Getting Closer

Getting Closer

It was Sunday, and school was to begin with a dinner on Wednesday, January 14th.

Itching for something meaningful, Ginny checked through their stocks in the kitchen. She closed the last cupboard with a nod; they had everything. No need to go shopping, but no chance to go either. Restlessly, she bent over the kitchen table to take a look at the sky through the small, low window. The tiny patch she saw was of the same depressing grey she remembered from the bedroom earlier this morning. After breakfast she had frowned at equally grey clouds from the sitting room.

Before an oppressive feeling could grip her, Ginny rushed out, glaring menacingly at the table when her hip connected painfully with its edge. Feeling Severus' eyes on her, she turned with vehemence.

"What?"

"We will have to find an outlet for your energy. But," he added, pointing to the bathroom, "right now we need to tend to this bruise."

She snorted but followed. An egg-sized bruise wasn't anything beyond regular when one grew up with six elder brothers.

Severus opened a jar, and Ginny recognised its pungent smell from the normal stocks in the Weasley household. Ginny had often helped her mother brew it. Warm hands freed the patch of skin from clothes and applied the ointment. The gentle massage did wonders on her nerves too.

Severus dropped the shirt and stood up. Both hands on her hips, he was holding her close enough for a kiss that she knew would not come. She leaned her forehead on his fully-clad shoulder, face outwards to not accidentally contact his neck. Warmth seeped through her body, and her heart found its way back to a normal pace. Above her, Severus cleared his throat and after confirmatorily pulling her close, he dropped his hands.

He held her back once more, saying, "Remember that Mr Ollivander is our master's prisoner. No open compassion, whatever pitiful state he will be in. He is not a very good Occlumens."

:*:*:*:

When Mr Ollivander was brought into their house, Ginny couldn't suppress a scream. His head hanging listlessly, the old man walked with short steps, careful not to overtax his emaciated body. Yet his tormentors had seen fit to gag him and bind his arms as if he were ready to go berserk at any time.

Gregory Goyle, a mindless grin on his face, stomped past the prisoner, nearly knocking him down.

Ginny caught herself when Severus shot her a warning look but was taken aback seeing his stony, neutral face. How can he be so detached and cold again? Used to her family's very physical reaction to anger, Ginny had instinctively checked his neck and ears...not a hint of red! She reminded herself that he would not be alive anymore if he had not perfected this ability. The same will hold for me now. So she swallowed hard, ignoring the bout of sweat running down her spine, and greeted the party curtly. The minimum twitches in Severus' finger ceased, and Ginny wondered if it was her fairly calm action that had made him relax.

Goyle's stupid grin intensified. He taxed her with his eyes moving up and down, stopping at every curve she possessed. His nostrils widened dangerously with each breath he took. She shuddered, feeling very ready for a shower.

Swiftly, Severus positioned himself between his wife and the lusting teen, feeling heat in his head. He threw menacing glares at the massive bundle of muscles and hormones that was so obviously not equipped with the brains to curb them in. What is the boy thinking, openly lusting for the wife of his former teacher, an officer in the Death Eater army? Not thinking anything at all, Severus concluded.

Meanwhile, Goyle Senior banged the old man's bare head and slim shoulders on the table and shelves. He had pushed the prisoner to the chair, prodding extra hard with his artificial arm.

With rapid swishes of his wand, Severus released Ollivander from his physical restrictions while Ginny played the host, offering drinks. She served them in ready-made coloured glasses, which allowed that Ollivander got a nourishing potion instead of the water his guards received. Unfortunately she didn't know of any nasty liquid stored in the kitchen.

Neither of the Goyles ever hid their special interest in Ginny until they left the house. The junior's lusting glare made Ginny cringe, but the open hatred radiating from his father had been equally threatening. He was far from forgetting who had lost him his hand.

:*:*:*:

As Severus ushered the unwelcome company out, Ginny bolted for the bathroom. The cold, bare place never invited her to stay for more than was necessary, but she splashed a few gushes of icy water onto her face and over her arms to get rid of the oily, dirty feeling that Gregory Goyle had caused. She patted her face dry, frowning at the tarnished mirror that could not help her with the task.

Even when she returned to their guest, Ollivander had not stopped fidgeting with the worn-down, sweaty and muddy clothes he wore. His eyes focused for short moments only, and then his face showed a wary expression again.

"Severus, why don't you help our guest to freshen up while I prepare an early lunch?" Ginny asked, chastising herself that she had cared for her own needs first.

With the help of a stomach aid potion, Mr Ollivander ate even more than Severus, and Ginny quickly created an impromptu snack of cheese, fruit and biscuits. Both men were obviously tired afterwards, so Ginny suggested that they take a short rest. As they slept, she retreated to the kitchen, preparing an extra-large dinner, including what had been meant to be eaten during the next few days.

Refreshed, the men sat down to discuss the use of two wands. Severus invited Ginny to join them, which Ollivander took in with a curious look.

Eventually, he even wanted to inspect Ginny's wand, which she handed him reluctantly. His pale eyes might have lost their capacity to fix you with a simple stare, as Harry and Ron had described it, yet, this was him, the most famous and respected wandmaker on the British Isles. "A fine, old piece you've got there, young lady. Undoubtedly my grandfather's making."

Ginny swallowed. She did not need a reminder of just how Albert Flint had laughed at the old-fashioned funnel-shaped handle and all the scratches. She still considered it a friend that worked wonderfully for her. Mum's grandmother had given it to her personally on her deathbed. Ollivander continued, "Ten inches, cherry wood. With a core of Unicorn hair." He swished it and procured a bright-blue cornflower. "Ah, it's Spanish, hand-tamed Unicorn. The wand is well kept, too. Yet, after all these years it will benefit considerably from soaking in lion kidney grease and polishing with soft cotton cloth," he advised her. "Then it will be in a fine state to start school. I will be there on the first day. The first-years get wands at school. I've been producing a lot for them these days."

Shaking his head, he related the meagre work conditions he had at the Goyles'. "Take dragon heartstrings: they need to soak between three and over four hours, till they just turn blue. But these ignorants hardly let me investigate the process. Yet it is of course my fault if ingredients are wasted or hexes swerve or suffer astigmagism, when wide blocks tend to wobble or twirl."

"What else goes into wands, Mr Ollivander? Mine has Unicorn Hair, as has Charlie's old one that Ron used as well."

"Your brothers' wand had hair from a Siberian herd of wild Unicorns. Gives a very different temperament than what you have here. It was snapped, I heard. What a barbaric act, snapping a wand!" Despite his weak state, he managed to berate her for her brother's deeds, piercing her with a look so that she cringed. Maybe he had not lost his edge after all?

"It was not deliberate. The Unicorn hair was showing already anyway," Ginny said. As his eyebrows lifted in question, she felt an urge to defend her family. "It is really no surprise considering what this wand had gone through. Its first owner, my father's great-uncle Baldwin, wasn't known for being a caring person. Charlie, our elder brother, has always been an outdoor type and gave it hard times, too. Mum once admitted to Dad that it was amazing what Ron pressed out of it in his first year."

"Not that I ever sold any polish or wand grease to any Weasley," Ollivander said sardonically.

To lead the discussion away from her family, Ginny rapidly asked, "If the Unicorns differ so much, do you also prepare their hair differently to make a wand core, sir?"

Ollivander took the hint and roughly sketched out how to prepare Unicorn hair, what he did not like about Veela hair, and what a pity it was that the last mummified founds of the extinct Magic Brown Swans had been exploited in the 18th century. "Their thigh bones were said to make for fine wands, especially filled with hair of the mane of a Manticore. Manticores' tails also deliver stings which are often said to go well with tropical nut trees, or even peach. Yet, I've seen Scandinavian wands combining Arctic birch with Manticore tail-stings, an interesting combination of temperaments. But my own experiences are limited."

"There are wand shafts not made from wood?" Ginny leaned forward, eager to hear his answer.

"Oh, yes," the wandmaker said and named magical animals whose horns were known to provide for shafts.

With growing interest, Ginny followed the statements and explanations of the old wandmaker. So many steps to prepare a wand core and so much to consider for the shaft...wooden or animal! Trees cut in the waxing moon make for stiffer, brittle, but strong wands. If the tree was cut shortly after the full moon, the wood was best processed to become bendable, even swishy, and the wand suited extremely well for Charms or Transfigurations. A tree cut in the last quarter of the lunar cycle was useless for the wandmaker.

Ollivander looked from one of his hosts to the other, then rested his eyes on Severus as he continued, "Trees felled and splintered by lightning provide us with wands of amazingly short reaction times, but they sense the mood of the caster, requiring them to temper their caprices." He sat stiffly as the implication of what he had just said was slowly sinking in.

Ginny mentally noted that this would be the ideal type of wood for a warriors' arsenal of wands.

She turned to see Severus frown and say, "I assume no one asked you for such details when Narcissa went off to purchase wood for you."

"They did not," the old wandmaker replied, sinking back into the armchair as tension left his body. He turned to Ginny, saying, "Your brother Charlie was destined for such a wand to work with dragons."

"At the Dragon sanctuary, they recommended that he switch to a dragon core," Ginny mused. "I didn't know anything about the new shaft."

Silence wrapped each of them in their own thoughts.

"I do have a few such wands, if you want to have a look, sir?" Ollivander noted after a period of deliberation. "It need not shy away from comparison to the two you have. Box tree, I assume, would suit you, juniper possibly, or a nut. I was also wondering if the young lady could use a secondary wand of waxing moon wood. She might be the type for rowan, birch or maple. A wild Unicorn, but from a warm place, South American, maybe Central African. Or Bornean," he mused.

Severus did not reply or move.

"Sir, why has the Dark Lord never changed his wand?" Ginny asked to steer around this suggestion, which clearly was uncomfortable for Severus. "After his rebirth, when he could not win against Harry, he would have tried, would he not?"

"He would have gladly. However, a wand of phoenix feather does not easily tolerate a second wand. Phoenix feather is a very strong and peculiar wand core. Using such a wand for years, tens of years in his case, trains your magic in special ways. You cannot expect to benefit from abandoning this wand type and taking up another one."

"Once phoenix feather, always phoenix feather, sir?" Ginny asked, noticing belatedly that Severus would have had a comment as well.

"Indeed. I am myself of course able to work basic magic with almost every wand; this comes with my profession. But I would never try to defend myself with phoenix feather. With each powerful spell, the phoenix feather binds its witch or wizard even more to itself. The Dark Lord could not use any wand other than one from the same bird. As we know, the only such wand in existence is not available."

Every little bit the old man told her just made Ginny just ask more. "Don't other wand cores do that?"

"Apparently not, or to a much lesser extent," the old man mused.

Severus stroked along his own wand. Ginny smirked at him, knowing full well how he still blamed his wand for not accepting a brother.

"Dumbledore had a phoenix as his familiar," Ginny murmured more to herself than the men. "A Unicorn is not ready to make a familiar, and Charlie's stories would only encourage Hagrid to try with a dragon. Are phoenixes after all more affiliated to mankind than the other two?"

Ollivander cocked his head and stroked his chin as he regarded her. "You have a sharp mind, Mrs Snape. This could be the reason, although we have no proof of it."

Why was the old man giving them all this information? Could they trust him and assort it to the information they would forward to the Order? Or was he lying deliberately? Ginny would so have liked to hear Severus' opinion. But she preferred not asking now if all of this had been new to him, or if possibly he had discussed it all with Dumbledore or the wandmaker before.

To keep the agreeable talk going, she asked for more details on wands, and the old man was glad for an attentive audience. The ordinary wood polishes were grease- or wax-based. The latter were, however, not used for swordfish wands or Unicorn horn. While kidney fat, especially from lions, was usually a good choice, the core of Manticore tail-stings forbid grease of felines since the Manticore is a cursed, lion-related creature. Likewise with a core of Hippogriff feather.

Ginny had never heard that such cores could be used at all, and she said so. Surprisingly, now Severus cleared his throat, but since Ollivander was ready to reply, he did not interfere more.

"The material for cores can come from various beasts," they were told. "But the Hippogriff has to give his feather deliberately and preferably donate it personally to the future owner of the wand. This means that I cannot stock such a wand, but I can make one on special order. It leaves me with guesswork as to which wood to use for the shaft, and I have made some mistakes when I was young, producing wands that no one could operate. The last person I made such a wand for was... ah, maybe I need not tell you."

Severus exhaled loudly, and Ginny smirked at him, not shy or reserved in the sight of his discomfort. She took in his glare with a nonchalant shrug.

Looking pensive, Mr Ollivander added that the best results were achieved from a donor beast with the same colour as the hair of the wizard. Sirius Black's hair had greyed beyond his age in Azkaban, which had served him well for his wand.

After the digression to his arch-nemesis, Severus put a halt on the discussion, and the two men finally focused on the practical work with two wands.

Ginny retreated to the bedroom, once again with only books to keep her company. She snuggled on the bed that was finally really their common place, propping her head on her arm, and wondered at the chance that had transpired earlier. Was it a chance at all? How could they convey this information to the Order? The members of the Order, especially the dearly-missed, redheaded ones, filled her head that was suddenly too heavy for her arm. Before she even opened her Muggle novel, she had succumbed to sleep.

A high whistling sound and a bang brought Ginny back from a strange dream about wands and unicorns and Charlie. "Aguamenti! Scorgify!" came Severus' impatient voice from the sitting room, accompanied by a smell of scorched leather. As she opened the door, Severus was concentrating hard on Vanishing the chair he had smashed the other day with his new wand. It flickered as if challenging him, but when he regrouped and chanted the spell again, the rickety old thing was gone. He's still hanging on O.W.L.s level, she noted, passing behind him.

Ginny perused the shelves on Herbology until she found The Magic in Trees and Bushes. The book was not focusing on wand making, but Ollivander had also referred to magical properties of the base material. Once again sprawled on the bed cover, Ginny found background to the wandmaker's observations and even more streaks of trees he had not mentioned in their discussion.

Did he know all that and consider it in the process of manufacturing his wands? No, having worked with the material for decades, he would intuitively assess the material as his hands worked on its raw shape. All the abstract, academic knowledge would merely support his experience. He had only known her for minutes when he had suggested certain shafts and cores for her, and he might not have more time with a customer either. Ginny wished she had seen the tape measure that had so annoyed Ron and startled Harry. With a smile, she remembered Percy looking scandalised that Fred and George had made it measure around their joined heads and from Fred's knee to George's armpit. 'How will you ever be able to work with wands that aren't perfectly adjusted?'

Most likely, Mr Ollivander had not relied on such data at all, even if Percy had noted down his own and tried to make sense of them.

Ginny imagined the wandmaker in his shop, serving excited first-years. Would he detect in what house they might belong? Were Muggle-borns different from pure-bloods? Probably each Muggle parent reacted differently when their excited offspring suddenly made a stick of wood emit sparks or even flames. With a giggle, she imagined Mr Creevey's face when Mr Ollivander had to Rennervate Mrs Creevey.

Would Ollivander imagine the future owner when he soaked the Dragon heartstring or carved the shaft wood?

As Ginny re-entered the sitting room, she burst with questions, but whatever she asked, she could not get more than a raised eyebrow as a reply. Both men were adamantly sticking to commonplace topics.

:*:*:*:

When the same boorish guards crashed into the little house to fetch Ollivander for the night, he walked steadily and was more energised so that even Gregory Goyle lost his immediate interest in Ginny. His father looked from Severus to Ollivander in a mix of apprehension and fury. He slowly opened his mouth, giving Ginny a lot of time to wonder what he might eventually say.

Severus beat him easily with a vehement remark. "From now on, Ollivander is to get three square meals a day. Fresh water at his free disposal and three cups of warm tea and two pieces of fruit. He takes this potion for the night and sleeps seven hours consecutively. You know that I will see him on Thursday morning, and I don't recommend that you deviate from this order."

Goyle growled something about Severus' right to direct commands at him, but he averted his eyes while doing so.

"In a dry, clean bed, warm cover, fresh air circulating, you understand?" Severus said in addition. "We want the man to work meticulously with a steady hand, if you know what I'm talking about."

A vein throbbed at Goyle's temple, and he bolstered himself against every word he received, as if he could defy them like a storm. While Ginny wholeheartedly agreed with Severus, she shuddered at how much his reprimands infuriated both Goyles.

:*:*:*:

Finally alone, Ginny asked, "Severus, why do the Death Eaters need Mr Ollivander alive? He has thousands of wands in stock, hasn't he? It's what Ron told me about the shop."

"He had. Past tense. Each and every one of them was spelled to go off five days after being stolen. Some of them perforated the hands or even less valuable body parts of their illegitimate owners with needle-sharp splinters, and the rest caused mayhem in the Sands' and the Parkinsons' cellar, providing us with toothpicks to last a century."

Ginny almost grinned at the sinister joke, but Severus' face halted her.

After a deliberate pause, he added, "It had been almost too late for Ollivander to survive. He would have been dead had our master not suspected him to be in the Order and had him questioned."

"I suppose the Ollivanders had planned to be dead at such a moment," Ginny noted drily. Severus merely raised his eyebrow in confirmation.

"Why did Goyle call you an 'ungrateful git'? What does he expect your gratitude for?"

"You."

"Oh, Merlin! Severus, be careful and watch your back when he's around."

"I hardly need the reminder."

:*:*:*:

They went for a long walk that same evening, and Ginny could not help dancing around Severus like a young dog. She easily made three times the number of Severus' straight, measured steps, and she did not care much for the puddles in her path. Her trainers and trousers were soaked when they returned. She charmed them dry and clean in the bathroom, happily warbling a tune by Celestina Warbeck, the Singing Sorceress. Severus regarded her with an unreadable expression on his face, which she blatantly ignored. At the passage where the backup banshees tune in, Ginny shrieked two octaves higher than was comfortable to her own ears and didn't even start when the air rippled from the magic of a sound-blocker and the bathroom door slammed shut.

:*:*:*:

Very early on Monday morning, Severus woke his wife, insisting it was a wonderful time to rise and providing a quick but hearty meal.

The day was just dawning when he Apparated them into the heart of a misty woodland. Ginny, only half awake, clutched her arms around herself, shivering in the fresh air. She frowned at the lone path that disappeared somewhere in the haze in both directions.

With the same mock-cheery voice he used when revealing a specially complex and tricky potion, Severus suggested, "Let's follow this trail and give you some meaningful exercise."

He headed off at a brisk pace.

At its first hairpin bend, Severus left the broad and moderately sloped path to take the direct way up. After a few steps, he invitingly gestured upwards. "After you."

The rough terrain became so steep and rocky that Ginny had to pull herself up using her hands and knees, constantly feeling Severus' challenging look on her neck. Reaching a small ridge, she straightened herself and inspected her reddish palms. With a pop, Severus Apparated to her side, smirking.

"You're cheating," she protested.

"I'm still recuperating, and I have to secure the terrain," Severus countered nonchalantly. However, he reinforced her shoes with doubled soles and thicker, longer shafts.

When they reached the top more than three hours later, Ginny's knees protested as she stretched, and her arms sported several scratches. However, the morning sun had dissolved the mist, and the clouds granted them a few moments of bright light. Quietly working her shoulders, Ginny took in the magnificent view. She sat down for a moment to gather her thoughts and overlook the sea of mountain tops, gleaming in the light. Severus joined her, naming a few of them, pointing out that theirs was the highest in the area. Their route had made ascending Stoatshead Hill a relaxing walk, but then there had not really been a reward on its top either.

Almost an hour later, a group of young Muggles in garishly coloured clothes sporting lots of drawstrings and pockets arrived, frowning at them in disbelief. Severus scowled back. He quickly pulled Ginny up and led her around a high rock from which they Disapparated.

Once showered and fed, Ginny felt a lot less edgy than in the previous days. Having filled her lungs with fresh air and exercised her whole body, she collapsed onto the sofa.

"I don't mind if you clean your shoes, but refrain from wearing your vocal chords thin, if you could." Obediently, Ginny trotted into the cold bathroom, her soaked, dirt-encrusted shoes dangling from tired hands.

All too soon, Severus had to answer his master's call, and Ginny's heart constricted in anxiety. He calmed her down, assuring her that the Goyles would not be present for the meeting. Together they reconfirmed the wards before she installed herself in the sitting room for an undetermined length of time. Despite her anxiety, she fell into a restless slumber.

:*:*:*:

When Severus returned, he strode directly to the bedroom, not looking left or right. He slammed the door closed without a look or a word for Ginny.

Now, this will not do, I will not bear his temper. Determined, Ginny stalked over and rapped sharply. "Severus! Open this door." There was no answer, but Ginny would not have this. "Open now! I've had enough of you ignoring me to last a lifetime!"

With a click, the door opened slightly, and she pushed it wide. The man before her looked almost sorry as he stared at her, his arms hanging down as if they had no purpose.

"Severus," Ginny started more calmly, reaching out a hand but not touching him, "tell me: was it me who annoyed you so?" He merely stared at a point on her shoulder. "Then I don't deserve this treatment, correct?"

He minutely cocked his head to acknowledge her and motioned her gently to the sofa, where he burst out, "I was his lab Kneazle for this spell for the simple reason that my magic is so strong. He had calculated I'd withstand it, whatever power he applied. And he knew that you would be the most loyal and caring wife!"

"Well spotted," she noted with biting sarcasm, lifting her chin.

Severus' anger rapidly melted at this reply so pregnant with meanings. "Yes," he softly confirmed. "You were and are loyal and caring, although I cannot understand why. All the more I admire how you managed."

Good, but now that you're there, you can do better, Ginny thought and tilted her head expectantly.

"Thank you."

She offered him a wide smile.

"I should not have let out my anger on you."

"Severus," Ginny started, lifting her hand to his chin. "I know that there are plenty of things you cannot tell me. Please, don't close me out when there isn't a need."

After dinner, they arranged themselves on the sofa again, Ginny leaning onto his chest. Looking over her head into the full moon, Severus asked, "Does your brother have a house of his own? Where does Lupin live?"

Ginny stared at the silver orb as well. "I cannot answer either question, but Tonks and Remus are finally living together. We met them at Headquarters or Hogwarts only." He nodded. The less a single member of the Order knew the better. "Bill and Fleur were still searching for a home."

"Remus and Bill are out there this night, and maybe even Frederic had to join," Ginny continued sadly. She felt Severus' features stiffening.

Tears welled out of her eyes but she kept silent. Eventually, however, Severus seemed to notice, since he sneaked his arm around her, saying, "If they have a place that is not under a Fidelius Charm, we can send them potions next month." She relaxed a little, and Severus decided to tell her more since he already relied on her abilities in Occlumency. "You might as well know... The two men...no names!...are testing my improvements for Wolfsbane. I firstly want to reduce the sheer amount a werewolf needs by concentrating it and making it dissolve more slowly in the body. I'm hopeful I can eventually get werewolves down to three applications a month. It seems I end up with a jelly rather than a liquid."

With each sentence, more of her tension left until Ginny felt soothed. Despite his bony frame, she snuggled into her husband's arms and laced her fingers with his in comfort.

For good measure, Severus took the last tissue-healing potion as he went to bed, although he grimaced at the sweetish, sticky mass.

:*:*:*:

The pair wanted to spend their last free day simply enjoying their renewed health and companionship. They paid the Muggle town a visit. For the first time in her life, Ginny visited a Muggle museum. She learned about the town's history and the development of the Muggle society. One section explained the long road from the arbitrary brewing of a medieval alchemist to the systematic work of modern chemists. Severus studied the explanations with glee in his face.

Outside, Ginny voiced her thoughts. "Now I see why Colin and Hermione often say wizards are living in the middle-ages. Five hundred years ago, all literate people used quills and parchment. We still use quills and parchment, but Muggles have developed things further. We use fire extensively, but we haven't tamed it, as they called it, and we dropped out with eceltricy completely."

Overlooking her problem with the word, Severus corrected her reasoning. "The Hogwarts Express uses a steam engine, which counts as tamed fire, but mainly you are right." His calloused hands scratching harshly over the stubbles of his beard, he considered her. "My question, or maybe my answer, is: How much of what they have is worthwhile? How happy does it make them?" When she did not quite understand, he added, "Does it solve problems or does it create new ones?"

"We've got a bunch of problems as it is," she could not help retorting before she became silent, considering the questions in earnest.

They passed a fast food store reading Deli and selling very, very long sandwiches.

"This looks good. Shall we?" Severus asked nonchalantly, enjoying Ginny's utter surprise far too much for her liking.

"It's not where you ate some weeks ago? Hmm, I'd like the goat cheese and dried tomatoes. Do you have... Coke? Err..." Ginny had to search for the word of Dean's favourite drink. "Diet Coke?" She was more than a bit shocked at the colour of what she received. What edible fruit could possibly be this brown?

Surreptitiously, Severus wrapped his wand in a handkerchief to dry a bench in a park, and they watched children hunting pigeons or riding a variety of vehicles of which Ginny could name only bikes. This world is so foreign to me. How often does Severus enjoy such Muggle things? How does he feel eating out of paper, without table or fork?

Cars drove by, and the more monstrous they looked, the louder they roared. Suddenly a car behind her sounded familiar, and Ginny jumped up to see a Ford Anglia, polished to make it shine like a new pin. She wistfully followed it make its way around a corner. Seeing the scowl on Severus' face made her laugh. "Are you still angry that they weren't expelled? Their trip was far from funny, you know," she said. "Baked in the sun, their tongues sticky from toffees and nothing but clouds to look at."

"Hm," was all Severus had to say.

After the first few bites, she took up their conversation again. "What did you think of the different classrooms in the school museum? Muggle teachers don't look down on their pupils from a platform anymore. Dean always suspected that you hide something behind your high lecterns. The students also do a lot of group work, and they learn to lead and to work together in 'projects'. We didn't do anything like that."

Severus looked around before he replied, "Group work in Potions...Merlin forbid! Two on a cauldron was enough of a mess even if one of them could actually read. I shudder to imagine Mr Creevey, Miss Sands plus two more dunces arbitrarily throwing badly ground beetles' eyes and chucking a whole pipette of crocodile gall instead of two drops into the same cauldron where a slop that should have been nicely diced toad liver has already thrown the brew out of balance. Half the amount of cauldrons, but sixteen fold the potential for an explosion...this sandwich isn't bad, but the coffee's a disaster! Defence was not suitable for group work either. Imagine three Slytherins on three Gryffindors...what's that you're drinking?" he added and took her paper mug. "If allowed, the whole group takes aim at one and the same opponent, and I can haul him to Madam Pomfrey...ugh, too sweet!" He returned the drink and focused on his tuna sandwich.

After a while, Severus continued, suddenly pensive. "As for leadership skills, you might start learning this all too soon. Or, rather, obeying a leader how so ever questionable his commands and his motivation," he added in a low voice.

"'We don't need no education, we don't need no thought control'," Ginny quoted the song that had played in the museum.

"I do remember that one. Had it come up ten years earlier, my Muggle peers' parents would have accused me of distributing inflammatory thoughts," Severus meditated, violently creasing up the empty wrapping and chucking it deftly into the bin. He turned himself to face her, holding both her shoulders. "The song has a point, though. Remember it, Ginevra." He checked left and right before he rubbed his cheek on hers, lips twisted sideways to avoid touch. Head held up again, he whispered into her hair, causing little shivers to run down her spine. "Take the education of facts, but strive hard to identify where the border to thought control is. And, Ginevra, this is very important: keep your thoughts to yourself at all times. Close your mind! Spinner's End is safe. I've spent a dozen or more years on spy reflection around it. The Academy, however, will have walls with ears and eyes. Nothing is secret there. The same holds for the grounds." He looked into her eyes, then drew her closer again. "Trust your privacy in a bathroom or our privacy in our quarters least of all." Forcing her to stay seated, he made sure she digested the advice as well as the sandwich.

They passed a huge building of glass and concrete with wide stairs in the front...a sports centre. Excited, Ginny hopped on her toes asking, "Can we have a look, Severus? I've seen all these gadgets and equipments in the shop, but I have no idea what they are used for. Please?"

They peeked into several large courts with two people using different rackets and balls. Severus knew the principle of these games, but he was at a loss at their variations. Red floor, green floor, wooden floor. In one game, the walls reflected the ball. The players used balls in different sizes, mostly round, but one game required an oddly slow, funnel-shaped gadget with feathers.

Next was a room with equipment that didn't look much different from the torture chamber of the historical museum. Well, these instruments had more padding than those in the museum. Mostly men were in there, sitting or lying, pushing or pulling enormous weights up or apart. Their heads and necks were swollen with strain, and most of them had a rather dangerous look on their sweat-dripping faces. The bare shoulders of some must have been greased the way they shone. A few yards away from the door, Ginny murmured, "I don't want to meet one of those in a dark corner, and even less without my wand. I wonder what Muggle women do."

In a square hall with padded floor, people in white, loose-fitting garments and coloured belts artfully threw each other around. Ginny stood transfixed at the smooth movements. Here were mostly women, and Severus told her that these kinds of training were advertised to women for self defence. "Look at her! See, how she pulls him further and manoeuvres him over her shoulder? That way she can cause a stronger, larger man to fall using his own momentum as a start. But I agree, keep your wand ready all times." Better even, stay with me, he added in his thoughts.

Turning to leave, they met sweaty basketball girls talking and giggling on their way to the dressing rooms. In another room, a group of teeny girls in very short skirts and light shoes flashed around. Their exercise required hot music on...at least for Severus...a maddening level, and they bent their bodies gracefully...or shamelessly, depending on who you would ask. Ginny could not detect any competition element in what they did, but was she mesmerised at their synchronised, fluid movement. The trainer interrupted them every so often when they lifted and threw each other, giving them quite a dressing-down at times, but every time, they regrouped and tried again.

"Well, I can see that they're doing a good job there, but what's the purpose of it all?" Ginny wondered.

Severus shook his head. He appeared to be quite embarrassed at so much exposed flesh and eventually drew her away and out of the building where he deeply inhaled the fresh winter air. "We'll have to stock up on ink," he said and steered her to a smaller-than-average shop in a small alleyway.

"We're looking for calligraphy ink," he declared to the elderly assistant. "Two pots red, one black, and one sepia."

When Ginny took a curious look at the expensive quill-like writing implements in glass drawers, the man beamed at her. "Are you devoted to the elegant art as well, young lady?"

Severus, a smirk on his face, replied before she could. "She is doing her best. While she masters a fine and regular roundhand with modest flourishes, she isn't too much devoted to orthography, which, you will agree, does disturb the eye."

Ginny scowled at him. The dozen or more spelling mistakes in almost every essay she had delivered had certainly cost her a few points in Potions, and him half a pot of ink. Professors McGonagall and Sinistra had often admonished her with a stern face, but the other teachers had been less insistent.

"That's the film-age and the computer-age, sir. I see it with my own girls. They can hardly be bothered to read...how could they develop a feeling for spelling? They aren't bothered either, because their PC flags most of their mistakes.

"Anything else, sir; nibs or ink pens, papers?"

"Another time, maybe."

"Very well, sir."

A tailor was next on Severus' shopping list, and Ginny noted with shock that he had ordered a set of his very familiar teaching robes. Severus paid the irritated, elderly Asian man correctly, then flicked his wand, "Obliviate!"

Finally they had a look at the local library. Severus found interest in a book on Chemistry and one on Molecular Physics. From one of his pockets that Ginny knew to have been empty, he drew a stiff card that the woman accepted easily.

Ginny took two cooking books home and one on astronomy. "Enjoy your books, but remember to return them by February fourth."

Back home, they stashed their purchases away.

"I'm not fond of returning to a classroom of twenty dunces behind bubbling cauldrons," Severus admitted. Ginny only touched his arm in reply. She easily guessed how he had hated the lessons at Hogwarts, and especially grading the essays.

To celebrate their new understanding, they visited a cosy Indian restaurant for dinner, where Ginny was soon fascinated with a bizarre moving waterfall picture on the wall next to their table. Hasn't Dean said that Muggles have stills only? She moved her head to look at it from different angles, and she prodded to cause a reaction that didn't come. In fact, there wasn't any animated soul, human or animal in the picture and the monotonous flow of water had a soporific effect, if any, but every so often her eyes were drawn back to the tacky thing. Severus tried his best to conceal his annoyance but became monosyllabic and finally fell silent.

Back home, Severus looked somewhat apprehensive, his face expressionless, but his twitching middle fingers showing his nervousness.

"What is it?"

He fidgeted a little longer before he softly asked, "Did it feel like a date? At least a little bit?"

"It was a most wonderful date, Severus," Ginny confirmed, making sure again to have body contact. Severus liked being touched, but he wasn't giving it freely and he would never be asking for it.

"I... was not the best entertainer."

"What? I saw and heard so many new things. Why would you think... Oh, you mean the restaurant." Her voice fell. Damn, I have broken the charms there. How can I make amends for that? What sort of approach to use with this quiet, reserved man, who is just about to thaw when we're together?

The direct way, she decided. It was a Gryffindor approach, admittedly, but then at least she would behave as he would expect her to.

"I should not have stared at that odd waterfall the whole time. But I understand a little better now what you asked, whether it makes them happy or not. It did not, in the end, give me anything. It only distracted me from you, for which I'm sorry. This was all so new to me.

"A fine day it was!" she added with feeling.

"There are not many to come in the near future."

"Let's treasure this day then."

Leaning back on the settee with a glass of elf-made wine and pumpkin juice, respectively, Severus and Ginny had a look at their Muggle books. They could not take these books to the Academy. "Oh, but Severus, what books will I need for school? I will also need robes, parchment, quills, and all Potions essentials." How could she have ignored that?

Severus calmed her and noted lightly that certainly none of the Potions material would be a problem. "Draco is to come tomorrow morning. I will have him stock us both on stationary. I'm running low myself, and I have no clue what the Academy will provide. We will have to find a solution for your books, though. I do not even know them," he admitted. "I'll speak to the teachers. I do have a good feeling about the teacher of Defence and Potions."

"And here I thought he is an especially strict one."

"In some respects, he is." His eyes had got a strange sparkle at her baiting. He held his hands out, and when she took them, he pulled her up. "At the moment he feels the need for a bath, but does not feel like enjoying it alone," he declared, gently starting to tug at her sweater.

"Severus!" Ginny tried for an indignant voice, but at the same time her hands reached for the collar buttons of his shirt. "Your Muggle clothes are more handy than your wizard attire, I dare say!"

"I will be properly dressed in the Academy, make no mistake!"

"Pity," she answered, slapping his chest and then, with a smirk, his yet to be undressed buttock.

"Mrs Snape, some more decorum if you would!"

Merlin, it felt so good to be on friendly terms again!

:*:*:*:

Obediently, Ginny waited outside the bathroom. She fetched their nightclothes and deposited them next to the bathroom, because the sitting room was the only one that was permanently heated. Upon Severus' call, she quickly disrobed and entered the room that was warmer than ever. The mirror and the tiles had steamed up. He lifted his witch into the clear water and suggested, "Let me wash your back first." He stepped in as well, took up a flannel and knelt down.

Ginny was delighted to note that he had foregone his harsh soap, but used hair shampoo for this intimate ceremony. His hands were doing magic on the tension in her shoulders and along her spine. Kinks she had not even noticed dissolved under his caress. Ginny lay perfectly still, supporting her forehead with her arms, eyes closed and humming one of the hits she might have heard in a shop. Strong fingers held her hipbones as his thumbs ground into the small of her back. After he had reached her lower cheeks, he started working himself up again and continued on her collarbones.

Severus leaned out for his wand and repeated the warming spell on his bare chest. "If you would turn round now, my lady," he ordered and added another two inches of hot water.

Ginny felt as if her warm and soft body could not possibly muster the strength to rise and turn, but as her torso met the cold air, she rapidly obliged, turned and descended back into the warmth, facing him and shivering in the anticipation of what was to come.

However, Severus stared at her and did not move for a long time, although his chest got all goose-pimply. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"You are crying."

Indeed, his gentle touches had called tears into her eyes. "I'm relaxing, Severus."

"And that makes you shed tears because..." When she did not reply, he completed the sentence himself, staring into the room. "... you have not been relaxed for weeks."

Ginny reached up for the cloth, but Severus had caught himself already. "No, today it's your turn."

He gently washed her right arm from fingertips, via the elbow to her shoulder, and Ginny closed her eyes again. He did the same to her left arm before he continued over her cleavage. As Severus gently washed her unequal breasts, her humming broke, and soon he shifted sideways to hide his body's reaction from her, although she had not opened her eyes again.

Severus continued downwards to her hips and thighs, purposefully staying on the outer side, keeping away from the intimate region. A groan of frustration answered this sin of omission. Severus' breath hitched.

When he reached her knees, he lowered his upper body into the warm water, too. The tub was not really big enough for him, and the problem of avoiding lip contact did not make it easier. Yet, Severus did not stop until he had cleaned one toe after the other. Ginny opened her eyes again to stare at him in wonder.

"You're all clean now. Please give me a minute. It's been too long that I was deprived of handling my own body."

"Give a moment for my hair," Ginny replied and reached for the shampoo. Feeling goosebumps erupt on her arms, she did a quick job lathering it and dived under to rid herself from the foam. She knelt and rinsed it with the shower, using as little of the remaining warm water as possible.

"Here's the shampoo, Severus. It does do a better job than your rough soap," she hinted with a smirk. She stood, froze and left the tub rapidly. Grabbing a towel, she promised, "I will have tea ready when you come."

:*:*:*:

On their last morning off duty, they went on the forest hunt together with Draco. Severus had grown stronger every day and was almost back to normal. They returned panting and sweating, but oddly satisfied. As Severus had expected, his master called for him just after lunch.

Meanwhile, Ginny and Draco talked about the prospect of starting life as pupils again. School had not been a topic for half a year now. It would be hard to go back to sitting on benches, listening, writing, forcing one's brains into receiving, sorting and memorising academical information.

"There are no houses and no house feuds," Draco said, appearing relieved by the thought.

"Won't you be bored?" Ginny teased lightly.

"I doubt it. The academic achievements are all that counts, and they are setting high standards. Theo has been cramming his brains with Potions theory for weeks. His nerves stand on ends."

Draco had already met the new Herbology teacher, a witch not to be crossed. "I bet she has her own ideas of which plants are worth learning about at all. We've been swotting up on last year's topics together, but I heard that Durmstrang is far ahead of us."

"Durmstrang?"

"Haven't you heard?" Draco stared at the floor as he explained, "Some of our, er ... most active parents had their children educated over there to avoid certain influences, but now they will transfer to the Academy. They have been assessed because it wasn't clear where to include them. They, at least, know English."

"What do you mean?"

"Others transfer as well. A set of like-minded people from the east of the continent have also joined our master. To prove their loyalty, they were encouraged to transfer their children to the Academy. Some parents were most eager, even if they hardly understand what they're told. How can their children follow our lessons?"

"Those who visited three years ago..."

"... were seventeen and still had trouble when we spoke normally. They sat with us, remember? Some of these transfers are eleven. In lessons, they're supposed to understand every word, not just grasp the general topic."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll manage. English is easy, not like French!"

"Have you discussed this with a French?"

Ginny huffed. "Like who? Fleur?"

Draco didn't reply.

"Well, whatever you say. I'm myself worrying mostly about my own status. I've hardly discussed it with Severus. I'll sit with you for meals and in the classrooms, but live in the teacher-corridor."

Unpacking the pieces of cake his mother had packed for the Snapes, Draco promised he would keep contact and try to make others comfortable with her. He also made a mental note to add more stationery to his trunk.

Severus returned, refusing to report. "It is nothing important; interesting nevertheless. Draco, I wish that you keep your eyes open at the Academy. Teachers, students, elves, everyone. Do not contact me while we're there. Do not take notes. I discussed with the Dark Lord that we will continue our training chases here. Schedule allowing, you will come every Tuesday morning."

Turning to his wife, he continued. "The same holds for you. We discussed security already. Ginevra..." he stepped closer, "... you are at risk over there, suspicious to everyone and far too often on your own. Please rein in your curiosity. No active research, no bold and reckless nosing! Yet, you could detect patterns: who seeks which contacts? You might find people avoiding certain others. Simple as it sounds, it all adds up." He regarded them both with seriousness. "We are in a good position, one teacher, one O.W.L.s student, one in sixth form college."

Draco took the statement easily and left for home with a mere nod, while Ginny still digested the idea. She had a task! She, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape, the Dark Lord's right hand, were a team. She smiled.

After tea and cake, they dressed for school, packed four bags and added Severus' broom. Looking at the pile, Ginny cursed her age that had her miss the Apparition lessons. With a complex back and forth, they hauled it all to their favourite Apparition point. Severus Apparated two bags to the Academy, not without strict directives what to do in case... He returned within minutes and had Simon Slash, the Duelling teacher, in tow. The young man grinned wide. After being introduced, he suggested, "I take these bags and the broom, you take your treasure." Severus snatched the broom himself, and with a shrug, Slash was off.

"Nice man," Ginny said.

"It seems so, but remember the song and all." He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. "Come now."

:*:*:*:

:*:*:*:

A/N:

Let me thank my betas, Angelika and Jingjingchiquita for brushing up the language, substituting un-British concepts with British ones and providing really nice ideas. They were also asking me a lot of very justified questions that made me add clarifications. All this took a lot of time, please understand.

Mr Ollivander describes the wands of Harry's parents similarly to what I make him explain here, although he doesn't discuss the moon phases. We also know that Ron has Charlie's old wand, but we have no clues why that is. If we accept that the wand searches his wizard, it isn't obvious for me why Charlie would exchange his. So I invent that logic here.

Astigmagism is a collective term for various faults a wand might show in focusing spells. To hide the original context, multi-talented wizards introduced the term astigmatism to describe similar, but non-magical faults of lenses.