No One's Lapdog

No One's Lapdog

Chapter six

At lunch the next day Rowena headed straight for Snape instead of sitting down at her usual seat at the far end of the teacher's table.

'May I?'

She pointed to the vacant seat at his right. Taken by surprise, Snape only managed a short nod, watching with a frown as Rowena sat down next to him. At first both of them ate in silence, avoiding looking at each other. Then Rowena whispered, so that only Snape could hear her,

'I'm curious. Last night; what was that all about?'

'What?'

His lips barely moved, though she could hear him distinctly.

'I heard you talking to me - in my mind.'

'So?' he replied warily.

Rowena groaned silently. Why was it so hard to give her a simple, straightforward answer?

'I'm not sure I like the thought of you getting inside my head.' She narrowed her eyes, taking a sip of pumpkin juice from her goblet.

'Well, that goes for me too,' he sneered, still keeping the conversation in a whisper.

'If you don't like it in there, then why did you break into my mind again last night then?' she replied angrily.

He finally turned his head fully towards her, pinning her with his powerful black stare.

'It was initially not my choice to do so, Mulligan!' he whispered dangerously. 'And I certainly did not break into your mind against your will.'

She was slightly taken aback.

What do you mean? Her mind raced.

His eyes never leaving hers, contracting slightly in concentration, she could suddenly feel sentences forming in her mind.

I'll tell you what I mean. Like now, for two minds to be able to communicate without the use of words, eye contact is essential. I am able to read your unspoken question because our eyes provide a link, a channel between our minds.

He turned away from her, deliberately breaking his gaze.

'But - but... ,' she spluttered, raising her voice slightly and making him send her a quick warning look. She lowered her voice. 'But, I've looked into a lot of people's eyes and have never experienced anything of the sort before. Why now?'

He hesitated, continuing rather unwillingly.

'Well, communicating this way usually requires a lot of skill and diligent training. A very few are naturals. Then there seems to be those who usually don't have the ability, but they discover their mind is, for some unknown reason, able to exchange unspoken words only with one - other mind.'

Snape's voice trailed away. He looked positively uneasy now, not to mention angry she had the nerve to ask him these things. Gritting his teeth, he added,

'So, apart from keeping eye-contact, you also have to open your mind to the other person, allowing it to happen.'

He muttered the last words rather sulkily, and she had to strain her ears to catch what he was saying.

'You mean I knowingly let you enter my mind last night?' She was both confused and annoyed. 'Strange I didn't notice it myself then!'

His lip curled.

'It's hardly my fault you are not aware of what your brain is doing, Mulligan!'

Rowena flashed her eyes furiously, scowling at him.

'That was uncalled for, Snape! You better be ready for a duel tonight, because I am!'

He smirked at her.

'Certainly!'

The next day Rowena groaned and cursed silently under her breath as she made her way around school, attending to her classes. She was bruised all over from the jinxes and spells that had hit her the night before, not to forget all the unfriendly encounters she'd had with the cold and hard ground. What made it bearable though, was seeing Snape walking the corridors limping noticeably.

*

Weeks and months passed by, and Rowena enjoyed her second year as a Potions teacher even more than she had enjoyed her first. She had to admit Snape was still getting on her nerves, meddling in her classes, always on the ready to taunt and tease her, knowing fully well exactly how to make her lose her temper. At times they were duelling so frequently, 'settling their differences' that Rowena thought Snape had been quite truthful in telling the Headmistress they were taking up duelling as a sport. She even caught herself enjoying their 'friendly' appointments out in the grounds. She was starting to become really good at duelling, giving Snape all the challenge he could master. While at each other with wands, she felt they were finally on equal terms. This was a game they both could understand and even appreciate together. Oddly enough, whenever fighting they were the closest to being friends.

Rowena had been a little wary of having prolonged eye contact with Snape after the incident where they seemed to be able to communicate without words, only through their eyes and minds. She was scared. Had he been right? Had she willingly opened her mind to him, letting him inside that evening? And why had she the strangest feeling he in turn had let her inside his mind, allowing an unspoken conversation to take place? It confused her. Admittedly she had always, deep down, liked Snape despite his unpleasant and often cruel behaviour both to her and to the students. He was a walking mystery, and she couldn't help herself wanting to peel off all his many layers, getting to the bottom of his soul. Because she felt sure there had to be one hidden away somewhere. She thought she'd seen its shadow now and then on the surface before it had discovered it was being watched and had fled to hide at the bottom of those black pits that were Snape's eyes... So, she gruntingly admitted to herself her fascination with Snape might have opened her mind to him, making him able to read her thoughts. But that didn't explain why he had consented in communicating with her in such an intimate way. Surely there was no way he could possibly like her? True, he seemed to enjoy fighting her, lately even considering her a worthy opponent at duels, but most of the time he was still acting the unpleasant git she had always known him to be. No, he couldn't possibly care for her. Not that way anyway.

*

Golden rays of lazy autumn sunlight poured through the windows, warming up the slightly stale air and making Rowena feel drowsy. Yawning loudly, she rose from the armchair and collected the flagons of potion she was going to store for tomorrow's lesson. She moved towards the wardrobe to get her cloak when she tripped, causing one of the flagons to fly out of her hand and crash to the floor, the content spilling all over the carpet. Cursing to herself (luckily she was the only one present in the staff room), Rowena ducked behind the armchair to clean up the mess. She had just repaired the flagon with a flick of her wand and was about to clean the carpet with a well-aimed Scourgifying spell when she heard the door open and someone entering. She made to get up when she heard the unmistakeable swishing of a cloak. Not just any cloak. She cursed again, under her breath this time. She peered cautiously over the back of her armchair, and her suspicion was confirmed. It was none other than Snape. He glided swiftly across the room, looking as sour as ever; frowning slightly at his own reflection as he passed the mirror on the wall. He moved over to the darkest corner of the room, to the armchair farthest away from the fireplace and sat down in it, picking up today's copy of the Daily Prophet.

Bad timing, as always. Rowena groaned silently. She was really not in the mood to have Snape gloating over her little flagon accident. On the other hand, if he discovered she had been hiding behind the chair, 'prying' on him, hell would break loose. She shot a quick glance at her watch. Lessons would end in five minutes' time, so with a little bit of luck some of the other teachers would be filing in shortly, making it easier for her to slip out unnoticed. What if she just stayed hidden behind the armchair; Snape wouldn't be able to spot her as long as she remained silent and motionless...

Snape closed his eyes wearily. He abandoned his usual stiff and rigid pose and allowed himself to lean back in the chair, sighing inaudibly. When he finally opened his eyes again, the frown was gone. His face looked - softer, somehow. And his eyes... The coldness of his dark eyes had been replaced by an inward, almost lonely look, as if they were longing for something unreachable. Like a plant kept in the dark. He stared into the air for a while before he opened the newspaper and started flipping slowly through it. Rowena watched him wonderingly from behind the armchair. She couldn't take her eyes off him. She was so used to seeing his face tense and stiff with that annoyed expression plastered to it. Now he just looked - human. Even likeable.

Snape suddenly sat up in his armchair, resuming his usual proud pose. Rowena jumped, almost revealing her hiding place. Had he discovered her?

'Good afternoon.'

'Good afternoon to you too Severus,' replied the wheezy voice of Professor Binns as he came gliding through the wall into the middle of the room.

To Rowena's dismay the ghost headed straight for his usual chair which happened to be right next to the one she was hiding behind.

'Oh, hello Rosita,' he droned on. 'Any particular reason why you are sitting on the floor rather than in a nice, squashy armchair?' said Binns absentmindedly, gliding right past her.

Snape gave a sudden start, looking around with an alarmed look on his face. His eyes flashed as Rowena emerged from behind the armchair blushing furiously.

'Er - good afternoon, Professor Binns. I - I was just mopping up this potion I spilled on the carpet you see,' Rowena mumbled as she hurriedly waved her wand over the stain on the carpet. She could feel Snape's burning stare on her back. Would she be able to make a dignified retreat? She turned around, and their eyes met. His face was whiter than usual, a stark contrast to the utter blackness of his eyes. The soft lines in his face were gone now. He looked furious. Fearsome, Rowena thought.

She swallowed, but held her gaze.

No reason to worry Severus; I didn't see anything I didn't like, she apologized silently as she hurried out of the room, missing Snape's expression slowly changing from anger to bewilderment. Nor did she see how he remained motionless in his chair for a long time afterwards, the Daily Prophet propped open in front of him; his dark eyes unfocused, staring right through it.

'Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days?

I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?'

(OotP p. 460 Bloomsbury)

Christmas had long gone but winter was still holding its chilling grip on the Hogwarts grounds. Rowena had no plans of leaving the castle for the approaching Hogsmeade weekend. But McGonagall had asked the teachers, Rowena included, to join her over a drink in the Three Broomsticks. She grudgingly consented, thinking she might be able to get away from the noisy and crowded pub after a while. She joined McGonagall and Hagrid as they made their way across the snowy grounds to the main gates.

When they entered the pub it was already bustling with boisterous students enjoying their foamy butterbeers. At the sight of them, the busy landlady greeted them with a wave and pointed at a couple of vacant tables that stood at the far back. Fighting their way across the room, Rowena fell behind as she heard someone speaking her name behind her back. Turning, she noticed a group of people sitting in a dark corner, watching her avidly, not trying to hide their stares. She didn't recognize any of them, they were clearly not students at Hogwarts, being too old for that. She reckoned their age to be around twenty. One of them, a young man with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair smiled haughtily at her, beckoning her to come over to their table.

Scowling slightly she altered her course and made for their table. Getting closer, she could see that the group consisted of a couple of arrogant-looking girls and an assortment of young men, two of them big and burly with mean and beefy faces. She turned her attention to the pale young man who was clearly the leader of this little gang. His grey, cold eyes perkily returned her stare. He addressed her in a drawling, almost bored voice.

'You're Mulligan, the new Potions mistress at Hogwarts I presume?'

She narrowed her eyes. It was impudent of him to leave out 'Professor' when addressing her.

'And who are you, if I may ask?' she asked testily.

'I'm Draco Malfoy,' replied the pale boy.

His cronies seemingly not keen on introducing themselves, Malfoy ploughed on.

'I graduated from Hogwarts two years ago, as one of the best students of my year.' He paused, smirking. 'I'm sure Professor Snape has mentioned my name?'

Here's one git being full of himself, Rowena thought annoyingly. From what she had heard about Draco, he obviously hadn't changed much since he left school.

'I wouldn't know,' she replied coldly. 'I usually don't discuss his former students with him.'

Is that right?' His grey eyes narrowed. 'Because I've got the distinct impression you discuss a lot of other things with him.'

Rowena could see his cronies leering at her. She ignored them and pinned Malfoy with her blue stare, feeling her temper rising.

'When did it become your business what I'm discussing with Professor Snape?'

He didn't answer her question, just smiled in a very smug way.

'Let me put it this way, Mulligan. My sources tell me you're trying to turn Professor Snape into some sort of lapdog of yours, wanting to tame him. Whatever you're doing, I don't like it.'

Rowena's jaw dropped.

'Lapdog? That's - that's preposterous! Professor Snape's no one's lapdog, least of all mine! Who on earth has been telling you such lies?' she spat, her temper flaring.

'I'm not revealing my sources,' he drawled on, looking pleased he had angered her, 'but the rumours are saying our beloved Professor is losing his edge, growing soft with the students, turning into a detestable mudblood lover. As if he was a common Gryffindor or something.' Malfoy pulled a face. 'Why, my informants tell me he doesn't jinx and curse his students in class half as much as he did last year. You're exercising an unhealthy influence over him, Mulligan, the way you sidle up to him, sticking to him like a leech.' He stared back at her with contempt.

Her eyes now shooting daggers at him, she hissed softly,

'I don't know where you've got this rubbish from Mr. Malfoy, but to your information it's Professor Snape that has been meddling in my business, not the other way around, sticking his large nose into my affairs. If he had cared to listen to me, I would have told him to get off my back faster than you can say 'riddikulus'!'

Draco suddenly wiped the smirk off his face, his attention diverted to a point behind Rowena's back.

'Ah, Professor Snape!' he drawled, smiling indulgently. 'Nice to see you - it has been a long time.'

Turning quickly, Rowena could see Snape approaching.

'Well well, if it isn't my model student,' he said with a pleased smile on his face.

Rowena could hardly conceal a grimace.

'I'll leave you two to reminiscent on the good old days, if you'll excuse me... ,' she said as she hastily retreated from the table.

Snape shot an inquisitive look at her as she swept past him, his eyes narrowing slightly, then accepted the seat Draco offered him. Rowena hurriedly made her way to the far back of the crowded pub where the rest of the teachers now had joined McGonagall and Hagrid. Having the choice of listening to Hagrid's crude tales after having had too much firewhisky and Draco's rude insinuations, she'd choose Hagrid any day.

'I told you,' said Snape, rigid in his chair, his eyes slits, 'to call me 'sir'.

(OotP p. 470 Bloomsbury)

It was late afternoon before she could finally get away from the Three Broomsticks and head back to Hogwarts. She walked straight to her office, once inside she started restlessly pacing up and down, deeply immersed in thought. The encounter with Malfoy and his gang had shaken her. She felt flustered and angry. What was that about her turning Snape into her lackey? She snorted loudly. Not that she had tried, but Snape was not the sort of person who'd let himself be controlled by anyone, least of all her. But a small voice nagged at the back of her head. Quite honestly, didn't she want him to change? For a start, it wouldn't hurt if he was to treat people around him in a more civilised manner. But according to Malfoy and his informants, he was already getting there, 'turning soft', not exactly being kind to his students, but definitely less cruel... She stopped pacing, staring absentmindedly out of her window. Could it possibly have something to do with her? Was she trying to 'tame' him, to turn him into some sort of puppet? But she couldn't see how she could possibly have exerted any influence over him, since he so obviously detested her... She resumed her pacing. She didn't want him to stop being Snape. She loved his fierce pride, his stylish and secretive demeanour, his brilliant and independent mind, his snide remarks and his delicate subtleness. But couldn't he be all this and still seek to become more courteous, more civil? If she could only make him see that his self-esteem was perfectly capable of standing on its own without having to feed on other people's misery, that he was a valuable human being in his own right...

It was late in the evening when she finally looked out of the window again at the darkness that had descended on the grounds. Cursing under her breath for missing out on supper, she stood indecisively for a moment, then suddenly made up her mind. She walked over to the wardrobe and extracted her broom, her Beater's club, a pair of leather gloves and her warm cloak. Since it was quite late she didn't meet anybody in the corridors, which suited her perfectly. She didn't need anyone asking awkward questions about what she was doing.