Strange Emulsion

Aug 1

The heat of the day was overpowering. From the smells in the corridors, it seemed that the heat had lifted the musty waters of the lake itself and imported them into the stone passageways, so that anyone unfortunate enough to be about the school on August first would have to breathe in the hateful vapors. Still, it wasn't this that had deflated Snape's walk somewhat, nor was it the fact that he had reluctantly abandoned his usual heavy robes, so that now any swishing material did not accompany his steps. No, his walk had been reduced to a shadow of its former brilliant arrogance by the fact that he was, plain and simple, going begging.

In the weak, flickering torch light, the gargoyle seemed to be leering at him, appraising him with a smirk.

"Oh, come off of it," he snapped at the inanimate bird. "Velcro." The gargoyle moved aside, and the moving spiral staircase was revealed. Snape stepped on to it, not bothering to walk up along with it as he usually did. He tried to occupy his mind with something other than the true purpose of his visit--he did not want Dumbledore to be able to read his mind so clearly as he usually did. Thinking about Velcro might just be the trick, he thought to himself. Strange, the number of Muggle inventions had yet to make their way into the wizarding world. A bit of this Velcro might be just the ticket on the inner flap of a winter cloak. Dumbledore's penchant for making the names of sweets his password had become too well known, so all summer he'd been changing it almost daily, replacing it with odd phrases that would only be known outside of Hogwarts. Just the other day it had been "Pottery Barn."

The heavy oak door at the top of the staircase was propped open. "Professor Snape," Dumbledore said pleasantly the moment Snape's head appeared at floor level. "Precisely the person I wanted to see." He waited until Snape's entire body had entered the room, the stone staircase melding seamlessly with the floor, before he gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Do sit down."

Snape sat stiffly, resigning himself to the pleasantries before the real mission of his visit could be accomplished. "I hope the heat is not taxing you?" he asked soberly. Personally, he thought Dumbledore might just be suffering from sun poisoning. After all, what other explanation could there be for the outrageously bright shirt and the strangely patterned trousers he was wearing? The trousers, it seemed, ended just below his knees and, like the shirt, were patterned all over with alarming representations of flowers and even tropical birds.

"Not at all, not at all," Dumbledore said as he stood, confirming Snape's suspicions regarding the trousers. "But I fear that Fawkes is feeling a bit under the weather." As he stepped to the front of his desk, Snape was fairly terrified to see that the headmaster had on his feet a pair of rubber soles, attached to his feet only by a shiny bit of material coming up through the toes. Must get Poppy up to see him, mused Snape. The shoes made a flopping noise as he approached the bird, which was apparently recovering from a burning day. "Not the heat, it's the humidity," he commented as he stroked the bird's ugly, bald head. "He's not progressing the way I would like."

Snape decided that he had fulfilled his social obligation--that and the sight of the headmaster's bare feet was getting to be too much for him.

"I must tell you why I am here, Headmaster," he said.

"Ah, indeed," Dumbledore said, "do go ahead."

Snape waited until he was seated behind his desk again. "I was wondering what the current status of the DADA position was."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, looking grave despite his odd clothing. "I thought you might be here to inquire about that, Severus," he said, "but I must disappoint you by saying I have secured a person for the job."

"May I ask why I wasn't approached?" Snape queried.

"Well, I thought that would be obvious," Dumbledore said calmly. "Where else on Earth would I be able to find a Potions Master with your myriad qualifications?"

Snape bristled at that. "May I ask," he said, trying to control his speech, "if you even looked for a Potions Master at this time?"

Dumbledore looked troubled at that. "I must admit that I did not, Severus," he said slowly, "for even if I could have found someone to take your place, which I doubt, I cannot imagine that the other problems would have been resolved."

"Perhaps you might share with me what these problems were." Snape felt a cold bead of sweat travel down his back. If it were not for the fact that he didn't want to look like a complete ponce, he might have considered a costume like the headmaster's.

"Certainly." Leaning forward, Dumbledore suddenly looked as serious as Snape had ever seen him. "I cannot pretend that I would have no qualms allowing you to teach that class." Snape started forward, but Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him. "It could only bring you closer to something that you worked so hard to get away from. In teaching the elegant defenses against the Dark Arts, you would be forced to admit the elegance of the thing you were fighting. You might be forced to admit the cunning design and the brilliant orchestration of many of the most cruel elements of this subject, and I do fear that this admission would lead to admiration." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "You are a brilliant wizard, Severus, but one exposure to the Dark Arts does not make you stronger against them, quite the opposite."

"I disagree," Severus said. "I have years of pain behind me because of this. Who better to teach the defense against it than someone who has both been its subject and its instrument?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I cannot deny that your intentions are very admirable. But please, consider this. The study of Potions requires patience, precision, and accuracy. Many people besotted by the Dark Arts possess few to none of these qualities, and therefore Potions is a study that is, in itself, very much a valued defense."

Snape snorted, a sound that surprised even him, but he continued. "Surely you know that I teach nothing of that caliber in any of my Potions classes. It is a nice point, but highly theoretical."

Dumbledore smiled his strange half smile. "Severus, you don't think that the virtues you instill in these students will serve them well, long after the potions are all but forgotten?"

"If by that you mean all the way until dinner, then yes, I suppose so." Snape could see that he was losing the argument.

"And there is another thing, something I must take very seriously." Dumbledore ignored the sarcasm and continued. "Your past is not a well guarded secret. Too many parents know of it not to be alarmed if their children were being taught by you in that area."

"Or some of them might be pleased." Snape's voice was full of resignation, a tone that jarred against his own ears.

"That is true, but I hardly think upon it," Dumbledore said, turning his attention to Fawkes, who was valiantly attempting to shift a large chunk of ash off of himself. "It is only a peripheral reason. And I've already given you the ultimate reason; the reason behind which all others pale and are meaningless." He looked over his glasses. "In terms of Potions, I cannot afford to lose you."

Snape nodded stoically, knowing that the conversation was over. "When can we expect the new professor?" he asked.

"Not until the first of September, I am afraid," Dumbledore said, "but I will make sure that everything is in order for him. And now, I must ask of you a favor."

"Yes?" Snape asked. He knew that whatever it was, he would not be able to refuse, no matter how loathsome it would be. And this after he had been rebuked for wanting a job he was uniquely qualified for!

"Our new professor will be needing a potion which I believe only yourself and a few others in this country are capable of making. Will I be able to count on you for it?"

Snape immediately thought of the lost time that he could have spent working on his own, the solitude of the potions lab one of his only salves of having to have the job in the first place. "Of course," he said coolly. "May I ask what it is?"

"It is rare enough that I do not believe it has a name," Dumbledore said slowly, "But it is used only to tame the instincts of a werewolf, when he must undergo his monthly transformation."

Snape curled his upper lip, unconsciously making himself look more like a vampire than he normally did. "The new teacher is a werewolf?" he asked.

"Mmm, yes," Dumbledore said, shifting some papers on his desk. "I do believe you know him. Remus Lupin." He looked up at that to see Snape planting his hands on the desk, just as he'd thought he would.

"Remus Lupin!" he practically spat, no longer caring that this was the headmaster. "Remus Lupin! Of course I have made his acquaintance, as you say, he tried to kill me, if you will kindly remember!"

Dumbledore remained calm. "He did nothing of the sort, Severus," he said, "he was as much a butt of that ill-conceived joke as you were. Let us try to put schoolboy grudges behind us, shall we?"

Snape thought that was a bit rich coming as it did from someone with no school day contemporaries left. "I suppose I have a month to do so," he muttered. He turned to Dumbledore. "If parents would not care for me teaching their students, I cannot imagine how they would feel having a werewolf do those honors."

Dumbledore became very serious. "They will not know," he said, "unless he chooses to tell them. Very few people here know in any case, and the secrecy I bound you to all those years ago still stands. Unless you wish to defy me."

"Of course not," Snape said, feeling Dumbledore's blue eyes bore into him. "And you will have the potion, I can promise you that." He felt some of the fire drain out of him in the light of how easily the headmaster could control him.

"Excellent then." Dumbledore's features rearranged themselves back into their more familiar cheerful countenance. "With the potion, he will be as good as tame and there will be no need for worry."

Snape continued to stand, as if rooted to the spot. Not only had his slim hopes been dashed, he'd just been told that he was to be a practical servant to his oldest enemy.

"Well, you may go if you wish," said Dumbledore. "Oh, one more thing." His look turned grave again. "The school will, unfortunately, be playing host to some of Azkaban's Dementors. They will only be at the gates of the school, but I feel we should use a few precautions. Perhaps you could order some extra chocolate when you are stocking the medi-potions."

"Chocolate is hardly my area of expertise," Snape said coolly. "Wouldn't that be better left to Poppy?"

"Can't hurt to have a good supply in, Severus," Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Severus only trusted himself to nod.

"And do change into something a little cooler," Dumbledore advised. "I picked these up on a little trip to Bermuda last month." He plucked at the shirt, as if holding it out for Snape's inspection.

"Very sharp," he managed to croak out.

"You should take a little trip," he advised, looking serious once more. "The international apparition station in Hogsmeade is having a sale. Very reasonable rates to almost anywhere."

"I hear Lapland is nice this time of year." How long is this conversation going to continue? he wondered irritably.

"Yes, well, I'll leave you to enjoy the rest of your break," Dumbledore said. "No use in hanging around here!"

Snape stepped on to the first step of the staircase, and it began its winding downwards.

As soon as he was safely outside the gargoyle's doorway he allowed some of the pent-up anger release itself. "Why don't I ever get anything that I want?" he yelled to the empty corridor.

Dumbledore smiled as the yell reached him in a highly muted form. It often paid, he thought, to have enchanted the nearby hallway, though usually he was more interested in what people were muttering before coming to see him. Why can't I ever get anything I want? Snape had yelled. Fawkes himself had squawked upon hearing the angry sounds.

"There, there, Fawkes," Dumbledore cooed to the little bird, now sweaty with the effort of shifting all the ashes. "This time, he just might."