Tete-a-tete

Tête-à-tête

"Your looks are laughable, unphotographable."- Rodgers& Hart, Funny valentine.

Chapter Five: Funny Valentine.

It had been nearly three weeks. He wouldn't look at her and he wouldn't speak to her. He just wanted to cut her out of his life. She had made him feel something like love. No--not love--infatuation. Not even that, whatever it was. It had nearly cost him his reputation.

Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, whenever she was able to meet his gaze. She was missing classes, and there was that nasty rumor that she had tried to slit her wrists. Not that anyone would ever guess the real reason, thankfully. The isolation was maddening sometimes, but he still had Bella to look at whenever she was around. Unfortunately, she hadn't been around much lately. He could imagine the curve of her hips, the shape and feel of her breasts. He could see Bella so clearly; what she must look like alone, nude in the shower with the water cascading down her body, her hair... He thought about her constantly--after class, late into the night, when he was alone in his room or in the shower.

One morning he was showering, thinking of Bellatrix's delightful form and ministering to himself rather intently with that image burned in his brain. The sound of someone clearing their throat made him jump, and he immediately stopped ceased his ministrations. It was his Head of House, Professor Odin. A strict old Matron with steel grey hair, she taught the Study of Ancient Runes.

"I do hope you were only cleaning yourself, Severus," she sighed. "The Headmaster wants to see you in his office. Get dressed and remember to dry your hair."

"Yes Ma'am," he said, his face turning several shades paler.

~~~~

Florence sat in a chair in Dumbledore's office. She had a horrid feeling that the incident with Bertha was the reason she'd been called there. She kept her head down, waiting for the headmaster to arrive. She feared the worst. She stiffened at the sound of approaching footsteps. Instead of Dumbledore, however, Severus and Professor Odin entered the room. It seemed that he had been pulled from the shower, as his hair was still dripping and his tie wasn't on straight. He had evidently dressed in a hurry. If he knew she was there, he certainly didn't acknowledge it. He sat in chair on the other sided of the room. When Professor Odin left, he turned and shot her a poisonous look, but did not speak. She loathed this icy silence. Even calling her the most ithyphallic names in creation would be better than this. Being in such close proximity to him made her want to fling herself at his feet, grasp at his hem and beg his forgiveness. He was so smart, so witty, so handsome, and so much more in control than she...

She had lost him. She knew it was her fault, and she doubted he would ever give her a chance again. After all, Severus was known to hold grudges.

Dumbledore entered. Oddly enough, he was humming to himself. Florence puzzled over this--she knew he was here to reprimand them and punish them. Somehow, she thought he'd be angrier. Dumbledore caught her glance and returned a slight smile. Florence immediately bowed her head and shut her eyes tightly.

"Ms. Midgen, I suggest you look at me, as things will go smoother if you do," Dumbledore said calmly. She looked up slowly. He was seated at his desk. She flinched and closed her eyes again. "You needn't be so frightened. I don't bite. That goes for you as well, Mr. Snape."

Florence jerked her head over to glance at Severus. His face was ashen. He was shivering slightly and fidgeting to hide the fact. His gaze wandered aimlessly around the room as he did all he could to avoid looking directly into Dumbledore's face.

Severus took a deep breath and murmured, "Yes sir."

"That's better," said Dumbledore. "Do you two know why you have been called here?"

Both of them mumbled an incomprehensible answer.

"A week or so, ago I was visited separately by Ms. Jorkins and Mr. Pettigrew," Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling. "They said had caught you two behind greenhouse three, and that you were engaged in an activity that is forbidden on school grounds."

Florence felt a flush creep over cheeks and hid her face. "You needn't blush, Mr. Snape. I was talking about Dueling. They watched for a bit and decided to confront you. Once your activity had changed from dueling to...something else, they decided to confront you. When they approached you, they claim you hexed them and threatened them with dark magic. If what they say is true, you both broke many school rules that day, and could be expelled."

There was a pause. Suddenly Florence and Severus both burst in with overlapping pleas.

"Please sir, don't expel me, this isn't my fault. It was purely self defense!" Severus exclaimed.

"Professor, you can't expel us. My father would-"Florence began.

"Your father does not know, Ms. Midgen," Dumbledore nodded.

"Please don't tell him, Professor. You have no idea how ashamed he'd be," Florence continued in a blind panic.

"Malvina, calm yourself," sighed Dumbledore. "I am not telling your father. Also, neither of you are going to be expelled."

There was an audible sigh of relief from both of them.

"However, there should be consequences for your actions," Dumbledore said. "I've decided to punish you jointly. You will both serve detention cleaning the castle and repotting plants in the greenhouses, for the next week."

"Sir, why not let our Heads of House give us separate detentions?" Severus asked quietly.

"Because you and Ms. Midgen committed these acts jointly and you shall be jointly punished," Dumbledore said.

~~~~~

Their first detention was with Filch, scrubbing the trophies in the trophy room without magic. He sent them to opposite ends of the room and ordered them not to talk. Florence guessed that Severus wouldn't have spoken to her anyway. She had never served detention, and Severus rarely got in trouble. No matter how much she scrubbed away at the hopelessly tarnished plaques and trophies they showed little improvement. When she had thought she was finished with one piece and had started to move on, Filch would come by and order her to re-scrub, and re-polish the previous one. Her arms were sore and aching. Severus didn't appear to be doing any better. He was polishing a massive Quidditch trophy for the ninth time when there was a loud crash outside the room, accompanied by malicious laughter.

"Peeves!" Filch exclaimed. "He'll get it this time! I'll be back shortly. If either of you try to escape, I'll have you scrubbing until dawn!" He added before storming out of the room.

As soon as he was gone, Severus dropped his rag and stretched his arms out. "Sadistic git," He sighed.

Florence realized she had stopped working too. She watched Severus as she rubbed her aching limbs. She knew he would never permit her to speak with him again. Maybe she should get back to work before he realized she was looking at him. But no, it was too late. He was looking right at her. Maybe he didn't see me. After all, it is quite dim in here, She thought.

"Stop gawking at me with that pathetic look on your face," he said.

"I'm sorry," she murmured weakly and turned away. "I'll leave you alone."

"You're going to cry now, aren't you?" he snapped.

"No," she sniffled bitterly. His accusation had put her on the edge of tears. "I'm not going to cry. The fumes from the polish are stinging my eyes."

"Don't lie, Midgen you're terrible at it," he said with a sigh. "Don't go off and cut up your wrists over something this trivial."

"Cut my wrists?" she replied trying to sound confused. "I didn't do that. It's just a moronic rumor. You didn't believe it did you?"

I wanted to desperately; I didn't know what I'd do when you left my life... She thought. I whimpered and wailed about it, my wlatsome housemates reported me to Professor Sprout, and received a jobation from her.

"No, of course not. Less than half the drivel student body concocts is remotely based on fact," He said.

There was a pause. Nearly thirty seconds elapsed before Florence spoke again.

"Filch is taking an awfully long time, isn't he?" she said.

"Yes he is," Severus smirked. "Maybe Peeves did everyone a favor and pushed him out of the astronomy tower."

"One can only hope," Florence said with a grin. Her smile faded, and she added softly, "I missed you."

"Oh, Midgen..." he said with an exasperated sigh.

Did you miss me? She thought. I'm being foolish because I know the answer you'll probably give me. But I'd still like to know. She was close to saying this out loud when they heard the heavy footfalls and disgruntled rumbling of Filch in the hallway. Both of them promptly returned to work.

~~~~~~

Three hours later, exhausted and with aching muscles, Severus trudged out of the trophy room. Florence followed some paces behind him. He was so tired he felt like he could sleep for ages. Despite his intense yearning for bed, he was aware of Midgen's shuffling footfalls behind him. She was very close, and was muttering to herself.

She is being so annoying... She wants to talk to me, and can't get the words out... I am too tired to get angry with her... He stopped abruptly and turned around. Florence was lost in her own misery, and walked along with her head down. As she hadn't seen him stop, she stumbled clumsily into him.

"I'm sorry," she murmured into her chest.

"Look at me Midgen," he said. She lifted her acne covered face to his. "Stop being an idiot. Just say whatever it is you've got to say to me."

In a near whisper, she replied, "I was just wondering if...if you're still speaking to me."

"That's silly. I'm speaking to you now aren't I?" he snorted.

"No, I mean..." she hesitated and bit her bottom lip, "if we are going to...ummm...partake of each other's company again, in an amiable manner."

He groaned. Why can't she say it plainly? It's too late for this. He thought.

"Yes," he said.

Her eyes lit up and a smile instantly appeared on her face. "That's wonderful. I've missed you so much!" She said. Faster than he could blink, she had flung her arms around his waist and was squeezing him tightly.

"No, Midgen not that anymore, we could get caught...," he sighed.

"Oh," she said, withdrawing.

~~~~~~~~

The following morning, he realized that he didn't regret his decision to reconcile with Midgen. True--their reconciliation was made more in the spirit of exhaustion than forgiveness. But she was someone to talk to, and he didn't feel so alone (not that he would ever admit to feeling lonely). He enjoyed her company. They were interested in the same sort of things, like deadly poisons, disfiguring curses, wizard serial murderers and demon summoning, to name a few. To the rest of his contemporaries, these interests made him a creepy sad, morbid little freak. But Midgen was fascinated by whatever he said, and often had something interesting to add. He felt almost no desire for her, yet he would sometimes catch her looking at him in a way that made his insides twist.

Their detentions in the greenhouse were a distinct improvement. Professor Sprout let them talk while they worked and the time passed quickly. Though he would certainly never admit it, there were times when he actually looked forward to their detentions together.

~~~~~~~~

It was mid December now and nearly everyone was anticipating the Christmas break. Severus and Florence however, were both restless.

Severus sat in the library, reading a book on Drusus 'The Disintegrator' Kane. Florence sat nearby, working on her thesis on the legalization of the dark arts.

"Oh, I can't stand the thought of spending two weeks trapped in the house with my father. It's going to be non-stop revision, and I won't get a moment's peace," Florence whined.

Severus put down his book and glared at her. "You idiot, Midge! Has it ever occurred you to just sign up to stay at Hogwarts over the winter holiday instead of going home?"

She snorted and shook her head. "I dearly hope you are being facetious, because that is the most gelogenic suggestion I've heard in months. Don't you remember anything about my family? My father would sooner drink poison than allow me to stay at school during the holidays. After all, it's our 'family time'."

"Then you need to find some time to yourself while you're there. Maybe when some other relatives stop in for a visit." Severus spat. "It's so inanely obvious, Midgen."

"I can't do that," Florence snorted. "Don't you listen?"

"No, I try to block out as much of your babbling as I can, actually," he said.

"If you'd listened, you would know your suggestion is impossible. All my maternal relatives are in Canada. As for paternal ones, nearly everyone's dead, except one cousin who my father regards as socialist muggle-lover. They haven't spoken since before I was born. Father thinks he would be a thelyphthoric influence on my character," she paused to draw breath and added with sarcasm, "It's just going to be me, my suffocating, melancholy mother, and my bullying, chauvinistic father. What a jolly holiday!"

"Thank you Midgen, for wasting ten minutes of my life," Severus commented, rolling his eyes. "Once again your ego stretched a three minute explanation into ten minutes."

"So what are your plans for the holidays? Please, enlighten me, my ineffable fugleman," she purred, resting her head in her hands and staring at him with mock fascination.

"I want to stay at Hogwarts, but I know I can't. I wrote Mother, asking if I could and haven't gotten a reply yet," Severus sighed. "She never rejects me outright, but she manages to guilt me into coming home."

Florence smirked. "So you actually have a conscience somewhere in darkened, bottomless pit of your soul."

"Yes, but any attempts to reach it by someone who is not my mother, will be met with an unforgivable curse," Severus said with a smirk and shake of dark hair.

She giggled at this, drawing a glare from Madam Pince. "Though you are skilled in many branches of magic Severus, you couldn't do an unforgivable to save your life."

"Really?" he commented attempting to raise one eyebrow, but failing (which just made her giggle more). "You don't know the extent of my magical prowess."

"I may not know many things about you, however I do I know that have not even started working on unforgivables. If you were caught trying to learn them, you'd be the object of more abuse and scorn. You might even get expelled," Florence said.

Wow, she's right for once. How does she know me so well? he thought.

"Your logic is faulty Midgen," he said. "You see, I simply would not get caught."

~~~~~~~

His mother's letter had arrived in the middle of week. As usual it was filled with ill tidings and feeble pleas for his return. He read it during breakfast, and it occupied his thoughts all though the day.

He re-read it that evening, lying alone on his bed.

He thought of the leaking roof, the chipping plaster, the flies, the roaches, the stench of the garbage, and shivering under thread-bare blankets on a thin mattress. The hacking cough and plaintive sobs of little sisters Livia and Agrippina that could be heard throughout the flat at night. He was repulsed by the thought of having to go back there.

He had made up his mind. He would stand his ground this time, and not return for the holidays this year. He strengthened his resolve by dredging up an image of his father Silas with his grey robes, his hunched shoulders, and his odd, ambling gait. His father's gaunt, bloodless face was dominated by an enormous hooked nose. His pale thin lips twisted into a smile of triumph which never reached his cold, close-set eyes. Severus detested the fact that his own face looked more and more like his father's with each passing day.

Severus was suddenly visited by an unwelcome memory. Mother, on her hands and knees on the kitchen floor, was wiping up a spilled pot of soup. Father had called it slop and knocked the kettle onto the floor. Silas was always finding something wrong with her cooking. In the memory, Father was standing over Mother, berating her for her cooking, her weakness, and the tears she shed. With a swift kick to her midsection, Silas turned and stormed from the room. Severus remembered being horrified by that action, because Mummy had a baby living there and that kick would hurt the baby. Mummy had winced and tried to continue scrubbing but she soon crumpled to floor in a heap. A few minutes passed, and Severus suddenly realized that his mother's blood was mingling with the spilled soup on the floor.

Another image replaced the first. He could see his mother's black hair, now streaked with grey, her pale, tired face wearing an expression of sadness, her dark eyes glittering with tears. Her lower lip was trembling as she read his letter, telling her that her only son wouldn't be coming home for Christmas. And then came images of his little sisters. First there was Livia--a solemn, bookish, sickly child. Agrippina was a distinct contrast--lively, irritating and pretty like mother must have been once. They will miss me terribly. I should endure this for them, he thought. Maybe my parasite of a father will have left for good. Severus took out a quill, some parchment and an ink well and he began to write:

Dear Mother,

I have reconsidered staying at Hogwarts.
I was never serious about it anyway. I will be coming back for the winter break this year.

I look forward to seeing everyone.

-Severus

~~~~

It was the last day before the winter holiday. The restlessness of the other students had shown itself in a very negative way. Florence could not walk down the corridors without hearing calls of Dumpkiss, nerd or the oh so original pimple-face. People kept throwing things at her: crumpled bits of paper, broken off tips of quills, dungbombs and stinkpellets. She managed to dodge those and even got Floyd Parkinson in trouble with Filch. She took comfort in the fact he would spending the day scrubbing bedpans out by hand.

She walked out into the courtyard where she was supposed to meet Severus. It would be the last time they saw each other for weeks. She had rushed from her last class and arrived too early, but she couldn't risk missing him. She milled around, kicking at the snow with her boots, trying not to look as anxious and eager as she felt. At every footstep, every sound, every flash of movement she jerked her head up, expecting to see him. Her stomach was filled with butterflies. She realized her aimless milling had turned into deliberate pacing. She decided this must be quite an idiotic spectacle so she sat down on a bench. A group of noisy students entered the courtyard. They were laughing and carrying on in an irritating fashion, but they weren't bothering her, at least not yet.

She wasn't comfortable sitting; the idleness was a bit too much. She bit her lip and tapped her foot, nearly jumping out of her skin when she felt a tap on her shoulder. There he was, looking somewhat smaller under his heavy winter robes and a balaclava, the later accentuating his hard, thin features.

"Hullo Severus," she grinned.

"Hullo Midgen," he said. "It certainly took you long enough to notice me."

"I was looking for you. It seems like I've been waiting forever," she sighed.

"You weren't looking hard enough," he said. "Potter's group is here. If I entered the normal way, I might as well paint a target on my chest and beg them to throw snowballs at me."

Florence turned her head to get a closer look at the group of students. Sure enough there was Potter, Black, Lupin, Pettigrew and other assorted Gryffindorks, each with a lurid house scarf wrapped about their necks.

"They haven't been bothering me, so I didn't notice them," she said.

"Let's hope it stays that way," he muttered shooting an ominous look at the crowd of Gryffindors.

After deciding it was safe, he sat down on the bench, taking care to put as much space between them as possible. Florence didn't know if this was because he was afraid of being close to her or because of what the other students might say if they saw them sitting together. She wanted him close. She wanted to hold him tight and protect him from whatever horrors he would meet upon going home. She also craved comfort for herself. She was tired and miserable, with nothing ahead but drudgery. They talked for a bit, avoiding the subject of their imminent departure as much as possible. She could hear a listlessness in his tone and an noted the absence of his usual venomous words. He looked almost scared.

There was an uncomfortable lull in the conversation as they both realized that they had run out of non-threatening things to discuss.

"Could you write me at least?" Florence asked with some trepidation.

"No," he sighed. "Bloody stupid Hecate got into a fight with an eagle owl over a sleeping spot in the owlery. Professor Kettleburn says she won't fly for months."

"Oh, that's terrible," Florence replied.

"That's what you said when I told you the first time," he sighed listlessly.

"Sorry--I forgot," she said.

"Why can't you write me?" he asked.

"I haven't the money to pay for owl post and I doubt father will let me waste precious hours of daylight rambling the streets of Hogsmeade," she said.

"Oh, it's almost time for the last feast before I catch the train," he said, reaching into a pocket of his robes. "I have something for you." He removed a small brown rectangular box and placed it on the bench.

"Oh, Severus, you shouldn't have," she murmured as she took the package. "I'm sorry I don't have anything for you this year."

"No, that's fine, this is payback for all the years when you got me something and I had nothing to give in return," he said.

"Don't worry I'll get you something, I promise," she pleaded.

"I said I don't need anything, Midgen." he sighed.

"No, no really, you deserve a reward for enduring my company for so long," she continued in her pleading tone.

"I do, but I doubt you could afford it," he said with eyes glittering.

"But I should get you something," her voice became a whine as she attempted to open the package.

"No! Don't open it. Not now. Wait until you get home," he commanded sternly.

"Oh fine," she said, and pocketed it. "Could you at least tell me what you want?"

Other than Bellatrix of course, she thought.

"Well," he rested his chin in his hand for a moment, thinking. "I doubt you could afford it or obtain it easily but I would like a copy of the Necron-"

His sentence was interrupted as a snowball hit him on the side of the head. This was followed by a swell of raucous laughter. Florence turned her head to yell at the assailant, but she was met by a second snowball in her face. After removing the snow from her eyes, she saw James Potter standing before them, a look of triumph on his handsome face. Before she could retaliate, she was thwarted by another flurry of those nefendous snowballs.

"HOW DARE YOU, you bovaristic, daspygal noisome, xenopus FUCKERS!" she screamed, as she was pelted with snow.

Severus had taken cover by ducking beneath the bench. She noticed he was also fashioning a bit of snow around a sphere of ice.

"They want a snowball, I'll show them a snowball...," he muttered darkly.

"What's going on here!?" The serious voice of an adult rang through the courtyard. Florence looked up. It was her father.

"N-nothing Professor Midgen." Sirius Black stuttered, his face going pale.

"Nothing, Black? What's that in your hands?" Her Father edged closer.

"A snowball, sir we were having a little fun," Potter interjected.

"Oh, all right then, make certain no one gets hurt and you have fun," her father said. "I'm here for my daughter. Malvina?"

"Yes, Father," she sighed.

"Have you packed up all your things?" her Father asked.

"Yes, Father," she muttered.

"Well, we had better double check, It's not your fault exactly--your entire gender has a tendency to get scatter-brained over these sort of things," her father said. "Come along, now."

Saying that, her father walked out and she had no choice but to reluctantly follow him.

I didn't get a chance to say good-bye to Severus, she thought sadly.

~~~~~

As it turned out, the holiday wasn't as dire as Florence had feared. True, Father did make her study for hours on end and was unrelenting in his criticism of her, as usual. Surprisingly though, Mother had forgiven Florence's harsh words from earlier in the year. Mother would slip Florence a biscuit and a cup of tea or warm milk during late study sessions and drape a blanket over her daughter's shoulders. Mother was the voice of mercy and reason. "Oh Robin she's just a girl..." her mother would reason. "Could you spare Malvina, dear? I need her in the kitchen." Work in the kitchen never was that hard--just drying dishes and helping with the baking. Florence never saw baking as a chore. She enjoyed giving the ginger newts raisin eyes, making the filling for mince pies and making the hard sauce for the plum pudding (mother even let her take a nip or two from the rum when no one was looking).

Father announced shortly before Christmas that Aneurin Tofty, a new friend of Father's, would be joining them for Christmas dinner. Mother protested about having to make more food and fix up the guest room, but Father replied that Mr. Tofty was extremely old. Since since his wife had passed on last year, he had no one else to spend Christmas with. Florence suspected a less charitable motive when Father mentioned in passing that Mr. Tofty just happened to be one of the O.W.L examiners. Florence's stomach turned, imagining being scrutinized by two set of eyes at the dinner table. She thought this Mr. Tofty must be somewhat akin to her father if they were friends. She didn't think she could bear being in the house with another unrelenting task-master.

She was pleasantly surprised when the real Mr. Tofty showed up and turned out to be a very old, very bald, very kind and sweet little man. He even complimented Mother on the tea she served him. Apparently the only thing he and Father had in common was their love of Arithmancy and Transfiguration (which they went on about for hours). Surprisingly, it was a much more pleasant holiday with him around.

On Boxing Day, Florence sat reading the Daily Prophet while she ate a breakfast consisting of leftover plum pudding, trifle, gingerbread men, and mince meat pie. She heard footsteps entering the kitchen and looked up to see her father. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Is that what you're having for breakfast?" he said in a disdainful voice.

"More or less," Florence said, popping a chunk of hard sauce into her mouth. "This is just the first course. I'm waiting for Mum to wake up and make me a proper breakfast."

"Malvina, if you keep eating like this you'll be 200 pounds by the time you're twenty and you'll lose a leg to diabetes at thirty-five," he sighed.

"Dad..." she groaned.

"Well, I'm not here to berate you," He sighed. "I know I've been quite hard on you these past months..."

"Yes..." she agreed. Months!? You've been hard on me my whole life, you myopic, bovaristic gnathronic, git, she thought.

"Last night after dinner, when you had gone to your room I had Aneurin take a look at your written answers for our little practice O.W.L. He said they were the best answers he had seen in twenty years," he said, a weak grin appearing on his face.

"Really?" she gasped.

"Yes, we did very well. I'm proud of you. Good job, Malvina," he stuttered awkwardly. Words of praise sounded so foreign from his lips. "I have something for you, for your efforts." He pulled out a small brown leather pouch and placed it on the table. "I've been saving up for months. There are seventy five galleons in here. You deserve it."

"Thank you, father," Florence said, trying to comprehend the surrealness of this moment as she grasped the pouch, feeling the coins through the leather.

"Don't spend it all at Honeydukes or on some foolish gewgaw," Father added in his usual stern manner.

~~~

Florence knew what she was doing wasn't right. The adults had gone over to Mr. Peeper's house for a visit and she was alone in the house. Mother and Father had both told her not to go out. She wasn't planning on going anywhere. She was writing to Jenny, but her quill broke. Searching through her school things for a spare quill, she came across a small brown package--Severus' gift. She had quite forgotten about it. I'll open it now, she thought. Better late then never.

In the package there was a folded note and a small dark glass phial. She opened the note and read:

Midgen-

I am giving you Floo powder, so you can have some time away from your father.

You won't be able to complain so much about your dreadful holiday, during our school year, thus sparing my sanity.

Use it wisely, I spent all my money on it. Never complain that I don't give you anything.

I hope you have wonderful holiday.

-Severus

Florence's stomach twisted with guilt when she had finished reading his note. She couldn't just squander this opportunity. She had to get him something. Something wonderful, something marvelous, to prove her devotion and love for him beyond a shadow of a doubt. Something that would show him he was not forgotten. She had to get something that would amaze the cyncial, hard-to-please Severus. She grabbed the money pouch father had given her and walked to the living room fireplace. Pouring the floo powder into her hand, she tossed it into the fire. As the flames roared and turned green, Florence stepped into their midst, calling out "Thorn Apple Road."

~~~~

When the journey stopped Florence found herself standing in the fireplace of a thrift store. The dark, musty shop was closed for the holiday. Florence knew the front door had to be locked. In a panic, Florence searched frantically for an exit, frightened that she would be trapped in the store. With a sigh of relief, she soon found a back door that was closed with a very weak locking charm. She left the store and walked out into the street.

Thorn Apple Road had never seen better days. That's what happens when you name a street after a poisonous plant, Florence mused. This street had been missed the prosperity that blessed Hogsmeade's main thoroughfares.

All of the buildings could do with a good coat of paint. There were boarded-over windows, and some buildings were tumbling down. Most of the store fronts were destitute, black and filthy. While it lacked the sinister reputation of Knockturn Alley, Thorn Apple Road was still a depressing sight.

Of the businesses that were there, most of them were closed for the holiday or only had hours by appointment only.

She clutched her money purse tighter and felt renewed anxiety. Oh, it's just my luck if he'sclosed for the holiday. Everyone needs a break, even shopkeepers. He won't be open, or just by appointment only, she thought.

Now she could spot the plain black and white sign:


It was a squat building, as dilapidated as all the rest.

Florence knew that the reason the books were so rare and obscure was that the closed-minded bigots at the Minstry of Magic would burn them if they ever managed to confiscate copies, thanks to their constant and pointless war against the 'dark arts'. She shook her head, thinking sadly of the all the lost books and knowledge. The store looked dark, but deep inside there was a faint orange light coming from within the shop. She pushed the door open. A bell jingled. It was a small shop, crowded with shelves and shelves of books. There was a small wooden counter with a cash register. Behind the desk an old hunchbacked man with bugling eyes stood, leering openly at her.

"Hello there, we don't often get such pretty creatures in the store," he croaked.

"Hello... errrrmm Sir," Florence said nervously.

"Please, my dear call me Mr. Antimony," he replied in his slimiest voice.

She decided that he was so old, that anything young and female was considered pretty.

She also decided to avoid his leering gaze for as long as possible. She ducked behind the shelves of books. She knew exactly what she wanted, and she knew this was the place to get it. But as she scanned title after title she couldn't find it. She loathed asking Mr. Antimony, whose protruding eyes followed her through out the store. After searching fruitlessly for some time, Florence came to the desision that she had no choice but to ask the shopkeeper for his help.

She approached him with caution. A crooked smile spread over his face as she drew closer to the counter. He leaned in closer, and she winced at the smell his rancid breath. She could hear his heavy labored breathing.

"How may I help you, young lady?" he wheezed out.

"I was wondering if you have a copy of..." she started but the nearness of him disgusted her too much to continue. If he tries to kiss me, I'll scream, she thought.

"Come on now, no need to be shy around Old Antimony. I've heard it all," he said, broadening his twisted smile to show pointed yellowing teeth.

She muttered the book's name quickly, and backed away.

He raised one gnarled grey eyebrow. "Well now, I don't get requests for that particular volume much. Very hard to come by, with the Minstry and all. Yes, very hard to come by."

"You don't have it, then?" she inquired anxiously.

"I didn't say that, my dear. As it happens, I have three copies in the back room, away from prying eyes," he smirked, shuffling out from behind the counter. "Wait one minute, lovely creature, and I'll go get it."

With that he shuffled off to the back room, ogling her all the way. She allowed herself a shudder while he was away. He came back lugging a stack of three huge, ancient, leather bound tomes, dropping them below the counter with an unceremonious thud.

"Now, about the price. What will you be paying me?" he croaked out.

"I have seventy-five galleons," she replied fiddling with the pouch.

"Seventy-five galleons is a lot of money..." he mused. "But it's not even a third of the price. This is a very rare book, containing very powerful spells. Men have died trying to possess these books..."

"I see. Well then, I'm sorry to have troubled you," she sighed, putting away her purse.

"However," Mr. Antimony said stroking his chin. "If you really want this book my dear, there is something I might accept. A barter, if you will..." his bugling eyes glimmered sinisterly.

Florence felt her stomach lurch. On one hand, Severus would be very grateful for this gift. On the other hand was it worth it? That's when her hand felt a small metal box in her pocket. It gave her an idea. It was long shot but...

"How about seventy-five galleons and this tin of ginger newts?" she said plunking the tin and the pouch of galleons out on the counter top.

"Ginger newts, you say?" Mr. Antimony said, his eyes brightening. "I love ginger newts! It's a deal, then."

He opened the tin and began munching on the ginger newts.

"I get the book, right?" Florence asked, a little dazed.

"Yes," he said with a broad grin as he plunked a copy of the book on the counter. "And because these ginger newts are so good, I won't give you the copy that drives you mad or the one that permanently disfigures."

"Err, thank you. I'll be on my way now," Florence said with a nervous smile, clutching the book.

"No, No, no... wait Young Miss," Mr. Antimony said grabbing a corner of the book. "There's a trick to it." And with those words he whipped out his wand and tapped the book three times, and it turned into nothing more then a piece of thick yellowed parchment folded over into quarters. "Remember that," he said.

With that, she left Antimony's. She was very proud of having gotten Severus a present worthy of him. She also felt as though she should take a long shower as soon as possible, to wash off Mr. Antimony's filthy leers.

~~~~~~~~

As quickly as the winter break had come, it was over. Florence returned to school, eager to be reunited with Severus and see his reaction to the gift she had procured for him. Her heart leapt when she saw him at the Slytherin table for breakfast the day they returned to class. She was filled with a desperate urge to run over to him and talk, or at least to wave to him from the Hufflepuff table. She knew, however, that he would disapprove of all these things so she repressed the urge.

As she watched him, she noticed a change in his posture. There was a slump and slouch in it that hadn't been there before the break. The way he huddled close over his porridge was also odd. Something was off about him, but he always he acted like that after the holidays.

~~~

Severus vowed to himself that he was never going back home for the holidays again. Unlike all the other times he had made that vow, he would stick to it. The images of this visit refused to leave the back of his mind. He couldn't shake off the guilt he had when he said good-bye at King's Cross Station. He'd wanted to stay and help somehow. He couldn't leave them there at mercy of a socipath. I'm only fourteen, I'd be no use anyway, he thought. There would no way I could stand up to Father.

There would be some grand day, when he was a man, when he could walk up to his father, draw his wand and finish the cold bastard for good. And then Potter, Black, Pettigrew, Lupin and all the rest of those miserable simpletons who had made his life unbearable would know his power, and see what he was capable of.

"Hi Severus!" came a voice from nearby. He turned and saw it was Midgen. She was sitting next to him as he always she always did in the classes they had together. Today it was Potions. There was a wide grin on her face that made him wanted to hit her.

"Hello Midgen," he growled at her as if it was a threat.

He hadn't felt like talking to her much this week. Despite her complaints about going home to her family, she had returned to school in a disgustingly cheerful mood. What did she know about real pain? Her cheerful demeanor disgusted him, and he had avoided her, speaking as little as possible.

"So, how was your holiday?" she asked.

"Fine," he muttered.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing is wrong, except that someone won't stop asking me idiotic questions," he said.

She stopped smiling. "Oh, I see." There was a pause of ten seconds. "Well, I got you something for Christmas."

"Christmas is over, if you hadn't noticed. Besides, I told you not to buy me anything," he said.

"You got me a very fine and expensive present. I thought it only courteous to reciprocate in kind," she said, evidently very pleased with herself. An annoying grin had appeared on her pock marked face.

"It's not another tin of those bloody ginger newts?" he groaned.

"No, it's this," she said, placing the folded piece of yellowing parchment on the table. She looked exceedingly pleased with herself.

"A bit of old parchment? That's your idea of a wonderful gift?" he sneered, picking it up and inspecting it. "I think I'd prefer the ginger newts. At least I can eat them."

"It's not a folded piece of parchment, Severus," she sighed.

"It sure looks like one," he retorted. "It's not some mushy, insipid love poem is it?"

"Oh, come on," she said with annoyed groan, despite the blush appearing on her cheeks. "You know me better than that."

"What is it Midgen?" he asked in a harsh tone. "Stop wasting my time."

"It's not just a piece of parchment. You don't understand." She looked around nervously before speaking in a lowered voice. "It's a copy of..."

She didn't get a chance to finish because at that instant Professor Smythe entered the classroom, officially beginning potions class.

Severus pocketed the piece of folded parchment. Whatever it really was, he would figure it out later, in private.

~~~~

A month and half had passed. It was February fourteenth, Valentine's Day. For Florence this day meant despair, jealousy, self-pity and crying into her pillow as Hebe patted her back. But this year was different. She'd actually had a boyfriend for a few months. Maybe if she tried, she could get him back. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all. The fact that he was not the world's greatest kisser had faded from her memory. The awkardness of his embrace was forgotten, replaced instead by the memory of is warm body and a sense of unfulfilled passion. The painful grasping, pinching and twisting of his fingers was somehow lost; now all she recalled was that he used to enjoy touching her.

That was why she was standing in front of a full length mirror examining herself. She had brushed out her hair, which was no easy task. Her brush kept getting tangled and she'd pulled out hunks of her own hair in her efforts to remove it. Now instead of being a tangled mess, her hair was a puffy mess. She had washed her face and rubbed it with some of the Bubotuber pus, but it was old and it wasn't working as well as she thought it would. Hebe had helped with a small bit of make-up and making her robes presentable. She turned in front of the mirror. She thought she looked a bit nicer. She sighed. She didn't feel so pretty, and she'd certainly never be as lovely as Bellatrix or Lyssandra. If she went up to him like this, he'd laugh at her. Well, at least I'm good for a laugh, she thought as she left the dormitory.

She found him in the great hall, sulking over a letter. He didn't look up as she approached.

Severus had remained quieter, guarded and more irritable than he was before the holidays. Florence knew it had to with something that happened at home, but whenever she asked, he would snap at her or stop talking altogether.

"Hello," she said, trying to sound natural.

"What do you want?" he said, raising his head.

"Nothing," she replied. "Do you know what day it is?"

"Yes, I am aware that once again it is Valentine's Day," he snarled. "A most detestable holiday concoted by card companies, jewelers, florists and chocolate makers over loaded with nauseating sentimentality and other lovey-dovey garbage. I know we both hate it. Go on, give me your annual long-winded speech about how horrid it is."

"No, it isn't that. It's just that this happens to be a Hogsmeade weekend," she said. "I was wondering if you'd... like to come with me."

"On Valentine's Day, in public, in Hogsmeade, with you?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes," she replied in an exasperated tone.

"Everyone will think we're entering the ugly couple contest," he said.

"Good, I think we could make Nationals this year," she added sarcastly.

"You're forgetting about Bertha and Pettigrew. They seem like pretty stiff competition," he smirked.

"Enough of this joking around," she said. "Are you coming or not?"

He was taking a long time to reply, looking at the letter then at her, then around the nearly empty hall. She wondered if he noticed all the effort she had gone through. No, of course not. He never noticed. Maybe it was better this way.

"Fine, I'll come with you," he said, getting to his feet. "This isn't a date, so you can get rid of that ridculous make-up."

"Fine, I will," she sighed, remembering all the trouble Hebe had gone to. "Don't forget your letter."

"I wasn't going to," he grumbled, sliding the letter into his pocket. "Come on, Midgen let's get going."

And with that they left the Great Hall, side by side.