Chapter 12: The Bumpy Road to Love
When the smoke and dust cleared, Snape looked around the room. Clancy sat in the Floo, too dizzy to stand.
"Well, at least your idiocy hasn't thrown us too far off course. From the look of things, we are still somewhere in Knockturn Alley," Snape said, relieved.
Clancy slowly regained her equilibrium and managed to stand. Noticing a metal plaque, she walked over to it and read, "Chamber of Horrors Exhibit". She told Snape, "I don't think this is Knockturn Alley. I believe we're inside Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum."
"Never heard of the place," Snape grumbled. "I don't recall it being listed on the Floo Network. I shall have to notify the Floo Regulation Board."
"It's in London. We're not completely lost."
"I don't understand what brought us here. This is YOUR doing, you feather-brained imbecile!"
"Shh! I hear footsteps," Clancy whispered. A heavy-heeled security guard was patrolling the exhibit halls, heading in their direction. "Quick!" Clancy urged Snape. "Get behind me. Put your hands around my throat and pretend to strangle me."
"Must I only pretend?" he hissed through clenched teeth.
"Stand very still. Whoever is coming will think we're waxworks and pass right by."
"This is ridiculous. I'll just use my wand and--"
"There's no time! Get ready!"
"How shall I pose?"
"Just look natural--you'd scare the pants off of anyone." Clancy could feel Snape's fingers tighten around her throat.
The guard walked past, as she expected, then stopped and turned around to examine them. He took particular interest in Snape, and tapped his finger lightly against Snape's nose.
"Here's a piece of old gum that's ready for the dustbin. They ought to drag it out of here and melt the bloody thing down into candles," the guard said to himself. "The nose is so out of shape, I should pull it off here and now and see how high I can bounce it."
Clancy's lip began quivering, but the guard moved along and never noticed. Snape looked murderous. "We're leaving! Now!" he commanded, grasping her wrist.
"Wait a minute," Clancy said, stopping in front of a long, wooden table with iron shackles at both ends. "What do you suppose this is for? Is it a torture device of some kind?"
"How on earth would I know?" Snape said impatiently.
"Well, you do look the type--"
Snape dragged her down a long flight of steps. "It's dark," Clancy complained. "I don't believe this place is open, yet. It's still early morning."
"Excellent! Then I can murder you and commit the perfect crime."
"But, you wouldn't. You'd miss me too much," Clancy replied brightly.
"I'd recover with very little effort," Snape assured her.
The stairs led them down to a dimly lit passage. A sign on the wall read "The Spirit Of London." Ahead, they spied a narrow track supporting a row of miniature cars. A temporary sign in front of the track was marked "Closed."
"Can't I sit down for a moment? I'm feeling dizzy, and I have a raging headache." Without waiting for Snape's reply, Clancy crossed the passage and took a seat in a small, black cab. Snape stood near a niche in the wall that contained an electrical control panel. He leaned against it, setting the row of cars in motion.
"Climb out!" Snape ordered Clancy.
"I can't! A safety bar is pressed against my lap!" she yelled, as the cab disappeared into a dark tunnel.
Befuddled by his limited exposure to the Muggle world, Snape did not think to turn off the switch or use his wand. Instead, he raced across the passage and jumped into another moving car.
The ride carried them through various rooms of animatronic figures, all dressed in costumes from different periods of British history. Snape stared in disdain at the flashing lights and ludicrous, moving characters. Near the end of the ride, a small boy with a puckish face smiled as he whirled gleefully on a carousel.
Finally, when the ride stopped, Snape and Clancy found an exit door leading out to the street. "What was that foolishness all about? Is it some form of banal entertainment to amuse Muggles?" Snape queried.
"Weren't you paying attention? We just passed through five hundred years of British culture," Clancy explained.
"Five hundred years of Muggle culture condensed into a matter of minutes? It signifies to me the relative unimportance of your existence."
That old, familiar feeling of complete loathing was coursing once again through Clancy's body, beating in counterpoint to the throbbing of her intense headache. "Let's just get out of here and find a cab!" she fumed.
"I refuse to take any form of Muggle transportation!"
"If I can withstand the sensations of being yanked through swirling green flames and having my entrails pulled inside out, you can certainly TAKE A CAB!"
"A cab requires Muggle money, does it not? I don't have any."
"Well, I DO! My treat!"
"Very well," Snape replied coolly. "In the interest of time, I will make an exception, just this once. You will have to do everything. Instruct the driver to deliver us to the Leaky Cauldron, and I will take over from there."
"I didn't realize you were so helpless out of your element."
"You'll be back under my control soon enough, you empty-headed nuisance," Snape sniffed.
These endearing exchanges continued until Clancy successfully flagged down a cab. A few minutes into the ride, the driver caught a glimpse of Snape in the rear-view mirror. "Just now getting in from a fancy dress party?" the driver asked Snape. "Would you be a ghoul or a vampire?"
Snape curled his lip in fury.
"What he's supposed to be is none of you're concern," Clancy said, lashing out at the driver. "I, however, will be the woman who doesn't tip you, if you don't start minding your own business!" Clancy shook her head. A short while ago she had wanted to kill Snape, and now she was defending him?
"No offense intended," the driver explained. "Besides, I can see him in the mirror. That proves he's not a vampire!"
Clancy instinctively reached over and touched the back of Snape's hand. He withdrew it with a jerk, and folded his arms.
After a 25-minute cab ride that seemed like several hours, they arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron. Clancy said to Snape, "Well, you're officially in charge, again. Now, what?"
"Diagon Alley. Quality Quidditch Supplies. I'll never trust you near a Floo ever again."
"Then, at least purchase a Bludger bat for me too, so I'll have a sporting chance."
"I am going to buy a broom," Snape informed her.
"This is a funny time to take up Quidditch. I thought you were anxious to return to Hogwarts?"
"That is precisely what I mean to do. We will be returning there by broom."
"You're joking."
"We shall see."
As they approached the shop, Clancy noticed a beautiful broom in the window. "How about this pretty one, here?" she suggested.
"That is the new Firebolt," Snape told her, as he evaluated the broom. "It's top of the line. You're not worth it."
He ended up choosing a used Cleansweep that the proprietor had to dust off and bring out of storage. "Did you have to select the cheapest one in the shop?" Clancy asked irritably.
"It will take us to our destination. That is all that matters."
"Didn't you say the exact same thing directly before you pushed me into the Floo?" she reminded him.
"I am fully in control. Nothing can possibly go wrong."
"Famous last words," Clancy muttered.
Snape led Clancy behind the shop to the middle of a small clearing reserved for patrons. "We will take off from here," he said. "Get on."
"How?"
"Sit sideways in front of me, and put your arm around my waist. When we lift off the ground, tuck your legs up so there won't be any drag."
"Are you certain there's no other way?" Clancy asked hesitantly.
"Get on, and be quick about it!" Snape commanded. After the application of a Cushioning Charm and a few minor adjustments, Clancy settled in, and they were off.
The flying conditions were perfect. Low, dense clouds obscured them from view. So far, so good, Clancy thought, holding her arm gripped tightly around Snape's waist. She leaned in toward him, with her face in close proximity to his. Laying her head against his shoulder, she peeked furtively at him. She studied the wisps of long hair whipping across his dark, glittering eyes. She noted the determined set of his jaw and the profile of that remarkable nose.
Her mouth was only inches away from the row of tantalizing black buttons. Imagining that they must taste like sweet, succulent raisins, Clancy flicked her tongue to test the theory, but she could not quite reach them. With her free hand, she twiddled the fifth button from the top. She had to admit that Severus Snape did not look a bit better than he did the first time she ever saw him; nonetheless, she was mad about him!
Unbeknownst to Clancy, Snape was taking the same opportunity to observe her. He managed a series of surreptitious glances timed perfectly to miss the ones she was directing at him. He rather liked the way her arm felt about his waist, holding on to him for dear life. Her hair was soft and silken. The shape of her nose was not unpleasing when she wasn't sticking it deep into his business. Her chin was the thing that disquieted him the most: it was forever tilting upward, taking offense at every reasonable and fair-minded thing he said. Overall, he considered her to be the most infuriating, obstinate, impertinent -- and strangely desirable -- woman he had ever had the misfortune to know. To his great annoyance, Snape was beginning to cave in.
"Are you enjoying the ride, Miss Norgard?" he inquired.
"I'll say I am," she answered dreamily, then, recovering from her reverie, added, "I mean ... it's not as bad as I thought it would be."
The wind began picking up, and the broom became unsteady. The air turbulence caused it to pitch from side to side. Clancy grasped Snape tighter about the waist, and drew her other arm around his neck. She placed her lips close to his ear. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you," she whispered softly. "I really should have confessed this to you long before now ..."
"Yes, Miss Norgard?" Snape responded, hopefully.
"I get airsick."
Snape's hostility quickly returned. "I have enough to do trying to control this bucking broom. Don't bother me with your petty problems!"
Clancy tried to hold back the feeling of nausea that was steadily overtaking her. "Honi soit qui mal y pense," she repeated under her breath, as her mouth became dry and her throat began constricting.
Snape focused his attention on trying to maintain a northerly direction, but the winds kept pushing them westward. They were drifting farther and farther off course.
One exceptionally strong gust sent Clancy's stomach over the edge, and she could no longer quell her discomfort. "I'm sick .. .I'm going to .. .oh, Severus--" She vomited, profusely, covering Snape in the acidic remains of eggs, mixed with cocoa.
"You never run out of inventive ways to repulse me, do you Miss Norgard?" Snape said, glowering. "And, might I ask why you chose this particular time to begin addressing me by my first name?"
"Well, you're wearing my breakfast," Clancy moaned. "It seemed like an intimate moment. By the way," she continued, "You may call me Clancy."
Snape looked straight ahead, fully enraged. The winds had quieted, but he did not seem to realize they were now heading in the wrong direction.
"Clancy," Snape said, trying out the sound. He spoke her name as if he were spitting something distasteful out of his mouth. "What a ridiculous name for a female. How did you come by it?"
"My aunt invented the name, and I think it suits me quite well."
"It doesn't suit you at all. It sounds like a burly Irish peasant."
"May I point out that your name doesn't exactly roll trippingly off the tongue?"
They flew on for some time in bitter silence.
"Hand me my wand from my wand pocket, will you Clancy?" Snape said, still trying to get used to the preposterous sound of her name. "It's closer to your reach than it is to mine. I'll use a Cleaning Charm to get your filth off of me."
Clancy located the wand, fumbled it, and watched it fall gracefully downward and disappear into the clouds. "Oh, dear!"
"What's the matter, now?"
"Your wand -- I accidentally dropped it."
"WHAT!" Snape yelled. "I'll never be able to find it. You miserable, incompetent, menace!"
"It was an accident," Clancy insisted.
"I've a good mind to double back and lighten my load over the Channel! Here -- see how you like this!" He yanked her handbag off her shoulder and sent it hurtling downward.
"You FIEND!" Clancy shouted. "I had all my money in that bag, and my MEDICINE! If I develop an infection, my illness will be on your hands!"
"In case you haven't noticed, it is already on my hands -- and all over my clothing, AS WELL!"
Another long bout of silence ensued.
"Of course, I could always use my wand," Clancy suggested casually.
"You have a wand?"
"I most certainly do. How else would I be learning magic?"
"What magic could you possibly learn?" Snape asked mockingly.
"Professor Flitwick showed me how to do a Cleaning Charm."
"That's fifth year. You would be much better off to start at the beginning and work your way up to it."
"Filius thought I might find it useful, so he's been working with me. He told me I'm showing great promise. It's not perfected yet, but I'm definitely progressing in the right direction."
"Fascinating. What else have you learned?"
"Only one other thing, actually."
"Well?"
"I can make a pineapple tap dance across the top of a desk!" Clancy told Snape proudly.
"Oh, that's very useful," he snorted. "Hardly a day goes by that one isn't called upon to make a pineapple tap dance. Now, give me your wand!"
Clancy produced the wand from the inside pocket of her jacket and handed it to Snape. He grabbed it away from her roughly. "This pitiful thing? It's too lightweight. The balance is all wrong, and it's much too slender."
"Give it back, then, if it's beneath you."
"Strange," Snape remarked, still examining the wand. "I've seen this before."
"Where?"
"I don't know. I just had a funny feeling ... well, perhaps not. Many wands look alike."
Clancy wondered if Snape were remembering Aunt Hilly. She put the thought out of her mind, as this would not be the ideal opportunity to discuss the topic.
Snape handed the wand back to her. "Put it away. I don't wish to use it."
"I thought powerful wizards such as yourself were capable of wandless magic," Clancy retorted.
"In some instances, but it doesn't apply to domestic spells."
"Well, then, allow me. Evanesco!" Clancy cried, poking the wand directly into Snape's chest.
The charm worked much too well. Not only did it remove her breakfast from his clothing, it removed his clothing. He was left with only his underwear and a bandage wrapped around his left forearm.
"Now look what you've done! As soon as we land, I'm going to thrash the tar out of you!"
"Oh, Severus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--" Clancy intended to apologize sincerely, but she burst out laughing, instead.
"I'll give you something to laugh about. Consider this: Your trunk was in my pocket. Now, it's gone, TOO!" Snape pointed out. Clancy laughed even harder.
"Stop it! Do you hear me? I will not be laughed at!"
"I'm deeply sorry, Severus. I truly am. It's just that you look like ... like a plucked raven!"
It was true. Snape did, indeed, resemble a featherless bird. Goosebumps were rising on his white skin. Without all those layers of clothing he always wore, there was not much to the man.
"Didn't Filius tell you that you're supposed to swish and flick from a discreet distance? You're not supposed to impale me with your wand!"
So, there they were, flying aimlessly in the wrong direction, penniless and Knutless, one of them nearly naked. Clancy was reminded of Snape's earlier boast, "I am fully in control. Nothing can possibly go wrong."