruined it, that’s all I’m ever good
at," she thought.

“Well, you should have left it to Madame Pomfrey,” Severus said.

“Yes, I know,” she sighed. “Are we going to spend the afternoon putting
me down, Severus, or are we going to practice those curses, hexes and jinxes?”

“Practice, of course, you really need it, you couldn’t curse your way
out of a wet paper bag, Midgen,” he said.

“Can you teach me Cultellus Canistrus Curse?” She asked hopefully. “Seeing
that you’re the resident expert on such arcane matters.”

“I suppose I could try to teach it to you,” he said.

“You will?” She brightened.

“But with your constant pessimistic attitude, I doubt you'll learn
it anyway,” He shrugged.

~~~~
It took seven tries before she pronounced the words
right. It was harder still to do the correct wand movements.
"How is it that I can master this in a half a second, during a crisis,
and she can’t get right no matter what she does? Am I a terrible teacher?"
He thought, watching her struggle and try to get the wand movements right.
They had both purchased The Compendium of Asian Curses from Borgin and
Burkes’ last year. In fact, she had been the one pestering him to buy the
book, and she spilled ice cream on hers. He remembered how she had whined
to her father to get some Fortescue’s ice cream for him as well, but Professor
Midgen wouldn’t budge until he had looked at Severus. Poor scrawny, woebegone
Severus with his worn, patched robes, second-hand textbooks, and dirty
hair. He remembered the look of pity that washed over Professor Midgen’s
face… then the man gave him four Galleons, patted him on the head, and
told him to get whatever he pleased. The ice cream didn’t taste so good
after that and Severus couldn’t finish it.
The memory filled him with venom as he watched Florence fumble and
fail.
"Midgen, you idiot! You’re doing the wand movements all wrong!” he said,
and stormed over to her.

“I-I am?” she spluttered. “I thought I was doing exactly what you demonstrated-"

“Maybe if you actually watched me,” he sneered, “…instead of picking
at your face.”

“Well, if you had bothered to actually slow down and show the wand movements,
instead of vacillating and muttering the words under your breath, I might
have the slightest chance of doing this curse correctly.” Florence hissed
back.

“You have the book, you insufferable Midge,” he sighed, holding his
face. ”Why can’t you just look the curse up in there?”

“In case your memory is failing you, we got those copies so cheap because
the text has a tendency to change into Japanese, Mandarin, and Laotian,”
she snarled, “And neither of us can read those languages.”

“Despite that, Midgen, I managed to learn the curse and you did not,
even after I so kindly demonstrated it for you,” he growled. “And you boast
about having an IQ of 165, I suppose it’s the same as that of 165 house-elves.”

Her blue eyes blazed with anger. “Fuck you!
You know very well that my bloody father forces me to study every
waking moment of my existence! You know how hard the man works me! I’ve
told you countless times.”

“And I’ve told you countless times,” he shouted, ”to shut up about
your bloody life, Midgen, because I’ve had it worse!”

“Fine, you’ve had it worse. When did this become a competition of who’s
had the worse life?” she sighed, “And could you actually teach me the curse,
not just make waspish comments when I fuck up?”

"I am merely trying to correct you, Midge," he snapped. "If you can't
take my corrections in stride, then maybe you aren't ready to learn and
you should go back to the basics like the Disarming Charm or the Stunning
spell."

"Stop being a git. I know the Disarming Charm," Florence sighed. "I
just need to know the correct wand movements for
the bloody Cultellus Canistrus Curse. Just show me one more time."

"No, I'm not a performing monkey," He pouted, crossing his arms over
his meager chest.

"Good, you would be a terrible performing monkey, you'd bite the customers.
If you don't show me, how am I going to learn these bloody wand movements?"
she demanded.

"Bloody hell, Midgen..." He sighed, shook his head, walked directly
behind her and grabbed her right arm.

She jerked her arm away. "What are you doing?!"

"I'm guiding your hand," he sighed. "I'm teaching you the wand movements
the same way you would teach an idiot child. It's my last resort. Just
put your hand in mine."

"Oh, fine." She sighed. "I wanted him to touch me, and finally! But
this is only a chore to him, he doesn’t really want this. Oooh, I wish
I was cleaner, why don't I have better figure? I should have used that
Bubotuber pus." she thought as put her hand into his.

His hand was as pale as the rest of him, it was
also much larger than hers. The fingers seemed longer and every bone was
visible; it both intrigued and repulsed her. She had never noticed this
before, and wondered just how thin he was under those robes.
The arrangement was such that his arm was over hers, and her
hand, gripping the wand, was clasped in his. He was so warm; it was amazing
that someone so skinny could generate so much body heat. She resisted the
urge to relax her body and fall back into him. He was so close, so warm,
and yet so tense.
He was gripping her hand too tightly, it was hurting her, and
why did his hand have to be so clammy? He was emitting more of that
mephitic unwashed smell than usual, or maybe it just seemed that way because
of her proximity to him. She resisted the urge to runaway in disgust and
the competing urge to snog him. She took a deep breath to steel herself.

" I’m here to learn the curse and nothing else. We're only doing
this so I can do the wand movements properly," she thought.

Now that he considered it, Severus decided that being
this close to Midgen was not one of his better ideas. Her body was pressed
against his, she felt so warm, so yielding. She smelled fresh, like soap,
and most importantly, she had breasts. Most of the time, he could totally
ignore that fact, her breasts were rather small and couldn’t even be seen
that well under her baggy school robes. However, at the Quidditch game,
Bella had sat next to him -- beautiful, graceful, voluptuous, sweet, Bella.
She had worn a diaphanous robe that looked it had been spun out of liquid
silver. Whenever the team scored a goal, she had a tendency to reach out
and ferociously hug whoever was nearest to her, and half the time that
person happened to be him. There was nothing like being repeatedly pressed
against what could be considered the most perfect set of tits in all of
England to get your mind on the subject. And now, with Midgen so close,
and the fact Midgen, being a female, had tits (though they were inferior
to Bella’s) got his mind on the subject. He had never touched one. He wanted
to, and it would be so easy. All he had to was just lift up his left arm.
Something was stirring within him…something that he did not want stirring.
"No, No, no this is Midgen, Severus!" he thought. "Think
of something disgusting, like Pettigrew snogging Jorkins when Gryffindor
won." That image alone was enough to banish any stirrings. People
like that shouldn’t be allowed near each other in public. He shuddered
as the image replayed in his mind.
Florence could feel a shudder go through him --
it seemed obvious that he couldn’t stand being near her. How could she
ever think that he shared in her teratism? Of course not, he would much
rather be this close to Bellatrix, he was just showing some rare kindness
and didn’t want to perform this odious task. She shifted a few centimeters
away from him.

“Now, let’s begin,” He said. “You do know the words, right?”

“Yes,” she groaned with a frustrated sigh. “I've only said them a dozen
times.”

“And you only managed to say them correctly three times,” he said sharply.

“Fine, let’s get this over with,” She sighed.
So they started. With his hand over hers it became
easier and easier to feel what the correct wand movements were. But
being so close together was getting more and more uncomfortable, for both
of them. She got the curse right on the third try, and a small trickle
of metal poured listlessly from the end of her wand, and swirled a bit
before falling to the ground.

“Now, try it on your own,” Severus said, pulling his hand off hers and
backing away.

A look of worry passed over her blotchy face. “On
my own, now… that was hardly-“

“I can’t hold your hand through the process, Midgen. You will eventfully
have to perform this curse by yourself. Why not now?”

“Of course that’s not the real reason is it?” A nasty voice
said in his head. “You barely resisted reaching up and grabbing
those tits, you're no better than an animal, ready to fuck the first thing
it sees.”

"He’s being pretty civil, that’s odd. He’s probably planning on having
a good laugh at me when I cock up." She thought. "Let’s try not
to mess up too badly."

“Fine, just don’t objurgate me, I need to concentrate this time, you
Lusus naturae, you,” she said bitterly.

“Fine, I’ll be quiet,” he said with a small smirk. “Unless, of course,
you end up blowing up the greenhouse or something equally bad.”

Florence had a terrible feeling that she was
going to blow up the greenhouse now and faced away from it.
Fear raced through her. She knew this wasn’t going to work. Florence performed
the curse unsuccessfully three times. Each time she got worse and worse.
Severus, watching her, was standing very rigidly, holding all his nasty
words inside with utmost control. It was very difficult .
The last time she raised her wand and spoke the words, she mangled
the pronunciation terribly. Her wand shook, and violet sparks shot out
of it. The wand slipped between her fingers, falling to the ground, where
it ignited grass into a huge spurt of violet-colored flames. She
reached down for her wand, but her sleeve caught fire. She flailed around,
waving her arm, trying to put it out, shrieking as the fire burnt her skin.
It hurt so much, she couldn’t think of anything but the pain, and the flames
leaping up in front of her. She was going to set the greenhouse on fire;
she’d get expelled, if both she and Severus didn’t burn to death first…
But the fire was out. Severus was standing before her glowering coldly
at her; he must have used an extinguishing spell. Why didn’t she think
of that? He looked so disgusted with her…so disappointed, and oddly enough,
more handsome than ever. But this only made her feel worse. She was unworthy,
she was worthless… The warm tears were flowing like rivers
down her acne-covered cheeks. Her sorrow overtook her, and she wept violently,
moaning incoherently about how dismal and pointless her life was as she
choked on tears and hiccoughs. “I’m going to commit suicide, yes…I’m awful…I’ll
go to the Astronomy Tower at night and defenestrate myself…they’ll find
…my…lifeless…body…broken…on…the ground…”
She was dimly aware through the wet haze that Severus had placed his
hands on her shoulders.

Then, suddenly he was shaking her fiercely whilst
saying: “Get a hold of your self for once, Midgen!”
The shaking, while it was a shock to the system, did nothing to abate
her sadness. Neither did the yelling.

Severus removed his right hand from her shoulder, raised it and smacked
her harshly across the face.
The stinging pain jolted her suddenly back to reality.

“Owww!” She rubbed her cheeks. “I needed that, I guess.”
She gave a wet sniffle.

“Looks like you still need my help,” he sighed tiredly. “Very well,
I’ll guide your hand again.”

“You will?” she said, a hint of eager happiness in her voice. “That’s,
erm, great…”

They got back into position; she relaxed against his warm, solid body,
despite herself. The words came to her freely and easily, and
her wand movements were perfect. When the huge cloud of metal shards erupted
from the tip of Florence’s wand, she giggled with delight, and she turned
to face him. She didn‘t think about it this time, it just happened.

“You did it, albeit with my help. Despite all the whining and
dramatics you did it. See? It wasn’t all that difficult,” he said. He looked
tired, but oddly pleased, his dark hair falling over his face.

“I did it! I did it!” she exclaimed. “Thank you! Oh, thank you so much!”

In her excitement, she turned around completely and clapped her arms
around him, hugging him tightly.
Then she realized what exactly she was doing, feeling his tenseness,
and how still he was. She released him, and found herself looking up into
his black eyes. He was still and his expression was anticipatory. She knew
what she had to do, so she craned her neck and kissed him lightly on the
lips.
Then he enveloped her, with a deep, soul-sucking,
lip-bruising, choking snog. She tired to counter, but couldn’t keep up
with him. They just kissed and kissed and kissed… it was one wet,
tangled mess. She felt one hand lightly gripping her breast. She
broke the kiss and drew back, wiping the spittle off her lips.
He looked at her with an astonished expression on his face. "How
had she known?" He thought. "I was trying to be careful."

“Err… I’m s-s-sorry… I…” he mumbled nervously.

“Oh…no it’s fine…” she said.

”You’ll… ummm let me then?” he asked eagerly.

She didn’t want him to touch her there. It was to
soon…but he needed this. He had gotten pushed around too much, ignored,
neglected, abused. His arm had been broken just last week."If this
is what I can do to make him happy," She thought. "Then fine… he
looks so hopeful… I might even like it…"

“Yes, I will,” She whispered resignedly, her eyes downcast.

He didn’t seem to notice this, and immediately opened
her robe and began unbuttoning her blouse enthusiastically. He didn’t even
bother with removing her bra, he just simply slid his hands underneath
it.
They went back to snogging halfheartedly: he was distracted. It felt so strange to have
foreign hands there. He kneaded, twisted and squeezed her flesh roughly
and clumsily, he had no idea what he was doing. There were few moments
of anything resembling pleasure for her, it was painful, and she was very
frightened of being caught… but his arm was broken on Thursday… and now
the hand attached to that arm was on her, aggressively grasping her breasts.
She kissed him on the neck and held him, she ran
her fingers through his smooth greasy hair. She wiped her hands on
her robes. His body was so warm yet still so tense…his heartbeat was so
loud…there was a hard lump pressed against her hip…it made her feel ill
and excited at the same time.

Finally, they untangled. Severus had heard a suspicious noise, and,
convinced it might be Potter’s bunch come to laugh at them, he insisted
they stop. It was fine with Florence. She buttoned up her blouse in silence
and straightened her robes. They walked back to the school.

“I suppose you think this means you’re my girlfriend now,” he spoke,
breaking the silence.

“Well, does it? I might be a tad old-fashioned, but when I let you fondle
me, I expected you’d at least consider a committed relationship,”
she said.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he sighed. “But, we have to keep this a secret.”

“Why? Half the school already thinks we’re couple,” she said.

“Yes, but they haven’t been able to prove it, so it’s just a stupid
rumor. If they were proved right, we’d never get any peace,” he said.

“Ah, I understand,” she said. “I have no wish to descend into a new
circle of hell.”

“As interesting as your company is, Midgen, I have a Transfiguration
essay to finish, or McGonagall will have my thumbs,” he said. “I’ll see
you later.” He turned to walk off.

“What, no good-bye kiss, dearest?” she called after him teasingly.

“Don’t push your luck, Midgen,” He smirked.

As he walked down the long winding corridors to the
Slytherin dungeons, he replayed the events with Midgen over and over in
his mind. And he began realizing what he liked about the times he had done
sexual things with her. It wasn’t just that she was female, or how warm
her body was, or how soft her skin was or how attractive she was. It was
the control. When he was with her, kissing her, touching her, he was in
complete control. Maybe this was one area of his life where he could
be in control. Maybe it wasn’t healthy and maybe it wasn't right, but he
had some power, and the image of her wincing in pain as he dug his nails
into her breast gave him a thrill of excitement and a pang of guilt.
"But what does this matter? I have to work on my Transfiguration
essay. I can’t think of this stuff now," he thought.