Chapter Nineteen: Of Scotch, Choices, and Ambiguity

Chapter Nineteen: Of Scotch, Choices, and Ambiguity

Saturday, 24 October 1998

Severus sighed and took a sip of his drink. It was Scotch, which he didn't drink normally...well, normally, he didn't drink...but Albus had offered him a choice of Scotch or crème de cassis. Needless to say, for Severus, it was no choice.

"Are you almost done there?" Severus asked as a patterned silk waistcoat flew across the room and was caught by Albus's outstretched hand. Albus's robes and a long white undergarment of some sort were cast over the inlaid wooden screen behind which he was changing clothes.

"I'm having a bit of trouble with the front panel of my breeches," Albus replied.

"Well, I'm not helping you with that." Severus took another sip of the whisky. He shrugged a shoulder and took a good-sized swallow. He needed it if he was going to help Albus with his costuming, he reasoned.

"No, no need! I've got it, I think!" There was more shuffling from behind the screen, then a gold-coloured frockcoat on its hanger lifted itself from the peg on the wall near Severus's chair and floated gracefully across the room and around one end of the four-part screen.

It seemed a long interval after that, but just as Severus was taking his last swallow of whisky and girding himself to help Albus with his buttons and laces, Albus stepped from behind the screen.

"Well, what do you think, my boy?" Albus asked, gesturing with a fancy silver-headed black walking stick and turning on his heel to demonstrate his costume from all angles.

Severus thought he needed another drink. Or perhaps he'd already had his limit.

Albus cut a fine figure, and he would certainly be hard to recognise for anyone used to his normal appearance...or perhaps not. Dressed in the clothes of a dandy of two centuries before, Albus still exuded the eccentricity that accompanied so many of his more florid robes. What was most disguising was the lack of any beard. Although Albus had trimmed his beard a month or so earlier, it still reached the middle of his chest, and although at the same time, he had trimmed his hair so that it only came to his shoulders, it was normally a luxuriant white mane. Not so for the wizard who stood before him: Albus now appeared completely clean-shaven with no sideburns, and Severus could not detect the Glamour, though he presumed a standard Revealing Charm would show that Albus was using one. His hair was also now significantly shorter, tied with a velvet ribbon in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had charmed his hair to appear the auburn it once had been when he was a younger man, and then he had overlaid the new coif with white powder. At first, Severus thought that Albus's Glamour had included one to make him look generally younger, but then he saw that it was merely an effect of the other changes to his appearance: Albus still had his usual laugh lines, though the ones around his mouth were more apparent without the beard, and the few creases in his forehead were likewise untouched.

Once he got past the initial impression made by the Glamour, Severus inspected Albus's costume: tight-fitting dark red satin knee breeches above white stockings and black buckled shoes, a pale gold, patterned silk waistcoat coming just to his waist, a darker gold cut-away coat with a wide, high collar, and under it all, a bright white linen shirt with ruffles at the wrists and a wide ruffled stock at his neck. Severus waved his finger in a circle, and Albus turned in place. Yes, the costume was quite effective, and Severus thought Albus carried it off quite well, the fit of the costume emphasising his still broad shoulders and narrow hips.

On his left hand, Albus wore his plain gold wedding band, which he now wore more often than not. Minerva wore hers occasionally, as well, and although Severus detected no pattern to when she chose to wear it, it did seem he had seen her with it more frequently on weekends. He noticed because she tended to play with it when she wore it. On his right ring finger, Albus now wore a large gold ring with a ruby stone. Gaudy, but appropriate for the costume, Severus supposed.

"Well?" Albus asked hopefully.

"I believe you need make no changes," Severus said. One corner of his mouth turned up. "You'll have them swooning, Dumbledore."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Albus smiled broadly and reached for his crème de cassis. "I hoped it would turn out well. I thought that for the party, I'd pin a little scarlet pimpernel flower to one of my lapels, just so people would have an easier time guessing who I am."

Severus laughed. "I doubt more than a handful of them have even heard of the Scarlet Pimpernel," he said. "Though I suppose that's the point behind the thing, you and Filius wanting them to get a dose of the Muggle world."

"It's fun, too," Albus said. He Transfigured his overstuffed armchair into a more elegant, delicate Queen Anne chair with curved wooden arms, then sat in it gracefully, crossing his legs. "And a little self-mockery can be quite amusing."

"Shouldn't you have a sword?" Severus asked.

"I considered that detail, and I decided on this instead." Albus stood and demonstrated, pulling a narrow sword from his black walking stick and flourishing it. He put it away and resumed his seat. "I doubt I will have occasion to pull it out, but if anyone asks, I have it!" He grinned. "What about you, my boy? Still going with Thomas à Becket?"

"No." Severus heaved a long suffering sigh. "McGonagall convinced me to go with something more . . . colourful," he said with distaste.

Albus laughed. "What did young Gareth persuade you to wear?"

"Hrumph. I'm coming as a British hero. A genuine historical figure, not a fictional one," he emphasised.

"Yes?" Albus prodded when Severus didn't elaborate.

"T.E. Lawrence," Severus said, "in his . . . Lawrence of Arabia phase." He sounded morose, as though he'd been sentenced to wear shackles and chains all evening.

"Oh, marvellous! You will have fun with that, Severus! And you can still . . . swirl and swish."

"I do not 'swirl and swish,'" Severus grumbled. "I billow. However, that did make it a more palatable selection."

"Have fun with it, Severus! Don't always feel you have to grouse about everything as a matter of form! You are allowed to enjoy yourself, you know!"

"Mm, I suppose." He looked down into his empty glass.

"Let me pour you another," Albus said, picking up the crystal decanter of whisky. "Ice again?"

Severus nodded. "One cube. Don't stir it."

"Wouldn't think of watering down your drink, Severus...not yet, anyway!" Albus took Severus's glass and waved his hand, ridding it of the remainders of the previous melting ice cube, then he dropped a fresh cube in and poured the Scotch over it.

Severus looked around himself as he took the drink. Some of the stone wall remained exposed in what was to be Albus's laboratory area, but the rest was panelled, and there were already a few bookcases of books along one side. He had also added two windows that looked out into the garden. "Your playroom is shaping up quite well. Wouldn't have thought that when we first broke through the wall and saw the mess the chamber was in."

"I am quite pleased," Albus admitted. "The loo went in a few days ago, so if you need to use the facilities, they're through the door there. No more need to go up two flights of stairs to find a lavatory."

Severus smirked. "You could always just step outside to your garden." A courtyard had been created outside the Tower, with eight-foot high stone walls and a wrought iron gate, but it would remain empty and barren until springtime, when it would be ready for Albus to plant his garden.

Albus laughed. "It would be just my luck to have someone passing by the gate and peeking in just as I'm relieving myself!" He laughed again, then grew serious. "Thank you again for your help, Severus. It has meant a lot to me, and not just the assistance, but spending the time with you."

Severus looked down and shrugged. "Good that I could help." He looked back up at Albus. "You know what you need? A pocket watch. Borrow yours back, just for the party."

Albus shook his head. "I can find one somewhere or Transfigure a facsimile. And I'm sure that Sir Lawrence wore a pocket watch, even under his Arabian robes!"

Severus nodded and sat back. It was strange, talking to Albus whilst he was in costume. Familiar and yet unfamiliar. At least he looked more-or-less like Albus, unlike when he was Robbie and Severus hadn't even known who he was. It had been the eyes, primarily, that had hidden Albus from him then. The rest of the Polyjuice disguise and Albus's behaviour as Robert Crouch had been practically flawless, but it had been the eyes that had kept Severus from seeing past the deception. It was not simply that every time he saw the wizard's grey eyes looking back at him that he had seen Gertrude Gamp in them, but that it was Albus's sharp blue eyes that had not looked out at him. The intelligence was still there, no doubt about that, and the real Robert Crouch was no mental slouch, but Albus's eyes . . . Severus was certain that if everything else about Albus were changed but his eyes, he would still recognise the wizard. Those eyes, which revealed and obscured so much . . . they could twinkle with humour, sparkle with delight, harden with resolve, cloud with sadness, even blaze with anger, but Albus was always there behind them, and when he Occluded, he was still there, gazing out at the world and taking it all in, reading you even as you were unable to read him.

Severus shook himself. "A watch might be a suitable accoutrement for my costume," he said. "Better than McGonagall's suggestions."

Albus reached somewhere within his costume and pulled out a pipe with a long, delicate curved stem. "D'you mind?" he asked, raising the pipe.

"It's your playroom," Severus said.

Albus began the ritual of filling and lighting his pipe. "I smoke rarely, but I found I did miss it last year. What ideas did Gareth have?"

"His wildest idea involved a camel...he thought perhaps we could Transfigure one of Aberforth's goats."

Albus laughed. "I doubt you could persuade my brother to allow you to do that."

"Yes, even McGonagall discarded that notion very quickly. Then he thought I should carry a rifle or a revolver. It might be historically accurate, but I did not wish to carry one, even a nonfunctioning replica. I have agreed to carry a knife in my belt, however. McGonagall's found an ugly one with a most garish hilt. He says it looks well with the costume, however."

"I am sure he's right, then," Albus said, puffing his pipe.

"He also suggested a whip." Severus made a moue of distaste. "Apparently the man was a masochist. Enjoyed being whipped bloody. Derived some kind of bizarre sexual satisfaction from it."

"People do develop strange tastes," Albus said. He had switched from crème de cassis to whisky, and his cheeks were taking on a pink glow. It could simply have been embarrassment with the topic of masochism, however.

"It is disgusting." Severus took a swallow of whisky.

"It's a fancy dress party, Severus, not a life choice!"

"If the students ask me about Lawrence, I am not going to tell them that he engaged in masochism," Severus said, frowning.

"No, that would be an unnecessary detail for a Halloween party. If their interest is piqued, they can find out such things on their own." Albus took a sip of Scotch. "Do you know what character Minerva has chosen?" he asked innocently.

"Yes." Severus smirked.

"I haven't seen her costume yet."

"No."

"You aren't going to tell me?"

Severus barked a short laugh. "If you would like me to tell Minerva what your costume is, I will tell you what hers is."

Albus chuckled. "No, no, that's all right."

"I will tell you one thing: her character is also from the first half of this century and was also a real person."

"Gertrude Bell?" Albus asked, reminded of her by Severus's T.E. Lawrence costume.

"No."

"Was she British?"

Severus shook his head. "You won't guess it. Let her surprise you."

"All right. That's fair enough," Albus said. He puffed on his pipe and the two sat in silence, nursing their drinks. "What do you know about Thomas à Becket?" Albus asked, suddenly changing the topic.

"Not much. Just the basics. He worked for the king, then the king decided he wanted his own man as Archbishop, so Becket was ordained a priest and made Archbishop. But the king hadn't counted on him now being loyal to the Church and not to him once he was Archbishop, and the king wasn't happy about that. So Becket ran away into exile, where he should have stayed, because after he returned to England, he was assassinated. Whereupon, suddenly everyone loved him. The pope, who wouldn't help him much whilst he was alive, decides he's a martyr and saint, and the king, so distressed by his drop in public opinion because of his rumoured involvement in the murder, did a barefoot pilgrimage or something, then he slept in the man's crypt overnight." Severus shuddered.

"Yes, more or less, that's it. . . . All of them in the story, ambiguous figures. Even the assassins," Albus said.

"The assassins, ambiguous?" Severus snorted and reached for the decanter. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Help yourself, my boy." Albus let out a sigh. "They believed they were serving their king. No doubt they hoped to be rewarded for their service, but nonetheless . . ."

"They murdered. Their rationale is unimportant. And they killed a man who was defenceless." Severus scowled and took a swallow of Scotch. "There is never a good murder. Believe me, I know. No justi– justi– justification for it."

"Mmm. Are you familiar with T.S. Eliot's play, Murder in the Cathedral?"

Severus shook his head and blinked, trying to clear his head. "I know of its existence."

Albus set his pipe down in a small pottery dish on the squat coffee table in front of them. He gazed blankly across the room toward the dark corner where his laboratory bench stood. "There is a line in that play . . . a line that seems . . . when I remember it, it seems to sum up so much of what I have done, and what I have done wrong . . ."

The silence lengthened until Severus, uncomfortable, asked, "What's the line?"

"I don't remember it exactly . . . but something like . . . the greatest temptation of all . . . is doing the right thing for the wrong reason." Albus sighed and picked up his glass, though he didn't drink from it.

"It's the right thing to do, and if you'd do it for the right reason anyway, what does it matter if you do it for the wrong reason?" Severus asked, unsure whether his question had been clear. His mind seemed rather cloudy at the moment. He looked at his glass of whisky and put it down. He didn't normally drink, this was his third glass, and two was already over his limit. He was still sober enough to recognise that.

As for Dumbledore's quotation, Severus knew very well he had done the right thing for the wrong reason when he'd turned away from the Dark Lord all those years ago, but he had done it. He also knew that he'd probably never have done it for the right reason. He was very glad for a wrong reason in his life...in that instance, anyway. "Why should it matter? Does it actually matter at all?"

"Maybe not to the rest of the world . . . although they will always question whether it was the right thing to do. But always, it should matter to you. To me, I mean. To whomever. To the person acting. It should matter to me."

"Things have turned out well, and I think you always considered others . . . the impact of what you did. You wanted to do the right thing," Severus said, "even when you didn't. And sometimes, any other choice would have been worse."

"Especially then, especially when other choices could have been worse, when all the choices seemed bad. Especially then, to know you did something for the right reason . . . that's important." He shook his head. "But maybe you just want to believe you've chosen for the right reason, because you know what the right reason is, but you've really chosen for your own reasons . . . to know the difference . . . how to know the difference? Or to choose the wrong thing, even when wanting to do the right thing, because you think you're doing it for the right reasons and that your own reasons must be leading you wrong. Believing that anything that coincides with your own desires must be wrong, so you reject that choice . . . and then end up doing the wrong thing as a result."

Severus shook his head. "You over-complicate it all. Don't think so fucking much, Dumbledore. At least not whilst drinking . . ." He looked over at the decanter. "At least not whilst drinking whisky."

Albus blinked and looked back over at Severus. He smiled slightly. "Of course, you're right. At least tonight. May I freshen your drink, Severus?" he asked, looking at Severus's glass with its half-melted ice cube.

"Are you trying to lubricate me sufficiently to ask me some favour which I shall be loathe to do in the morning in the clear light of day? Or are you trying to get me to tell you what Minerva's costume is?"

Albus chuckled. "No, no. Just trying to be a good host. What about some coffee?"

Severus nodded.

"Wilspy!"

Albus's aged house-elf popped into the room after only a short delay. She was wearing what appeared to be a lacy white valance over a deep red tablecloth. "Yes, Master Albus? You boys should not be staying up too late!" She looked at the two glasses of Scotch and the half-empty decanter and tutted, but smiled.

"We need coffee, my dear," Albus said.

"You do!" Wilspy agreed briskly. "I be back!" She flicked her finger, cleaning their glasses of the remainder of the whisky before she winked away.

Albus laughed.

"You do have an impertinent house-elf, Albus," Severus said. "But she is amusing. And she seems to take good care of you."

"She does. I am very fortunate to have her and Minerva to take care of me. And to bring me to my senses, occasionally."

"The latter must be a full-time job," Severus said with a short laugh.

"I think they both deserve some kind of hardship allowance!" Albus agreed, chuckling.

Wilspy returned with a tray floating in front of her. "Two cappuccinos. And I brought sugar for you, Master Albus. You take no sugar, Master Severus?" she asked, turning to Snape.

"Almost never," Severus confirmed.

"Don't let him stay up too late!" Wilspy said before she Disapparated with a small pop.

"Was she directing that at you or at me?" Severus asked, reaching for his coffee cup. It looked and smelled heavenly.

Albus put two teaspoons of sugar in his coffee and stirred it gently. "I don't think it really matters...probably both of us."

"I wish she would not call me 'master,'" Severus said irritably. "I am not her master. She is not my elf." It also reminded him too much of the Dark Lord.

Albus chuckled. "She does not mean 'master' in that sense, Severus! She calls you that because she thinks of you as a young boy...'master' as opposed to 'mister.'"

"Hmmph. I am not a boy, either." He felt only slightly assuaged by that bit of information.

"Neither am I." Albus sighed and put his spoon on the edge of the saucer. "Far too much living done since I was a boy. Too much."

Severus sipped his cappuccino. It was very good. He considered the wizard sitting across from him, Albus's wistfulness clear in his features, the Glamour seeming to reveal aspects of him that were normally masked.

"You know, every character I considered had some . . . distasteful aspect to his character, or to the manner of his death. Aside from the fact that, as you say, it is just a fancy dress party and not a life choice, Gareth persuaded me that the things that I found . . . unappealing about Lawrence were not as important as other things that he did in his life, whether for better or worse. And everyone's a hero or a villain, McGonagall said, depending on what you look at, and sometimes, they're both." Severus shrugged. "You may sometimes have questions about things you did that you might have done differently, or decisions that you might chosen in a different way, Albus, but the fact that you worry about it . . . I think that is part of what makes the difference." He placed his empty cup in his saucer, then looked up at Albus, again taking in the costume and the changes that the Glamour made and the features that the Glamour revealed.

Severus stood. "I should be going. And you should get to bed, or your house-elf might hunt me down tomorrow and scold me."

Albus smiled faintly and nodded. "Good night, my boy. Sleep well."

"And you." Severus stopped beside Albus's chair. He touched his forearm lightly. "You may find yourself . . . one of those ambiguous characters whom you spoke of earlier," he said softly, "but . . ." He swallowed. "But I know you did what you thought you had to do, and that you wanted to do the right thing. Even with me. Even if I'm still angry sometimes. And, if it makes any difference to you, Albus, I, um . . . it's all right. It's all right with me."

Severus strode to the door leading to the staircase and left as quickly as he could, closing the door firmly but gently behind him.

Albus blinked back a few tears. "Thank you, my boy," he whispered to the empty room.

Ten minutes later, a knock came on the stairway door. It could only be one person, since only she knew the password to the door at the top of the stairs.

"Um, wait, wait just a moment!" Albus called somewhat hoarsely. He felt for his wand and waved it, removing the Glamour and the hair powder, then he stood and Summoned his over-robe and put it on over his fancy dress. "Come! Come in, Minerva!"

She stepped in, a smile on her face. "I'm glad I knocked, if you were up to something!"

"Oh, no, just . . . trying on my costume. Want it to be a surprise, after all."

"Did you and Severus have a good evening?" she asked, looking down at the empty glasses and coffee cups.

Albus nodded. "Yes, yes, very."

Minerva gazed at him, then touched his cheek gently. "You're all right?"

"Fine."

"You look . . . distant. Distracted."

"We talked." Albus sighed. "It was good."

Minerva nodded. "I think you should come up to bed."

"Yes, my dear. Give me a few minutes to take care of my fancy dress. I will be up shortly, right behind you!"

"All right." Minerva kissed his cheek. "I will look forward to it." She turned to leave.

"Minerva?"

She looked back. "Yes?"

"Nothing . . . just, thank you. Thank you for coming down for me." He quirked a little smile. "Maybe we could have that warm snuggle tonight that we didn't have time for this morning?"

Minerva smiled. "You can count on it."

NEXT

Chapter Twenty: A Ghostly Halloween

Saturday, 31 October 1998

Severus attends the Hogwarts fancy dress party, which suffers a strange interruption.

Characters: Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey, Verity Septima Vector, others

Author's Note: I hope you enjoy this chapter. I will be out-of-town next week (the second full week of October) and will not be online very much, if at all, so my review responses may be delayed a bit. Thanks very much for your reviews, though! I appreciate them. I do respond to reviews, so if you have a question, feel free to ask it in a review, and if I can answer it, I will!