A Dish Served Cold

Chapter 33 – Confessions

“Are you all mad?” Remus Lupin shouted at the top of his lungs. “You could end up in Azkaban! Not to mention what He-who-must-not-be-named would do if he got a hold of those scrolls!”

Ginny watched her usually mild-mannered husband losing it completely with a great deal of interest. She had been wondering what it would look like when he went spare, and was now quite grateful that she wasn’t the focus of the explosion. She decided that avoiding being the cause of his wrath was going to be a lifelong occupation. She was so glad that he was generally even-tempered.

“Well, Lupin, if you don’t want to be cured of your fatal illness, far be it for me to argue with you,” drawled Professor Snape as he examined his nails. He was sitting on one of the lavish little settees in the Slytherin Bordello, as Ginny was mentally calling it. He was a black smear against the velvet and silver palette, and was startlingly out of place in his own chambers. His eyes were hooded, his lips twisted into a sneer, and his expression was one of deep contempt.

Ginny’s long experience with Slytherin males told her that the pose of disinterest was masking a deep excitement.

“What’s in it for you?” she asked with a suspicious tone. Hermione rolled her eyes behind his back as the dour professor turned haughty black eyes on Ginny.

“My name in a prestigious academic journal, Mrs. Lupin, something that I doubt – especially with your grades in potions – that you would ever understand,” he replied, his contempt was real this time. Ginny bristled at his tone and held her tongue by sheer force of will. After all, he was still her teacher, despite everything that had happened recently.

“Leave her alone Severus,” Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair with exhaustion etched into every line and crease of his face.

“You are willing to risk Azkaban to get your name in a journal?” Ginny persisted once she had her urge to hex him back under control.

“I told you that you wouldn’t understand,” Snape replied with a rather smug expression, as though she had confirmed his opinion of her.

“The journal is just the endpoint of it all, Ginny,” Remus patiently explained. “For Severus it is all about the process; the problem, followed by the experiments, followed by answers no one has ever arrived at before. Its all about knowledge and discovery for him, it always has been.” Snape was staring at Remus with a face so blank of expression that Ginny suspected that he was completely shocked.

“Oh, well that I can understand,” Ginny replied with a nod. If anything, Snape looked even more nonplussed at her answer than at Remus’ explanation. “So when do we start?”

“We don’t!” Remus roared and everyone jumped, even Snape, Ginny noticed. “Haven’t you been listening? This is highly illegal, terribly dangerous and NOT happening!”

Ginny made herself stand perfectly still and forced her heart to slow and her breathing to slow. It was hard because at that moment he was a rather frightening sight. His eyes seemed to glow yellow and his face was fierce and savage.

“Remus, you told me that you are dying. If this keeps you alive then we are doing it,” Ginny replied, her voice calm and firm.

There was a long time where they stared at each other, the wolf and the slim straight girl, until finally Remus seemed to deflate. He sighed at her and then his lips twisted into a bitter smile.

“Percy said that you would run the show,” he admitted and it was Ginny’s turn to sigh.

“For Merlin’s sake, Remus, I let you get away with all sorts of things, but this concerns me too.” Snape gave a little snort.

“Give it up, Lupin, she’s Molly’s through and through,” His voice held derision, but his eyes held respect so Ginny didn’t take offense.

“Don’t sell my dad short either, Professor,” she chided him gently and to her surprise he waved a languorous hand of acknowledgment at her.

“Forgive me Mrs. Lupin, your father is also a man of iron will, as evidenced by his ability to remain married to your mother.” His sly tone was designed to irritate her, but Ginny wasn’t going to fall into his trap.

“As you say, sir,” she answered, using the sort of simpering mealy-mouthed tone that Lavender Brown was famous for. Her reward was Snape’s bark of laughter, which was hastily turned into a cough.

“Humph,” was all he said though.

“You laughed, admit it, you did!” Hermione teased him over dinner. Their guests had departed hours ago, but Severus still wouldn’t cop to either his surprise over Lupin’s insights or his amusement over Ginny’s Lavender impersonation.

“Her impertinence was hardly amusing, Madam,” he scoffed, but his eyes were warm rather than icy with disdain.

“It was spot on and bloody brilliant, you mean!” she retorted with eyes dancing.

“At least she was able to convince Lupin to cooperate and not whinge on, moaning and wringing his hands, like an old woman,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Well, it is his life that is in danger here, you know,” Hermione pointed out with a touch of astringency. She was very fond of Professor Lupin.

“Humph,” he grunted back with a noncommittal air.

A thought occurred to her.

“What if Voldemort finds out?” she asked, pleased that her husband didn’t flinch every time that she spoke the dreaded name, the way Ron and some of the others did. Severus gave her a decidedly evil smile.

“Well you know that he has enlisted that lunatic Fenris to his side, right?” he asked and she nodded, not quite seeing where he was going with that piece of information. “Voldemort isn’t anywhere near crazy enough to trust an insane werewolf and has been seeking some sort of control over him for years now.” Hermione nodded again, suddenly seeing the connection. “If my one-time Master ever asks, I can simply say that I was looking for a way to keep Fenris under Voldemort’s control.”

“And if he asks why you chose Remus?” she thought she knew but she wanted to hear it from him.

“Because in Voldemort’s eyes he is entirely expendable,” her husband answered her with a bleak expression that made her want to really hurt Voldemort a lot and for a really long time.

Georgian Tamarind looked across the breakfast table at his new wife and wondered if she would ever thaw towards him. It had been the most perfunctory wedding night in history, of that he was quite certain. She had been cool and distant and he had felt like a rapist through the whole thing.

At the moment, she was staring out the window at the bleak sky as though she were contemplating the fate of the world. Her plain face was not well framed by the scraped back bun she had adopted recently or the sadness in her eyes. The only thing that he found attractive about her, her rich and melodious voice was distinctly lacking as well. She answered him in monosyllables or with a nod or shake of the head most times.

“Toast?” he asked her, trying to get her to look at him, and she shook her head with only the briefest glances at him before she returned her gaze out the window.

Georgian had hardly been the sort of Casanova that Lucius Malfoy had been, but he had had his share of women over the years. In all of his experience though he had never run into a brick wall quite as hard and unyielding as this one.

In the past he had simply left off pursuit when met with indifference, but this was his wife and he was stuck with her for the rest of his life. That could be a really long time, especially if she continued in her dislike of him.

“Coffee?” he ventured again and this time she looked at him and he felt like she actually saw him for the first time that morning.

“What do you think of Mrs. Snape?” she asked him suddenly.

“I think she is a smart, sweet, loyal girl who will do Severus a lot of good,” he blurted, so happy to be talking to his wife at all that he was sure he was babbling.

“Do him good? What about her?” there was a sharpness to the question that made Georgian blink.

“I think that if you dropped Hermione Snape into the middle of a Mer village you had best pity the Merfolk,” he chuckled and then sobered at his wife’s frown. “She is a formidable person quite capable of taking care of herself. She had a rough patch of it at the beginning, but she is far stronger than anyone really gives her credit for.”

Margaret studied him for a long while and he began to feel nervous as though he might have said the wrong thing to her.

“Why have you never married before?” she switched subjects on him midstream and he blinked in surprise. His first instinct was to tell her to mind her own business, but it rather was her business now.

He prepared himself for pain, because talking about Therese was always painful.

“Accio, photo album,” he called out, waving his wand rather unsteadily. He hated the idea of baring his pain to a virtual stranger, but the whole point was that she not be a stranger to him after all.

A black bound journal flew into the room and dropped onto the table before him and he raised his eyes to meet his wife’s puzzled gaze. He didn’t even have to look to find the right page, he opened to it with the habit of long use and slid it across the table to Margaret.

“Her name was Therese,” he began and saw Margaret’s eyes go wide in surprise.

“She looks just like…” she began but he cut her off with a pained expression.

“Her mother,” he finished and Margaret gave him such a look of startlement that he turned away and began to recite the tale to the wall. “We were Hogwarts sweethearts, in love since third year and quite sure we would grow old together.” He nearly choked on the words since Therese had never even had the opportunity to grow old.

“What happened?” Her voice was softer now, but he could barely even hear her, he was lost in the past reliving old wounds.

“My best mate all through school, was Severus, I was a year younger, but I worshipped him. We used to go to each other’s homes during the summer holidays. His parents were awful; his mother was a screaming harridan and his father a brooding antisocial disciplinarian.” He paused then remembering the bitter arguments and cold silences over dinner and how the two boys would escape as quickly as possible from the table.

“What does this have to do with Therese?” she asked with a frown.

“I took her there for holiday one year when we were twenty. Severus’ mum had died years before and it was just the old man.” Georgian could still remember the way Snape senior had stared at Therese all through dinner, like he had never seen anything female before and was both puzzled and intrigued. “I didn’t think anything about it of course, he was ever so much older than she was and as I said, antisocial, nasty and rude.”

“Mr. Rochester, in fact,” Margaret sighed and her eyes were knowing.

“Well, the mad wife was long dead, but in all other particulars, yes, the spitting image.” She looked startled that he knew the reference but he had little energy to spare on that thought, all of his will was bent on getting through the story without breaking anything or crying. “By the end of the summer I knew something had changed between us but I didn’t know what. The next thing I knew, she was telling me that her feelings had changed and soon after she was engaged to him.” He stared down at his hands, realizing that he was clutching the napkin in both hands and shredding it. He slowly relaxed his fingers and took a deep breath.

“She married him instead of you.” Margaret’s eyes were dark and sad and he nodded slowly.

“She loved him. He is just as smart as Severus, though he knows muck all about potions, that was all Severus’ mum, but he knows every hex and curse imaginable and the origins of spells. If you can get him to talk, he’s brilliant and fascinating, but he’s also half mad and hates everyone. She loved him, though.” He shook his head, still after all these years, hurting from the rejection and loss.

“So you never married because she left you?” Her voice was rather cynical and he looked up at her in surprise.

“No, I never married because she was the only person I ever loved.” His voice was husky as he spoke and Margaret looked taken aback.

“But what about all those girlfriends?” she asked, clearly in a state of disbelief.

“What girlfriends? I went out sometimes, but I haven’t had a steady girlfriend since Therese.” He was genuinely puzzled because while he had dated, it had always been understood to be casual.

“But I heard…” she trailed off and Georgian sighed.

“Wizards gossip faster than a broom can fly,” he recited and she blushed. “I was always faithful to Therese, even when she wasn’t,” faithful to either him or to her husband, but he left that part unsaid. That secret was hers and his alone and he wouldn’t betray her trust even now.

“A man of honor,” she mocked him gently, but he looked back at her with utter seriousness.

“I may have been Slytherin, but I have as much honor as any Gryffindor,” he replied and his voice was cold as he spoke. Honor had long been all that was left to him and he guarded it jealously. She looked embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it that way,” she admitted. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with the napkin as he spoke.

“I can hardly blame you for thinking what everyone thinks.” He shrugged and then, slipping the silver ovals back in front of his eyes, rose to clear the table.

“I’m still sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

And for the first time since the wedding, he began to feel slightly more optimistic about this marriage.

Trajan Snape sat in Helena and Neville’s sitting room with his long legs tucked up underneath him and sipped his tea. He liked the room, it was cozy and warm and cluttered. Plants hung from the ceiling, clustered on the window ledges and fought for space on every surface. A large and rather ancient toad held pride of place in a ceramic pot with a cushy fern and several mushrooms. The rugs were spotless and with all the plants about that must take some doing, he thought.

He returned his attention to his baby sister and her husband and nearly sighed aloud in relief. When he had received his father’s rather curt missive, he had imagined the worst and longed to run to Helena and rescue her. Little had he known that the long faced Neville was already far ahead of him.

Trajan had always been the one to play knight to Helena’s maiden fair as they grew up and there was a small tinge of loss to see her now, mooning up at her plump mate with huge green eyes gone soft and foolish. Still, she was so obviously happy that he couldn’t help but be happy for her.

She looked like a hummingbird darting around a hound dog, but Neville was just as obviously enamored of her as well and it made Trajan smile.

“So did I mention that we have a half-brother,” Helena stopped in mid-slobber to look at her brother and he stared back at her in shock.

“Beg pardon?”

“Father was married before to a Yidoni, their child is a professor here at Hogwarts.” Her words were obviously in English but Trajan couldn’t make any sense of them.

“A Yidoni? But father hates the Yidoni, they’ve been enemies of our family for a hundred years or so!” he protested.

“Just so, but still its true.” Helena bustled out of the room and then came back in with more tea for him, but Trajan was still trying to wrap his mind around these alien concepts.

“He’s our Potions Professor,” Neville chimed in, and Trajan blinked.

“Well, he must have gotten that from the Yidoni side, cause Father is bloody awful at Potions, can’t even brew tea,” he sniped, and Neville grinned back at him.

“You want to meet him sometime?” Helena was twisting a lock of her hair around her finger in a nervous gesture she had picked up from their mother.

“Besides being a Yidoni what’s wrong with him?” he asked knowing that her nervousness had to be connected to this mysterious half-brother.

“He’s also a Snape,” she snapped back at him and Trajan winced.

“Poor sot, he gets it both ways, coming and going, doesn’t he?” Trajan sympathized with his newly discovered elder brother. It was hard enough being raised by Taliesin Snape, having a Yidoni mother must have been utterly hellish.

“You have no idea,” Neville muttered fervently.

Trajan wondered whether it had been a good idea to come out of hiding after all.