Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was a pleasant, even balmy August evening when Severus finally put on his Invisibility Cloak and set out for his regular assignation at the Hog's Head, but he was in no mood to enjoy the summer weather. He just wanted to get the meeting over with. With any luck, it would be a busy night, and he wouldn't have to talk to Aberforth at all. He could just sit silently at the bar, sip his whiskey, and get out.

But when did Severus Snape ever have any luck other than bad? When he got to the pub, not only was it not crowded, but Ogbert, the relief man, was behind the bar instead of Ab.

"Step through to the back," Ogbert said when Severus took his usual seat.

"What?"

Ogbert jerked his head towards the door to Aberforth's private quarters. "Himself says you're to step through to the back. Upstairs."

"Up to his personal rooms, you mean?" If so, it would be a first. Severus had never yet been up there.

"To the back," Ogbert repeated, like some kind of moronic robot. "Upstairs."

Cretin, Severus thought. Well, he'd try Ab's rooms, and if Ab tossed him out on his arse, fine. He could go back to Hogwarts and use his Cloak to watch Filch feed his damned cat. That was about the level of his life these days anyway.

He opened the door marked "Private" and climbed the stairs to Aberforth's personal rooms, wondering what the hell this was all about. It could be almost anything, from a dressing-down to a clandestine meeting with Albus to an unexpected face-to-face encounter with some former DE that the Order was keeping tabs on.

Whatever it was, Severus didn't plan to meet it unprepared. He drew his wand, knocked, and at Ab's gruff, "Come," he cautiously entered.

And froze.

Sitting in front of him on a sofa, a glass of Ogden's in her hand, was Minerva McGonagall.

Ab was there, too, standing under a large portrait of a little girl and pouring firewhisky into a tumbler.

"Well, don't just stand there; come in," he said, holding out the tumbler. "Have a drink."

Severus felt his gut churn. What the fuck was this? Why was McGonagall here? Were they going to yell at him? Make fun of him? Berate him? Well, just let them try.

He ignored the whisky. "Sorry, I've got better things to do," he said, using the rudeness to steady himself. "If you've a parchment for me, just hand it over, and I'll be on my way."

"Don't be an arse," said Ab. "You can spare five minutes. I'd have met you downstairs, but then I thought since you and Min are friends, and she's in the Order, too, we might as well do our business in comfort."

"We aren't friends," said Severus, trying hard to ignore the memory of McGonagall's slender nakedness.

"Of course we aren't, Severus," she said, uttering her first words of the evening. "Let's take that as read, shall we? We aren't friends, so if you sit down and have a drink, you're not risking a thing. No strings, no expectations. You can remain as solitary as you like."

"Right," said Ab, coming round to sit next to her on the sofa and placing Severus's glass on the low table in front of them. "We're not friends. Got it. So will you stop scowling and sit the hell down?"

Slowly, Severus pocketed his wand and lowered himself into an armchair near the sofa. He felt both enormously stupid and idiotically pleased, and for some reason, he had a sudden clear vision of a moment from his childhood

It was one of the rare occasions when his mam and da had invited a neighbour couple over for a drink at Christmas. Severus had been put to bed early, but he'd sneaked down to watch through the crack of the lounge door; he remembered the grown-up sounds of tinkling glasses and laughter and his da's voice saying jovially, "One more for the road, Mrs Merkle?" And his mam had been wearing perfume.

Severus took a deep mouthful of firewhisky and let its warmth move through him as Ab spoke.

"We'll have to adjust our meeting schedule a bit," he said, putting his arm around McGonagall's shoulders. "Minerva and I are leaving next week for a holiday in Majorca. So make it three weeks before you come back."

"Majorca? Why? What's in Majorca?" Severus asked, more from a feeling that he ought to be making conversation than from any genuine interest. He didn't realise that his question might sound less than polite until he saw McGonagall's lips quirk in amusement.

"It's more like what is not in Majorca," she said. "Namely, work, rain, and the overly-concerned parents of incoming first-years."

"And drunks," said Ab.

McGonagall laughed. "Oh, I suspect there will be drunks a-plenty."

Ab chuckled, too. "Well, no drunks that I'm responsible for, any road," he said. Then he shook his finger at her solemnly. "And there better not be any owls from that brother of mine, either. He can damn well get along without you for a fortnight. Tell him I said so."

"Tell him yourself," McGonagall said. "He'll be stopping by, I'm sure."

"Aye, thinks he has to check up on me," Ab grumbled.

What with conversation and whisky, somehow fifteen minutes passed, then twenty, and Severus realised that he hadn't once checked the clock the way he usually did on social occasions, wondering how soon he could decently get away. He didn't think he'd enjoyed himself . . .not exactly, but. . .well, he hadn't had a miserable time, either.

Still, it was time to go. They'd be getting sick of him; probably wished he'd left ages ago.

He stood up abruptly.

"Oh?" said Ab. "Leaving then, are you?"

"Yes, Aberforth, don't you remember?" McGonagall asked, smiling a little wickedly. "Severus has better things to do."

"So he said," agreed Ab, getting to his feet. "Good night, then, Snape. Remember, three weeks."

"Good night, Severus," McGonagall echoed, and before he knew it, Severus found himself on the staircase outside Ab's flat, wondering if he'd imagined the entire encounter.

But he could hear the murmur of their voices behind the door. No, he hadn't imagined anything: they were still there, still talking...probably about him.

Laughing at him, no doubt.

He couldn't leave without knowing. Creeping back to the door, he cast a quick Auscultatio charm, for eavesdropping, and immediately could hear them clearly.

". . .have to admit I was sceptical when Albus brought him back here," McGonagall was saying. "Severus was such a bright student, but I never could reach him, none of us could. I was sickened when I heard he'd joined the Death Eaters, but I can't say I was surprised. And then for Albus suggest that he teach the children. . .as I say, I was sceptical."

"As I recall, you were more than sceptical," Ab said. "I seem to remember you gave Albus a right tongue-lashing."

"Well. . .I may have expressed myself rather strongly, yes. But now I think I was mistaken. I've watched Severus this past year, and he has changed. For the better. I'm glad Albus found a way to give him a second chance. It was an altruistic thing to do."

Ab grunted. "And in the process he got himself a new messenger boy and a forever-grateful subordinate, too. Funny how Albus's altruism always seems to result in benefits for himself."

"Aberforth. . ."

"I know, I know, love. I'm not going to malign your precious Albus." McGonagall snorted, and Ab chuckled. "All right, well, not much. Anyway, this time I think I even agree with him. You and Albus are right: Snape is worth saving."

There was a silence punctuated with soft, moist sounds and little sighs, and Severus realised with a start that they must be kissing.

"Snape..." Ab began, only to break off with a groan. "Ahhh. . ."

"What about Snape?" McGonagall asked after a moment, somewhat breathlessly.

"He fancies you."

"What? Nonsense."

"He does, trust me. He fancies you, and who can blame him?"

She laughed softly. "Flatterer. He does not. I'm old enough to be his mother."

"And I'm just about old enough to about be your grandfather. That doesn't mean anything. I tell you, Severus Snape fancies you."

"Well, I fancy you, Aberforth Dumbledore, mad though you clearly are, and I think it's about time you took me to your bed and ravished me, don't you?"

There were more soft sounds, and Severus stood back, his mind reeling. He couldn't yet make sense of all that he'd just heard; that would come later, when he had time, and space, and quiet. For the moment, he focused on the one concrete thing that did make sense: Aberforth and McGonagall were about to fuck, and if Severus still wanted to watch them, here was his chance.

Yet he hesitated. Dumbledore was always telling him that he was a better person than he thought he was, and clearly a better person wouldn't stoop so low as to spy on people having sex. A better person would respect his colleagues' privacy, would recognise their right to intimacy. A better person...a person worth saving...would have the decency to leave his. . .friends. . .in peace.

But Severus was not a better person. He was not. He was a disgusting person, and his cock was twitching, and he didn't want to think. Not about friends. Not about salvation. Not about anything in his life. He only wanted to watch someone else's life.

He drew his Invisibility Cloak out from under his robes.

*-*-*-*-*

Ab's wards were more complicated than the Hogwarts staff's, but in the end, they were no match for Severus. In just a few minutes, he was slipping in to Ab's flat, following the trail of clothing that led from the sofa towards the bedroom.

Ab and McGonagall were evidently wasting no time.

They were standing inside the bedroom door, Ab wearing nothing but a pair of loose linen breeches, McGonagall in her bra...red this time...working to undo his flies. He had one hand in her hair and the other in her red knickers, pushing them down over her hips.

Then his mouth was on her throat, and her neck was arched just as it had been in Severus's fantasies, and she was moaning softly, whispering "Aberforth" and "please" and...

...and suddenly Severus no longer wanted to watch them. He found himself turning away, hastening out of Aberforth's rooms as quickly as he could move without making noise, hurrying down the stairs and through back passages to the rear door of the pub.

On the threshold, he snatched off his Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it under his arm. Fuck hiding. Fuck spying. Fuck it. He was done with all that.

Done.

He stood for a moment, listening to the summer silence and waiting for the pounding of his heart to subside.

Then, taking a deep breath, he stepped out into the heather-scented night and began his long walk home.

~end