Chapter 32: I’m Beginning to See the Light
*~~~*~~~*
Snape had wasted no time in setting the tone for the new school term.
“That miserable bastard!” Clancy screeched, as she clutched Snape’s note in her hand. He’d left it on his pillow during the night before returning to his own quarters. She read it again, trying to understand what his words could possibly mean.
Clancy, please try to keep your temper. I have made my decision. It is for the best, and there is no room for discussion. I will explain everything this evening. S.
Directly before discovering his note, Clancy had glanced down at her hand and noticed her ring missing. He’d better do some explaining! she seethed inwardly. The sneaky Slytherin coward!
She flew out of bed and opened her top bureau drawer, suspecting he’d taken back her pineapple pin, as well, but it was still there. The Summoning Bell was still in its place too, right on her bed table where she always kept it.
Entering the Great Hall for breakfast, Clancy glanced furtively at the High Table, while trying to remain calm. She found there were only two seats vacant: one next to Snape, and the other, next to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody. He’d nearly frightened her to death when he’d made his entrance last night, announced by a booming clap of thunder. When a flash of lightning illuminated his face, she’d shivered.
Badly scarred, with a good amount of his nose missing, Moody looked even less appealing in the daytime. As she made her way toward the table, Clancy felt as though his large, blue eye was following her every movement. His other eye was unremarkable, but the blue one rolled around in its socket with a mind of its own. She decided quickly to break with tradition and seat herself next to Snape.
“Good morning,” Snape muttered out of the corner of his mouth, while looking straight ahead.
“Good morning “ you heel.”
“I take it you read my note,” he hissed, barely moving his lips.
Clancy poured herself a goblet of pumpkin juice and made no reply. She began to sip it slowly.
“Whatever you do, don’t make a scene. I’ll explain everything this evening.”
“I have no intention of making a scene. Your actions are a bit shifty, but I’m sure you must have your reasons.”
“I do. Shall we leave it at that for now?”
“As you wish.” Clancy developed a sudden impulse to invert her goblet directly above Snape’s lap, but she was able to control it. Barely.
She sensed that Snape was uncomfortable. He seemed to be nervous about something. In fact, she’d noticed him behaving strangely since last night when Professor Moody had first appeared. Snape made no further attempt to converse with her for the rest of the meal, and when it was time for classes to begin, they went their separate ways.
Clancy spent the morning sprucing up her choir room. She was hoping there would be a fresh crop of talented first years coming in to audition that afternoon. Shortly before lunch, she decided to audit the end of Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures class with the fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Today was Glutgut’s official début, and she was curious to learn how the students had reacted to him.
After a week of rough going, Glutgut and Hagrid had adapted well to each other. At first, the beast was intimidated by the sheer size of the half-giant, but that didn’t stop him from making jibes. When he discovered how good-natured his new caretaker was, however, it took the fun out of insulting him, so he confined most of his rude remarks to observations on the lack of Hagrid’s culinary skills.
Hagrid had run across Jarveys before, but never one like Glutgut. In no time at all, he had become devoted to the creature. He built a cozy shelter for him in his pumpkin patch, but in the evenings, the beast was welcomed inside Hagrid’s hut and had his own special basket with a soft tartan pillow next to Fang’s.
By the time Clancy arrived, Hagrid had dismissed his class, and students were racing past her, eager to return to the castle for their midday meals. As Draco Malfoy approached her with Crabbe and Goyle in tow, he shot Clancy a nasty look and mumbled something inaudible.
Hagrid was in an awful state. On the steps outside his hut, he sat hunched over with his head pressed against his hands. He looked up fretfully when he saw Clancy.
“Hagrid,” she asked, sniffing the air, “what’s that foul odor? It smells like rotting fish.”
He pointed toward some wooden crates on the ground nearby. “Tha’s the Blast-Ended Skrewts, Miss Norgard.”
“Blast-Ended what?”
“Skrewts. Have a look, if yeh’d like. They’re a mite small. They jus’ hatched.”
Clancy glanced inside the nearest crate, as one of the repulsive creatures made a phut sound. Sparks flew out of one end of the shell-less oddity, propelling it forward.
“Well, they’re not very attractive, but I’m sure they must be useful for something,” she commented before backing away. “Where’s Glutgut? Did the students like him?”
Hagrid moaned sorrowfully, as Fang lumbered out from behind the hut to join his master. The boarhound hung his head and regarded Clancy sadly.
“Hagrid,” she inquired, “is something wrong?”
“Made a mess o’ things,” he groaned.
“What do you mean? What’s happened?”
“Yer little friend spoke out o’ turn. Caused all sorts o’ trouble.”
“Oh no! What did he say?”
“Malfoy was complainin’ about the skrewts. Glutgut crept up behind him and said summat bad…”
“Yes, Hagrid, go on.”
“Don’ know if I should be repeatin’ such a thing.”
“Please, Hagrid. Tell me what he said,” Clancy persisted.
“It’s like this, yeh see. Malfoy was sayin’ how ugly the skrewts looked and tha’ they made him sick. Glutgut agreed with him, an’ added, ‘They make my stomach turn even more than watchin’ the Choir lassie kissin’ tha’ hooked nose professor’.”
Clancy, not knowing what to say, took a seat on the steps next to Hagrid.
“Malfoy’s a troublemaker, yeh know. Professor Snape an’ Dumbledore should be told about this.”
“I suppose so,” Clancy responded glumly. “But where is Glutgut?”
“There’s more I need to tell yeh.”
“You may as well fill me in. My day’s already a lost cause.”
“Malfoy an’ a couple o’ the other Slytherins called Glutgut a liar an’ said Professor Snape would never take up with…a Muggle, meanin’ no offense, Miss Norgard. Glutgut came to yer defense, though. He reared up and nipped Malfoy hard on his backside. The lad let out a horrible yelp, then kicked the Jarvey in his belly. While I was tryin’ ter settle things, Glutgut slinked off into the Forbidden Forest. Grumbled summat about goin’ to look fer a mate ‘fore winter comes.”
“I could really learn to dislike that towheaded Slytherin brat.” Clancy turned to regard Hagrid. “Glutgut will be all right in there, won’t he?”
“‘Course he will. He’s bin in there plenty o’ times. Made friends with the centaurs. They’ll watch out fer him. There’s nothin’ ter worry about.”
“Cheer up, then, Hagrid. None of this is your fault.”
“On’y one thing left ter tell yeh.”
“Yes?”
“Malfoy asked me where the Jarvey came from, an’ ‘fore I knew wha’ I was sayin’, I mentioned you an’ Professor Snape found him when you were on holiday together.”
“Hagrid! You didn’t!”
“Don’ blame yeh if yer angry with me.”
“I’m not angry,” she assured him. “But Severus will be very upset, I’m afraid. With me, more than with you, I suspect.”
They started toward the castle, with Clancy taking quick little running steps to keep pace with Hagrid’s longer strides.
“Bes’ ter let Professor Dumbledore handle this. Great man, Dumbledore.”
“Yes, Hagrid,” Clancy agreed. “Indeed he is.”
Shortly after dinner, Snape joined Clancy in her room.
“How was your day?” she asked him as he stepped out of the Floo.
“Appalling. Yours?”
“Worse than that. Have you heard the bad news?”
“All I ever hear is bad news. But, pray enlighten me,” Snape returned dryly.
“Glutgut’s run away. He’s disappeared into the Forbidden Forest.”
Snape brightened. “Most encouraging.”
“Severus, really,” she chided. “Has Albus spoken with you?”
“Regarding what?” He crossed over to the bed and began to remove his boots.
Anticipating what Snape’s reaction might be to her disclosure, she decided to stay near the fire to keep a safe distance from him.
“Promise me you won’t fly into a blind rage?”
“I agree, if you will promise the same when I explain about the ring.”
She nodded affirmatively. “Would you care to go first?”
“It’s quite simple. I removed your ring for safekeeping. The students might notice you wearing it, and since I am the only professor on staff who is close to your age, some of the brighter ones might be drawn to speculate on whether we are in a serious relationship.”
“You’ve no idea how often I’m drawn to speculate on that, too.”
Clancy’s sarcasm fell flat, as Snape elaborated while continuing to undress.
“What I mean to say, is that I cannot stress strongly enough that we do our best to keep our relationship hidden. Please be assured that your welfare is my only concern. Next summer if…if we’re still together, I will return it to you.”
“There you go again, always predicting gloom and doom. I’ll concede to your wishes, but you could have discussed this with me before stealing it off my finger.”
“I did what I believe to be right and I make no apologies for my actions. Now, what is it you wanted to tell me?”
“First, I’d like to know why you’ve been acting so edgy since the feast last night. Has it anything to do with the new teacher, Professor Moody?”
“Indirectly. Moody’s a retired Auror. He’s never trusted me. He tried years ago to have me sentenced to Azkaban for supporting the Dark Lord. After all my years of faithful service, he still doubts my loyalty.”
“Auror?”
“Aurors are trained by the Ministry of Magic to track down wizarding criminals and bring them to justice. Moody’s presence is yet another annoyance in a long list of frustrations Dumbledore expects me to endure. But I’m more disturbed by what the headmaster had to say last night when he addressed the students.”
“So am I,” Clancy concurred, “and I’m curious, too. I’m dying to hear the punch line to ‘a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun all go into a bar’. Minerva’s a party pooper.”
Snape gave her a withering look. “I was referring to the Triwizard Tournament. In my opinion, it’s a complete waste of time. There’s enough to do without Hogwarts playing host to delegations from two Wizarding schools. Dumbledore never thinks things through. The presence of extra students at the castle will only create confusion.”
“It will be fun for the students, though, won’t it? It’s a change of pace from Quidditch, anyway.”
“It will only serve to distract the students from their studies. Their thoughts should be focused on preparing themselves for their future careers, not on a foolish competition.”
“All right, Severus. I can see your point.” Clancy hesitated a moment before saying, “I suppose I’d better fill you in on what happened in Hagrid’s class this morning.”
“Oh, that,” Snape said offhandedly. “I’ve already dealt with Malfoy. He dropped by my office this afternoon and caught me as I was coming out of the Dr. Pepper storeroom. He glanced inside, and had the cheek to tell me that he knew it was for ‘that Muggle Choir teacher’ and questioned why I was keeping it for you in the dungeons. I told him the headmaster had order me to do it, to prevent the house-elves from drinking it. I lied, telling him it had been a gift to you from Dumbledore. I’ve learnt a well-timed lie is often the best solution.”
“I suppose so, as long as it’s only a little white one,” Clancy was forced to admit. “And as long as it’s not told to me,” she felt obliged to remind him. “But did he mention to you what Glutgut and Hagrid said?”
“He didn’t have to. I sensed from his confrontational attitude that something wasn’t right, so I used Legilimency.”
“Severus! I never knew you could do that! I thought Albus was the only one who could --”
“I’m not on Dumbledore’s level, but I can do it to an extent. It proves useful, at times.”
“Have you ever used Legilimency on me?”
I should have predicted that would be coming. “Only once, last June. You were having a nightmare, so I entered your mind to see what was troubling you,” he confessed, attempting to present the facts in the most favorable light. “All I saw were jumbled words. You were apparently dreaming about anagrams, again.”
“That’s the only time?”
“Yes, the only time,” Snape confirmed. “Legilimency requires absolute focus and mental acuity. I never squander my gift on trivial matters,” he explained arrogantly.
“No, that’s when you resort to Veritaserum,” she returned.
“As I was saying, I read Malfoy’s thoughts and discovered that he’d learned we’d been on holiday together, and that your glib little associate had made reference to our intimacy. I corrected the damage by bringing up casually that we’d met coincidentally while holidaying separately. He brought up Glutgut’s peculiar observation shortly thereafter, and I advised him that it is the nature of Jarveys to make insulting remarks and to spout unfounded rubbish. The problem has been solved, temporarily, but I suggest you take this as a warning to listen to my advice in the future. I told you the wretched beast would cause trouble.”
“Did that little Slytherin smarmpot happen to mention that he kicked poor Glutgut in the stomach?” Clancy asked heatedly.
“No, but I’m delighted to hear it. Now that the creature has gone into the Forbidden Forrest, I will expect any day now to receive glad tidings of his demise. I’m entertaining a delicious vision of him entrapped in a massive spider web, or flattened beneath the wheels of Weasley’s enchanted Muggle car.”
“You’re a horrible person.”
“Have I ever claimed to be anything else? Keep trying to redeem me, Clancy. After you’ve peeled away the layers that you assume conceal my nobility, you will find that I’ve never possessed any at all.”
“Why are you acting like this?”
“Merely to put you on your guard. As much as you wish to joke, or refuse to accept the seriousness of my responsibilities, the fact remains: your association with me places you in danger.”
“Do you think the boy believed you? What if he repeats any of this to his father “ that haughty pure-blood moron who stared at me so disapprovingly at the Spring Concert?”
“There’s always a chance that he might, but as he is young and more concerned with social issues at present, it may slip his mind entirely. Let us hope, for your sake, that it does. And Lucius Malfoy is far from a ‘moron’, as you put it. Even though he is no longer a school governor, he still wields power through his wealth. Now, are you permanently stuck to the mantle, or are you planning to join me in bed?”
Clancy shrugged apathetically and crossed the room.
“I take it you’re not in the mood tonight.”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Something I said?”
“Today was too stressful for me. I feel a headache developing and I’d rather be left alone to sleep.”
“Glutgut, Malfoy? What is it that’s still disturbing you?”
“I received a blow this afternoon from which I may never recover,” she informed him wearily, collapsing with a thud onto the bed.
“What happened?” Snape inquired, alarmed.
“The Weasley twins decided to join the Harmonious Hinkypunks.”
In sympathy, Snape conjured an icepack for Clancy, before resigning himself to a long, cold shower.
September slipped into October as Hogwarts prepared for the Triwizard Tournament. Snape, exasperated by Moody’s unwelcome presence, managed to surpass his well-established reputation by hinting to his students that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas, to ensure that they were diligently keeping up with their antidotes research.
On the evening of the 30th of October, the delegations from the European Wizarding schools, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, arrived at the castle. At the feast held in their honor, Dumbledore announced that Hogwarts students who were seventeen or older could place their names in the Goblet of Fire, if they wished to represent the school in the tournament. Much to Clancy’s delight, Cedric Diggory, one of her most talented Harmonious Hinkypunks was selected the next night. Charming boy, Clancy thought. Good looks, good manners, and a fine baritone, to boot!
Shortly thereafter, to everyone’s surprise, the Goblet glowed red and an unexpected piece of parchment shot up from the flames. Professor Dumbledore perused it silently, then after a very long pause, read aloud, “Harry Potter.”
Clancy glanced at Snape, and as she expected, he was incensed. One of these days, she promised herself, I intend to have a long talk with Albus and Severus and find out what’s so special about that boy!
In late November, the Triwizard Tournament began. The first task required the contestants to outwit a dragon and attempt to retrieve a golden egg. Clancy, of course, rooted for Cedric Diggory. She watched in fascination as he transfigured a rock into a dog to distract a Swedish Short-Snout. Unfortunately, Diggory sustained minor burns, and had to be helped off to a tent to receive treatment from Madam Pomfrey. Disheartened, Clancy left the spectators’ stands and returned to the castle, taking no interest in the remainder of the competition.
By December, Hogwarts was in a festive mood, and Clancy was hard at work rehearsing the choirs for the Yule Concert. Eloise Midgen’s complexion had improved slightly, although she still needed to drink Snape’s Acne Potion directly before she sang to boost her self-esteem. The Weasley twins managed to impede the rehearsals with their adolescent shenanigans, but Clancy hoped that by the night of the performance, they would take their musical training seriously and settle down.
In the staff meeting, Clancy learned that on Christmas Night, Hogwarts would be throwing a Yule Ball. Snape dampened her enthusiasm by making it perfectly clear that he had no intention of acting as her escort, and that she had best look elsewhere to fill out her dance card. Determined to make him regret his decision, she decided to pay a call on Professor Dumbledore in his office the next day. She found him deep in a one-sided conversation with Fawkes. The phoenix seemed to be listening intently, but made no more than an occasional perfunctory peep.
The headmaster greeted her warmly and motioned her into a chair.
“How are rehearsals for the Yule Concert progressing, Clancy?” he inquired.
“Quite well, except for the constant barrage of practical jokes perpetrated by Fred and George Weasley.”
“Ah, yes. Is that what brings you to see me?”
“No, they’re just typical teenagers with a well-developed sense of humor. I believe I’m capable of handling them. There’s something else I’d like to discuss with you, though, if I may.”
“Of course, Clancy. I know you’re disappointed that our Anagram Club has been disbanded, but with the extra responsibility of hosting the Triwizard Tournament and seeing to the needs of our guests, it leaves me with little time.”
“I understand, Albus. It’s not the same without Remus, anyway. That reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask you “ have you heard from him? He promised to write to me, but it must have slipped his mind.”
“That’s curious. I received an owl from him only last week. He asked about you and wondered why you haven’t responded to his letters. He mentioned that he’d written to you several times.”
“That’s odd. Whenever I check my inbox in the staffroom, there’s nothing there.”
“I’ll look into the matter. When the owl post arrives, the students receive their letters first, as you know, at breakfast. The staff receives theirs throughout the day, keeping to no particular schedule. Perhaps I’ll suggest to Remus that he enclose a letter to you along with the next one he sends to me to ensure that you receive it.”
“Thank you, Albus.”
Clancy’s first inclination was to suspect Snape. Dumbledore had arrived at the same conclusion only moments before.
“Was there something else you wished to discuss with me?” Dumbledore asked, pressed for time.
“Yes. I was wondering if you’d be willing to transfigure something for me to wear to the Yule Ball. Severus is apprehensive about my leaving the school grounds. He’d prefer that I don’t shop in Hogsmeade, even if I’m accompanied by Pomona or Rolanda. Silly, really, but he’s quite adamant about it. I have nothing appropriate to wear “ only my casual Muggle attire or my choir robes. I was hoping if I wore something pretty, Severus might pay some attention to me. He’s refused to be my escort, but I’m still hoping I can coax him onto the dance floor.”
“Severus dancing? Doubtful,” Dumbledore observed discouragingly. “Nevertheless, I shall be happy to provide you with whatever you desire. But, it might be advisable to ask Minerva. She’d have a much better idea than I of what would be in fashion.”
“I’d rather not, Albus, if you don’t mind. I’ve always sensed that she doesn’t approve of me. I think she still believes I coached Eloise Midgen to do a striptease last year.”
“I’m sure you’re only imagining it. Severus explained to the staff that his Acne Potion was to blame and took full responsibility.”
“Really? I remember him offering to do that, but I never knew he actually had! He’s always full of surprises, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Dumbledore agreed. “I often find his behavior astonishing,” he added cryptically. “Now, suppose you tell me precisely what type of attire you have in mind. Would you prefer dress robes or some sort of Muggle eveningwear? Sequins, beading, feathers?”
“Oh, nothing as elaborate as all that. Just something simple, but fun. How about a camel suit?” Clancy suggested. “It would be warm, comfortable, and I could get lots of wear out of it.”
Dumbledore stroked his beard, considering the matter. “I believe I can manage that. Give me some time, if you will. I’m a bit preoccupied with other endeavors, at present, but I assure you I will have exactly what you need in time for the ball.”
“Thank you, Albus,” she said, rising from her chair. “I’ll leave you to your duties.”
She let herself out of his office, and Dumbledore turned his attention back to the phoenix.
“Dear me, Fawkes,” he said after a time.
The scarlet bird cocked its head at the sound of its master’s voice.
“It entirely slipped my mind to ask Clancy if she’d prefer one hump or two. Two, I should think. It will allow for a better grip if she decides to favor me with a mambo.”
This year Clancy prayed that the Yule Concert would come off without a hitch. She’d spent a great deal of time in the library researching European Christmas music to make the castle’s guests feel welcome. She was eager to make a favorable impression, as she was the only Muggle on staff. Madame Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbatons, barely acknowledged her presence. “Zis is most unusual, to find an American Muggle ‘olding a teaching position in a Wizarding school,” Clancy overheard the enormous woman observe to Professor Karkaroff, Durmstrang’s headmaster, at dinner, before the concert. “Are zer no British chanteuses to feel it? ‘Ow can zis Muggle be qualified?”
Professor Flitwick and Madam Hooch, seated on either side of Clancy, also caught her remark. “Steady, Clancy,” Flitwick advised, patting her hand.
“That woman has colossal nerve,” Clancy muttered.
“She has colossal everything,” Rolanda Hooch chimed in.
“Less is more,” Flitwick agreed with a sly wink.
“Chanteuse my ass!” Clancy spat. “What does she think I am “ some cabaret singer straddling a chair backwards, wearing fishnet stockings?”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a chair wearing fishnet stockings,” Flitwick quipped. “They must sag terribly.”
The trio laughed stridently, earning them a warning cough from McGonagall.
Later that evening, after dinner was cleared away, the concert began. The Great Hall was darkened as both upper and lower choirs found their positions on the platform to prepare for the opening medley.
Clancy had been detained in the choir room against her will, a victim of the Weasley twins' latest imaginative collaboration: Invisible Quick-Drying Cement applied lavishly to the seat of her desk chair. When she failed to appear to conduct the young performers, Dumbledore and Flitwick decided to investigate.
They discovered her scooting her chair along the floor, desperately trying to free her herself from her sedentary state. Flitwick gave a discreet tug at the precise moment Dumbledore applied a Dissolving Spell, and she raced into the Great Hall.
As the lights came up to reveal the cherubic faces of her young charges, a collective gasp echoed through the hall. The faculty was stunned into silence; Madam Maxime and Professor Karkaroff glared accusingly at Clancy; the students exploded into hoots of laughter. For there on the stage, stood, or rather perched, seventy large canaries, hopping animatedly and chirping merrily.
Clancy caught Dumbledore’s attention, shrugged, and mouthed, “Now what?”
With a temperate twinkle, the elderly wizard raised his goblet in a toast of good fellowship and mouthed back, “Improvise.”
Spying two bedeviling yellow birds sporting red top notches, Clancy lost control momentarily and blurted out, “Fourteen hundred points from Gryffindor! Twenty for each twittering twit!”
Snape, seated near the front at the Slytherin table, emitted a shrill “Ha!”
McGonagall began to choke, and motioned for Hooch to slap her on the back. Unfortunately, the Flying instructor was cackling uncontrollably and could offer no assistance.
To add to her annoyance, Clancy happened to glance at her wand and noticed a large, glossy beetle clinging to the tip. With one swift flick, she sent the bothersome insect catapulting across the Ravenclaw table, to land in Madame Maxime’s cavernous cleavage.
Beauxbatons’ stately headmistress squealed like a frightened child and bounded out of the hall, with Professor Moody’s magical eye following her every jiggle.
Dumbledore sat serenely in his chair, thoroughly enjoying the show.
“Whenever I point to you,” Clancy instructed the choir, “start chirping!”
Moving over to the enchanted piano, she depressed one of the keys and commanded it to play. As the instrument began an eight-bar introduction, she scurried back to center herself in front of her canary chorus. Inhaling a deep breath, she cursed the Weasleys, crossed her fingers, and began to croon.
“Let’s all sing like the birdies sing!”
She leveled her wand at the choir, and they happily supplied the “tweet, tweet, tweets.”
Not bad, she thought to herself as she continued.
“Let's all sing like the birdies sing!”
“Tweet, tweet tweet, tweet tweet.”
“Let's all warble like nightingales,
Give your throat a treat.
Take your time from the birds,
Now you all know the words.”
“Tweet, tweet tweet, tweet tweet.”
Dumbledore led the applause as tears of mirth trickled down his cheeks.
The canaries began to shed their feathers, and soon the Musical Mooncalves and Harmonious Hinkypunks were restored to their pre-hexed state.
Fred and George stepped down from the platform and approached the disgruntled Choir Director.
“Sorry, Miss Norgard,” George said, not looking the least bit repentant.
“Care for a Custard Cream?” Fred offered, retrieving the sweet from his robe pocket.
“No, thank you,” she demurred. "Now, go back to your places and I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER PEEP OUT OF YOU!”
When Snape Flooed to Clancy’s room after the concert, he found her sobbing on the bed, beating her fists angrily against the mattress. He went to her to offer words of comfort.
“Chin up,” he murmured, drawing her into his arms. “At last you’re learning what an exasperating lot those Gryffindors can be.”
She sniffled a few times, wiped her puffy eyes, and blubbered, “I-I’m a failure. Nothing I ever do turns out right.”
“The rest of the performance went well. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
“I lost my temper in public and disgraced myself. Do you have any idea what it’s like to want desperately to be a success and earn respect, only to have people talk about you behind your back and treat you like you’re some sort of loathsome freak?”
“I believe I have a vague idea, yes.” Snape kissed away a salty tear from her cheek. “It’s over now; put it behind you.”
“I’ll try.”
Snape handed her a tissue, and she blew her nose, emitting a loud honk.
“It’s almost Christmas. You’ve that to look forward to. By the way, are you giving me anything useful this year?”
“How can I give you anything, at all? You’ve cautioned me not to go to Hogsmeade, and I have no magical skills to create anything for you, so you’d best keep your expectations low.”
“That is precisely what I intend to do,” he said as he slid one hand along her thigh.
“What are you planning on giving me this year?” she wheedled.
“Something utilitarian.”
“Oh, goody,” she responded with nominal enthusiasm. “Last Christmas you gave me a bell that doesn’t ring, that I’ve yet to use, and now you strip away all prospects of foolish, romantic gestures.”
“I’m about to strip away more than that.” Snape withdrew his wand to magically remove Clancy’s clothing, before plying her with dozens of soft kisses in quick succession.
“That’s something new in your repertoire,” Clancy responded contentedly.
“I intend to give you a kiss for each point you took away from Gryffindor,” Snape promised.
“That could take all night.”
“Any objections?” he asked distractedly.
“Not in the least,” she sighed, snuggling into his arms. “You won’t hear another peep out of me.”
Let’s All Sing Like the Birdies Sing
~ By Robert Hargreaves, Stanley J. Damerell, and Tolchard Evans
1932
“Smarmpot” comes courtesy of Grainne. It sounds much nicer than the S soubriquet I had originally intended for Draco.
Special thanks to LariLee for proofreading.