I, Snape - Chapter Three

by April Grey

Plans Afoot

“Albus, what do they call this again?” Althea sighed and leaned back into his arms.

“The Waltz,” he smiled and twirled her around.

“I never knew Muggles could come up with such interesting dances! It feels like I’m flying.” She glanced at the Muggles dancing around her in the old-fashioned Bath Spa Hotel’s ballroom and was intrigued by the clothing and hairstyles. Fortunately, her witches’ robes did not seem out of order there. The Muggle clothing, a tuxedo, that Albus Dumbledore had transformed his robes into not only looked quite dashing on him, but, Althea noted, several other men were dressed in similar attires.

They danced until it was time for the orchestra to go home, and even then they stayed on while Albus hummed a tune for them to dance to. They both laughed as she tried to hum along and only wound up confusing them both. Their eyes met and slowly their lips joined. They stayed that way a little while, and then Althea said, “I’m really not ready to go home. Please, Albus?”

With a serious look at the witch beside him, he went and checked them into the hotel.

“Albus, what do they call this?

“Twenty-four Hour Room Service.”

“Oh my, it’s just like having a House Elf. Oh and what’s this again? Chocolate something?” she waved the speared fruit at him.

“Chocolate Fondue.”

“Hmm.” She dunked the fruit into the hot dark syrup and popped it into her mouth. “I can’t remember ever having such a wonderful day.” Althea bounced on the double bed as if she were a child again.

“Anything to please you, Althea,” said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye, gently waving a chocolate dipped strawberry.

“You know what would really please me?” Althea came over and sat next to him on his bed. She leaned over and bit into the berry.

“What, my dear?” His eyes half closed as Althea continued to come closer. Her chocolate covered lips brushed against his tentatively, and then gaining her courage she kissed him with an open mouth. Albus tasted the chocolate and berry flavors of her mouth and sighed.

After too short a time he pulled back and looked at her. A small rueful smile flickered across his visage as he asked, “Are you sure we are not rushing things?”

“Albus-- I don’t know how to say this gracefully, but your wife has been dead for over fifty years, we’ve been in love for over forty and I’ve been a widow for over six months. We don’t have a second to waste.” She rested her hands on either side of his face. “Please make love to me. Here. Tonight.”

In response, the grizzled wizard took the witch in his arms. He stroked her hair back before kissing her. Slowly, their mouths melted as they regained familiarity. He caressed her arm and then the side of her breast. She gasped and trembling held on to him. He lay back on the bed with her beside him and they continued to kiss. Their hands explored territory that had already been explored many, many years ago, and was now remembered anew.

The first time they had made love she’d only been 17, and he already had passed his hundredth birthday. But to her mind, he was eternally young and she had been the one old before her time.

“Shouldn’t we be studying?” asked Ron. “This whole Snape thingy can wait until after our final N.E.W.T. is over.”

Both Harry and Hermione looked at their friend. “You’ve got a fever?” Harry put a hand to his friend’s forehead.

Hermione looked at them both. “Look, the sooner we sort this out, the sooner you can go study or do whatever you fancy.” She pointedly looked down to where Harry had already laid his broomstick. “We owe it to Professor Snape to rescue him from the vile clutches of Sibyll Trelawney and to find him someone that will make him happy.”

Ron shook his head, “No one can make that git happy. He was born like that. Chock full of misery and just wanting to spread it around.”

“I have to agree with him, Hermione.” Harry scratched his head. “What makes Snape happy? Oh, could it be taking off house points from Gryffindor and giving me detention? Oh, and you know what else will probably make his toes just curl up with pleasure? Seeing us all leave Hogwarts next week.” Harry got up and grabbed his broomstick. “There you have it. We’ll go find him now, let him give us detention and take off some house points and then we’ll leave. Problem solved.”

Hermione was not amused. Tapping her fingers on the table, she said, “I’ve made up a list of possible candidates here at Hogwarts.” She held up a small parchment with her curly scrawl on it.

‘Say, this doesn’t include ghosts or house elves. Isn’t that discrimination?” asked Ron, really tempted to see how many of Hermione’s buttons he could press.

“Right. And what about the men?” asked Harry. “We can’t be sure he doesn’t play for both teams.”

“Quite,” said Hermione, on the verge of losing it. “I will do this on my own, then.” She got up and stomped out of the Common Room.

“Do you think we did that a bit too fine?” asked Ron.

“No.” replied Harry. “Who knows, maybe Hooch really is a man and Snape IS playing for the other team. Come on. Go get your broom. She’ll be over it by dinnertime.”

Hermione did not put in an appearance at dinner. She stayed in her head girl’s room and sorted out the best mate for her potions professor. It wasn’t that hard to do in that it was a matter of ruling out who was wrong.

Hooch, of course had left Hogwarts and so wasn’t available. Trelawney was also automatically ruled out. As for McGonagall, well, well, Hermione couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something that just wouldn’t work. Sprout was too pleasant and Hermione didn’t believe in opposites attracting. Grubbly-Plank smoked a pipe, Prof. Snape’s delicate nose would never stand for that. And that left Professors Sinestra and Vector along with Madams Pince and Pomfrey. Well, Sinestra and Vector had both over the years secretly hexed Snape whenever they thought they could get away with it-- A total of 17 times if they were to be believed! Hermione knew this because she’s overheard them as they tittered about it during the Halloween Ball, comparing hexes and bragging over who had managed to do the most damage to their co-worker. They thought they were speaking privately, but Hermione had actually been standing right behind them. That was the year that a Ravenclaw student had spiked the teacher’s punchbowl in the theory that drunken chaperones were easier to fool. The theory, up to a point, had worked. What the clever Ravenclaw had neglected to realize was that Snape never drank punch.

So that left Irma Pince and Poppy Pomfrey as the final possibilities. It was a difficult choice; however, Madam Pomfrey was definitely the more cheerful of the two, so Madam Pince became Hermione’s first choice. Thinking about it, there was a certain harsh, dour quality about Pince that seemed to meld perfectly with Severus’ spirit.

Now, all she needed was a plan…

It was Sunday evening and Althea Snape was feeling the letdown of Albus having dropped her off at her home before returning to Hogwarts. She sat there staring at the picture of her son that Albus had given her. He was glaring at the camera, sneering before putting a hand up to block the picture. Albus apologized for the quality of the picture and explained that that was about the best that anyone could manage with her son when it came to picture taking. The look on his face sent cold chills down her back. What had he turned into? – She knew that he’d been a Death Eater during those teen years when he was fresh out of Hogwarts, and then later became a spy for Albus. But what did all that entail? That he had to behave like all the other Death Eaters in order to stay alive. What would that do to a man’s heart, to her innocent baby boy’s heart? Tears began to fall, yet again. More than anything in the world she just wanted to see her son smile and be happy.

She knew in the core of her being that a woman would provide her son with the new beginning that he needed now that the war was over. It was high time for him to settle down and start a family. Again a traitorous worm of guilt gnawed at her. It had not been her fault that when her parents learned of her affair with Albus they had imprisoned her and basically sold her to the highest pure blooded bidder. It was fairly commonplace in her day to do such things to young witches. She had been unable to get word to Albus that she was under house arrest and she was married quietly and quickly to a man not only much older than she, but of a nasty disposition who scorned all that was light or beautiful.

Althea knew that her son grew up blaming her, somehow, for not being able to save them from his father’s vile moods and rages. But to this day, she couldn’t understand-- how he could censure her when she was the victim of his father’s abuse? Was she supposed to have hexed him? Poisoned him? She couldn’t comprehend how her son’s thinking worked on this. But it was obvious that she had lost her son’s love long before he ever reached manhood. And as a man, from all she’d been able to piece together from various accounts, he was bitter to the core.

Althea turned to her collection of spell books in the corner bookshelf. She had her doubts about Sibyll Trelawney being right for her son. However, Minerva McGonagall, yes, there was a name that inspired confidence. She knew nothing about the woman, but a little love magic probably wouldn’t go amiss. In between “Madcap Magic for Wacky Warlocks” and Lockheart’s “Holidays with Hags” she found her copy of “Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes.” Flipping through the book, she found the section dealing in love spells. Aha, here was a simple little one that relied on two names written in a special potion on a magically prepared piece of unicorn hide. Burnt during the full moon, it would allow the two people so inscribed to have a magical psychic love encounter. Perfect! And it was only three days to the full moon! Althea hummed to herself as she went into her late husband’s potion’s lab to do a quick inventory of ingredients. If there was anything that would take her mind off of her worries, it was brewing a love potion! Especially if it would nudge her son onto his path of happiness!!!

Sibyll thought about Snape all day Sunday and Monday. And by Tuesday night she was ready, more than ready, to… to… well, seduction was a bit harsh, maybe just feel him out? Feel him up? Oooh, Sibyll, you naughty girl, she chided herself.

She turned around and admired her new black satin sheath with its drop back and thin straps in the full-length non-magical mirror hanging on the back of her door. Well, the war was over; and, according to Albus Dumbledore, she was officially off-duty. In other words, free to indulge herself and to be herself. No more of the thick glasses and the incense-laden rooms. Her presentation of herself to the school had reached a certain high level of self-parody over the past few years. After all, she didn’t want to be taken too seriously, not while Voldemort was around. So she’d elaborated more and more on the original performance that she’d come up with to impress Dumbledore at her job interview. However, after nearly twenty years, she needed a break from herself.

Again she thought about the feelings that Snape created in her. She intensely disliked him and the feeling was obviously mutual; yet, it seemed that the passion of the dislike might make for some rather fine shagging. She dabbed some very expensive Vanilla and Dragon Musk Essence behind her ears, covered her very slinky outfit with her robes and was ready to set off for the dungeons. As an afterthought, she Accio’d a cold bottle of what the Muggles called Champagne along with two flute glasses. She’d bet a Galleon that he’d never tasted or even seen the stuff before.

Hermione congratulated herself on finding the perfect charm. She’d written two letters, one supposedly from Madam Pince asking the professor to come to her rooms to look at a book which was so extremely “Dark Arts” that she was afraid to bring it to the library. Hermione felt sure that would get him to her rooms in an eager sweat. Finding the right words to get Madam Pince interested in Snape was much harder to accomplish. Eventually she borrowed a half dozen of Lavender’s Wizarding editions of Mills and Boon and cobbled together a love letter from Snape to Pince. She tried to word it for the maximum amount of passion without actually saying what he wanted from her. Hermione felt that the more she left up to Pince’s imagination, the less disappointment there would be when they started spooning.

Hermione felt quite pleased with the letters. Now, the final step would to be to use the charm she had researched to make the letters’ penmanship seem to have come from Pince and Snape rather than her. It was a complicated spell and she was very glad that Prof. Flitwick had mentioned the Forgery Charm once in class two years ago as something the Weasley twins had successfully used to get out of a scrape. She took out the samples of Snape’s and Pince’s handwriting which Dobby had retrieved from their respective dustbins. Sometimes it really paid to be best friends with the house elf. Not to say that she was using him. Oh no.

On to Chapter Four
Back to Chapter Two