A Cloud Before the Moon

They were led into a large sweeping entranceway. The ceiling appeared to be transparent, giving a magnificent view of the heavens, but Davy realized that the real sky was not so clear that night, nor would so many constellations all be visible at the same time. They descended a splendid marble staircase which led them into a large ballroom filled with a crowd of very elegantly-dressed wizards and witches. A tall exquisite blonde woman swept over to Snape and he bowed to her. She returned the slightest hint of a nod.

This had to be Narcissa. Her features were delicate and regular; her nose aquiline and elegant. The woman's eyes were a remarkable shade of violet, and yet managed to convey no warmth. Like her cousin, she had pale skin, but while his had a yellowish cast, hers was like fine porcelain, with the faintest rose blush. Adams did not need a subscription to Witch Weekly to recognize that the woman's undeniably magnificent gown was the height of magical haute couture. How many times had Annie shoved a copy of Vogue in his face, pointed to some exorbitantly-priced bit of nonsense and whined "That's what I should be wearing Davy, not these rags!" And somehow, Davy Adams knew that the diaphanous confection would never be worn a second time.

Madame Snape took both the woman's hands in hers and gushed, "My darling Narcissa, Aphrodite herself would turn green with envy at the sight of you!" Narcissa slid her hands out of her aunt's grasp. "Hello, Aunt Eris", she said coolly. She looked at Snape with the hint of a frown.

"Lucius had said I might bring a guest."

"Oh really, Severus, he was just being facetious; no one really thought you'd bring anyone." She glanced over at his mother, who was preoccupied with examining the crowd. "If I'd wanted her to come I would have invited her. Lucius will have a fit!" she hissed.

"No, I will speak to him - and she has promised to be on her best behavior", said Snape placidly. He quickly added, "I am afraid, however, that I may have taken advantage of your husband's hospitality." Narcissa raised her eyebrows in alarm. "I have brought not one, but two guests. May I introduce Eamon FitzGerald?"

Davy stepped forward and bowed. "It is indeed an honor and a pleasure to meet you," he enunciated with an aristocratic Irish inflection.

Narcissa peered at him curiously. "Are you a friend of my cousin's?"

"I am."

Eris Snape overheard this and felt the need to clarify matters. She smiled smugly at Adams and then at Severus. "It pains me to tell you this, darling, but this man and your cousin are - " Snape turned his face towards her and smiled at her. At least, it had the general appearance of a thin-lipped smile, but its threat was unmistakable. "- Colleagues."

"I see." Narcissa looked vaguely perplexed.- actually, she did not see at all. Nor did she really care. "I have done my duty, now you will excuse me while I find some interesting conversation?" And with that, she turned and headed off.

Snape plunged into the crowd, glancing at Adams to indicate that he should follow. He introduced FitzGerald to various wizards and witches. Within a short time, the two men became the object of numerous stares - some curious, some icy, many amused. One very large, homely wizard pushed his way over and guffawed in Snape's face. "Heh heh - I always knew you were a fribble", he snorted, and sticking his face forward, added "Theveruth". Adams shook his head. Clearly, wizards came in varieties as stupid as some Muggles.

The two men made their way to an inconspicuous corner of the room, ostensibly seeking privacy, but they were interrupted at various intervals by assorted individuals following the trail of juicy gossip. With uncharacteristic patience, Snape repeatedly introduced Eamon FitzGerald as an 'acquaintance from Dublin', and ignored the goggling and snide comments that their subtle little charade of mutual affection seemed to engender. Adams had the distinct impression that, possibly, his and Severus' apparent relationship was rare among wizards or, more likely, what was rare was 'coming out of the closet.'

At one point, he pictured what would happen if the string quartet playing genteely on the balcony were magically replaced by Freddie Mercury strutting across the floor, and nearly choked. Snape glanced at him sharply; Eamon was, at that moment, shaking his head in agreement with a ruddy-faced wizard, who seemed to be waiting for further elucidation of Mr. FitzGerald's opinion. "You were saying?"

Adams looked at him blankly, but Snape prompted him, between clenched teeth, "You were telling Mr. Uffington how you disapprove of the new Irish Minister of Magic?"

"Right. Sorry - I thought I saw someone I recognized, but I was mistaken. Well..." he collected his thoughts. "I don't really much keep up with politics, but I'm not too happy about this business that he voted against the Culvert Bill."

The ruddy-faced man nodded emphatically. "Precisely what I think! Miscegenation should be criminalized! That would put a stop to this influx of Muggleborns!"

"Absolutely!" remarked Adams with enthusiasm. "Can't have all those stinkin' Mudbloods destroyin' our bloodlines."

"Yes, well...", Uffington sighed. "You're a good fellow, FitzGerald. Too bad you're..."

Adams peered at him pleasantly. "Yes?"

"Er - Irish."

Adams felt his face twisting uncontrollably.

"Forgive me," said Uffington anxiously; ""I did not mean to insult you as an Irishman."

"No? How did you mean to insult me, sir?" he asked indignantly. Under his robe, Adams pinched his own thigh to keep from laughing, while Uffington hastily excused himself.

Snape looked at him oddly and shook his head, but moments later, they were accosted by a dapper-looking fellow with a disagreeable expression, named MacNair, who seemed quite outraged at the dearth of donations by Muggleborns to worthy causes. He was interrupted by a high-pitched voice at knee height. "Please sir", the voice squeaked, "Master Lucius wishes to speaks to you, sir."

"Certainly", said MacNair, "I am at his service."

"Please sir, I is sorry, but Master Lucius askeded for Mr. Severus Snape, sir."

"I see", said MacNair with obvious disappointment.

"Please excuse me, gentlemen", said Snape, and he followed the elf out of the room.

Adams was relieved when MacNair seemed to have talked himself out, and moved towards the middle of the room. He noticed a number of people pointing him out, speaking in a mocking tone as he passed by. He made his way to the other end of the room, from which extended a long corridor, flanked on either side with a row of large wooden doors. He wandered down the hall, noting that most of the doors were closed, but one was slightly ajar. Curiously, he pushed it open. The room was dark, and he automatically reached out his hand for a light switch, then chastised himself. Instead, he waved his wand. "Lumos!" and a light shown from the tip of the wand.

He discovered that he was in a large and magnificent library, and he examined the titles of some of the books. They did not seem very well categorized. "Native Magical Flora of Southern England" sat on a shelf next to the 1967 and then the 1972 editions of "Annual Valuation of Assets: Gringotts Bank". On the other side of the plant book was an antique-looking volume entitled "The Sayings of Salazar Slytherin: A Guide for Living". Adams slid it off the shelf and opened it at random.

A purebred wizard can never be too vigilant in avoiding the taint of contact with the Muggleborn. Fortunately, it is but a simple matter to detect signs of impure blood. In weakness of chin and character, in feebleness of mind, noxiousness of odor, and in tediousness of thought, the Muggle or Muggleborn is easily recognized.

"Don't think for a minute that you're the only one!" a pleasant low-pitched voice advised. Adams dropped the book in surprise. Shakily he pointed his wand at it. "Wingardium leviosa!" The book rose up into his grasp. He hoped that would dispel any doubt as to his authenticity.

The man was short and heavyset, middle-aged, with an oddly upcurved nose below a pair of sharp, intelligent grey eyes. He clucked his tongue. "People have gotten so lazy these days. You're a young man. Why waste perfectly good magic, instead of bending down and picking it up?"

"I - well, sure, I..."

"Oh, you can stop gibbering, Mr. FitzGerald. I suppose you came in here to avoid the stares and comments? You needn't worry about me - you and I, sir, have something in common." He stepped forward and held out his hand. "Barnaby Calisher. Call me Barnaby." Davy shook his hand. "Eamon FitzGerald's my name. But then, you knew that"

"By now, everyone knows your name, Eamon. Severus certainly didn't make things easy for you...not that I'd expect him to. But I have to give him credit. Severus has never chosen to be a conventional sort, despite his love of conventions. Tell me," urged Mr. Calisher in a conspiratorial tone, "does his bedroom activity have an unconventional quality as well?"

Davy was a bit taken aback. Then he considered the condition of his bedroom after Snape and Letha's debauchery. "I suppose - I suppose you could say that."

Calisher smiled. "I'm not surprised." He paused. "A bit of advice, Eamon. I know how it is in the heady early days of a romance. And when you're young, you think nothing can stop you. Severus should know better - he's a man well-versed in the value of discretion, but love can have a funny effect on people. Keep that in mind."

"Thank you, Barnaby, I will."

"Especially in company like this. You know, it's very odd, when you consider. There are no pureblood fribbles. They do not exist. Yet, you are a pureblood, are you not?"

Adams looked him straight in the eye. "Of course. Aren't you?"

Calisher puffed on his pipe with deliberation. "I am a Calisher. One does not question the pedigree of a Calisher." His grave tone of voice worried Adams. Had he said the wrong thing to the wrong wizard? But then, Calisher winked at him. "And one does not question the fribbleness of Barnaby Calisher. But you, sir, had better mind your manners. And discretion."

"I will remember that. Thank you."

Calisher handed Adams a small embossed card on fine parchment. "Let me know if I can ever be of any assistance. Now I think I will return to the party. I may have missed out on some exciting rumors." With that he left; Adams reshelved the book and also left the library, continuing down the corridor.