The spoilers in this chapter are unobtrusive, but I’m sure you will recognize them when you see them.
Chapter 33: Blame It On the Bossa Nova
*~~~*~~~*
Blame it on the bossa nova that he did so well.
Oh, it all began with just one little dance,
But soon it ended up a big romance.
Blame it on the bossa nova,
The dance of love.
Christmas morning was not as merry as Clancy had hoped it would be. She’d tried hard to accept the timeworn adage that “it’s the thought that counts”, but as with most men, Muggles and wizards alike, Snape had put little thought into selecting her gift, which made it difficult for her to discount her disappointment.
“Do you like it?” Snape had asked, expecting her to rave.
“It’s… lovely!” she’d fibbed. Luggage? Why luggage, of all things? A hefty box of Honeydukes assorted chocolates and crystallized pineapple is what I really wanted. Were all the hints I dropped too subtle?
“It’s to replace the trunk you lost during our broom flight. Does the color suit you? I thought it matched your eyes.”
“The color is perfect! You have excellent taste.” My eyes remind you of a stagnant swamp, filled with algae? This is the sickliest shade of green I’ve ever seen!
Snape had not waxed ecstatic about the gift he’d received from Clancy, either.
“A clarinet?” he’d questioned in horror.
“It’s an oboe, actually. It was Albus’s idea. He agreed to transfigure something for me to give to you, since you won’t allow me to shop in Hogsmeade.”
“I am not musically inclined,” he’d remarked petulantly. I have as much need for this as I have for that blasted Jarvey!
“But it suits you,” she’d insisted. “It’s thin and black. The finger keys are silver. An oboe is unique “ just like you. Come on, give it a little toot.”
Snape had held the offensive instrument at arm’s length, as if it he were afraid it might bite. He’d peered suspiciously into the opening, as if convinced it contained Dark Magic.
“Just push the first valve down. The music goes round and round,” she’d illustrated, circling her finger in the air, “and it comes out here,” she’d joked, chucking him playfully under his chin. “Let’s see if you can make it play sweet and hot.”
Snape decided to fulfill the latter half of her request by flinging the oboe into the fire and growling, “Incendio!”
“There! Is that hot enough for you?” he’d inquired.
“I’m just trying to get into the spirit of Christmas!” she’d snapped, her temper escalating.
“Stronger evidence points to your getting into Christmas spirits, if you think I have any intention of learning to play the oboe!” he’d bellowed defiantly.
Clancy had marched over to her set of luggage, weighing each individual piece to determine the best one to throw. Before she could make her selection, Snape had snarled, “Happy Christmas!” before exiting and slamming the door.
Far be it from Clancy to let Snape ruin her day. It was still Christmas, after all, and she intended to make the most of it. Recalling that she’d learned the last week of term that a musical group called The Weird Sisters had been hired to perform, she had an idea. Since the teachers were expected to act as chaperones, it wasn’t really necessary that she have an actual date for the Yule Ball. She thought back to her youth, and remembered what it was like when all of her friends had been invited to the school dance, while she spent the evening at home, being consoled by Aunt Hilly.
“You’ve no one to blame but yourself, Clancy,” her aunt had admonished. “You were invited to the prom by Brad Sepell, one of the most popular boys and best dancers in your class, and what did you do? You had to open your cheeky little mouth and tell him that his name is an anagram for bad speller! No wonder he snubbed you and withdrew the invitation. Now he’s going with your friend Rhonda, and it serves you right.”
“How was I to know he really is a bad speller? He’s not in my English class. Can’t he take a joke? Besides, why would I want to go to a dance with someone who can’t spell?”
“Your logic is rather faulty, dear. You’d be much better off doing that than going to a spelling bee in the hopes of finding a dance partner.”
Clancy smiled wistfully, remembering their whimsical conversations. Aunt Hilly had never allowed her to get away with petty behavior without calling her down for it. She wondered what her aunt would have thought if she’d witnessed her senseless row with Snape earlier.
Reflecting back on her school years, and how depressed she had felt on that night so long ago, she was determined that a very charming and most deserving young Hufflepuff would not suffer the same disappointment. Clancy prevailed upon Professor Dumbledore for special permission to allow Eloise Midgen to come as her guest to the Yule Ball. He generously agreed, and by late afternoon, she’d persuaded Professor Sprout to transfigure yellow dress robes for Eloise from a butternut squash. Then, swallowing her pride, she went down to the dungeons to ask Snape for a phial of Acne Potion. He obliged, grudgingly, then shooed her away before one of his Slytherins chanced to see her.
Ascending the stone steps to the entry hall, Clancy met Professor Karkaroff. He brushed past her, taking little notice, as he clutched his left forearm. She turned to watch, as he glanced about furtively, before disappearing down the stairs.
By 7:45 that evening, Clancy began to panic. Had Professor Dumbledore forgotten that he had promised to transfigure something for her to wear to the ball? He had assured her earlier in the day that her outfit would be delivered straight to her room, leaving her with ample time to dress. She paced anxiously, and then breathed a sigh of relief when she heard a rap at her door.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“It’s Eloise Midgen, Miss Norgard. I happened to run into Professor Dumbledore on my way up here, and he asked me to deliver something to you.”
Clancy quickly escorted her in, and took a large, flat box from her. She glanced admiringly at her favorite student.
“Eloise, you look absolutely stunning! Yellow is quite becoming on you. Professor Sprout did an excellent job.”
“Thank you. It was very nice of you to think to invite me. I’ve always wanted to see The Weird Sisters perform.” Eloise added shyly, “Do you think there’ll be any chance for the students to get their autographs?”
“Are they as famous as all that? I’ve never heard of them,” Clancy admitted.
“Yes. We listen to them all the time on the WWN in our common room. One of the seventh years smuggled one in, but please don’t tell Professor Sprout.”
“I promise I won’t breathe a word, but I don’t even know what you’re talking about. What’s the WWN?”
“It’s the Wizarding Wireless Network.”
“Really? I had no idea.” Severus, you insensitive bastard! Clancy stewed inwardly. You have the ability to read thoughts, yet after knowing me three years, you haven’t developed a whit of intuition when it comes to my needs. Did it never occur to you that a musician might enjoy listening to a wizard’s wireless?
After inviting Eloise to take a seat by the fire, Clancy excused herself to the bathroom, eager to dress for the ball. When she removed the lid from the box, her face fell. Albus Dumbledore was a very powerful wizard with transfiguration skills that were unsurpassed. Unfortunately, he could be quite literal at times. Either that or his sense of humor left much to be desired. Instead of the stylish-but-understated camel-colored suit Clancy had envisioned, she found in its place a camel suit, or costume rather, replete with two humps and a detachable head. Spying a note enclosed, she unfolded it and began to read.
This has been a most hectic week. Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m rather proud of my efforts, and I hope you will be pleased. I suspect once Hogwarts discovers the charm of your Bactrian finery, camel suits will be in vogue. You are sure to be a welcome oasis of pulchritude in a desert of dreary dress robes.
Happy Christmas!
Albus
P.S. Mambo or bossa nova? Your choice.
Clancy could almost see the maddening twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes as he’d penned the postscript.
With time running short, and loath to hurt her employer’s feelings, she donned the suit, deciding to try to make the best of an embarrassing situation. The camel head was a bit cumbersome, and it took her a while to steady her balance. She studied her reflection in the mirror. The ship of the desert wore a malicious glint in its eyes, and she could imagine Dumbledore charming it to spit on the downbeat, as they took their positions on the dance floor. And what to do about the tail? It had been padded to jut out behind her at a most peculiar angle, presenting a challenge as to how she might seat herself comfortably at dinner.
When Clancy emerged from the bathroom, Eloise discreetly said little, but as they entered the Great Hall a short while later, and passed a group of fourth-year boys, they heard one of them snigger, “Look what Mrs. Norris dragged in: Bumps and Humps “ the belles of the ball!”
Eloise lost her nerve and made a motion to turn toward the door, but Clancy caught her by the arm.
“Don’t worry, Eloise. I have a phial of Acne Potion in my bag. Professor Snape said it’s best to drink it on a full stomach, so I’ll give it to you after dinner.”
Pulling Eloise along, Clancy selected seats at one of the staff tables, then they waited for the rest of the students to file in and find their places. They found their table set with golden plates and small menus. From a short distance away, she heard Dumbledore call out “Pork chops!” McGonagall ordered roast beef, along with Neeps and Tatties.
“Sounds good to me,” Clancy decided, so she ordered the same, and the food appeared magically before her.
After dinner, Dumbledore commanded everyone to rise, and then moved the tables toward the walls with a wave of his hand. A stage appeared, set with an odd assortment of musical instruments, and soon a ragged group of scruffy young wizards in torn black robes entered to wild applause. The lanterns on the tables went out, and the Triwizard contestants and their dates took their places on the dance floor. Clancy looked around for Snape, but he was nowhere in sight.
“Who are those musicians?” Clancy whispered to Eloise.
“They’re The Weird Sisters, Miss Norgard,” Eloise explained, never taking her eyes off the bagpipe player.
“But they’re males!”
“Yes, they certainly are!” Eloise sighed dreamily. “Isn’t he handsome?”
“Who?”
“Gideon Crumb, the one playing the bagpipes. All the Hufflepuff girls are in love with him.”
Clancy took a hard look at him, but all she saw was a poorly groomed man in his early twenties, dressed in black with hair hanging in his face. “Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” she said with a shrug. She was enjoying watching Eloise’s excitement, however.
The Weird Sisters’ strange instrumentation sounded foreign to Clancy’s ears, so she did her best to tune out their noise. It amused her to discover that “Gideon Crumb” was an anagram for microbe dung, but she remembered Aunt Hilly’s rebuke, and held her tongue.
Eloise continued to gaze adoringly at Crumb, while Clancy watched the dancers. Dumbledore waltzed by with Madame Maxime, who, despite her size, seemed quite graceful. She regarded Clancy questioningly, and asked, “Un chameau?”
Clancy’s high school French was a bit rusty, so she assumed the headmistress was in need of reassurance that she didn’t look like Shamu, the killer whale. Trying to be supportive, she called out encouragingly, “As long as you wear lavender silk, you don’t look like a whale, but if you’re self-conscious, just avoid black and white. Honi soit qui mal y pense!” she added cheerfully for good measure. Dumbledore made a sharp pivot and spun his partner quickly across the room.
She heard someone clearing his throat behind her, and turned to find Professor Flitwick grinning up at her.
“Clancy, you’re the loveliest camel in the room,” he said, making a courtly bow. “I don’t suppose you’d favor an old man with a dance, would you?”
“Thank you, Filius, but I don’t see how “”
“Suppose you leave that up to me.”
Clancy excused herself to Eloise, who was still staring at Crumb and his bagpipes, and joined Flitwick on the dance floor. Applying a Levitation Charm to himself, he instructed her to latch onto him, before he reached the ceiling.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to lead,” he told her.
She tried a few simple box steps and an underarm turn, then stopped. “Filius, I feel absolutely ridiculous. It’s nothing to do with you; it’s this camel suit. I feel as though everyone is staring at me.”
“I wasn’t going to mention it, but since you’ve brought it up, why are you dressed in a camel suit?”
“I asked Albus to transfigure a camel-colored suit for me, since Severus doesn’t want me to shop in Hogsmeade, but he must have misunderstood. I only wore it so I wouldn’t hurt his feelings.”
“Clancy, you’re very kind to consider his feelings, but I think he would understand if I were to transfigure something more appropriate for you.”
She looked around, nervously. “Right here, in front of all these people?”
“Of course not,” Flitwick laughed. He released himself from the Levitation Charm and led her into the rose garden, where they strolled along a winding path lit with fairy lights, until they found a secluded bench backed by a tall hedge. On the other side of the hedge, Snape sat morosely, trying his best to hide from Professor Karkaroff. He pricked his ears when he heard Clancy’s and Flitwick’s voices coming from behind the shrubbery.
“Tell me what you would like, Clancy.”
“Whatever you want to do is fine with me, Filius. Just get me out of these clothes as quickly as possible, all right?”
“All right, my dear. But you’ll have to be patient. It’s been years since I’ve done anything like this, but I imagine it’s just like mounting a broomstick. Once you’ve learned, you never forget.”
“I’m just glad Severus didn’t see us a moment ago, while I was trying to keep you up and twirling you around.”
Snape was beyond rage. He pushed apart the hedge, trying to peer through it, but just then, Karkaroff appeared behind him. After blasting a perfectly lovely rosebush to smithereens, he skulked away with the dour Durmstrang headmaster dogging his every step.
Flitwick transfigured Clancy’s camel suit into a pale pink gossamer gown. It was a bit frilly for her taste, but certainly preferable to her previous attire. He even threw in a pair of matching low-heeled shoes. On the hedge behind them, a foul, black beetle crawled along, before flying off to land on a stone reindeer.
When they returned to the Great Hall, Flitwick proposed, “Now that you’re more comfortable, shall we try it another way?”
Before she could voice an opinion, the tiny wizard withdrew his wand, aimed it at his obliging colleague, and applied a Shrinking Charm. Seconds later, Clancy found herself at eyelevel with her partner. The Weird Sisters began playing a number that reminded her of a cross between ragtime and reggae, and before she knew it, she was doing the Lambeth Walk!
“Not bad for an old-timer, eh, Clancy?” Flitwick queried, fishing for a compliment.
“No, actually, not bad at “” she stopped speaking, realizing that her voice was now every bit as high-pitched and squeaky as Flitwick’s. “Filius, you are planning to remove the charm after this dance, aren’t you?” she asked as they strutted along. “I feel like a member in good standing of the Lullaby League.”
“Sorry?”
“Just ignore me. I was having a munchkin … er … a Muggle moment.”
When the dance ended, Flitwick kissed her hand, then half-heartedly removed the charm, and watched sadly as Clancy resumed her normal stature. He escorted her back to Eloise, and then took off to find his next partner.
“Eloise,” Clancy said, reaching into her bag, “you can drink the potion now.”
Eloise nodded distractedly, still watching Crumb. Clancy grabbed a butterbeer from the buffet, added the potion, and then handed it to Eloise. “Drink up,” she told the girl, “I’ll be right back.”
The Weird Sisters were taking a short break between numbers, so Clancy approached their leader. Eloise stood a distance away, straining to hear what they were discussing. She hoped that her Choir teacher would return with autographs for her, but alas, she came back empty-handed.
Looking very pleased, Clancy rejoined Eloise. “Your skin is already clear! Professor Snape’s potion works better every time.”
“What good does it do to have clear skin when I don’t have a date for the ball, and you couldn’t even get The Weird Sisters’ autographs for me?” she pouted.
“Now, Eloise. That’s no way to think. The night is young -- anything might happen!”
The disappointed young Hufflepuff cocked her head curiously at Clancy, noticing for the first time that her teacher had changed clothes. Before she could comment, Professor Dumbledore sashayed over, nodded politely to Eloise, and whisked Clancy back to the dance floor.
“Cancan, Dr. Glory?”
“Have you been sampling the mulled mead, Albus? The cancan is not a ballroom dance, and, who is Dr. Glory?”
“I was merely making a joke. I thought surely you’d recognize an anagram of your own name,” he scolded playfully. “Always keep up with your anagrams, Clancy. You never know … they might prove useful one day.”
Clancy barely had time to laugh at her obtuseness, when the lanterns dimmed once more, and The Weird Sisters returned to the stage.
“Did you make the arrangements?” Dumbledore whispered.
She nodded.
There was a drum roll, and then the guitarist stepped forward. “Will Miss Eloise Midgen please come up to the stage?”
All eyes turned to Eloise, who appeared to be frozen from the shock of hearing her name announced. Clancy and Dumbledore had to rush over and physically help her climb the platform.
“What would you like to sing, love?” the guitarist, Kirley Duke, asked her.
Nearly catatonic, Eloise managed to stammer, “H-H-Havlay…i-i-iblen…ammerlamel.”
“Can you play 'Blame It On the Bossa Nova'?” Clancy suggested.
“Sure we can. We have magical fake books. We can play anything.”
“Can you play 'Far, Far Away'?” Dumbledore quipped, but only Clancy appreciated his jest.
Giving Eloise a quick hug, Clancy whispered in her ear, “Trust yourself. You can do this,” before following Dumbledore back to the dance floor.
“Do you know how to do the bossa nova, Clancy?” Dumbledore asked her.
“No,” she admitted brightly, “but it’s never stopped me before.”
The guitar twanged, the bagpipes wheezed, Crumb gave Eloise an encouraging wink, and there was no turning back. After an eight-bar introduction, Eloise began to sing.
“I was at a dance, when he caught my eye,
Standing all alone, looking sad and shy.
We began to dance, swaying to and fro,
And soon I knew I'd never let him go.”
None of the students had the vaguest notion how to dance the bossa nova, so they cleared the floor to marvel at the terpsichorean techniques of their headmaster.
The beat was intoxicating, though, and soon everyone had joined in. Flitwick noted that Hagrid had left the ball, and Madame Maxime had just returned looking quite annoyed. He approached her, keen to cheer her mood.
“May I have this dance?” he inquired politely.
She agreed reluctantly, but when Flitwick applied the Levitation Charm, he banged his head on her bosom and was knocked out cold.
When the song ended, everyone applauded loudly for Eloise. For the rest of the evening, The Weird Sisters performed sans bagpipes, and Eloise found herself whirling around the dance floor in the arms of the Weird Sister of her dreams.
At midnight, the ball ended. The Weird Sisters invited Eloise to tour with them during her summer holiday, and Crumb gave her a chaste kiss beneath the mistletoe. Dumbledore apologized to Clancy for his fashion faux pas, and poor Professor Flitwick spent the night in the hospital wing, recovering from a mild concussion.
For the next week, Snape did not come to Clancy’s room in the evenings. He deliberately avoided her, and she wasn’t sure why. They’d had worse spats than the one on Christmas morning, but they would always come to terms sooner or later. She wondered why he was being so stubborn. Then, unexpectedly, on the first day classes resumed, he Flooed to her quarters. Still asleep, she was awakened by a loud CRACK, as Snape slammed a copy of the Daily Prophet down on the bed.
“How dare you disgrace me!” he roared.
“Either tell me what you’re talking about, or go away and let me sleep,” she groaned.
“I suggest you sit up and read this!”
“Very well, if it will calm you down.” She stretched lazily, and then reached for the paper.
“Dumbledore’s Giant Mistake?” she asked, glancing at the front page.
“Not that. Turn to page nine.”
“After Christmas Sale at the Saucy Sorceress? ‘Lacy lingerie, half-off. A wide selection of undergarments that will surely give you a leg up on the competition’,” she read. “Sounds intriguing. I don’t believe I could have phrased it better myself.”
“This is no time for comedy! I am referring to the article by Teresa Kiter.”
“Teresa Kiter … Teresa Kiter … hmm. Severus, did you know that ‘Teresa Kiter’ is an anagram for Rita Skeeter?”
“No, but I can’t say that I’m surprised! Read the article, and then you and your blasted anagrams can go to blazes!”
In calm defiance of Snape’s temper, Clancy plumped up her pillow against the headboard, positioned herself comfortably, and began to peruse Kiter’s column.
Albus Dumbledore, once the greatest wizard of our time, has finally gone ‘round the bend. It would seem the aging headmaster’s mental hourglass has lost its last ruby. We are saddened to report the decline of his faculties, but what other explanation can there possibly be for the shocking lack of decorum at Hogwarts’ Yule Ball?
As part of a series of holiday events planned to pay tribute to the prestigious Triwizard Tournament competitors, the Yule Ball was attended by the delegations from the distinguished European Wizarding schools, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. What must our guests think of us now?
Yet another example of Dumbledore’s glaring lapses in judgment was the appointment of Hogwarts Choir Director Clancy Norgard in September of 1992. Was it mere coincidence that soon after she joined the staff, the Chamber of Secrets was opened? Perhaps it was the result of Hogwarts esteemed founders rolling over in their graves at the thought of a Muggle teaching at their illustrious school.
To add insult to injury, not only is Miss Norgard a Muggle, but she is also an American. And an American of the lowest order “ a Californian. We also can’t help but wonder why Dumbledore made special arrangements for her to see the castle. Isn’t Hogwarts supposed to be bewitched to protect our world from her kind?
We must also question why a school of magic needs a choir. True, the classes are voluntary, but if the only way she can teach students to sing is by prevailing upon the headmaster to hex them into canaries, then surely her credentials leave much to be desired. If this were not enough of a reason to call for her discharge, then surely her conduct at the Yule Ball is the straw that broke the camel’s back. In the rose garden, she was overheard blatantly soliciting one of her colleagues, asking him to remove her clothes and to engage in inappropriate activities. Moreover, she admitted to fondling him.
We call upon the board of governors and all concerned citizens to decide if this is the type of person they want teaching in our community. Might we suggest a magical tar and feathering and a one-way ticket home on the Hogwarts Express? Muggle, American, and Californian “ the true Unforgivables, in this reporter’s humble opinion.
Casually, Clancy laid down the paper. “And your point would be?” she asked Snape.
“My point would be,” he seethed, “that if none of this is true, HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN IT?”
“Severus, surely you’re not going to convict me on circumstantial evidence!” Regarding him disapprovingly, she added, “I certainly hope the day never comes when you do something that has a perfectly logical explanation and people believe the worst of you!”
“I am still waiting for you to explain!”
“Why should I? A few moments ago, you told me to go to blazes. Besides, this entire misunderstanding is your fault.”
“MY FAULT?”
“If you’d allowed me to shop in Hogsmeade, I wouldn’t have had to ask Albus to transfigure something for me to wear to the ball. He made an honest mistake and sent me a camel suit. I felt so conspicuous, Filius volunteered to transfigure it into something more appropriate. I didn’t ask him to remove my clothes. He transfigured them while I was wearing them. It’s as simple as that.”
“Simple indeed! How do you account for twirling Flitwick around by his bits?” Snape fumed.
“As I recall, the article said ‘fondling’. Where are you getting your erroneous information?”
“I was on the other side of the hedge. I overheard every word you said!”
“You were spying on me?”
“I am not a spy!”
“Then you confess that you are still a Death Eater and you’re not helping Dumbledore?”
“I didn’t mean that! I meant that I wasn’t spying on you last night!”
“Ah, then you see how easy it is to have one’s words misconstrued? I suggest you learn to weigh your words more carefully, Severus, or you may find yourself in quite a predicament one day.”
“Stop your bloody evasions and answer my question! What were you and Flitwick up to?”
“All we were doing was dancing. He levitated himself so we’d be at eye-level. His feet were off the ground, so naturally, I had to lead. For heaven’s sake! I was twirling him by his arm “ not by his wee Neeps and Tatties.”
“Is that the truth?” Snape demanded.
“Of course it’s the truth. Honestly, Severus, if you don’t trust me by now, I guess you never will. How could you possibly think such a thing? Filius must be seventy-five if he’s a day.”
Snape let out a derisive snort. “He’s closer to Dumbledore’s age, I’ll wager.”
“All right, eighty, then.”
Snape shook his head in disbelief at her ignorance. “In the future, try to be more discreet.”
“I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. You were at the Yule Concert. Everything Kiter wrote about me was a complete fabrication. You know that. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out how Filius and I were overheard in the rose garden.”
Finally able to control his temper, Snape seated himself on the edge of the bed. “I was able to overhear you, so apparently others were able to, as well. We’ll just forget about it,” he decided, before leaning in for a kiss.
“Not so fast!” she protested. “First, you owe me an apology. Two, actually. One for this morning, and one for your peevishness on Christmas.”
“I will apologize for drawing the wrong conclusion about you and Flitwick, but I will not apologize for Christmas. You present me with the most useless gift imaginable, and then you proceed to use my gift to you as a weapon against me!”
“As I told you before,” she reminded him, her voice becoming more strident, “my options were limited. You were lucky to receive anything from me at all! But since you’ve already set it ablaze, it’s rather moot at the moment, isn’t it?”
“At least my gift to you was practical. You may need that luggage soon,” he informed her dangerously.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, it would be wise for you to return to your own world before your injudicious behavior lands you in serious trouble!”
“Was it on sale?”
“What if it was?” Snape returned defensively. “Is frugality a crime?”
“Not necessarily “ but colorblindness should be!”
“Well, chuck it out, then, if you find it so repugnant.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I intend to keep it as a monument to your bad taste “ and mine!”
“Need I remind you that I spent a small fortune on you last Valentine’s Day?”
“Need I remind you that your reason for doing so was completely juvenile? Which further reminds me, Albus told me Remus has been writing letters to me that I haven’t been receiving. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Clancy studied Snape’s face closely, as if daring him to lie.
“I do not give my trust easily. I have been monitoring your post to ensure that you have been faithful to me, and I must say I am deeply disappointed.”
“Monitoring? I call it stealing! I have been faithful to you! What could Remus have possibly said in his letters to make you think otherwise?”
“You promised me you wouldn’t discuss our personal relationship with him.”
“I haven’t, to the best of my knowledge. What are you referring to?”
“He mentioned the anagram I told you about from my dream. He said he hasn’t been able to solve it yet “ have you?”
“No. To be perfectly truthful, I’d forgotten all about it. I happened to mention it to him at lunch that day, right after you’d spoken with me. He enjoys solving anagrams too. I didn’t see any harm in it. Is that all you found in his letters to upset you?”
“Yes, that’s all. But anything I tell you in confidence is not to be repeated. Is that clear?”
“All right, Severus. I didn’t realize at the time you considered it confidential. I’m sorry. But that’s still no excuse for your pilfering my post.”
“It won’t happen again,” Snape assured her.
“I know it won’t. Albus has already taken care of that.”
“He suspects me?” Snape inquired cautiously.
“He may, but he didn’t come right out and say so.”
Snape rose, and paced about the room, deep in thought. After a time, he reseated himself on the bed.
“Dumbledore has always trusted me. There is no reason he should stop doing so now.”
“I agree. And in spite of your many failings, Severus, Albus’s opinion of you is good enough for me. Anyone who looks as sinister as you must surely be honorable. Otherwise, there would be no irony left in the world.”
“Clancy,” Snape began, turning serious, “if I were ever to do something that seemed completely indefensible that caused everyone to lose faith in me -- would you still believe in me?”
“I’ll always believe in you, Severus.” Clancy pulled him close and snuggled into his arms. “It’s not your fault you have deplorable taste in luggage.”
AUTHOR’S NOTES:
Blame It On The Bossa Nova
~ by Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil
The Lambeth Walk: A Cockney dance that was popular in the late 1930s. For instruction on how to execute a proper Lambeth Walk, you may visit this site: http://www.vauxhallsociety.org.uk/LambethDoing.html
Now, all you have to do is find a partner!
The bossa nova: It’s very similar to the mambo, actually, but if you must know more, and I can’t for the life of me imagine why you’d care to, you may visit this site for a detailed explanation: http://www.crank.com/html/crank3/crank3_bossa2.html
Re: Madame Maxime’s remark to Clancy, “Un chameau?” The translation is, “A camel?”
Special thanks to LariLee for beta reading.