Dressing the Part

Chapter Four: Dressing the Part

Snape glanced down at his boots as the lift started to rise, the plush carpeting on the floor and the carved wood panelling alone making him feel out of place. Raising one foot under his new robe, he rubbed it slowly down the back of his jeans, ultra conscious of his appearance.

The Ministry Atrium was well appointed, but one expected that. It was a government building and the hub of Britain's Wizarding community. But Ereterium Towers, home to London's Magical Elite, was something else again. The lobby downstairs was ridiculously ostentatious to his mind, with its marble floors and walls, huge Persian carpets now removed of their flying charms that lined the sweeping double stairs to the in-house restaurant, as well as a leisure centre and indoor Quidditch practice arena.

In the centre of the lobby, a large diamond phoenix, the symbol of the Towers, soared from a model of the building and was surrounded on each side by solid gold statues by the renowned Leprechaun artist Seamus O'Sean. Statues that were worth a king's ransom, but which would cleverly turn to dross the minute they were taken from their rightful owners.

All along the walls, portraits of the families in residence eyed all those not of their ilk with suspicion as they dared to set foot in the Towers. These portraits, along with the porter dressed in liveried robes, had eyed Snape's not inexpensive but not yet properly tailored robes that his uncle had hastily bought him as if they were sackcloth. Everything about the place spoke of wealth, breeding, power, and culture...except him. Merlin alone knew what awaited him inside the home of one of Wizardry's most rich and famous.

The doors slid open with not so much a ping as a sigh, and Snape stepped out into a hallway that was about as wide as his family's front room and most certainly better decorated. Just one of the vintage items dotted around the place was probably worth roughly all of the belongings in the Snape household...and it didn't even belong to one of the residents, just the building in general.

"You, Prince's protégé?" came the gruff question from the large black Auror standing by a set of ornate, heavy double doors. His wand was drawn and he was eyeing both Snape and his ill-fitting clothes with suspicion.

Disdain one minute, suspicion the next...his clothes were certainly making a statement today, Snape groused silently. "Yes," he replied aloud with as much equanimity as he could manage, considering his discomfort with his surroundings.

"Password?" came the immediate inquiry.

"Social Butterfly," he answered.

The Auror nodded, relaxing a little. "Where's your uncle?"

"On his way." Snape approached him. "He's organising where he's...we're...going to take Counsellor Abernathy."

"I hope it's somewhere with considerable access to something to mellow her out." The Auror folded his arms, nodding his head back towards the double doors. "That is one unhappy witch in there."

Snape glanced at the door. "I'd imagine she'd be even less happy if she were dead."

The dark man chuckled. "True enough...anyway, on you go. Best that someone is inside with her. Just glad it's you, though, and not me. Maybe your youth will save you the verbal torrent."

Frowning slightly and not happy to be reminded of his age once again, Snape turned and knocked on part of the ornate door that was covered in friezes from various historic moments in Wizarding history.

As soon as his knuckles left the door, it was opened with an enthusiastic, "Greetings and welcome, young sir!"

Snape looked down and blinked slowly. He had seen only a glimpse or two of the unobtrusive house-elves of Hogwarts in his time there, but he had never seen one like this before.

The miniature being before him was indeed just like every other house-elf, down to the somewhat caricatured face. However, that is where the similarity ended. For this one was fully clothed...and not just clothed but luxuriously so. Her gown was made of brocades and intricately woven, though without any real trim, and she wore a veil of lace over her head so that only her face and ears were able to be seen. She even had little satin slippers on her feet. Indeed, she appeared more the lady-in-waiting than a lowly domestic, her happy, eager expression fixed upon him as she calmly waited for his response.

"You're...dressed..." he blurted in surprise.

She blinked and glanced down, seeming to have forgotten that she indeed was. "Oh yes, sir! Elly is always nicely and best dressed to receive her mistress's guests."

"So..." he said slowly as his mind ran through his understanding of house-elf owning etiquette, "that would make you free?"

She frowned and appeared mildly affronted. "Oh no, sir! Elly would not disgrace herself or her family so! No, Elly promptly makes sure she is taken into trust after each gift."

The teenager frowned. "You renew your indentured servitude every time you get clothes?"

"Oh yes, sir! Elly loves her family and the Mistress! Elly couldn't think of leaving her service!" she answered with a smile. "The Mistress loves Elly as well."

"Obviously." Snape nodded, taking in the luxuriousness of her clothes again with a slightly sour expression...even the house-elves here were better dressed than he was. "I assume she's here?"

"Oh yes, sir! May I ask who wishes to see her?" she requested, obviously told to screen the guests.

"Severus Snape," he replied, his voice growing more confident with his next words. "She's expecting me."

"Yes, the Mistress is!" she agreed with an even brighter smile. "Please come this way!" Gesturing for him to enter, she turned and hurried back into the flat.

Following her in, he stopped to close the door behind him. He was never entirely sure why people relied on house-elves so much. They were loyal certainly...fanatically so. But so eager to please for the most part and so unutterably literal that they often caused all sorts of problems. Then again, you didn't have to pay them and he could see why that appealed to the rich. Typical. Even free labour goes only to the wealthy and powerful. 'Them that has, gets,' as his father was wont to say.

Moving into the apartment, he was quickly distracted by his surroundings. If he thought the lobby and hallways were bad, it was nothing compared to the large spacious sitting room he was in now. Everything was...perfect.

The furnishings, the decorations, the drapes, even the positioning was perfect. The room breathed class, taste, sophistication....and wealth, so much wealth.

His stomach dropped into his boots. There was a vase in the corner that he recognised from his studies as a Ching Dynasty protected urn used to store magical powders. If he saved for his entire life at what he expected to earn in an 'average' job...he could probably afford the left handle of it just before he died.

Every step he took through the room following the house-elf only rammed home how far beyond him the Counsellor and her family were. His diminutive guide took him down a corridor decorated with murals of the great and impressive deeds of the Abernathy family and to his relief, into a brightly lit, relatively unobtrusive study. At least there was one room in this place that didn't have W.E.A.L.T.H. painted all over it with every immaculate stroke.

Once inside, Elly turned and smiled up at the guest. "Please wait here...I shall tell the Mistress you have arrived." A heartbeat later, she vanished through an open doorway.

Reappearing a minute later, she beckoned the still standing teenager into the room. "The Mistress is packing. She will speak with you in her bedroom."

"In...her bedroom?" he repeated, looking from the house-elf to the door and back again, not entirely sure he was ready for that. He had spent a great deal of time dwelling on her, and events were moving far faster than he expected -- meeting her again...being put into a situation where he would suddenly see a significant amount of her...seeing how she lived.

Seeing where she slept might be a bridge too far.

"The Mistress is packing and overseeing what is to be taken...if sir wishes to speak to the Mistress, it will have to be in there. The Mistress is quite busy," Elly replied primly before turning and disappearing back into the room.

Pulling on his shirt collar under his robe and pressing the bandage that still covered the almost healed gash on his neck, he raked his hand through his hair, pushing it back. Taking his cue from his uncle, he straightened his shoulders and strode in with a deal more confidence than he felt, clasping his hands behind his back to keep them out of his way.

Wide windows overlooking the city lit the room, the bright sunlight diffused gently by the sheer white net curtains which hung over them. Immaculately polished mahogany furniture gleamed, the carpet on the floor made his tread completely soundless, it was so plush, and the four poster delicately curtained bed was resplendent with the finest of sheets, rich blankets, and covers.

And in that room, pacing back and forth as she gathered items, was the highly irritated woman of his dreams, the light frown on her aristocratic and normally warm features rather telling of her mood.

"Miss Abernathy," he said as he reached the end of her bed, trying not to let his attention waver to it too much whilst noting that her clothes and hairstyle had changed again. Not that that should surprise him, he supposed. She had just been attacked and changing her attire was a good way to help put that behind her.

She glanced over at him as she waved her wand to send a long blue and light purple dress over to the waiting Elly to pack. "I do not like this idea of hiding," she informed him bluntly. "I am only doing so because Millicent suggested or rather...manoeuvred me into it."

"I apologise for the inconvenience." His reply was mild as he endeavoured not to stare at her, while allowing a hint of amusement to enter his tone. "However, I can see why your superior might think it better to have you in hiding rather then dead. Much easier to ensure future service that way."

She paused for a moment, her eyes taking him in longer and in a more evaluating manner. "Indeed...exactly what she said," she said after a moment with a tiny smile on her lips. "That was a rather astute statement...you've grown up, Severus." Her eyes flicked over his form quickly. "And not just in height," she added, her smile turning into a grin. "Though you do tower over me now."

He inclined his head slightly, quelling the quaver her words set through him. "Thank you, Miss Abernathy," he acknowledged her compliment. "And time alters us all...you included," he added, indicating her face, form, and dress with a slight wave of his hand.

Her low laugh filled the room. "Indeed!" she agreed wholeheartedly. "Though I fear not much in the height area." With another smile, she turned and moved to gather some more dresses.

"Might I be of service in any way?" he asked, feeling slightly at a loose end just standing there.

"No, no." She waved him into a chair as another gown floated by. "Elly and I have this under control. So tell me, Severus...what have you been up to these last eight years?"

He eyed an ornately embroidered chair and moved around to lean on the back of it lightly. "For the most part, I have been attending to my studies."

"At Hogwarts, correct?" she enquired as she waved three pairs of shoes in the waiting Elly's direction.

"Yes," he replied, watching the delicate slippers float by. "Hogwarts...and pardon my presumption, but might I suggest," he ventured slowly, "something a little more robust in the footwear area? These are very elegant and attractive but...not entirely practical for the purpose of...not to put too fine a point on it...running."

Moving out of the humungous walk in closet, she eyed the shoes with pursed lips. "I see...you believe I shall..." Her voice trailed off as she nodded. "Of course I may have to." She disappeared back in the closet and three new pairs drifted out, one of them a pair of calf-skin boots, but with definitely more practical soles.

He noted her clothes more closely in the aftermath of that, beginning to wonder where she thought she might be 'laying low.' Not too many hideouts required evening wear. "Miss Abernathy..." he began, "your evening wear..."

"Oh yes! I may need some...thank you, Severus!" she called out, sending two much more elaborate sets of dresses and robes out for the waiting house-elf. "And it's Paidea, remember. After you save a woman's life twice, that more than entitles you to a first name basis."

"No..." He tried to point out his real meaning, only to be distracted by her insistence on his name. "I mean thank you," he said weakly, watching the incredibly ornate dresses join the ones he had thought were her evening wear.

He stood mutely for a moment as they piled up before shaking his head slowly. "Miss...Paidea..." he began with a frown. "Your pardon, but, quite frankly I think you have forgotten why it is you are packing."

Striding out of the closet, the young woman gazed at him quizzically. "No, I am quite aware why we are leaving. What makes you say that?"

He took a deep breath. "Because...you are packing for a gala event and, with all due respect, most definitely not for remaining...unobtrusive."

Her eyes blinked and after a moment her laughter bubbled forth. "Gala event?" she repeated. "No...these are my casual clothes, Severus, and I am most certainly leaving my social occasion clothes behind." Shaking her head and still chuckling, she moved to take several other folded garments out of the drawer before walking them over to Elly.

"Casual," he repeated quietly. "Yes, I can see how they might be considered so...if you were a Byzantine empress." He took a step to stand in front of her as she moved across the room. "I apologise...Paidea," he said, definitely not wishing to offend her. "But...in no way, shape, or form can what you are packing be considered casual to ninety-nine point nine percent of the world at large. Even your non-evening wear," he stumbled for lack of knowledge over what to call it, "would leave most normal people, magic user or Muggle, agog. You will, quite frankly, stand out like a unicorn in a herd of Shetland ponies."

Her lips pursed a little, but she still gazed at him with amusement...almost as though one would an errant child. "Very well. What would you suggest then?" She waved him over to the closet.

He moved instead to her trunk, taking one look inside of it before drawing his wand and levitating it up to casually dump the entire contents out onto her bed.

Elly gasped in horror, racing to neatly pile and organise the contents and remove wrinkles.

"Now," he said with a modicum of approval, tossing the boots and more practical shoes she had packed back in, "let us see what you might have." He strode past her into the walk in closet to be faced with a monstrously large room. A room that encompassed most of his dorm room in Hogwarts and all of the upstairs of his home and one that was filled with, as far as he could see, nothing but luxurious and utterly impractical gowns.

"Merlin's balls," he muttered under his breath.

Staring at everything, he walked down the rows of garments all categorised by style, colour, material, and occasion. A flick of the wand would cause the racks to switch revealing more and more clothes, shoes, and undergarments. Halfway down, he turned back and stared at her. "Do you clothe the entire Ministry from here?"

The amused expression still on her face, she shook her head. "No...these are all mine."

"All of them." He stared at her from under a disbelieving brow. "All?"

She inclined her head. "Yes...some I've purchased, but many were gifts."

"From every member of the entire population of China, it would appear," he muttered, gazing around again.

"I believe one is from the Minister of China..." she mused, moving down the way towards him.

"Naturally," he deadpanned before taking it all in again for a moment. No, he decided. Nothing. Not one thing seemed remotely appropriate for anything other than entertaining, socialising, or speaking at the highest level. "Is there anything in here you don't wear anymore?"

She glanced around the room and shook her head. "There are some I have yet to even wear," she informed him. "But no, none that I don't. I give those away..."

"Very well...is there anything you are beginning to wear...less?" he suggested hopefully. "Something going out of style?" His eyes perused gowns that seemed to defy all kinds of style fashions.

She shook her head. "Elly already went through my attire for that already last week," she replied. "Severus...I am sure my choices will be adequate."

His eyes met hers as he gave a definitive shake of his head. "No, Paidea, they will not." Reaching out, he took hold of one of the less ostentatious gowns he could see and walked out past her with it.

Following him in a rustle of chiffon, she watched him with a mildly irked expression. "Severus, I am a grown woman and can decide what I will and will not wear. I understand we will need some discretion..."

"No..." He turned to look at her. "You need something normal. Not normal for who you are, but something normal for who you must appear to be. Quite frankly, Madam Diplomat..." he exhaled quietly, "you need to find your way down to me."

She stared at him. "Muggle clothes?" she enquired with a light frown. "But I do not own any Muggle clothes."

Turning to the dress he held in his hand, he looked it over briefly before raising his wand and uttering an incantation. In a few moments, silk turned to cotton...satin edging to a smidge of lace frill...high collars to a low grandfather collar...full length to calf length and shimmering silver and blue to a mixture of browns, reds, and burnt oranges in typical colour striations of the current fashion. "You do now," he said as he finished, tossing it towards the trunk. "Have you anything with trousers?" he enquired, glancing back at her.

She stared down at the new dress in shock. "Trousers?" she murmured before nodding and absently gesturing towards the closet before he slipped back in. "I might..."

As soon as the young man had gone back into the closet and much to Paidea's relief, Elly took the item and reconfigured the dress back to normal and packed it...along with everything else on the bed before closing the trunk and levitating it out to the sitting room. Placing a new trunk on the bed, she set to work packing her mistress's underthings.

Snape walked back out of the closet with an airy, brightly coloured, flyaway collar blouses, two pairs of snug fit looking trousers, and a pair of bell bottom jeans with some embroidery on the pockets both front and rear. Glancing at Elly, Paidea went a little green at the assortment of Muggle clothes in garish colours and styles.

Pausing at the foot of the bed, Snape frowned. "Where is the other trunk? And everything I just emptied out onto that bed?"

Paidea looked furtively at Elly, who had a rather resolved expression on her narrow features. "My Mistress will be properly attired," she said firmly with very evident devotion.

"You changed the dress back?" he addressed the house-elf, his jaw tightening while he draped the new clothes over the bed. The little being's chin rose in defiance.

"Elly," Paidea interjected, hoping to stave off an argument between the two, "why don't you check and see if any last minute dispatches have arrived?"

"No," he said sharply. "I asked her a question." But with a nod, the house-elf vanished, leaving the two alone, and Snape turned to her mistress quickly, glowering. "You allowed her to change the dress," he stated more than asked.

Paidea sighed and turned to the teenager with a placating smile. "Severus, don't be harsh with her. She has been in my family for years...her entire family has. They have a very set way of doing things and I'm afraid my father's training is evident."

"It is your dress. Not your father's."

The colour in her cheeks rose at his accusatory tone, though she felt rather ridiculous for reacting so. "Well...I..." she stumbled. "We can change it back if you like when we get where we're going."

Silence reigned between them for a moment, glittering black eyes boring into her deep blue ones. Finally, his arms folded themselves across his chest, his words coming in a cool, hushed tone.

"The fact that you allowed her to countermand my action is of more interest to me, Counsellor. Restore your clothes, or do not. Do what you wish..." A hand gestured vaguely towards the other transfigured clothes. "As it is evident that you will do it anyway. Just as it is evident that you do not think enough of my knowledge of the environment we are venturing into to believe I know what I am talking about. Your offer to change the dress back is merely a sop to the boy you obviously still feel you are dealing with.

"I am sure it is quite adult to play such games behind another's back...and even more adult to insist on frippery and foolish impracticalities when practicalities are paramount." His eyes flashed as he straightened further, and his gaze moved beyond her. "But I shall say no more and allow you and my uncle to thrash things out from this point on and keep my childish notions to myself."

She stared up at him in complete shock at his steely manner, his words permeating her thoughts. Her cheeks flushing even further, she began to realise the extent to which she had allowed her irritation with the current situation to affect her and with a slow nod, she moved over and touched his arm. "You have my apologies, Severus. It was very wrong of me not to listen or heed your advice and to allow Elly to do as she did. I shall pack these items and will, of course, listen to any other advice you care to give."

His eyes remained resolutely ahead of him for a full minute before they returned to her, and more specifically to her hand upon his arm. "I...know this not easy for you..." he said after a moment, his voice still quiet but the bite dulled, "and I do not wish to make it harder upon you, but..." He gazed at her intently. "Neither do I wish to see your life in danger again."

She smiled softly and nodded. "I know. You are a good friend, Severus," she replied, her eyes warm.

Almost unbidden, his hand slipped over hers, his eyes darkening and flaring all at once as they held her gaze. "I wish to be." His voice came as little more than a breath.

The catch in her throat was audible, his fingers covering her own sending tingles rippling through her skin. His voice...his words...set her off balance and made her head spin. But nothing was so affecting as his eyes, her own widening at the depth and intensity of what she saw there, and it was not friendship that lay exposed within them...nor was it some puppyish adoration. And that both thrilled and terrified her.

But it was the shocking urge to fall into those twin dark pools and lose herself completely that dragged her back to her senses. Pulling her hand away, she tried to compose her features, feeling thrown and flustered. "Don't look at me like that," she told him softly.

His eyes remained upon her, his voice stronger but deeper and more resonant. "Why not?"

She didn't really have an answer...so completely bewildered as she was by her own unexpected reaction to him that she was not at all sure what to do about it. And so she retreated, pulling her diplomatic mask back on like a comfortable security blanket. "Because it makes me uncomfortable," she told him plainly before turning and picking up the items he had put on the bed to pack them in the new trunk.

The fingers that had covered her hand drew back on themselves, folding into a loose fist by his side. The flicker of hope of reciprocal feeling caused by her touch and augmented by her flustered reaction was snuffed out by the following cool calm.

"My apologies." He inclined his head as the door buzzer rang. "That will be my uncle," he noted, any sign of disappointment well hidden in a business-like manner. "I will go...no doubt this means we shall be on our way soon." And moving out, he left her alone in her room with her world, and now her thoughts, turned completely upside down.

Closing the door over behind him, Snape stopped to glance back, frowning thoughtfully. His disappointment melted somewhat as he reasoned that a flustered retreat was considerably more advanced a position than he had been in at the end of their last meeting. She had pulled away from him, certainly, but he had seen it...just for a moment...hesitation...and more...confusion.

He had affected her.

For good or ill now, there was no doubt that she no longer thought of him as just a boy. The look in her eyes crossed his mind once more, and the ghost of a smile touched his lips. He didn't think it was for ill.

On moving down and exiting the muralled corridor, he emerged to see his uncle give the Auror at the door the orders to leave and take his colleagues with him back to the Ministry.

"Uncle," he greeted him as the door closed. "She is almost finished packing. There was some...disagreement...but I believe it has been settled."

Steven's eyebrow arched as a corner of his mouth tugged upwards in amusement. "Disagreement?"

"Yes." The teenager looked around, observing the luxurious living room once more, but this time feeling decidedly more settled. "She felt bringing a half dozen ball gowns, satin slippers, dress robes, official robes, and casual wear that most witches would save five years to purchase was 'downplaying' herself enough. I...disagreed." His gaze turned back to his uncle. "After some persuasion, she has modified her opinion somewhat."

Steven's eyebrow arched higher. "I should hope so..." he breathed, shaking his head.

"I should also inform you that we shall be pitched against two voices. Her maid is somewhat unusually forthright with her opinions for a house-elf. Naturally they all back up her mistress," the teen added, approaching him.

"Wonderful...so we've not only got a pig-headed politician but an accompanying echo too." His uncle sighed and nodded ruefully. In the next breath, though, his back straightened and his hands clapped together and rubbed vigorously. "Ah well...never mind. Let's be off, eh?" He pointed a finger casually at his nephew. "I've spoken to your mother, and she was understandably a bit anxious about your participation but, as she put it, you are at the age of consent now and must be trusted to make your own decisions. Besides, she feels if Dumbledore asked for you, he must feel you are right for the job." He gave the young man a smile. "Your mum was always a sensible one," he announced, striding off down the hall.

Snape followed in his wake. "Was my father there?" he asked after a moment.

The older man's step paused just a little. "He was there," Steven agreed.

The confirmation and preceding pause was enough for the teenager to glean an unspoken addendum to his uncle's words about his father's state. Moving alongside the older man, Snape pushed the vision of his inebriated, railing father brusquely from his mind. "How are we travelling? Portkey?"

"Yes!" came the quick jovial response, the Auror's relieved tone at his nephew's lack of questions in regard to his father was telling. "Do you have everything packed?" He glanced at his nephew's slightly baggy new robe. "I'm sorry we didn't have time to get it fitted for you, but it's first thing on the agenda as soon as this is over, I promise."

"Where we're going, it won't matter." Snape waved the apology away. "And I can reduce it myself if needs be."

"Scholar, hero, and a tailor too?" Steven grinned at him. "My, you are a jack of all trades."

His nephew ignored him. "I have shrunk my bag, which I should have thought to do earlier. It is in my pocket and considerably simpler to carry." He glanced down at his robe. "Should we arrive in Muggle clothes?" he enquired before his tone took on a sardonic air. "If so, I would say that immediately to the Counsellor. Judging from what I've seen, she may take some time to change."

"Good idea," Steven agreed as they entered the large study adjacent to the Counsellor's bedroom. Paidea's bags sat just as Severus had left them, though standing next to them now was the diminutive house-elf.

"Elly," Snape addressed her, still unhappy with her conduct. "This is my uncle, Steven Prince. An Auror. He has been charged with your mistress's welfare. He is in charge where we are going," he informed her meaningfully.

The little being curtseyed at once. "Elly is most pleased to meet Mr. Prince. Elly is her Mistress's humble servant. Elly will tell the Mistress that Mr. Prince is here," she exclaimed in a rush.

"Thank you, Elly," Steven replied with a smile. "And will you also kindly tell her that Muggle attire will be required for this stage of the journey?"

Glancing nervously at Snape at the mention of Muggle clothes, obviously having been spoken to, Elly looked back at Steven, and with her hands clasped together and an eager expression on her face, she nodded and hurried back into the bedroom.

Left waiting, Steven turned to gaze out of a set of wide and elegantly crafted French doors leading to a balcony, his gaze thoughtful.

"There is something I've been meaning to say to you," Snape said after a minute's silence. "About the hearing and what was said in it." Gazing at his uncle, he frowned a little. "Don't you think it was odd that a Reflectus was required? That someone felt the need to expose themselves in overseeing a crack Death Eater assassin?" He drew out his wand and moved to Paidea's trunks. "I admit to knowing little about assassination, but generally assassins aren't in need of guidance. Or control," he added with emphasis before he started to shrink the expensive luggage.

"Hmmm?" Steven turned back to his nephew, the faraway look still in his eyes but that, too, cleared quickly as he took in Severus's thoughts. "Quite right," he agreed after a moment, clapping the teen on the shoulder. "Quite right indeed. This whole situation is dashed odd...and not the usual tactics for Death Eaters." He tapped his finger to his lips as his gaze moved back over his nephew's shoulder. "It just feels...off...Greetings, Counsellor!"

Paidea stood in the doorway, adjusting the fit of her long open frock coat. Smiling at the older man, she moved swiftly into the room, her usual petite height augmented due to a pair of three inch heeled leather boots on her feet. "Hello, Mr. Prince," she greeted him, holding out her hand. "It's a pleasure formally meeting you at last. And let me thank you again for your aid this afternoon. It seems I owe a great deal to the Prince family." Her smile was determinedly friendly as it turned to include Snape as well, a slightly guarded air about her, before her eyes looked to her clothes and back at him as she sought his opinion silently.

Snape looked over her outfit, his arms folded across his chest as his eyes glided over her, attempting to judge the suitability of her garb. She was not wearing what he had created for her, but she had made a placating attempt to create Muggle clothes herself. Which was a fine thought except that she had obviously hurriedly taken the style from some old Muggle book or other. For along with the frock coat, she wore a ruffled regency style shirt, a waistcoat, jodhpurs, and knee length heeled boots.

It was a little outlandish for Muggles...but he had seen worse, and the snug fit of the jodhpurs was not an unpleasant aspect to the ensemble. "The Counsellor seems suitably attired for the journey," he said to his uncle as he shrugged off his oversized robes, revealing his jeans and shirt.

Paidea smiled a bit more widely at his approval and glanced down with a pleased expression at her outfit before turning her gaze back to the Auror. "Your nephew has been a quite a help to me as we packed. Informing me about Muggle attire."

Steven kept his council, having been informed of their 'disagreement' and well imagining the form in which Severus's 'advice' had come. Smiling, his gaze shifted once more to the teen. "Yet another talent, Severus?" he teased. "Perhaps we should consider a career for you in the Muggle Liaison Office?"

Snape gave him a sour look of distaste. "Thank you. No," he replied definitively with an incline of his head. "You may rest assured that wherever I end up following the end of my time at Hogwarts, Muggles will not be playing a part in it."

Paidea's eyebrow arched at his comment. "But are you not half Muggle?" she enquired, her tone a little confused. "Are you not proud of where you come from? Of who you are?"

Snape's thoughts flew back to his drunken father. "I am who and what I am. I am ashamed of nothing," he answered her somewhat stiffly. "However, I have spent most of my life in a Muggle environment...when I have the choice, I would prefer to explore the other side of my nature."

Giving him a small smile, she nodded. "Of course," she replied. "It is much better to have a well balanced and holistic view of yourself and the world around you." Her smile grew, though her expression became a little more guarded once again. "A very adult view, if I may say. You really have grown up." Her eyes lingered on his for just a moment longer before she turned to the older man. "Shall we depart?"

"Of course," the Auror agreed as the young woman turned to take hold of one of her now smaller trunks. His expression shifted while her and his nephew's attention was diverted -- if only for a moment -- the furrow of his brow showing that he had not missed the look the Counsellor had given his nephew, his estimation of what had been involved in this disagreement altering somewhat. There was tension still between them, but of what form he wasn't entirely sure.

Hoping it wasn't a case of Severus being too acerbic with that lash of a tongue of his and thereby making this mission decidedly more awkward, he sighed inwardly and focused his thoughts on the more immediate need of getting their charge to a safer location. Pulling out a large rusty iron key from his pocket, he held it out before them. "Right...grab on to this then," he told them briskly, glancing at the clock.

Waiting for Paidea to take the key, Severus reached out slowly and grasped the metal, placing his hand alongside hers, his eyes drifting to her face. After each person had taken a hold of one of the shrunken trunks, Elly floated up on Paidea's order to grasp the key. A few seconds later they were all holding on tightly as they were sucked through the swirling magical portal, and on Steven's command they let go to land fairly neatly on a green lawn.

The first thing that was noticeable to Severus as he put down the trunk, no bigger now than a piece of hand luggage, was the heavy scent of salt in the air. While there was nothing but sunlit green hills and woodland in front of them, it was evident that they were by the sea. When he turned around, his eyes widened somewhat to see the gleaming white chalk cliffs of the southern coast of England sweeping off left and right on either side of them, revealing that they stood on the lawn of a Muggle cliffside cottage.

The stone cottage was well maintained with spackled and white washed walls, slated with old dull orange slates from the potteries of counties closer to Snape's home. He estimated that the old farmhand or crofter's house had been there for some two centuries or more. It was now obviously a holiday home, but it was snug to say the least. From the size of it, he doubted there were more than two bedrooms in the place. And...there was an outhouse. He glanced briefly at the woman beside him, wondering how she would take to that particular old fashioned bit of Muggle plumbing.

A side garden that swept to the fenced off cliff some thirty feet beyond the cottage was also well kept and quite pretty with roses, honeysuckle, a few apple and pear trees, and an old stone bench in their midst. There also appeared to be a gate with steps beyond it, no doubt leading down to a cove or beach below. With the blue sea sweeping beyond, it was exceptionally scenic and not at all what he expected.

Which, he supposed, was entirely the point.

"This," Steven said to Paidea as he brushed himself down, "is what Muggles refer to as a 'holiday home.'" He swept his hand out and around. "The estate agent who rented it out was quite a nice chap. Though I had to wipe his memory of both our conversation and, in fact, him even having this property." He grinned at them both, looking rather pleased with himself. "It even has modern plumbing!" He frowned. "I think that's important...because the agent mentioned that a bit."

Snape snorted lightly. "Yes...I believe you will find it is. Mostly as in this case, it will stop us all from wandering over the cliff when in search of that thing..." he nodded at the outhouse, "in the middle of the night."

"Oh, good then!" the older man breathed, the quick mischievous glance he shot at Paidea clue enough that he'd known that fact the entire time. The shared joke unfortunately fell somewhat flat as she had no real idea what either of them were talking about. Chuckling all the same at her smiling bewilderment, Steven waved a hand over to the house. "Let's go see what our home sweet home is like then, shall we?" he said with no small enthusiasm as he took the handle of the other reduced trunk and carried it off down the gently sloping hill toward the cottage.

"Your uncle is a very exuberant man," Paidea commented quietly to Snape as she indicated for the now invisible Elly to follow the Auror.

"Hard to miss, isn't it?" he answered with a certain trace amount of weariness. His eyes turned to her and his lip curled upwards a little. "If my mother had not married a Muggle, he would undoubtedly have been regarded as the black sheep of the Prince family. As it is...she was cast out, and now he is my grandparents' great hope. They are only waiting for him to marry and provide them with grandchildren. I do not count, of course," he stated in a matter of fact tone whilst watching his uncle's retreating form. "Once that is done, he will be deified, I'm sure."

Her eyebrow arched even as she nodded. "I do not think I will ever completely understand the bigotry that is so prevalent in our people."

"I understand it only too well," he replied quietly. "We are small in number and fearful of being swallowed up or destroyed by the Muggle world. That is why we hide behind our spells of obfuscation and monitor our magic so carefully. We are powerful but few. And when you have power and talent, you resent being made to hide it. Resent feeling and appearing weak." He glanced at her. "The bigotry in our society is based on that suppressed power.

"There are those of us who hate having to hide from Muggles. And rather than saying we are hiding because we fear them, they prefer to believe that we 'remove' ourselves because we are better than them. They do not wish to be weak or diminished...no one does. And the easiest way not to feel diminished is to view someone as weaker than yourself. It is about feeling better about one's circumstances...and it is about control. There is nothing any of us wants in our lives so much as control over it.

"Instead of Muggles being strong because of their number, they are weak because they have no magic. They are lesser. Therefore those who associate with them and worse...breed with them...are lesser, as are their offspring. It is simple and logical," he commented with no particular trace of emotion, accepting it as simply the way things are. "People do not take kindly to having the order of things shaken up...even within their own families. What was ordered and controlled is no longer. So they would rather sacrifice their flesh and blood than the control." He shrugged lightly as he finished, his gaze shifting back to the sea. "Bullying others to feel better about oneself is no great mystery."

She regarded him for a moment before she spoke, impressed and finding his judgement quite astute for a young man his age. "You appear to have given this a great deal of thought, Severus."

His eyes remained on the sea. "I have had plenty of time to myself to reflect on such things."

Her brow creased somewhat as she reappraised him yet again, evidence of the difficulties in his life since she had left him that day at the hospital growing with his words. Nodding a little, she offered him a small smile.

"Still...I think we all have the capacity to grow and change," she added. "That everyone, no matter how rigidly fixed they are to their beliefs -- good or bad -- has the capacity to put them aside to hear and understand the other's point of view. However, not everyone chooses to exercise this ability, and therein lies the true shame of people like your grandparents and the core reasons we are now at war."

Snape's black eyes returned to her. "Perhaps everyone has that capacity," he agreed, "but the reason they do not exercise it is that some beliefs brook no deviation...or they cease to be those beliefs. And they would rather die than change them because they fear losing who they are. I see little chance of them being persuaded to talk, let alone change." He pursed his lips a little. "But perhaps you may prove me wrong." He held his hand out towards the cottage, inviting her to walk to it.

"Perhaps I might," she agreed, striding along beside him. "Though I do think your assessment is valid for a few hardcore of our people. But not always just for those who hold negative beliefs." She flashed him a wry smile. "For example...me. I am prepared to die for my beliefs if I must, for I hold to them dearly."

His eyes glinted in the sunshine, amusement flickering through them. "That much is obvious, Counsellor. And precisely why we are about to step into this antiquated Muggle farmer's home. You may be prepared to die for your beliefs," he said on reaching the brightly painted red door, "but are you prepared to live like a Muggle for them?" He arched an eyebrow, a glint in his eyes.

Her laughter floated through the air. "I'm looking forward to it, Severus." Her eyes sparkled at the challenge. "I'm looking forward to it indeed."

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The First Look by Perselus

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Authors' Note: Many thanks to Savageland and Smoke for their incredible beta edits of this chapter.