Eight

Strange Glue

"When faced with my demons

I clothe them and feed them

And I smile, yes I smile

As they're taking me over"

'Strange Glue', Catatonia

The replica sword arrived at Hogwarts late the next night, under an autumnal cover of darkness.

Severus hid the original sword of Gryffindor in a compartment behind Dumbledore's portrait and handed the duplicate sword over to the Carrows. They made a public display of taking the sword away from Hogwarts, and Severus informed the teaching staff of its removal. With Contessa's whispers into the ears of the students, Severus felt convinced that another attempt at theft was unlikely.

Longbottom, Weasley and Lovegood commenced their detentions in the Forbidden Forest, and Severus hoped the message had been heard, loud and clear, by all the students of Hogwarts. He feared the consequences if he was unable to control the school. The Dark Lord expected him to deliver his promise, but Severus did not want the students of Hogwarts to suffer unduly.

Severus and Contessa met for supper on Tuesday and Friday evenings, and he noticed she had become increasingly temperamental. Contessa seemed uncomfortable and tense in his presence, rarely making eye contact. Severus didn't know what to make of it, but he presumed she was finding the transition to double-agent both taxing and confusing. He made a mental note to offer his guidance the next time he saw her on the Tuesday night.

Autumn was well underway, the October days bright and sunny, nights drawing in with the first signs of frost. Before the sun had properly risen on the Tuesday morning, Filch came bursting into the Headmaster's office, seething with rage.

The caretaker escorted Severus to the corridor outside the Great Hall.

Boldly emblazoned across the wall of the passageway was the message "Dumbledore's Army – still recruiting". The graffiti was imprinted with several protective charms and hexes, which made its removal time-consuming and arduous.

Severus was furious with the audacity and ingenuity of the DA, and he and the other teachers were still struggling to remove the writing from the wall when a group of early-bird students arrived for breakfast. Severus sent them back to their Houses and ordered the house-elves to serve breakfast in the students' quarters in an attempt to control the number of people seeing the message daubed outside the Great Hall.

Later that day he held a staff meeting, informing the teachers their night-time rounds would become more frequent in order to prevent students sneaking out of their rooms at night. Severus also reinstated Umbridge's old decree forbidding gatherings of three or more people and banning unofficial student societies.

Severus regretted having to make this pronouncement. He had no respect for Dolores Umbridge or her methods, and he did not wish to follow in her footsteps. However, he felt it was the only way to curb the activities of the DA and dissuade those students who might be tempted to join the mutineers.

That evening Severus attended dinner in the Great Hall and found the atmosphere subdued. Many teachers point-blank ignored him and more students than normal scowled disdainfully as he walked by.

None of this bothered Severus. He had known from the outset he would not be a popular Headmaster. The only thing that troubled him was Contessa's reaction.

She had scowled fervently at him during the staff meeting and cut him dead when she passed him in the corridor, her face strained and flushed. Tonight, in the Great Hall, she steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. Severus could not understand her reaction, unless it was merely a façade to throw people off the scent.

Contessa arrived in the Headmaster's office by Floo Powder later that evening and, judging by the look on her face, it seemed the last place she wanted to be. Severus arose from behind his desk and met her at the fireplace. She returned his gaze warily.

"Good evening, Contessa," said Severus, his voice constricted and tight.

Contessa made eye contact, and her face contorted with suppressed emotions. "If I am to call you Headmaster, I prefer to be addressed as Madam Marchbanks," she said frostily, "if you don't mind, sir."

Severus recoiled from her hostility and took a step backwards. He could not understand why she was still having difficulty using his proper title, unless she was being deliberately insubordinate. In the space of a heartbeat, he recovered his composure and surveyed the Potions Assistant with a sneer.

"Since I am Headmaster, I shall call you whatever I like."

Contessa's eyes narrowed into slits, and she looked away with exasperation, sighing heavily. "Do we have to do this tonight?"

Nonplussed, Severus paused for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Contessa's gaze held a silent plea, leaving Severus even more confused. He raised his eyebrows haughtily to cover his lack of comprehension.

"Is all this really necessary?" she asked irritably. "My coming here for supper but not being allowed to call you Severus... It seems absurd."

"It is necessary now more than ever," Severus replied, without fully grasping her point. "I need the information you can provide to help me maintain control of Hogwarts. I cannot allow Dumbledore's Army to resurface under my nose – the Dark Lord will believe me incompetent and replace me."

Contessa rolled her eyes slightly and seemed to swallow something back. Her shoulders hunched in submission.

With a jolt, Severus construed her reaction as a refusal of his company. He felt a momentary pang of rejection. His companionship had been spurned before; it was a familiar feeling. However, Severus knew he could survive the consequences. He had become accustomed to living in this manner for his entire adult life; there was no difference in this situation.

Firmly squashing any need for closeness and amity, Severus focused on the task in hand. Their alliance was necessary for the protection of the school. Turning on his heel, Severus stalked towards the stairs and led Contessa onto the minstrel's gallery and into his quarters.

The dark rooms flickered into life as Severus raised his wand to light the candles and the fire. The level of illumination was lower now he had discovered the most efficient way of lighting the chambers, and the wavering gloom welcomed him as he entered the living room.

Severus had procured a small dining table which served its purpose for the suppers he shared with Contessa. It was an unadorned and simple piece of furniture with two wooden chairs placed either side of the table. The seats were similarly modest and functional.

Contessa had remarked how out of place the table looked, shoved up against the wall of the grandiose living room. Since Severus had chosen it for that very reason, he hadn't acted upon her suggestion of replacing it with something more comfy. Severus found its simplicity and practicality strangely comforting. He liked the familiarity.

He headed into his private chambers as Contessa took a seat at the table with obvious reluctance.

He didn't feel anything now that he was safely inside his walls. Coldly detached, Severus removed his cloak and frock-coat and returned to the living room wearing trousers, a white shirt, black waistcoat and neck-tie. He snapped his fingers as he crossed the room, and as he sat down opposite Contessa, his personal house-elf appeared with a pop at the side of the table.

Binky was slightly taller than the average house-elf, and his skin had a pinkish undertone which set him apart from the other elves. He wore a pair of black Hogwarts tea-cloths, tied in a customary toga. The silver embroidery of the Hogwarts crest glittered in the candlelight.

The Headmaster's house-elf had been in service for over a decade, and under Dumbledore's tutelage, Binky had learned an air of flamboyance. With the usual ostentation, a bottle of wine snapped into existence inside a silver bucket filled with iced water, and supper was served on a gleaming, covered silver dish.

Contessa, who was sitting with her arms folded, nodded her hello to the house-elf. Unusually, she made no attempt at conversation with Binky. Severus snapped his eyes away from her and glared at the house-elf instead.

"Good evening, Headmaster," Binky said, bowing to Severus with grace and finesse. "Madam Marchbanks." The elf turned to Contessa and repeated his gesture.

Severus tapped his fingertips on the table impatiently. He did not appreciate fuss or fanfare, and his ever-darkening mood was being aggravated by the pomposity of the house-elf.

"Get on with it, elf!" he snapped.

Binky jumped a little, but regained his composure quickly. He removed the cloche from the plate of food with a flourish and presented a spread of cheese, biscuits and fruits.

The selection was impressive, and Severus found his mouth watering despite himself. Whilst he felt confident he would eventually knock the flair for theatrics out of the house-elf, he could imagine getting used to the excellent quality of food.

"Dismissed," Severus addressed the house-elf curtly.

Binky bowed once more then vanished with a muffled pop.

Severus removed the bottle of wine from the ice-bucket and started to pour it into the crystal glasses, which had just appeared on the table before them.

"I don't want any wine, Professor," Contessa said discourteously.

Severus prickled with indignation but proceeded to serve her a full glass of wine regardless. She glared at him in response.

Sitting in silence, they ate supper without eye contact, and Severus found himself refilling his wine glass frequently. When Contessa finished eating, she sat with her arms folded like a sullen, sulking schoolgirl. He remembered that look from his first year as Potions master. It didn't bode well.

Growing more impatient with her lack of conversation, Severus pushed away his empty plate and sat back in his chair, swirling the remnants of his third glass of wine around the bottom of the glass.

"Are you going to speak at all, or do I have to question you?" he asked her sharply.

Contessa straightened in her seat, and her eyes flashed. "You know what, Headmaster, I think I'll ask the questions tonight," she replied insolently.

Severus bolstered himself, ready for a fight seeming to come out of nowhere.

"Why did you reinstate Umbridge's old decrees?" she asked loftily. "Do you seriously think you can prevent Dumbledore's Army from reforming?"

"I really don't see what that has to do with you, Contessa," he said evenly.

She shook her head with impatience. "You and I played that game once before, and it didn't exactly work in your favour." Her voice was laced with old hostility, and she seemed on the verge of erupting.

Severus could not understand why. He sat looking into the fire, temporarily stumped. What this had to do with their shared past was a mystery. How could anything from his time as Contessa's Potions master be pertinent to the matter in hand?

After a short time the memory came to him, but by then Contessa had stormed out of the room and was stamping down hard on the staircase to his office.

Severus's anger flared as he leapt to his feet and ran after her.

---

Blue Touchpaper

It seemed as though Contessa's body was on fire as she stalked down the stairs and hastened towards the fireplace. Severus's disregard for her had rendered her unable to speak, and she almost couldn't stop herself from punching the walls.

Just at this moment, Contessa couldn't bear to be around Severus for fear of what she might say. He didn't listen when she tried to explain her feelings about addressing him formally, and now she was livid about his rash implementation of the decrees. His decision had pressed buttons from their shared past, and it incensed her that Severus could not make the connection.

And, as if that wasn't enough, Contessa was battling with uncontrollable passion for a man who didn't return her romantic feelings. She was frustrated by his lack of response and furious with herself for being so spectacularly tripped up by her emotions.

Desperately searching for a flicker of feelings in the man, she had found none. Severus obviously wanted to keep their relationship completely professional, down to the very last detail, and Contessa was insulted by his assertion that she had to call him 'Headmaster' after all they had endured.

The Headteacher portraits watched Contessa crossing the office as she tried unsuccessfully to control the torrent of emotions writhing like snakes inside her. As more of the portraits awoke from their slumbers, their eyes tracked her progress towards the fireplace.

Contessa grabbed a large handful of Floo Powder and hurled it into the hearth. Ferocious green flames jumped up with a roar. Ducking her head underneath the mantelpiece, Contessa lifted up her robes and stepped onto the hearth.

She was about to utter the words which would transport her to her quarters when Severus's hand grabbed hold of her arm and wrenched her back into the Headmaster's office.

Contessa's lungs burned with ash as she stumbled on the floor, Severus's bruising grip holding her upright.

"There is no need to walk out on me, Madam Marchbanks," Severus said testily.

Contessa's hands rolled into fists, and her chest heaved sickeningly as anger rose in her throat. Biting down, she clenched her teeth to stop herself from responding. She needed to stay calm.

Severus didn't let go of her arm, and he led her across the office, flinging her unceremoniously against the desk. He stood before her, a dark and imposing figure silhouetted against the green firelight. He crossed his arms, effectively blocking her escape route to the Floo.

Contessa felt a new flare of rage as she realised Severus was playing cat-and-mouse with her. His arrogant display eroded her self-control, and she clenched her jaw to prevent herself lashing out. She needed to get out of the room before she succumbed to her anger.

Reaching out behind her, she grasped the desk to steady herself, and then ran towards the solid oak door, prepared to risk being seen leaving the Headmaster's office late at night.

In the blink of an eye, Severus raised his wand and locked the door with a non-verbal spell. Contessa ran into the door and tried desperately to turn the brass doorknob. She knew the attempt was futile.

She pounded the oak panels, venting some of her frustration, before turning to face Severus, her back against the bolted door.

A hundred different scenarios ran through her mind as she calculated her next move. Severus, however, was quicker. With a mocking smile, he flicked his wand, Summoning Contessa's wand from inside her robes. He caught her only chance at magical defence mid-air and tucked her wand inside his waistcoat. His eyes glinted dangerously.

"How dare you!" Contessa growled. Her heart raced and blood pumped furiously through her ears.

"I'm merely protecting us from your irrational behaviour," Severus said silkily. "You seem agitated. I don't fully understand why."

Every single portrait in the room was now awake and watching them with great interest. Contessa sobered a little and tried to calm her conflicting emotions. Running her fingertips over the wooden grain of the door, she did not reply.

Severus must have noticed her eyeing the portraits uncertainly, as his next words were more cordial. "Perhaps we can continue our... discussion... in my quarters?"

Contessa saw Magda McDougall cast an encouraging look towards her, and she was able to stand straighter as a result. She removed her hands from the oak panel at her back and walked calmly towards Severus.

"Anything I have to say can be witnessed by these portraits," she said as she strode past him towards the centre of the room, forcing him to turn around.

Meeting his gaze once more, she noticed his eyebrows arching. Severus moved towards her until they were both standing in front of the Headmaster's desk, eyeballing each other.

Severus spoke first.

"I believe you require my assistance in learning to manage your role as double-agent," he began.

Contessa scoffed. "This isn't about me and my failings, Headmaster," she said waspishly.

Severus's eyes narrowed into slits. He closed the distance between them until they stood only a couple of feet apart.

"I can't wait to hear this, Miss Marchbanks," he sneered.

Contessa knew he had lit the blue touchpaper. She felt her anger ignite once again as the past came flooding back to her.

"So, it's back to Miss Marchbanks now, is it, Professor?" she spat. "Back to the power games of the classroom... You didn't stop me last time!"

Contessa walked away from him and circled the office. Severus moved instinctively towards the fireplace, but Contessa didn't notice. She was only just getting started.

"Even though you bullied everyone in my Potions class, forcing some of them to give up the subject, you didn't win completely. I came to see Professor Dumbledore and asked him for permission to set up a Potions study group. He said I had to ask you to authorise the use of the Potions classroom for us to practise in..."

"I refused you," Severus said in a bored voice.

"Too right you did," she bit back, "deliberately unfair and partisan, like always."

Contessa rounded on him, but Severus merely smirked at her with amusement.

"It didn't do you any harm though, did it, Contessa?" he said mockingly.

Contessa's eyes turned to slits, and she threw him a look of pure malice. "Don't you dare try and tell me that you did it to bring out the best in me!" she snarled.

Severus laughed out loud at her defence. "You know nothing of my motivations. Not now, and not then," he said with contempt.

"I don't care about your motivations, Professor," she replied, in an attempt at restraint. "I care about the students."

Severus's dark eyes studied her intently as he waited to hear her new angle.

"It's the students who suffer when you make snap decisions without weighing up the consequences. If you bar unofficial student societies again, you are repeating the mistakes of the past!" she said with annoyance.

Severus glowered in front of her. Feeling slightly unnerved by his composure, she took a step backwards. He crossed his arms against his waistcoat and gritted his teeth. Contessa's stomach swooped in queasy anticipation.

When Severus spoke, his voice was tightly controlled. His fury, however, was still perceptible on his pale features. "You make the mistake of thinking this is about you, when it is, in fact, nothing to do with you."

Contessa swallowed hard, unable to believe they had reached this point. Despite the apparent danger, she couldn't stop herself from retorting.

"No, Severus. This is about us."

They stood facing each other for a long moment, and Contessa sensed they had reached an impasse. She noticed Severus's jaw set tightly as he clenched his hands into fists. She knew she had made him angry and part of her really didn't care; her need for vengeance had got the better of her.

Severus unfolded his arms and swept away from the fireplace, turning his back on her.

Contessa didn't need any further invitation. She walked briskly towards the fireplace, which still blazed with green flames due to the generous amount of Floo Powder she had tossed onto the hearth.

Stepping into the fire, she pronounced her destination and was whisked away in a hiss of ash.

---

Elm and Ebony

Severus heard the fizzing swoosh of the Floo Network as it transported Contessa out of his office.

With his jaw set firmly, he turned on the spot to face the fireplace. The emerald flames were changing to a natural amber colour, but continued to roar with intensity.

As Severus stared into the hearth, his anger unleashed, and his disciplined defences began to crumble. He had barely managed to restrain his fury in the moments before Contessa left the room. Now she was gone, rage reared its ugly, snarling face.

Severus swept across the room and came to a halt at the end of the ornate Headmaster's desk, and he wrenched it upwards, tipping it over onto the floor. The table came down on its side with a satisfying thump. Desk-top contents flew haphazardly across the room; parchments and quills scattered, and an inkwell seeped dark liquid onto the floor.

The destruction felt good to Severus, and he continued to vent his anger, ripping books down from the shelves lining the office. They landed with a thud on the floor as clouds of dust rose from the centuries-old volumes.

Severus stared fiercely at the pile of crumpled books on the floor as if they had somehow wronged him.

He jumped in surprise when he heard a muffled pop. Binky the house-elf appeared in the room, carrying a duster and a brush. The little elf looked startled as he surveyed the carnage in the room, and he looked at Severus uncertainly, bowing cautiously to his master.

Severus's nostrils flared as he addressed the house-elf. "What are you doing here, elf?"

Binky shifted uneasily on his feet. "Binky apologises, sir. Binky was Summoned by the rising dust... It is Binky's duty to keep the Headmaster's office clean."

The elf shrank under Severus's steely gaze.

"Not doing a very good job of it, are you, elf?" Severus lashed out.

Binky hung his head shamefully. "Sorry, Master."

Turning to face the upended desk, the little creature ran full-speed, head-on into it. He collided with the hard surface with a sickening crunch and fell onto his back, knocking himself momentarily unconscious. A lump the size of an egg appeared on his forehead.

Recovering with a stagger and rubbing his head, Binky got to his feet and retreated in preparation for another run.

Severus stepped in front of the up-turned desk, blocking the house-elf's path towards self-destruction.

"Enough," Severus growled. "Leave now."

Binky looked half relieved and half perplexed. "But the mess, sir. What about the mess?"

Severus clenched his fists intolerantly. "It can wait. Now get out of my sight!"

"Yes, Master."

With a crack, the house-elf disappeared.

Severus was left alone with his tipped-over desk and desecrated office, rage still bubbling away inside. As he looked around the room, he noticed the inkwell emptying its contents steadily onto the floor, staining the rug. With a rumble of anger in his throat, Severus picked up the offending pot of ink and lobbed it into the fire. The container shattered with a tinkle, causing the flames to turn bright magenta and spit out acrid black smoke.

Without warning, the fire went out with a sizzling gasp. Severus felt his anger wane as the room's illumination dropped and the crackles of the fire extinguished.

As the rush of adrenaline subsided, Severus slumped into a sitting position against the desk, leaning his back against the leather-covered surface. He sat with his legs hunched up, head resting on the desk-top and his eyes tightly closed.

When his heart rate slowed and his breathing became more regular, Severus opened his eyes. The fog cleared from his vision as he sobered, and he flinched with embarrassment when he observed the Headteacher portraits watching him warily from their frames.

With a low groan, Severus closed his eyes in humiliation. Contessa had forced him to act out the entire argument in front of generations of experienced Headteachers.

Despite his belief that his own line of reasoning was sound, he feared he had not handled the situation with as much skill and diplomacy as his predecessors might.

Severus kept his eyes shut as he banged the back of his head gently against the desk. It was quite clear that Contessa's behaviour was beyond reason. She was unable to control her emotions, and Severus usually saw this as a sign of weakness.

Contessa was not adept at disciplining her mind and compartmentalising her world. Whilst it had disadvantages and served no foreseeable purpose, Severus still admired her openness and honesty, even though he found her emotional outbursts irritating and unproductive.

However, her loose cannon temperament was a hindrance to their mission and clearly needed to be addressed. The task in hand was of the utmost importance and, as such, he knew had to find a way to resolve the situation and continue to work with her.

Severus was not accustomed to this aspect of managing adults. He much preferred students in that respect; disciplining them was child's play by comparison.

When Severus opened his eyes he noticed several portraits casting judgmental looks. Phineas Nigellus Black sniffed indignantly at him.

"I told you the Ravenclaw Revolutionary couldn't be trusted," Phineas said with a sneer.

During the months in which they had been reacquainted, Severus had almost forgotten Contessa's old nickname. He rose to his feet and dusted off his clothes, turning away from the portrait. "This isn't about trust, Phineas," he said wearily. "It's about something else."

From behind the desk, Severus looked up at Dumbledore's portrait. "How am I supposed to work with Contessa when she is so unreasonable?" he asked the former Headmaster. "This kind of unpredictable behaviour is the reason why I normally choose to work alone," he added.

Dumbledore returned his gaze with a look of patient understanding. "Tess simply needs to learn the limitations of her position. You forget – the pair of you spent two months in a relationship of equality. Now she is working for you as a subordinate but also alongside you as a spy. It will take some time for her to adjust."

"I need her to adapt quickly, Dumbledore. I've been able to control my emotions since taking over the Headmastership. Why cannot she?"

"You are different people, Severus. She is open to her feelings and doesn't place value in containing them."

Dumbledore paused and glanced at Severus circumspectly.

Severus had seen that look before and groaned inwardly.

"There are a few things you don't know about Tess which cloud her opinion of you," Dumbledore said slowly.

"Oh, I don't believe this..." Severus replied.

From the other side of the office, Magda McDougall cleared her throat nervously. He noticed Phineas and the other Headteachers appraising Dumbledore expectantly. The hairs on the back of Severus's neck stood to attention.

"What is it?" Severus asked, not really wishing to know the answer. "What haven't you told me?"

Dumbledore sighed and crossed his hands in his lap. "I was hoping this would come out naturally, in time. However, I can see the need for transparency, given the current situation."

Severus rolled his eyes and sighed in resignation.

"You are aware Tess is the great-granddaughter of Griselda Marchbanks," Dumbledore began.

Severus nodded once.

"Griselda was a member of the Wizengamot, and she was present at your closed hearing. She heard me speak in your defence before all the charges were dropped."

Severus took a moment to interpret the information. "You're saying Contessa found out I was a Death Eater during my time as Potions master?"

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore said with regret. "It was not ideal. Although your past affiliation was not common knowledge, there were of course several people who knew you once served Voldemort. During the Christmas holidays when your hearing took place, Tess overheard a conversation at home. Griselda was devastated that she'd found out."

"So, Contessa knew of my past; I assume she was sworn to secrecy?"

"She was, and she never once betrayed you, despite being sorely tempted on several occasions."

Severus took a deep breath in. "I did make it hard for her," he conceded, remembering the many altercations they had exchanged. Severus had tested her to the limit but hadn't realised the danger. "You placed a lot of trust in a seventeen-year-old girl, Dumbledore. You put me at risk."

"I placed as much trust in her as I did in you, Severus. Neither of you have let me down."

Severus bit back his sarcastic retort. Whilst he thought Dumbledore a fool to be so trusting, he could not deny the former Headmaster's trust in him was the only thing that had kept him alive.

And now, it seemed, Contessa had placed her trust in him too. It surprised Severus that the Ravenclaw Revolutionary had kept her promise to Dumbledore despite being so cruelly provoked by her Potions master.

"Her past resentment is more understandable now," Severus realised out loud.

"Oh, she wasn't exactly a saint," Dumbledore replied with a small smile. "Tess attempted many things to bring about your dismissal, culminating in a petition amongst the students to force me to sack you."

Severus laughed under his breath. "You're kidding."

"No," Dumbledore replied seriously. "Luckily the petition was unsuccessful. Too many students were... shall we say... reluctant to sign."

"Too scared of the Potions master?" Severus said with amusement.

"Indeed," Dumbledore answered wryly. "When she realised I had no intention of dismissing you, she backed down and put her energies into organising a Potions study group to help the students who were struggling. It was her method of retaliation against you."

"That's why she never gave me any credit as her teacher – she considered herself self-taught."

"What can I say, Severus, you are both as stubborn as each other."

Severus sighed deeply. Whilst this explained much of Contessa's behaviour, it also made her Unbreakable Vow seem even more remarkable.

Out of the corner of his eye, Severus noticed the up-turned desk and the mountains of scattered books, quills and parchment. As he had sent away the house-elf, it was up to him to clear up the mess.

He reached inside his waistcoat to find his wand, intending to make quick work of covering up the evidence of his tantrum. His fingers brushed two pieces of wood and he withdrew his ebony wand and a smaller wand made of elm.

With a jolt, Severus realised he still had Contessa's wand.

---

The Wisdom of Hindsight

Contessa awoke the following morning riddled with anxiety. She regretted some of the things she had said to Severus in the heat of the moment and wished she had expressed her feelings in a more constructive way.

Although a month had passed since she had taken up her position at Hogwarts, Contessa still didn't know where she fitted in Severus's life. He was the only person who knew who she really was, and she found the mixed messages of their working relationship confusing. It was hard to know who to be when she was around him.

Their past as teacher and student had been tumultuous at the best of times, but over the summer Contessa had learned to tolerate the man and even like him. Initially, her trust in Severus had been a function of her belief in Dumbledore; she trusted Dumbledore's judgment. But now Contessa trusted Severus unreservedly of her own accord.

The cold light of day brought a dawning realisation: her reprehensible behaviour had repaid him poorly. Severus was relying on her to be steady and resolute. Last night, she had been neither.

Contessa was struggling with the boundaries of their relationship. She worked for Severus as Potions Assistant and was therefore his employee. But she also reported to him as a spy and that afforded a different status. Additionally, she was now spending time with Severus twice a week. The evenings they shared were in private, and Contessa could imagine settling into an easy dialogue with him, like the one they had established at Squirrel's Leap. Calling him Headmaster in this situation was so unnatural to Contessa; she didn't know how to relate to him when they were alone together.

Her recent attraction towards Severus was even more bewildering. The new feelings didn't seem to want to co-operate or be tucked away out of sight. Unwanted thoughts distracted her from the job at hand, and she was struggling to find her place in the bigger picture. Dumbledore held so many cards close to his chest.

Severus still had her elm and dragon-heartstring wand. It had been the last thing on her mind when she had made her hasty departure from his office, and Contessa was sure that, in the heat of the moment, Severus had forgotten he had confiscated it. The moment she arrived in her pitch-black quarters, she kicked herself and had to light all the candles by hand.

Contessa hoped that Severus would return her wand forthwith, but he had not. Her indignation prevented her from asking for the wand back, and her stubbornness meant she had spent the whole morning doing her work without the assistance of magic. The experience had been frustrating and felt like punishment.

When lunchtime arrived, Contessa followed the streams of bustling students to the Great Hall, where she lingered outside the doorway. Peeking around the backs of some tall seventh-year boys, she glimpsed Severus sitting at the Head Table at the far end of the hall. He looked as pale and imposing as ever, silently watching the students filing into seats at their House tables.

Feeling a surge of advantage, Contessa turned on her heel and hurried down to her dungeon quarters. Severus would be engaged for a least half an hour; time enough for her to speak to Dumbledore alone.

A handful of Floo Powder and a flash of green flame transported her into the Headmaster's office.

Dazzling daylight made the room look very different from the night before, and she became aware of dozens of eyes assessing her cautiously. Ignoring the Headteacher portraits, Contessa walked over to the desk, behind which hung the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. He greeted her with a knowing smile.

"Good afternoon, Tess," Dumbledore said cordially. "To what do we owe this visit?"

Contessa relaxed at the older man's benevolent manner. "I need some advice, Albus. I'm struggling."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, looking at her over the rim of his half-moon spectacles.

Contessa rested her hands on Severus's desk as she leaned forward and felt a thin piece of wood roll underneath her fingertips. Casting her eyes downwards, she gasped when she realised Severus had left her wand in his office.

Her heart leapt to her mouth as she picked up the wand and turned it over in her hands. Contessa was tempted to pocket her wand but realised Severus would know she had visited his office without permission.

With a sigh, she placed the stick of wood back down on the desktop and slumped into the chair across from the Headmaster's desk.

Holding her head in one hand, she muttered, "What am I going to do?"

Dumbledore's gaze was sympathetic. "What is it that's troubling you?"

"I'm lost, Albus. I thought I knew where I stood with Severus, but since we arrived at Hogwarts our relationship has changed. He's become distant and cold. The equality we had found at Squirrel's Leap has gone, and I'm confused. Sometimes I feel insulted."

"What do you find insulting?" Dumbledore asked.

"Severus's preference for the use of a formal title," Contessa replied. "I mean, I can understand the need for it in the company of others, but when we are alone together I can't see what the problem is. I spent all summer calling him Severus. Calling him Headmaster in private is belittling."

"So, you don't regard him as Headmaster when you are alone together."

"No, I don't. But he appears to treat me like an underling the whole time. It flies in the face of everything we had previously achieved and, frankly, makes it harder for me to keep my vow." Contessa paused as she contemplated her reaction. "I suppose I questioned his authority over the decrees to try and raise myself to his level." She sighed. "With the wisdom of hindsight, I can see I was disrespectful and my behaviour uncalled for. I'm just the Potions Assistant, at the end of the day."

Dumbledore listened calmly from his portrait. "In a way, you're feeling powerless."

"Perhaps," Contessa considered. "I don't feel I have any direction. I don't fully understand how my role at Hogwarts helps in the grand scheme of things."

"I never keep all my eggs in one basket, Tess. In time, you will come to realise what your presence here can accomplish. However, for the time being, you are a great deal of use to Severus as an informant. He will need your help to retain control of the school and prevent it slipping into the hands of another Death Eater. And the Headmastership places Severus in the best possible position to help Harry Potter. As soon as we know of the boy's location, we can bequeath the sword of Gryffindor to him. Then, when the time is right, Severus needs to pass on certain information to him. You are here to facilitate this, ensuring Severus is able to help Harry when the time comes."

Contessa nodded but couldn't help feeling glum. "I understand all of that. Somehow, it's not enough. Something is missing."

"Then you need to find a way to make your time here more fulfilling. I'm sure Hogwarts will provide you with many opportunities."

"Like what?"

Dumbledore smiled patiently. "You'll know when they arise; I cannot foretell them. Perhaps you should speak to Sybill Trelawney?" he said with a hint of mischief.

Contessa smirked in response. "I'll give that some consideration," she replied with sarcasm.

The conversation paused as Contessa considered her other predicament.

"There's something else, isn't there?" Dumbledore asked perceptively.

Contessa nodded, and a lump formed in her throat. She looked around at the other portraits uncertainly. "I need to talk something through in private," she replied, alluding to the other Headteachers listening to their conversation.

Dumbledore contemplated her seriously for a moment. "Certainly."

He gestured the request to the frames hanging on the walls of the office. Generations of Headteachers left their portraits with a cacophony of groans and indignant mutterings.

After a short space of time, Contessa and Dumbledore were alone.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

Contessa fumbled with the armrests of her chair. "I'm all over the place. I never thought it possible, but I've started to have romantic feelings towards Severus."

A brief silence followed. Contessa looked up at the portrait, beseeching Dumbledore to have a ready-made answer. He smiled back at her sadly.

"This is unforeseen," he said earnestly.

"I know." She sighed. "What should I do, Albus?"

"Does he return your feelings?"

"I seriously doubt it."

"Well, that makes it simpler."

Contessa looked at him, bewildered. "How do you mean?"

"I mean the path forward is clearer. If your feelings are not returned, the outcome is predestined. Rather than concealing and ignoring your feelings, you need to find a way to acknowledge your feelings to yourself. Work with them, instead of against them."

Contessa shot Dumbledore a suspicious look. "You make it sound as though I'm in denial."

"From what I saw of the fracas last night, I would tend to say you have been in denial."

Contessa swallowed this comment reluctantly, but as embarrassing as it might be, deep down she knew there was truth in it. "Merlin's beard, you are right," she said.

"Don't deny your feelings, Tess. You can't tell Severus how you feel, but if you try to suppress your feelings, they will prevent you from keeping your vow. Severus needs your unconditional acceptance now more than ever."

"I think there is a limit to what can be achieved with Severus. He's not ready." Suddenly, Contessa felt very tired and weary.

"Perhaps not, but you will be there for him when he is," Dumbledore replied.

Contessa accepted this dolefully. "I shall try to be patient."

With a nod which expressed much more than gratitude, Contessa left the Headmaster's office, her wand lying unclaimed on the desk.

---

Rhyme and Reason

Severus noticed Contessa's absence at lunch-time in the Great Hall and was left with the distinct impression she was avoiding him.

He wasn't overly troubled by the fact she wasn't speaking to him; Severus felt he had the moral and intellectual high ground.

However, he was perturbed by the thought of Contessa wandering the corridors of Hogwarts without her wand, unable to defend herself and impeded in her work. Awkward questions might be asked with regard to the location of her wand, and Severus did not wish to raise suspicions.

It was for this reason that he found himself descending the steps into the dungeon and knocking on the door of the Potions office later that afternoon.

Severus opened the door to find Contessa working alone in the office, marking a stack of parchments on the desk which had once belonged to him.

He glanced around the room and noted the office was neater and less cluttered than before. However, Severus observed the arrangement of the potions supplies remained the same. He found this deeply satisfying.

Contessa met his gaze steadily as he walked across the room. She placed her quill down on the desk and remained seated as Severus stood before her.

"Headmaster," she said calmly, "how may I help you?"

Severus nodded once in acknowledgement and looked again at the shelves of potions ingredients lining the walls of the office.

"I like what you've done with the place," he said, his voice betraying amusement.

Contessa followed his gaze around the room, and her eyes narrowed. Severus wondered if she would rise to the bait. He was not disappointed.

"I am sure you will recall, Headmaster, that I helped design the layout of your office during my seventh year," she said. "You requested I re-organise it on several occasions, before eventually settling on your original outline for the room. My memory of the plan's rationale serves me well."

Her voice was even and measured. Severus was pleased with her self-restraint.

"I notice you've increased the lighting in here," he said, looking pointedly at the new candelabras placed around the desk.

"I needed more light to work," Contessa said crisply.

Severus watched her for a moment. "The increase of light will have an adverse effect on the potions supplies."

"I'm aware of that. I took it into consideration, and the ingredients will not be harmed."

Severus was impressed by Contessa's controlled demeanour. Additionally, he approved of the changes she had made to his old office.

He reached inside his robes to retrieve her wand. Severus would have returned it to her regardless, but he felt more content about doing so now. He held out the wand, and Contessa rose from her desk and accepted it gratefully, her cheeks flushed pink.

"Thank you for returning this," she said quietly.

"My apologies for the delay in its return," he replied with formality.

Contessa's posture relaxed but she still appeared fidgety and nervous.

"Severus, I..." she began. "Sorry, Headmaster," she corrected herself with a wince.

"Go on," Severus said.

"I'm sorry for my impertinent behaviour last night. I didn't intend to question your authority." Contessa's voice was remorseful. "I forgot my place."

For the space of a few heartbeats, Severus stood stoical, gratified to hear an apology. At the same time he sensed the problem had still not been resolved, at least not for her.

"You're struggling to find your place now we are at Hogwarts," he reflected.

"I am, Professor," she said awkwardly. "I must admit I find it difficult to address you formally when we're alone together. You are still Severus to me." Contessa looked down at the desk, her fingers fiddling with her wand.

"I have good reason to maintain a façade, Contessa. There is a lot at stake."

"I know," she replied. "But I can't put our relationship in a box and label you Headmaster; I find it confusing and distracting. I don't know who to be when I'm around you – am I a Potions Assistant, a spy, or simply Tess...?"

Severus processed her predicament carefully and weighed up the consequences in his mind. They needed to be able to work together closely in order to be successful, but his wish to be addressed formally had become a barrier to that goal. Contessa seemed unable to overcome it.

"I propose something different, in that case," Severus said.

Contessa looked up at him hopefully.

"In the presence of students, teachers and portraits, you should call me Headmaster," Severus suggested. "That effectively means almost everywhere in the castle, including my office."

Contessa eyed him suspiciously.

"However, when we are in my quarters, away from the earshot of others, please call me Severus."

A smile returned to Contessa's face. "I understand your logic, Headmaster. I accept."

"Good," Severus replied, lifting himself onto his toes and grasping his hands behind his back.

Contessa's relief was palpable as she sat down in her chair.

"Do we have anything further to discuss with regard to my enforcement of the decrees?" he asked.

"You want to revisit the argument?" Contessa replied, taken aback.

"Only in the interests of completeness – I can't imagine your reasoning to be sounder than mine. Nevertheless, I should like to hear it."

Contessa appeared to collect her thoughts with a degree of trepidation.

"I'm aware I didn't express myself particularly well; however, my concerns are that the students will suffer from a learning point of view. Also, by making the membership of organisations such as Dumbledore's Army illicit, it will drive them underground and make the option more appealing. People will rebel and join the cause because it is exciting."

"It is only unofficial student societies that have been banned, so bona fide learning groups will be allowed to continue, albeit heavily supervised," Severus began to explain. "On the subject of the DA, it will mostly be Gryffindors flocking to the cause."

"That may be true," Contessa replied, "but remember, Dolores Umbridge struggled to stop the DA. Children should not be underestimated – they are resourceful."

"Umbridge's old decree served to halt recruitment to the DA by scaring most of the students away. I believe this to be the best I can hope for. It will be impossible to stop the DA completely. I only hope to limit their activities and numbers. The decrees assist me in achieving this goal."

"So, you don't want to stop them?" Contessa asked, surprised.

"Oh, I would very much like to stop them, but I don't believe it entirely possible to do so," Severus replied pragmatically. "I shall have to consider how to penalise the culprits, and make an example of them. If I can dissuade students from supporting them, it might have an impact on their members. The punishment needs to be severe enough to send out a strong message but stop short of violence and brutality."

"I see your conundrum," Contessa said earnestly.

"Indeed," Severus replied.

At that moment there was a brief knock at the door, and Horace Slughorn strolled into the office without looking up.

Contessa's eyebrows rose fractionally, and Severus shot her a stern look in response. He cleared his throat imperiously.

"Good afternoon, Horace," Severus said, in his customarily low voice.

Slughorn looked up, startled. "Oh, good afternoon, Headmaster."

Slughorn's beady eyes flicked between Contessa and Severus, speedily assessing the situation. He walked over to the side of Contessa's desk and dropped some rolls of parchment onto the work-space.

Severus's former Potions master addressed him carefully. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Not at all, Horace. Your assistant and I were just discussing the merits of restricting certain potion ingredients."

"Ah," replied Slughorn, casting Contessa a wary look.

"Your assistant is not particularly taken with the idea," Severus said waspishly.

Contessa's eyes widened as Slughorn rose to her defence. "She's doing a fine job, Headmaster. I'm very pleased with her."

Severus looked at him disdainfully. "I'm not convinced, as yet," he said in a cold voice.

Reaching inside his robes, Severus pulled out a small roll of parchment and handed it to Contessa.

"These ingredients are to be moved to my personal stores and added to your weekly requisition."

"But," Contessa spluttered, with believable consternation.

"Until you can demonstrate improved competence, I shall be keeping a close eye on you, Madam Marchbanks."

Severus felt satisfied when he saw Contessa's expression of indignation crossing her face.

She played her role well. Things were as they were meant to be.

Without another word, Severus turned on his heel and swept out of the dungeons.

---

The Missing Piece

"Good grief, Tess, what did you say to the Headmaster to warrant that?" Horace Slughorn rested forward on his arms as he stood at the side of Contessa's desk.

"Oh, nothing, Horace," she replied dolefully. "I doubt I'll ever be able to do anything right. The man tortures me for fun."

Horace pulled up a chair, sitting down at the side of her desk. "What happened between you two?"

"What? Just then?"

"No, I mean, in the past – after I retired. You had one year left at Hogwarts, if memory serves correctly."

Contessa sighed, partly due to relief. "Snape was such a contrast to you, Horace. He was cruel and impatient, showed favouritism towards his own House, and impeded the students who did not perform to his exacting standards." She paused for a moment, remembering her struggles. "I rebelled against him."

Horace smiled ruefully. "You always were a feisty student, Tess; it was one of your admirable qualities."

"He didn't seem to think so," Contessa replied as the old feelings from the past resurfaced. "I found out he was a Death Eater during my seventh year. Dumbledore swore me to secrecy."

"Oh, my," Horace said, his eyes widening in horror. "Back then, none of us knew."

"I came so close to blurting it out, but Dumbledore convinced me to trust Snape. He said he was completely assured of the man's loyalty. I believed in Dumbledore and trusted his judgment, so I stayed quiet."

"If only we'd known," Horace said forlornly.

"Indeed." Contessa shook her head, faking remorse.

In the silence that followed, Contessa assessed the impact of her past discretion with new perspective. She realised how much would have been lost if she had broken her promise to Dumbledore.

"It's a wonder Snape allowed you to join the teaching staff this year," Horace pondered.

Contessa was ready for this one. "You'd think. But you shouldn't underestimate the man's vindictiveness. I know he takes great pleasure in making my life a misery." The falsities slipped from her tongue easily; up until recently they had still held some truth.

Horace sat quietly contemplating her dilemma then jumped slightly as he remembered something.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asked.

"No. Why?"

"I need you to supervise a detention for me," Horace asked, his demeanour hopeful. He was still testing the limits of his Potions Assistant's capacity, but Contessa was more than willing to oblige, due to Horace's commitments as Head of Slytherin.

"That's fine, I can finish the marking at the same time," she replied.

"Actually, it's a practical detention. A young third-year lad needs to make another batch of Shrinking Solution."

"That's OK. I've still got all the ingredients out from earlier today, so there'll be no need to obtain the Headmaster's permission for another Shrivelfig," Contessa responded with feigned irritation. "What's the student's name?"

"Robert Selwyn," Horace said darkly.

A memory sparked in the recesses of Contessa's mind. "Selwyn. I know that name."

"As well you might – he's the son of a Death Eater," Horace said, unable to hide his distaste.

"A Slytherin?"

"No – he's in Gryffindor."

Contessa was astounded. "A Death Eater's son was sorted into Gryffindor?" she asked disbelievingly. "Poor kid. He didn't have much luck, did he?"

Horace neglected to reply, standing and gesturing to the rolls of parchment which he had previously dropped onto the desk. "Sixth years' homework on Amortentia; should be interesting for you," he said with a little wink. "There's nothing like a bit of teenage angst to pass the time, eh?"

Contessa smiled in return but groaned inwardly. The last thing she needed was to be thinking about Love Potion at the moment; she was confused enough already.

"No problem, Horace. See you tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, Tess. Make sure Selwyn's potion cuts the mustard. I can't have him slacking all the time."

Contessa nodded as Horace waddled out of the room, no doubt looking forward to putting his feet up and tucking in to some crystallised pineapple.

---

At eight o'clock that evening, there was a knock at the door of the Potions office. A nervous-looking thirteen year old boy walked into the room.

Robert Selwyn was sandy-haired and pale-skinned with large chocolate-brown eyes. He looked sheepishly at Contessa as he stood in front of her desk.

"Hello, Madam Marchbanks." His voice was barely audible, and Contessa noticed he was shaking slightly.

"Good evening, Robert," Contessa said kindly. "I believe you'll be making Shrinking Solution tonight?"

"Yup," he said, looking furtively around the office for the cauldron he would be using.

"Oh, not in here," Contessa said. "We'll be using the Potions classroom tonight – everything is waiting for you in there."

"OK," Robert said, and he turned to leave.

Contessa followed him out of the office and down the corridor, observing the boy's hunched shoulders and quiet footsteps. He seemed to be doing everything possible not to be noticed.

Once inside the classroom, Contessa showed Robert the caterpillars, daisies, leech juice and rat's spleen he would be using in his potion, and he set about skinning his Shrivelfig with impressive efficiency.

Contessa chalked up the instructions on the blackboard and settled down to mark the remaining Amortentia essays.

After about half an hour of working in silence, Contessa finished her marking. She got up and wandered over to the cauldron to have a peek at the contents. The liquid was bright, acid green – perfect for this stage of its preparation.

"Very good, Robert. You're doing well," she said encouragingly.

The boy blushed and looked away. He set about slicing his caterpillars, ready for the next step.

"I'm just going back to the office to get some more books – I'll be back in a minute," Contessa told him, feeling she could trust the boy on his own in the classroom without any problems.

Contessa went to her quarters and picked up the books she had borrowed from Severus's collection at Spinner's End. She had already perused the first Potions book and was looking forward to starting the second volume.

Returning to the classroom, all was quiet, and Robert was progressing well with the potion. Contessa wondered why he'd struggled so much during the lesson; he hadn't needed to ask her for any help.

Sitting back down at the teacher's podium, Contessa rested the book on the lectern and ran her fingers over its black leather cover. It was almost identical to the other Potions book she had borrowed, except she realised with a start that the book appeared to have no title.

Tentatively opening the pages, Contessa read down the table of contents. The book seemed to be a selection of research papers from prominent witches and wizards, most notably the former Hogwarts Headmistress, Dilys Derwent. Contessa's eyes scanned the titles of the articles and noticed a chapter titled 'Bottling Vim and Vigour' by Mungo Bonham, the founder of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Contessa had no idea that Severus had any interest in magical medicine. She leafed through the pages, relishing the smell of old parchment at her fingertips. Spinner's End had held the same aroma – that of an archaic library stacked full of wisdom and knowledge. Excitement blossomed as Contessa dived into Mungo Bonham's article, almost forgetting about the student working opposite her, behind the bubbling cauldron.

Sometime later, Contessa jumped at the clink of a glass phial being placed down on the front desk. She looked up to see Robert Selwyn presenting his Shrinking Solution for inspection.

"Gosh, that was quick," Contessa said hurriedly, not realising how engrossed she had been in the book she was reading.

She held the vial up against the candlelight, catching its green hue and watery viscosity. It was near-perfect.

"Let's test it out, then," she said, producing a red apple from inside her robes.

Contessa placed the apple in Robert's outstretched hand and squeezed a few drops of the potion into the nook of the apple stalk. With a tiny pop, the apple vanished, and in its place, in the palm of the boy's hand, was a dark brown apple seed.

"Excellent!" Contessa exclaimed as she took the seed in her fingers and turned it over in her hands.

Robert beamed back at her with pride.

"How did you manage to produce such a good Shrinking Solution without any help from me, and yet completely fail to make a useable potion earlier today?" she asked with a flicker of suspicion.

The boy shrugged. "Dunno, Madam Marchbanks."

"What stopped you during the Potions class?"

Robert hunched his shoulders again, fidgeting under her inquisition. "The others... They kept tripping me up, switching my ingredients behind my back, saying things to distract me."

Contessa's stomach flipped at the implication, and she saw a look of pained embarrassment flickering across the young boy's face.

"Who taunted you, Robert?"

"Dunno. Most of the class."

Contessa paused for a moment, not fully comprehending. "But why?"

"'Cos of my dad," Robert answered sullenly.

"You're being bullied because of your father?"

The boy didn't reply. He looked at the floor, shuffling his feet on the cold stone surface.

"Was it the Gryffindors who messed with your potion?"

Robert looked up again. "Nah, they just thump me in the arm when I'm stirring the potion, or stick their feet out when I'm walking past them."

"Who then?"

"The Slytherins, Madam Marchbanks."

Contessa was nonplussed. "Why would the Slytherins pick on you? They'd be more likely to support you, wouldn't they? What with your dad being a Death Eater..."

"No. They hate me too. Because of my mum."

"Your mother? Why, what did she do?"

"She left Dad two years ago when You Know Who came back. She took me with her, but she's in hiding now. I was sent to Hogwarts because it's safer here. Dad disowned me; he doesn't want to know me. There's nowhere left for me to go."

Contessa stood in stunned silence. The young boy was essentially parentless, renounced by his own House of Gryffindor because his father was a Death Eater and hated by Slytherins because his father had disowned him. Contessa reflected that Potions classes would be his worst nightmare – being in the same room as both Slytherins and Gryffindors.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Robert."

"Thanks," the boy said self-consciously.

Contessa's heart ached in response. "You've done brilliantly here tonight. You are obviously a gifted potion-maker."

Robert returned her gaze with a trace of a smile.

"Perhaps you'll do better in the next lesson," she said hopefully, wishing there was something more she could do for him.

"Yes, Miss," he said automatically.

Contessa's sadness returned. She knew how difficult it was going to be for the boy. "You can go now."

Robert left the room, and Contessa slumped into the teacher's chair. She felt torn, wanting to intervene, but not knowing how.

She wanted to help; she felt she had to do something.

With a flash of inspiration, Contessa realised she had stumbled upon the missing piece of the puzzle – the thing Dumbledore had promised she would find.

---

Dreams and Fables

Over the next few weeks, things seemed to quieten down at Hogwarts.

Relieved there had been no further attempts to break into the Headmaster's office, Severus was now facing a lower level of mutiny and had caught the Weasley girl red-handed, daubing another message for Dumbledore's Army across the floor of the Entrance Hall. She had been awarded with a ban from Hogsmeade for her troubles.

Severus was fast running out of options for punishment, realising the old favourites and staples of the past were becoming increasingly ineffective. He hoped he could maintain control of the school without resorting to more drastic measures; it was hard enough to keep the Carrows' methods in line as it was.

Ever since the failed theft of Godric Gryffindor's sword, it seemed Contessa's ability to feed Severus information on Dumbledore's Army had greatly diminished. Longbottom was either too embarrassed about the incident to confide in her or didn't trust her anymore.

Meanwhile, Contessa seemed to have become wrapped up in another student. She had taken the child of a Death Eater under her wing and was providing the boy with Potions tutorials on an ad-hoc basis. Severus noticed Contessa spent a fair amount of time and energy lavishing the boy with praise and attention, and he bitterly wished she would apply herself equally to more pressing matters. He thought she should focus her efforts on the trouble-causing students of the DA – not on some kid who ought to be able to stand up for himself. Severus didn't know how Contessa would be able to collect intelligence on the DA, given the current difficulties, but that didn't stop him from wanting more from her.

October marched on and Severus had been lucky enough to witness the Whomping Willow shedding its entire load of leaves one afternoon whilst out patrolling the castle grounds. As the nights closed in he felt more comfortable in the Headmaster's quarters. He often spent evenings alone, reading by firelight. Severus preferred to hide the room's boundaries with darkness; it helped them appear smaller and more like his old quarters in the dungeon.

Of course, when Contessa arrived for supper twice a week, he had to light more candles. She seemed uneasy with his choice of low-level illumination and had made several pointed remarks about the romantic lighting.

One Friday evening, Severus was awaiting Contessa's arrival and brooding as he watched the crackling flames of the fire. The book he had been reading laid forgotten on his lap.

She was late.

Severus expected punctuality; in the past, people had always been reliable and kept their appointments. Admittedly, the majority of those individuals had been students and therefore knew what the consequences of their tardiness would be. Severus thought everyone should conform to his standards of prompt timekeeping, and he felt disrespected when they did not.

His agitation continued to intensify proportionally with the lateness of the hour.

Half an hour after the pre-arranged meeting had been due to commence, Contessa knocked hastily on the door and tripped unceremoniously into the room.

"Oh, Severus, I'm sorry I'm late," she said breathlessly. "I got caught up in something and didn't realise the time."

Severus stood up and walked to the door to greet her, taking in her dishevelled appearance and noting she'd probably run all the way to the Headmaster's office.

"It was something of importance, I assume."

"Yes," Contessa replied, her eyes sparkling happily. Her expression faltered, however, when she noticed the look on his face. "Well, no, now that you mention it. It was something important to me, that's all."

Severus shot her a pointed look.

Contessa walked into the room, removed her cloak and flung it over the back of the nearest sofa. She sat down, glancing sidelong into the fire which crackled lazily at the other end of the settee. Severus followed, sitting down on the opposite sofa.

"I've been teaching Robert Selwyn the Barrier Charm," she said, "to help him protect the contents of his cauldron from saboteurs."

Severus felt his eyebrows creeping up his forehead. "A pressing matter indeed," he said sarcastically.

"I..." Contessa paused, frowning a little as she returned his gaze. "It's a complicated spell for a third-year; it took longer to teach than I'd anticipated." Her eye contact faltered, and she started to fiddle nervously with her robes.

Severus noticed her differing priorities bothered him more than they necessarily should. However, he felt he had made his point, and he rose from his seat, clicking his fingers to Summon his house-elf.

Binky popped into existence, bearing a silver tray stacked high with biscuits and two large glasses of milk. Contessa chuckled as the elf placed the plate down on the coffee table between the two sofas and offered out the accompanying drinks.

"Milk and cookies, Severus?" she asked with amusement. "I never had you down for comfort food."

Severus bristled, sitting down once again on the sofa opposite. "Due to the lateness of the hour, this selection seemed more appropriate," he replied with a satirical tone.

Contessa's eyes narrowed and then, unexpectedly, she smiled broadly at him. "OK, I take the hint."

They sat comfortably in front of the fire, exchanging stories and updating each other about the goings-on at the school whilst demolishing the teetering pile of biscuits on the coffee table.

Severus felt his indignation ease as Contessa gave him her full attention. He realised he had started to enjoy her company, look forward to it even, noticing this was the first time in a great many years he didn't feel lonely at Hogwarts. As they were the only ones who knew of each other's true affiliation, suppers together were their only opportunity to speak freely and be themselves.

Severus was beginning to appreciate that Contessa seemed to accept him in a way in which Dumbledore never had, and the evenings they shared were becoming something of an oasis. Because of this, Severus coveted the time and was resentful when it was interrupted or delayed.

"I've eaten far too many of those peanut-butter cookies," Contessa said as she lay back onto the sofa, rubbing her stomach with a slight grimace.

Severus smirked and helped himself to another biscuit. "You seem more relaxed tonight. Perhaps the later hour is better for you."

"Yeah, maybe. But I don't think it would be better for my waistline," she replied, frowning again. "How is it that you can eat a plate of those and not put on any weight? You always have such a svelte profile – I assumed it was because you never ate."

Severus finished his glass of milk then reclined on the sofa, putting his feet up in front of the fire. "I often forget to eat, especially when I'm on my own. I've been alone a lot over the years."

"Well, there'll be a nice feast to tuck in to at Halloween," Contessa said enthusiastically. "I'm looking forward to that."

Severus didn't respond. It hadn't occurred to him that he would be expected to retain the Halloween feast.

The last thing he felt like doing was celebrating on the thirty-first of October. If he had his way he would spend it alone in his quarters, licking his wounds and thinking about all he had lost. It didn't seem at all appropriate to have a party on the anniversary of the death of the woman he loved.

In addition, he loathed parties and social gatherings of any kind. He couldn't think of one good reason why the celebration should go ahead, and he certainly wasn't going to burden himself with the arrangement of the annual feast.

Contessa mirrored his movements and lifted her feet onto the sofa, leaning back into the cushions and closing her eyes. They were both tired at the end of the working week, and Severus was glad there was no need to talk.

He allowed his mind to wander as he listened to the crackles of the fire in the hearth. The sound of Lily's tinkling laughter resurfaced in his memory, her almond-shaped green eyes sparkling back at him as Severus chased her around the park in their hometown one summer holiday, long ago.

Severus had loved the summers away from Hogwarts. Even though he had to return to Spinner's End, he felt more than recompensed by having Lily all to himself, uninterrupted by Potter or any of the other Gryffindors.

She belonged to him on those long summer days, when they would walk and talk, play on the swings in the park, or sit by the riverbank discussing the magic they had learned and what they hoped to become when they grew up.

Those days were a pocketful of bliss which Severus could tap into whenever he needed them. They were the memories he used to create his Patronus and helped him survive the long weeks, months and years of his life without her.

A warm sensation wrapped itself like a blanket around him as he lay into the cushions of the sofa. With his eyes closed, Lily's presence felt tangible in the room, comforting and reassuring, encouraging him to carry on.

She was the rod he held himself up against, his anchor in a storm. His one reason for living.

Hours later, Severus awoke with a start. It took him a few moments to overcome the hazy disorientation of an unfinished dream. With a yawn, he stretched himself experimentally and realised he had been covered with a warm, fleecy blanket.

Looking around the dimly-lit room, he realised Contessa had departed without fanfare after he had fallen asleep by the fire.

Heaving himself up from the sofa, Severus ambled drowsily into the Headmaster's sleeping chambers, taking his dreams of Lily with him.

---

Past and Present

Since the air had been cleared, Contessa's relationship with Severus had found a firmer footing and, now that Robert Selwyn was benefiting from her tutorials, she finally felt settled in her role at Hogwarts. Contessa was helping the Death Eater's son to perfect his potion-making and regain some self-confidence and, even though the boy was still on the receiving end of taunts and abuse, she had noticed a change in his demeanour. It was a good start.

However, it was tiring for her to be on guard around the teaching staff and controlling her outward appearances to blend in with others. Contessa found it easy to be derogatory about the Headmaster – her years of practice were coming in very useful, but she was pleasantly surprised by how much she enjoyed spending time with the man she once despised.

Tuesday and Friday evenings were the only time when Contessa could truly be herself. Severus seemed more at ease around her, and their evenings together had often been the highlight of the week.

Her feelings towards him were still the same, but now she'd looked them in the eye, they were no longer disabling or destructive. Contessa was certain Severus would never return her feelings, and she knew a relationship with him would be counterproductive. Too many important things were at stake to risk muddying the waters with romance, and she was slowly coming to terms with reality.

A week before Halloween, Contessa arrived at Severus's quarters on the Friday evening to find him stretched out along the length of the sofa. Facing the fire, his nose was buried in a leather-bound book. He was dressed in his usual black trousers and white shirt but had removed his necktie and unbuttoned his waistcoat.

Severus looked around at Contessa as she entered the living room, and he gestured for her to join him on the second antique sofa opposite him.

She kicked off her boots and sprawled back onto the cushions. The fire warmed her sock-clad feet as she lay watching the crackling flames.

After a short time, Severus finished what he was reading, and placed the book on the table at his side. Contessa turned around on the sofa, feeling too comfortable to bother sitting up straight. She dug her elbow into the cushion and propped her head on her up-turned hand, watching Severus's impressive figure from across the coffee table.

"Nothing much to report," she said idly. "All quiet at the moment. The students are looking forward to the Halloween feast."

Severus frowned a little and turned to an upright sitting position, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his lap. His long fingers played with the torn cover of his reading material. He appeared preoccupied.

The firelight sent flickering shadows over his hooked-nosed profile, and Contessa felt a swooping sensation as she found herself lost in his dark, brooding features. She couldn't understand why she'd never noticed how handsome her former Potions master was; his thin, lean frame cut a curiously powerful silhouette. Long black hair framed his pale features, hiding emotions from the casual observer. She was captivated by a sense of his loneliness and vulnerability, seen only by her, on very rare occasions.

Contessa opened her mouth to speak and then stopped, giving herself a mental shake. That wasn't what she was here for.

Severus snapped his fingers lazily, and Binky the house-elf appeared at his side, holding the usual silver plate with its shiny domed cover. The elf looked at Contessa pointedly and gave her a little wink. Her eyes widened in response, and she sat up quickly with instant alertness.

Grinning appreciatively, Contessa couldn't wait to see the efforts of the house-elves and wanted to catch Severus's reaction. She could tell he knew something was going on; Severus was watching her suspiciously from across the coffee table.

A pot of coffee and two cups appeared on the table before them. Binky lifted the cloche, revealing a seasonal parkin cake decorated with floating miniature pumpkins, about the size of apricots. The minuscule lanterns twinkled and diminutive bats darted between them, emitting tiny shrieks as they flew above the moist treacle and ginger cake.

Contessa giggled. "Oh, Binky, that's marvellous – beautifully done! Please thank the kitchen for me; it's just what I wanted."

"As Madam wishes," the house-elf replied with a smile and a formal bow.

Binky popped out of existence, and Contessa turned towards Severus, hoping to see an expression of amusement or, at the very least, cynicism on his face.

Instead his features were rigid, as if frozen in place.

"Oh, you don't like it," Contessa said uncertainly.

Severus grimaced. "This was for me?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," she replied, unsure of how a simple cake adorned with symbols of the upcoming festivities could cause him such dismay. "Halloween is next Friday night, so I assumed we would be forgoing our usual supper in favour of the feast. I asked the kitchen to bake us a special cake instead."

Severus nodded in understanding, but his expression did not change. "I don't celebrate Halloween."

"You don't?" Contessa asked in amazement. "But it's the one night a year when Muggles entertain the notion of witchcraft and wizardry so we all stay indoors and have a party. It's tradition."

The bats above the cake had now lost interest in the floating lanterns and were soaring in between the steaming coffee pot and empty cups, knocking the china over with a clink. Contessa took out her wand, and with a quick flick the miniature bats vanished.

Severus remained silent with his head turned away, gazing into the fire. He wrung his hands tensely.

"Why don't you celebrate Halloween?" Contessa asked in a quieter, softer voice.

He sat poised for fight or flight, clearly wishing he was elsewhere.

Then, with one swift movement, Severus picked up the coffee pot and proceeded to serve their drinks. Contessa watched him as he added milk and sugar and offered her a cup. She took it from him wordlessly, nodding her thanks and sitting quietly as she waited for his reply.

Severus warmed his hands on his cup of coffee and peered down at the table with pensive, unfocused eyes. "Halloween holds a particular anniversary which is not cause for celebration."

After a moment's pause, Contessa still didn't understand. "It was the day You Know Who was killed, or so we thought. But surely that's another reason to celebrate?"

Severus continued to stare at the table. "Other lives were lost that day."

"Yes, Harry Potter's parents," she said, seeing a different viewpoint. "Were you close to them?"

"No," Severus answered abruptly.

Contessa had a sense of being pushed away; she had stumbled on something, but she was unsure what. Why would Severus be so perturbed by the Potters' fate if he had not been personally close to the couple?

She searched her memory for a clue.

She knew Severus had switched allegiances by the time the Potters were killed; he was her Potions master when it happened. Contessa could still remember the day – she had been at Hogwarts' Halloween feast when Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid and Snape had been called away urgently. They returned later that evening and announced Voldemort's death to the school.

"What happened that night, Severus?"

There was a long pause. "I am responsible for the death of the Potters. I unwittingly gave information to the Dark Lord which led to their murder."

A lump formed in Contessa's throat and she attempted to swallow it away. "I'm sorry, Severus. I didn't know."

"No-one knew."

Contessa's memory of the event replayed in her mind. "I remember that night at the Halloween feast. You were so cruel and bitter towards the students afterwards. I thought you were sorry the Dark Lord was dead, and I hated you even more..." Her voice trailed off as she realised the depths of her past misconception.

"You thought me a Death Eater through and through."

Contessa's eyes widened with horror. "How did you...?"

"Dumbledore told me a few weeks ago," Severus said languidly.

Contessa rubbed her forehead. At least it was out in the open now. She looked at the cake sadly. "I couldn't have done better with the cake, could I?" she asked wryly.

She finally caught Severus's ebony gaze, and the tension eased slightly as she detected a glimmer of irony. Contessa raised her wand again, and the cake disappeared from the table.

"So, you won't be looking forward to the feast next week," she said softly.

Severus looked back at her, caught unawares. "I cancelled the feast, so it's of no consequence."

Contessa gaped, astonished. "Severus, you can't do that! There'll be uproar!" she blurted.

A trace of comprehension crossed his face, and the corners of his mouth curled in disgust. Contessa didn't want to press the matter, but the importance of the feast could not be overstated.

"The traditions need to be upheld, Severus, otherwise people will talk," Contessa explained. "No matter how you feel," she added gently.

Severus shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "I will not be part of the preparations for Halloween."

Contessa placed her coffee cup down on the table decisively. "Right, well, I volunteer to organise the feast for you."

"Whatever you want," Severus said dispassionately.

Feeling she had gained his acceptance, Contessa rubbed her hands on her knees in preparation for her next recommendation.

"I've had another idea as well," she began.

Severus looked back at her with arched eyebrows. She held his gaze steadily until his features softened.

"Regarding the bequeathal of Gryffindor's sword," she said tentatively. "With the thirty-first of October being the anniversary of his parents' death, Harry Potter might put in an appearance at Godric's Hollow."