Some Days I Wish I Were in Slytherin

Ch 11: The Face in the Mirror

Snape could feel her staring at him as he looked out into the dark shadows of the courtyard. He was about to turn around and snap at her, ask her what was so damned interesting that she couldn't stop looking at him, when she suddenly said in a gravelly sounding voice.

"I won't tell anyone."

"I know," he replied

He fought to keep his face impassive, his eyes cold. He knew she wouldn't tell anyone, knew like so many other things lately it would be their little secret. She moved closer to him, her face contemplative and he could feel his hands starting to shake as she looked up at him through her lashes, and unbidden her fingers reached up and gently touched his lips. His quick intake of breath sent a shiver through her as he snatched her hand away and held it tightly in his own.

"I should have been in Slytherin," she said.

"No Slytherin would be as foolhardy as you," he told her, not realizing how hard he was squeezing her hand and that the ominous creaking noise he heard was her bones grinding together.

"Is that what this is?" she asked, letting the blanket drop to the floor and bringing her free hand to his face, running her knuckles over the rough skin of his cheek. A wash of emotions shot through him, and he hissed sharply. He was painfully aware that she was clad only in white cotton knickers and a lightweight undershirt. The moonlight sent glittering silver threads through her red hair, and he leaned into her for the briefest of moments, then backed away and stared at her, his mouth tasting of bile, and a dead, cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"No."

"You don't want this?" she asked. Her eyes looked hurt, yet strangely icy, and he wondered if this was some kind of test. If she only knew the truth, he thought wildly. She would probably hate him.

He laughed, a sickening sound like tree limbs breaking, and whispered in a hoarse voice, "I want it too much..." He thought she'd run now, flee into the night like a banshee and never return, but instead she stood on her unsteady feet and regarded him with a thoughtful expression.

"Because of her?"

"No, because it's you. And that is the same reason we won't, because it's wrong, this is not meant for us." The pain in his deep voice shocked him, awoke him, and he suddenly became aware that he was crushing her hand, and that they were in full view on the balcony, she in just her underclothes. He released his death grip and turned away into the shadows of the room. Behind him he could hear the soft rustle of material as she picked up the discarded blanket. The gentle sound of her bare feet on the floor unnerved him, and he held his breath until she grabbed his arm, the heat of her hand burning his flesh through the rough sleeve. He froze as her arms went around his waist and she buried her face into his back.

He pulled away, and turned to look at her. Her eyes looked helpless, agonized. Mirroring, he realized, his own emotions. "Don't Ginny, I beg of you. Because if you do anything else I won't be able to stop."

She closed her eyes for a moment and smiled, and when she opened them they were bright with tears. "What if I don't want you to?" she whispered.

Snape stared in horrified silence at the slight girl in front of him. At one point in time he'd been the sort of person that would have taken her up on her offer, damn the consequences, or anyone's feelings. He would have taken her and enjoyed it, and then she would have been lost to him forever. He knew that somehow this miraculous, lovely girl, with the sweet smile and warm brown eyes that seemed to see inside of him was brought together with him for a reason. He'd hated her at first, with her impertinence, brazenness, and the odd way she had of making him feel vulnerable. Somehow, the longer he spent in her presence, he felt himself unbending, opening up, and in the process, feeling a strange connection between the two of them. As if he'd been searching for someone his whole life, and finally found her.

The sound of a sob broke him out of his reverie. His chest made an unfamiliar rattling noise, and in a second his arms were around her, holding her close. He felt her knees give, and he sank with her gently to the hard floor, half supporting her as she cried.

He could feel her shoulders heaving desperately as she tried to hold it in. He ran his hands gently over her hair, and like he'd done last night, whispered mindless comforting words. When at last she grew quiet, only making occasional keening sounds in the back of her throat, he wrapped the blanket more tightly around her, wiped the tears from her face, and held her silently against his chest, stroking the incredible softness of her hair. It was like a living thing, so bright, unfettered. The essence of her, he realized.

Her body was warm against his own, and as he sat there, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this close to another person, and couldn't ever remember anyone who'd held him like this, or turned to his arms for comfort. The thought chilled him. He'd had brief dalliances with women, but they were glacial, distant, emotionless encounters; transactions, he thought with a sneer. He stared down at Ginny, his cold black heart beating as if for the first time. The thought that this was a student, a mere girl did not occur to him. He ran his hand down the soft white skin of her cheek almost reverently. No matter what Voldemort had done, to him she was pure, a white dove that he would not sully with his hands. Just having this feeling was enough.

She opened her eyes when he touched her cheek, and blinked cautiously, her eyes red and fearful. "I'm sorry," she whispered, rubbing the material of his robe between her thumb and forefinger.

"Don't be. You're still under the effects of the spell I believe; it tends to cloud your judgment," he replied. He shifted underneath her. "Now if you don't mind, my leg is asleep."

She scrambled up immediately and his arms felt cold and empty somehow. She stood there in the shifting shadows of the room, looking lost and forlorn. Her glance strayed to the door of his chamber, then came back to him. He busied himself with brushing imagined dust off his robes as he stood.

"Professor?"

The sound in her voice was questioning, and he knew what she would say before she even said it.

"Would you mind if I stayed here tonight?"

He forced his voice to sound a little cold. "I don't really fancy sleeping in the armchair tonight, Miss Weasley."

She bit her lower lip, and for a moment he would almost swear she was enjoying his discomfort. "We can transfigure the bed so it's big enough for both of us Professor. I promise I won't attack you in the night. I just really don't want to be alone."

He didn't have to see the look in her eyes to know that they would silently be pleading not to be rejected again, because he knew that was how she saw what had happened. Poor girl couldn't conceive that someone could care enough to resist taking advantage. He felt the strange tightening in his chest return, but merely turned to the bed.

"Very well." He transfigured the small austere bed into a large version of his bed at Hogwarts. It looked ludicrous in the small room, but it was big enough to lose a house elf in, and still leave plenty of room between the two of them. He turned to her and with a second flick of his wand, transfigured her blanket into a long flannel nightgown in the same plaid McGonagall favored for her hats. It was an image that would more than cool any impure tendencies he might have. A token offering to the gods of chastity perhaps.

He turned from her and went into the bathroom, closing the door solidly behind him and flicking the little button to lock it. He divested himself of his robes and turned on the shower, waiting until the water was scalding hot before immersing himself in the pounding, needle-like spray. He stood under the downpour and let the water run over him, turning his pale white skin a deep red, soaking his hair, and pouring into his eyes and mouth until the pain from the heat grew too intense to be borne. Then he turned the tap to a more tepid temperature and began to scrub himself head to toe with the caustic black soap he favored. He made it himself from lye, ashes, and the crushed pits of peaches and apricots. He scrubbed himself with a boar's hair brush until his skin almost bled, and then watched the light pinkish water disappear down the drain. He tilted his head under the water and washed his hair with a tonic made of lemon and soap; the only thing he'd ever found that would reduce the oil it constantly produced.

Finally, he turned off the water and stepped out, wiping himself dry on a towel, and casting a charm to clear the painful excoriations present on his skin. He pulled on a set of sleeping robes, wiped the steam away from the mirror, and leaned on the cold white porcelain of the sink staring into the small misty circle as if scrying for answers. Examining his cruel, ugly features carefully, he wondered what on Earth she saw in him that was worthwhile.

Finally, when he knew he could stay in the bathroom no longer, he turned off the light and went out into the room. The small lump under the quilts didn't stir, and he thanked Merlin as he slipped quietly under the covers on the far side of the bed. He could hear the soft sound of her breathing and feel the occasional twitch of the mattress as she made small movements in her sleep. After what seemed like hours, he fell into troubled slumber.

He was aware of the moon as he guarded his sheep; it hung gravid in the night sky, its gleaming fingers illuminating all they touched. The constellations spun overhead in their lazy dance. The warm fragrance of midsummer filled the air, and he inhaled deeply, relishing the scent. The part of him that was Severus thought it odd that he was out here all alone in the night, but he knew, somehow, this was how it was supposed to be. His skin was dark, a rich brown color, and when he put his hand up to his mouth, he touched the rough gristly wool of his beard. The sheep were sleeping, although a late spring lamb was nursing at his mother, and a few whethers were lazily chewing their cuds. He heard the sound of running feet crashing through the underbrush and then saw the bobbing light of a torch. A young man came running into clearing and looked at him with wide eyes. He opened his mouth and spoke in a language Severus didn't understand, but the shepherd obviously did, because the words were clear in his mind. "Spyridon, it's time. Go. I'll watch the flock."

The man, Spyridon, leapt to his feet and snatched the torch from the young man, taking off without a word into the forest. He crashed through the underbrush, aware of the dark hulking shapes of the trees around him. Severus looked nervously around at the dense shadows that carpeted the forest and were thrown into sharp relief around him. In the hazy flickering light, he could almost imagine he saw small curious faces watching the man's passage, wood sprites or pixies perhaps, but the man did not pay attention to them and they did not bother him. Severus was becoming aware that this must be a dream, but why he was seeing this was not exactly clear to him. He felt as if he was this man, but in that strange way dreams had, he was also watching the man as if from a great distance. At the same time, the dream seemed unusually vivid. The acrid scent of pitch from the torch filled his nostrils, and he could literally feel the thorns and brambles that grasped at the man as he passed. Spyridon burst into a clearing and made his way carefully down a rocky embankment and through a gorge to a small farm. There were few outbuildings, and the main building appeared to be only two rooms loosely patched together with clay. He ducked under the cloth covering the doorway and stepped into the room. In front of him was a large woman before the fire and in her arms a small newborn.

Spyridon's heart pounded and a look of wonder crossed his face. Just then a soft voice spoke his name from the shadows. He turned and crossed to straw mattress at the rear of the room, her name on his lips. Severus felt his own lips form the name, reverently, lovingly, "Pelagia."

He knelt down and his eyes took in the slim, dark haired woman propped up on a bundle of wool. She looked tired, worn, but her lips curved in a sweet smile, and she looked up at him and her brown eyes shone. "Spyri."

Snape sat up in bed with a gasp, his eyes opening instantly as he gazed unseeing for a moment, trying to shake off the dream. He knew who that woman was, and that man. That man was him. He turned instantly to the girl sleeping next to him, who instead of resting quietly was tossing in agitation, murmuring strange words in a language he didn't understand. He shook her shoulder, harder then necessary perhaps, but she, like him, woke up instantly.

She looked around dazedly for a moment, then her eyes found his. "Professor?" She clutched the covers more tightly around her. "You were right about that spell having strange effects. I just had the oddest dream." She laughed, and then stifled a yawn. "I dreamt I was having a baby, but my husband wasn't there, and the midwife was speaking a language I didn't understand. He'd just come home and then... You woke me up." She gripped her stomach as if remembering. "If that's what it's like, I'm making a mental note to myself to put it off as long as possible."

Snape stared at her in shock for a moment, then managed to recover his usual reserve. "A good idea for any reason Miss Weasley. Now if you're done shouting for the evening, can we go back to sleep?"

She nodded sleepily, and settled wordlessly down on her pillow. She drifted off within moments, a small smile settling on her lips. Snape watched her for a few moments, then quietly got out of bed. His thoughts were racing. Was this even possible? If so, what did it mean? He sat down at his writing desk and began drafting a note in the moonlight to the one person he knew who might be able to answer his question.

Ying,

I need to meet with you and Humphrey to discuss a dream I've had. I'll tell you more tomorrow at dinner, but until then ask him to look into his divining mirror and see if he can sense anything about our young friend. Also, are you still doing your work with reincarnation?

S.

He enchanted the letter to open only at Ying's hand, and went down the hall to borrow the hotel owl. He sent the bird off into the night and returned quickly to the room, for some reason, he didn't want Ginny to wake up and find him gone. He tried to creep silently under the covers, but she turned and looked at him. Her eyes were not the least bit sleepy, and he realized she'd been awake for some time.

"Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine," he assured her. "I just couldn't sleep."

"Me either," Ginny replied, scooting closer under the covers. She must have noticed his body stiffening, because she laughed a little bitterly. "Don't worry Professor; your virtue is safe with me."

"Is that what you think this is about?" he asked. "I thought you had more intelligence than that."

"I think it's painfully obvious." Ginny replied.

"You silly girl." He leaned on his elbow and glared at her. "I am not rejecting you, far from it. I esteem our..." He hesitated as he tried to think of the right word. Nothing came to mind, so he tried again. "I see you as someone I respect, that I..." his lips hesitated over the unfamiliar word. "Like. A strange friendship if you will, but if we are to work together, I would not do anything to ruin the trust we've gained. Does that make it clearer?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment, "Yes. It does. I am sorry by the way."

"I know you are. You know, there are other ways to show you care for someone."

"Are you speaking from experience Professor?"

He held in the laugh that threatened to escape. "Actually... No. I am probably the worst person in the world to give you relationship advice. Except Potter perhaps; believe me, from looking into his thoughts, the boy doesn't know which end is up." He shook his head irritably and tried to regain his thoughts. "But I just wanted to tell you, you don't need to debase yourself for anyone. If you do that, it means Riddle won."

Her head nodded slowly. "You're right. But if it will help fight him, I'll do anything I have to. That's not debasement, it's business." Her glance was a little cold. "I think, if anything, you would understand the need for deviousness and subterfuge."

"I would expect nothing less from you." Snape said. She'd do what was necessary, this he knew, whether it be Malfoy or another. It was no worse than things he'd had to do in his work. Strangely the thought didn't bother him. It was cold fact, and that he could deal with. Facts were blood and bones, sex and lies.

He lay back down, and didn't protest when she snuggled next to him. It felt strangely fitting, and he knew somehow that they had passed a type of test, and that their work could now progress. However, it didn't detract from how his heart beat a little harder as he listened to the soft sound of her breath.

He thought about the dream and about his life, about the man he once was and the man he could still become. He hadn't cried in years, but there, as she lay in his arms in the darkest hour of the night, when not even the moon shone, his scalding tears dripped down onto her hair and he felt cleansed, reborn, as if all the stains were slowly being washed away. That this girl, this slender, pale, conniving sprite could have done this amazed him, made him understand what it felt like to finally be alive.

He stayed up late into the night, thinking of his hopes and thoughts, his dreams and desires, until at last he fell asleep, as the sun began to rise, his face buried in a mass of red hair.

*****************

The repercussions of the botched leglimency spell lasted well into the following day, and it was midmorning, after he plied her with potions to help her headache and bring down her fever, before she finally left Professor Snape's room. She spent most of the afternoon in bed, as any efforts to leave it had a nasty tendency to leave her sprawled on the floor, contemplating the dust kitties underneath. She owled Draco and canceled their engagement for the evening since she was in no condition to go out. Snape checked on her several times throughout the day, bringing food, juice, and a supply of increasingly boring potions trade journals. As if by some unspoken agreement, neither of them mentioned the previous evening. There was a noticeable softening in his manner toward her, though, and an indescribable emotion shining from his dark eyes.

When his knock sounded on the door at tea time, she rolled over and blinked sleepily before inviting him inside. She sat up against the headboard, arranged the blankets around her more neatly, and combed her fingers through her hair as he entered, levitating a tea tray.

He brought the tray to a rest beside her, and sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. His black eyes took in her still flushed cheeks and glassy stare and he touched his fingers to her wrist to check her pulse, then felt her forehead with a small grimace. "Well your pulse is even, but you still feel a bit warm. Promise me you won't try a difficult spell like that again?"

Ginny resisted rolling her eyes. "For the fourth time today, yes. Now will you please stop punishing me with those potions magazines?"

"I happen to enjoy them," he replied. "And my reason for giving them to you isn't coincidental." He poured her a cup of tea and offered her a plate. She nibbled on a cream cheese and marmalade sandwich and waited while he took great care adding a wedge of lemon to his tea, and choosing a biscuit. Finally he settled back down on the bed and turned to face her.

"I've spoken to Professor Dumbledore about your progress." he said without preamble. "He suggested that if you wished to continue your training after this summer, we would have to come up with an acceptable excuse to be seen in each others' company."

"Professor Dumbledore knows?" Ginny interrupted.

Snape glared, then chewed his biscuit thoroughly before answering. "Not everything, but he knew I was training you to help with a project of mine, I can only assume he figured out the rest. He asked how you were getting along with Mr. Malfoy. So, I take it that he knows that much at least."

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, "We discussed whether or not your parents should know what's going on, and for the safety of everyone involved, we decided it's better if this be kept a secret."

"My mother would kill us if she found out."

"Then you'd better ensure she doesn't; I don't relish the idea of her finding out, either. She's finally starting to tolerate me; the last thing I want is for her to accuse me of corrupting her little girl."

Ginny raised her eyes from her teacup and looked at him seriously. "Don't worry sir, there's no reason they have to know. I think you know I'm good at hiding things."

He gave her an ironic smile. "Yes, you're very good at that type of thing aren't you?" He brushed the back of her hand absently with his fingers. "Now, as for the potions magazines. Professor Dumbledore decided the best way for you to continue working with me would be for me to take you on as an assistant next year. You are to help with the younger students and with some of my projects. He's actually going to assign all the prefects to various teachers, mixing up the houses to help promote unity."

Ginny was barely in time to keep her teacup from sliding out of her hand. "Prefect?"

Snape removed a handful of letters from his pocket. "These were delivered to the desk for you today. I think you'll find all your answers inside. But in the meantime, I expect you to review your potions work in addition to your other studies. I have very high expectations for this coming year. I'm sure you won't let me down."

His black eyes regarded her thoughtfully, and she fought the color that threatened to overtake her cheeks. "You know I won't sir."

"Very well, then I'll leave you alone with your letters. I'm going to Ying's for dinner, but I'll be in my rooms later if you need anything."

Ginny smiled and tentatively touched his sleeve. "Thank you."

Snape took the remains of the tea tray and left the room, his robes flapping behind him. Ginny settled back against the pillows and sifted through the letters in the small pile. She examined the creamy parchment with the familiar green ink and the Hogwarts seal first, setting the other two aside. Her skin turned warm when she realized it was addressed to Professor Snape's room. It must have been delivered this morning, she thought. Falling asleep in his room on Friday nights was becoming a bit of a nasty habit. She blushed again as she remembered the events of the previous evening, and then stifled a laugh as she wondered what Draco would think if he found out.

She turned her attention back to the letter, fighting a giddy feeling at the knowledge that it was thicker than usual. She opened it up and poured the shiny Gryffindor prefect badge out into her hand. It conformed perfectly to her palm, and she caressed the smooth metal for a moment before inspecting the remaining contents of the envelope. She bypassed the introductory letter and the list of supplies, instead spreading open the third sheet.

**************************

Dear Miss V. Weasley,

Please accept the warmest congratulations from myself and the rest of the staff as we inform you of your selection as a Gryffindor fifth year prefect. Your academic record and service to the school as well as your hard work and dedication have made this honor possible. I am sure you will live up to the responsibilities and expectations your new status brings. Please meet with the other prefects upon boarding the Hogwarts Express on September 1st, to receive a briefing on your duties. In addition, it is my pleasure to inform you of a new policy which will begin this year. All prefects will be assigned in pairs to assist a Professor with teaching the lower classes, as well as helping them grade papers and other work. The exception will be the Head Boy and Girl, whose duties are already extensive. These pairs will be mixed as to house and year in order to promote unity amongst the student body. A list of these assignments is below. Best wishes and congratulations.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

******************

Ginny's eyes quickly scanned the list. She was not surprised to find her name listed next to Potions. She was also not surprised to find Draco had been assigned as her partner. She perused the names further, and found Hermione assigned to the Arithmancy witch Professor Vector, along with a seventh year Ravenclaw, and Ron and a fifth year Hufflepuff working Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.

She wondered briefly what Hagrid would have in store for her brother, then turned to the other letters. She opened the one from her family and unconsciously rubbed the prefect badge between her fingers as she read.

****************

Dear Ginny,

Congratulations on being made a prefect. Your father and I are so proud of you. Ron received his letter today and we were delighted to see your name listed with the other prefects. I was surprised that Headmaster Dumbledore had assigned you to work with Professor Snape, as I always thought your strong point was charms, but obviously the Professor has been impressed by all the hard work you've done so far. We received a letter from him just the other day where he detailed how hard you've been working, and how kind you've been to the Malfoy boy. He explained to us that the poor lad had been unduly influenced by his father, and that he thinks your kindness is having a positive affect on him. He even said he thought there still might be hope for him. This is such good news Ginny, and I'm so glad to see my daughter doesn't let prejudice blind her. I'm sorry we were so harsh to you in our previous letter. Your father and I have gotten to know Professor Snape better in recent years, and we trust his judgment in these matters. I'm sure you are in good hands. All right dear, well, I'll let your brother and Hermione add a bit at the end. We'll see you in a month.

Love,

Mum and Dad

**************

Gin,

Good show on being made prefect, although I don't like the idea of you working with Snape and Malfoy one bit. I don't care what mom said above. You be careful, and if I see that slimy git even look at you wrong I'll...

Hi Ginny, it's Hermione, congratulations, I knew you'd be made prefect. Isn't it exciting all the extra responsibility we're being given. This type of work could really help us on exams and also in finding a job after graduation. I received my owls and I...

Broke some kind of bloody record, yeah we know. Anyway Ginny, we're running out of parchment, so we'll write more later.

Love,

Ron and Hermione

P.S. Ginny, he finally got up the nerve so it's official- H

P.S.S. Ignore that last comment, and don't trust Malfoy, he's a right bastard- R

**********************

Ginny shook her head and smiled. She'd have to write Hermione a letter to find out exactly what happened between her and Ron; she also wondered when Harry would be with them. His birthday was today, after all. She couldn't help but laugh at the thought of what Ron said about Draco. If he only knew what was really going on. The thought made her turn to the third letter with thoughtful eyes. Draco's characteristic silvery grey stationary and dark green ink were instantly recognizable, even without his distinctive handwriting. She placed her finger under the flap and slowly opened the envelope. Inside was a thick card and a note.

My Dear Gin,

Well, it seems congratulations are in order. I should have known you'd be made a prefect. Isn't it mandatory in your family? It's really frustrating how you get more suitable every day that passes. Grandfather is practically planning our wedding after reading my Hogwarts letter. Well anyway, so sorry you had to cancel our outing tonight. I've been pining for you all this week, and then you have to go and get ill. I hope you'll be feeling better by tomorrow, and be able to join us for the excursion my grandfather has planned. We'll be a small party, and he's engaged a car to take us out to the Great Wall. Your friend Daisy will be there, but I'm sure we can arrange a little time alone. Did I mention I've missed you terribly? I think it was very interesting that Snape chose the two of us to work with him this year. You didn't have to sleep with him or anything did you? Just joking about that Red, I don't want to put any ideas in your devious little mind. The extra work will be an annoyance, but at least it gives us a good excuse to be together. House unity indeed, I know your family likes him, but I think Dumbledore gets more cracked every year that goes by. Speaking of cracked, enclosed you'll find an invitation to my Grandfather's 80^th birthday celebration. He's planning a grand ball the last weekend of the conference, and you're expected to attend. There will be people from all over coming in just for the night, and it should be one of the events of the season. Let me know if you're not feeling well, otherwise I'll pick you up tomorrow at nine sharp.

Until Tomorrow,

Draco

**********************

Ginny set the letter down with a sly smile. Considering the conversation she'd overheard between Draco and his Grandfather, she had a feeling Julian might not be joking. She laughed at the thought of him forcing Draco to meet with her parents and ask for her hand. Personally she thought it rather sad that Draco's life was being arranged for him. She wondered how he really felt about her, if it really was just an act, or if maybe he had the capacity to love, to look beyond the superficial and shallow. She had to admit that despite his audacious behavior, and maybe because of it, she found herself liking him more and more all the time. There were worse things then pretending to be in love with a rich, attractive, funny young man. At least she had something to work with, imagine if she'd had to pretend to like Goyle. She shuddered at the thought and felt her sandwich jump sympathetically in her stomach. At least with Draco she could imagine herself in love with him, and that was almost like the real thing. She ignored the little voice at the back of her head that wondered demonically if this could be the real thing. You know it's not, she told herself, pushing the thought to the back of her mind and reaching for her quill and parchment, thinking that it was a good thing he didn't know about Professor Snape.