No One's Lapdog

No One's Lapdog

Chapter five

The ceiling was dark blue, almost black, littered with innumerable stars twinkling dreamily. Underneath it floated hundreds of candles, lighting up the four house tables; the students were talking and laughing animatedly in between mouthfuls. The teachers were as usual seated at the table up front, the headmistress Minerva McGonagall throning in the middle. Rowena took it all in, sweeping her eyes across the festive hall. She felt content and happy, looking forward to her second year at Hogwarts as a Potions mistress.. At the end of her first year, there was a time when she had seriously considered leaving her post. She'd had some 'issues' with one of the other teachers: Professor Severus Snape, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was still being rather meddlesome and even acting downright unpleasant at times, but they'd sort of agreed to a cease-fire. Not that they still weren't at each other throats, but an odd sense of understanding had crept into their "relationship", for lack of a better term. Rowena mused. She guessed they could call themselves friends. Sort of. She had to admit to herself she had appreciated his handshake at the end of last school year.

Rowena looked in the direction of Snape. He was as usual deeply in conversation with McGonagall, seated on her right. But as she watched him, he suddenly looked up and their eyes met across the table. Sometimes she got the eerie feeling he could read minds, receiving signals on his bat-like radar others couldn't sense. He nodded curtly at her, looking indifferently at her for a second before he returned his attention towards McGonagall. Rowena silently let out her breath. She was lucky if Snape's attitude towards her this year was going to be that of indifference only.

All good things must come to an end, even the start-of-term banquet, and when the last scraps of leftovers were wiped from the plates Rowena leaned back in her chair, groaning; she had the unfortunate habit of having too much of the excellent food at Hogwarts. When McGonagall dismissed everybody, Rowena didn't linger, but got up and headed straight for the headmistress's office. McGonagall had asked her to walk ahead of her and wait there; there was some last minute information about her classes Minerva wanted to talk to her about.

Snape looked back at Harry, who stared at him, frantic to communicate without words.

(OotP p. 656 Bloomsbury)

The door to McGonagall's office was unlocked, and Rowena entered. She had never been in here alone before, and she finally had plenty of time to take in everything in the room. The portraits of the former headmasters and -mistresses all seemed to be snoozing in their frames. The office was quiet except for the occasional snores and a faint buzzing sound coming from some spindly tables in a corner on which stood some strange-looking silver instruments. She knew the former headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, had graciously left some of his instruments for his successor. She walked up to the tables, looking curiously at them when she heard movement behind her. Turning around, she saw no one else but Snape standing in the doorway, proud and forbidding, eyeing her suspiciously.

'So, why so interested in the headmistress's possessions?' he said, half sneering.

'When did it become your business what I'm interested in?' she answered sharply.

His lip curled.

'Has always been, young lady, as long as you're staying at Hogwarts.'

'And why is that?' she replied curtly, starting to get annoyed at Snape's patronising tone.

'I've always taken a personal pride and responsibility in the safety of the school. And of course I also happen to be the Deputy headmaster, something I'm sure you have not forgotten over the holidays? Which accidentally gives me the authority and right to question what you're doing here, prying,' he smirked at her.

She bared her teeth at him, drawing herself up to her full height. Being tall for a woman, Rowena easily matched Snape's height.

'So, starting off the new school year in style, are we, playing the let's-see-how-fast-we-can-make-Rowena-lose-her-temper game?' She fixed her piercing blue stare at him. 'Unless your memory has been modified over the summer, Professor Snape, you'll recall that I'm not a scared little girl anymore who may be pushed around at your leisure. As a matter of fact, if you're not careful, I might be forced to teach you a thing or two about behaving in the presence of young ladies.'

She smiled teasingly at him, knowing it would infuriate him. And it worked.

'I just got the impression you were threatening me, Mulligan?' His voice was eerily quiet, yet she could hear every single word. 'It seems I'm the one who has to teach you a lesson.' His eyes glittered menacingly, and she wasn't sure she liked the smile he sent her.

But she didn't have time to ponder about his facial expressions, for she had just noticed his hand moving closer to the wand in his belt. But Rowena didn't lose her head for even a moment; last year had taught her something: She was perfectly capable of standing up to Snape, even in a duel. And she had learned the painful way always to be ready for defensive action whenever he was around.

Fast as lighting, they both drew their wands, pointing them at each other and shouted,

'Petrificus totalus!'

The spell hit them both forcefully, making them keel over like two great logs. They found themselves lying side by side on the cold stone floor, facing each other, Snape's face only inches from Rowena's. Temporarily petrified, the only thing she was able to move were her eyes. Right now they were busy shooting daggers at Snape, who returned her angry stare in the same manner. But her anger slowly subsided and gave way for embarrassment. She suddenly remembered McGonagall was due to enter her office any time now. And Rowena had no problems imagining what her reaction would be. She recalled very well what her aunt had thought about their little duel in the corridors the previous school year.

She gave Snape another loathful stare. It was his fault they'd ended up on the floor! He started the argument; he was the one who just had to pick a fight over just about any tiny detail that irked him. Snape looked back at her with contempt in his eyes. So much for our little friendship-deal, Rowena mused. She continued staring at him, as there was not much else to do. Their faces were so close, it was hard to avoid looking at him. It was a very strange experience being forced to look into his pallid face. She caught herself tracing the strands of his black hair falling across his forehead, looking at his hooked nose which came across as rather large, letting her eyes wander over his thin, rigid lips, frozen in a half-sneer, some of his yellowing teeth showing. She was so close she could even see the fine pores of his sallow skin. In fact, she was so uncomfortably close she could smell him. Despite his greasy-looking hair, it didn't really surprise her he smelled nice, pleasantly - clean. Anyone as meticulous as him would be.

But the most interesting detail was of course his eyes, though she found it extremely hard to look steadily at them. She thought they were mesmerizing, even oddly beautiful. Those stark, deep pools of utter blackness had always captivated her, now and then shadows moving in them, making them glitter strangely. There was something moving in their depths right now. She watched, spellbound. Then she suddenly realised his eyes turned fearsome at her gaze. With an effort they went expressionless, shutting her out, no shadows moving in their depths.

She understood. She was feeling vulnerable too; had she been able to blush, her cheeks would have been on fire. It was quite embarrassing not being able to turn her face away from him. Then, she heard quick footsteps approaching outside the office. Her eyes moved anxiously to Snape's.

How on earth are we going to get out of this mess?

She looked pleadingly at him. He returned her gaze.

Leave it to me.

She stared blankly at him.

What?

Was she imagining it, or was he actually talking to her inside her mind? Amazed, she continued looking into his eyes.

Trust me.

Her eyes opened wide, not only because of what she heard being spoken in her mind, but at what she saw: For a fleeting moment, his cold eyes had turned, well, maybe not warm, but - less cold. Her stomach did an involuntary somersault, and it was not out of fear of what McGonagall was going to scream at them the instant she entered her office.

'Master yourself!' spat Snape. 'Control your anger, discipline your mind!'

(OotP p. 474 Bloomsbury)

'What the...!'

The headmistress stopped abruptly in her stride, taking in the peculiar scene of two rigid bodies lying side by side on the floor. She immediately rushed over and felt their pulse.

'I've never, in all my time at Hogwarts... ,' she breathed, then bent over Snape and looked sharply into his face. 'Please don't tell me you two have been duelling again?' she said in her most dangerous voice, withdrawing her wand as she straightened up.

'Finite Incantatem,' she muttered, pointing her wand at them in turn.

They slowly and stiffly got up from the cold floor, straightening up and rubbing their backs.

McGonagall sat back in her chair, watching them with a deep frown on her face, drumming her fingers impatiently on her desk.

'Well, what's your story? And mind you, it better be good!' she barked.

Rowena shot a quick glance at Snape standing calmly beside her. She felt oddly safe. Snape was going to defend her. If someone could come up with a believable story, it'd have to be him, having fooled a considerable amount of smart Death Eaters in his time.

'Minerva, there really is no story to tell other than what you've already so correctly discerned for yourself,' he said quietly. 'Yes, we were duelling.'

Rowena looked anxiously at him. She couldn't see how him telling the truth was going to help them escape her aunt's wrath. Snape shifted slightly, then continued.

'Mull - Professor Mulligan and I are, well, thinking of taking up duelling on a regular basis, as a - leisure activity.'

Rowena could swear Snape's otherwise sallow skin had turned the colour of light pink. McGonagall stared open-mouthed at him. Then she hastily composed herself, pointing a long finger at Snape.

'Are you saying I just walked in on a friendly little duelling match right here in my office?'

Rowena could quite distinctly hear a snigger coming from the portrait of the former headmaster Phineas Nigellus, but luckily McGonagall ignored it. Snape turned towards Rowena and looked her straight in the eye.

'Did she?' he asked her softly.

She looked back into his black, fathomless eyes, and could think of only one answer.

'Of course!' she said sincerely, surprised at herself for actually meaning it.

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, and she got the odd feeling a small smile was fighting its way to the surface, nearly playing across his lips.

'Well, I must say this was a surprising turn of events.' McGonagall still looked suspiciously at them. 'I was clearly under the impression you two aren't exactly the best of friends,' she said with a frown.

It was Rowena's time to speak.

'You're right. We aren't - weren't.' Rowena looked uncertainly at Snape, wondering whether she should continue. 'And, er - hadn't it been for Professor Snape,' Rowena nodded in his direction, 'we still wouldn't be. But at the end of last school year, he very decently asked for a truce. So you might say we're trying. To be friends, that is.'

Snape shot a quick look at Rowena, looking mildly impressed, as if surprised a dim-witted Gryffindor could play along that well and even manage to stay truthful. Rowena looked down at her hands, her face reddening slightly.. McGonagall looked intently at them.

'I guess it's never too late for miracles to happen, though I find it a little hard to believe,' she muttered under her breath, more to herself than to them, then said briskly, 'Very well, let's get on with the time tables then, shall we?'