Chapter Six
A New Prince.
Maeve chose to walk back to the guesthouse once she was clear of the trees. The morning was so bright and so perfect in its effortless cheer that she enjoyed the opportunity to stretch her legs along the empty, still-damp, pavements of Whitby. It took her just ten minutes to cover the distance from Severus’ hiding place to the dainty front door of Madam Marb’s place of business. The door was already open when she arrived and a tall, pale-faced man was just stepping out into the fresh blast of the new day. He gave her a swift look, allowing her a glimpse of soulless grey eyes that quickly averted themselves from her gaze. Surely it wasn’t her imagination that made her believe he had been nervous, avoiding her as he hurried past and down the steps. His cloak brushed against her face as he struggled to avoid contact and she shuddered at its stroke.
Fortunately the vigorous figure of Madam Marb was absent from reception and she was able to slip, unnoticed, back to their room. It was still only just after six and she prayed that Remus was tired enough from the late night to still be sleeping. Opening the door, to her dismay, she found he was most defiantly awake. He was sitting in the chair by the window, his face a closed mask of disapproval.
“Oh,” she said, wary of his reaction to her absence. “I thought you would still be sleeping.”
“I haven’t been asleep since around four, when I awoke to find you gone and no explanation of your absence.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I had to go for a walk and found myself looking for Severus.” She didn’t know why she neglected to mention the Patronus. Somewhere at the back of her temples a headache was beginning to rouse itself, stretching across her sleep-deprived mind.
“Just like that?” he said sourly. “You didn’t think to wake me? Didn’t even think to let me know you were going out? I am very disappointed, Maeve.” A shadow of something indefinable drifted through the stale room. It cloyed at Remus, making his voice sharp.
“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you, but you where tired last night and the need to see Severus was just too much for me to resist. You know it’s not that I don’t trust you; I just didn’t know how I would react to him. I needed to be alone for that first meeting.” Her hand began to absently massage her forehead.
“Did you not stop to think that I would be worried, would possibly come and look for you?” Remus stood up, his seated position giving Maeve a natural advantage that made him feel ill-equipped to be quite as forceful as he had intended.
After a night without sleep, Maeve’s patience was wearing thin and she heard a whining note in Remus’ voice that triggered an unusual bout of temper. “You are not my husband or my keeper, Remus.” She glared at him reproachfully. “I had to go and see my husband. He wanted me and I went. I thought I would be back before you woke. I didn’t intentionally set out to worry you.” Her words were as choppy as the axe that was beginning to break through her normal thought processes, common sense fleeing from the sharp blade of her headache.
“You are overly-fond of taking it upon yourself to run around with no protection. You seem to give little thought to the people that care about you and it wouldn’t be the first time that you got yourself into trouble on one of these wild-goose chases.” Remus was unaware of her rising impatience, or her throbbing head, and so didn’t relent in his admonitions.
Maeve’s mouth fell open at the injustice of what he was saying. She thought of the wild-goose chase that had saved Remus’ life, the wild-goose chase that had meant she could speak with Severus’ mother before she died, the wild-goose chase across a frozen lake that had resulted in her trying to save the phantom Remus from a phantom attacker. And she knew that if she opened her mouth to speak she would say something that would simply force them further apart. In her heart she acknowledged that she should have left him a note, but his reaction made her feel suffocated at a time when she needed to concentrate her thoughts on her husband.
Remus finally seemed to realise he had gone too far and his face lost some of its rigidity. An apology was about to fall from his lips, but Maeve was too full of indignation and didn’t allow him to speak. “I’m going to pay for the room and then I’m going to - I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’ll see you back at Hogwarts after the funeral.”
“Maeve,” he said, trying to make this right before she left. “I was worried.”
“Then don’t. It’s a waste of emotion.” She continued towards the door, her head bowed from the pain.
“Don’t rush off again.” Remus allowed a desperate tone to reach into his voice. He knew he should be a little less possessive of her whereabouts but she could have got herself into all kinds of trouble wandering off on her own. “I’ll stay with you until you sort this out and there will be no more talk of what happened tonight.”
“I’m tired, I have things to do, and this was a mistake. You don’t believe Severus is innocent. You think I’ve been hopelessly deceived by him. The more I think about it, the more I wonder why you were so keen to come with me.”
“That’s not true! I was captious about Severus; I tried to consider the options available to him.”
“You over-reacted to me going to see him. Why was that? Did you want to see the place for yourself? Did you want to betray him? Take revenge for your friends, Sirius and James?” There was a hysterical edge to Maeve that Remus had never seen before. Her face was growing increasingly flushed as she planted her feet firmly on the moral high-ground.
“No.” Remus began to tread carefully, becoming increasingly concerned by her sudden irrational attitude. “Maeve, what’s really wrong? This isn’t like you.”
“I’m fed up with all this!” she screeched. “I want to forget about Dumbledore and the war, and Horcruxes, and Harry. I just want to go home. I want things to be the way they were before.”
“Calm down,” he said gently. “You don’t mean these things. Tiredness has taken it out of you. Come and sit down and let me make you a drink.”
“I don’t want you to make me a drink. I don’t want anything from you. I’ll see you at Hogwarts.”
And leaving her cold words frosting the air she stalked out of the room and back downstairs, abandoning a shell-shocked Remus who wondered what he had done that was so wrong.
Madam Marb was once again in her sentry position by the desk and raised a smile for Maeve, who didn’t seem to notice. Doris was awake and looking at the irate witch with beady black eyes. To Maeve’s pain-blurred sight it seemed the bird was judging her.
“How much do I owe you for the night?” she asked in a very curt manner.
“Going so soon?” Madam Marb was used to people staying just one night, but not used to people abandoning their roommates. “There’s breakfast waiting in the dining room.” She waved a scarlet-clad arm towards a rose-pattered door from behind which came the smell of hot toast and frying bacon. “And I think you over-did it with the rouge this morning, bit too much on your right cheek.”
“I’m not hungry,” Maeve snapped, the smell of food making her stomach howl in protest at her self-sacrificing words. “How much?”
“Goodness, you can’t have slept well to have got up in such a temper.” Running a long talon down the list of room tariffs, something she really didn’t need to do, as she knew the price and every variation thereof for every room in the establishment. “That’ll be 13 Galleons and 5 Sickles. Will your young man be staying on?”
“I have no idea,” Maeve said, disinterest apparent from the casual roll of her eyes.
“Oh dear,” the other woman said, sympathy welling up in her chest. “Had a bit of a tiff, my lovely? Husbands can be so difficult. My Archie was a devil when he caught a sniff of a barmaid’s apron. He’ll come round, don’t you worry. My Auntie Flora always used to say -”
But Maeve wasn’t interested in what Auntie Flora said, nor was she interested in listening to any more of Madam Marb’s waffle. She quickly handed over 14 Galleons and told her to keep the change before heading for the door and away from this pink nightmare that was beginning to make her eyes burn.
Just as she was about to step into the sun again, Madam Marb spoke.
“Has your husband’s friend left then?”
Maeve looked at her quizzically. “Friend?”
“That sickly-looking young man with those eyes that blow through you like a raw wind. He was up there when I went to put the bacon on. Oh!” Her attention was suddenly wrenched away from Remus’ mysterious visitor. “My bacon!” With a huge wave of strawberry robes she pushed open the rosy door and was gone.
It was very early for most people. The town was still wearing some of its sleepiness as Maeve tasted the salty sea on her lips. The harbour was dotted with boats but no one seemed to be taking them out or bringing any back in. Her head was aching more and more and as she brushed a wave of hair back from her face she could feel that her cheek was flushed with heat. Moving away from the sea front and up into the town she wondered what Severus would be doing now. It was high time he ditched Draco and got on with his own life. Skivying around after the likes of the Malfoys was humiliating when he could be his own man ”was his own man. She pushed her way past two old women who were out having an early morning amble, causing one to drop her bag, but Maeve wasn’t interested in feeble old ladies.
“Fine morning, my darling!” The gruff voice broke into her thoughts and she stopped to see a toothless old man watching her from his seat outside a café. “Buy you a cup of tea?”
“No thanks, I’m hardly likely to be seen talking to strange old men, am I?” she said scornfully, beginning to feel uneasy in this strange place that was filled with odd people.
“You look frozen. One cup of tea with an old man won’t do any harm now, will it? You might go away wiser than you are at the moment.” He gave her an exaggerated wink and Maeve felt a little chill of apprehension crawl down her spine. Her head felt as if it was being wrenched open slowly by a very rusty tin opener. Sounds filtered through her ears but the rush of pain that coursed through her veins distorted them.
“No, really.” She turned, staggered a little and began to hurry away, her shoes making an unsteady ring on the stone slabs beneath her feet.
“They know you’re here,” he called after her. “I’d watch your back. Looks to me like you’ve already met one of them!”
Maeve kept going, her sense of direction abandoning her as she fought against the labyrinthine streets that led her nowhere. What did the old man mean? Who were “they”? Did he mean Voldemort? She could feel anger rising, the same feeling of irrationality that had caused her to be so volcanic with Remus. As she rounded a particularly sharp bend her cloak caught on the tip of an iron railing, yanking her back with such a snap that it almost choked her. Before she could even begin struggling to free herself she felt the fabric release her and she staggered forward into Severus’ familiar arms.
“What are you doing wandering around?” he said in an angry voice. “And what is that?” He grabbed her chin and tipped her right cheek towards him. His face darkened as he took in the now livid flash of red that scarred her cheek. “Who have you been in contact with?”
“No one,” she said, the pendulum of her emotions still swinging wildly. “Remus was being a complete arse so I left him and now I’m lost and some old man has just told me that ‘they’ know I am here.”
Severus quickly scooped her into a gloomy shop doorway that smelt of stale urine and was littered with old pizza cartons and chip wrappers. His nostrils flared in disgust at the smell of Muggle debris as he withdrew his wand. He pointed it at her face and she could feel the heat disappear, eaten away by a cooling balm that also made her headache evaporate. Her ears popped slightly and sound rushed in, a kaleidoscope of clarity that made her feel euphoric. “You have been in contact with someone, someone who is so corrupt that they have left their mark on you. Was the old man sitting outside a café, by any chance?”
“Yes, yes he was, down at the foot of the hill. But what do you mean about -” Severus was confusing her with his rapid-fire change of tack.
“And what exactly did he say?” Severus ignored her plea for further explanation about her now-extinct malady.
“Just that. He said they knew I was here.”
The gloomy doorway almost disguised the look of dismay on his face. “I shouldn’t have called you here. I thought enough time had passed, thought you would get here undetected. I was foolish. They’ve found you already.” He stroked a finger down her clear cheek.
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“A group of Death Eaters that are especially good at instilling fear into all they come across. The Dark Lord refers to them as his new princes because they, more than any others, believe that the end justifies the means and will use whatever methods available to them to gain their particular ends. If they know you are here they are being very restrained. I would have assumed they would take no chances with you.”
“Thanks for the uplifting words,” she grimaced. “My head feels a bit light.” She reached for his arm to steady her as she could feel the giddiness increase.
“That’s the corruption leaving your mind. When you said that Lupin was being difficult, what exactly happened?”
As she told him about the argument she had had with Remus a slow smile spread across his face. “Amusing that it should have been Lupin that suffered the effects of your ill-temper. He’ll forgive you, of course; he forgives everyone. In his position he doesn’t really have the choice.”
She frowned at him, but allowed the jibe at Remus to pass without comment. “So what do we do now? Is Draco still where he was earlier?”
“Yes, he’ll have to be moved, of course. I wonder if it is worth taking him back to Malfoy Manor.”
“Are you mad?” she gasped. “That’s the first place they will look for him. You might as well hand him directly to Voldemort.”
“Yes, well that would be true had I not received news this morning that Malfoy Manor was searched by Death Eaters in the early hours of this morning. They would have been stripping the silk walls as we spoke. What better place to conceal a fugitive than the one place the Dark Lord is sure he is not hiding in?”
Maeve looked doubtful but had to concede that there was a small degree of sense in what Severus was saying. If nothing else it would give Draco a few days grace before he had to be moved again. Severus was deep in thought and she took the opportunity to study his profile, framed by the rising light from the street. It wasn’t a handsome face by anyone’s standards but there was an indefatigable quality in his hooded eyes that gave her a feeling of intense reassurance. The hard set of his mouth and pale slope of his cheeks made her feel that she was coming home every time she looked at him. And when he turned black eyes to her she was wrapped in their love. A love that sometimes didn’t express itself that well but was nevertheless there.
“You’ll need to leave separately. Use your new party-trick to go to Hogwarts. I need you there anyway for the first attempt at retrieving the Horcrux in Hufflepuff’s cup.”
“The cup is at Hogwarts?” She was well practised at looking amazed now. The expression was almost permanent on her pallid features.
“I believe so. I have acquired information that suggests it was under Dumbledore’s nose all the time.”
“If it was under his nose then it must have been under yours too,” she pointed out.
“Indeed,” he murmured, quickly glossing over this fact. “Nevertheless, I will not be risking Hogwarts’ walls for quite some time and do not, therefore, have the luxury of confirming my information.” He paused, his face was ragged with grief, as if what he was about to say caused him more pain than he could stand. “I need you, with Potter, to retrieve that Horcrux and destroy it. You understand the implications of this?”
“Professor Dumbledore died retrieving a Horcrux. I think that makes it plain how dangerous this could be. But I have a task to fulfil anyway; no doubt that will prove equally as dangerous.”
Severus looked away from her; whether it was because of her possible death or something else, Maeve couldn’t tell. She found his fingers with her own and brought his attention back to her.
“I will communicate with you there,” he said, frustration making his voice pin-sharp. “I know this time apart is not convenient, and not what we would have wished for so soon after our marriage. Unfortunately it is a by-product of the Dark Lord’s meddling and one I wish I could undo.” His eyes fell to her throat, to the heavy weight that hung there and he frowned.
“It’s not your fault,” she reassured him, as she angled her face for a farewell kiss. “Will you be able to remove Draco safely?”
“I will if you can draw your audience far away enough to allow me to Disapparate to the boathouse and collect him. If they are otherwise occupied, they will be less likely to be looking for me.”
The thought of wandering through Whitby with the crème de la crème of the Death Eaters on her tail wasn’t exactly her idea of a fun day at the seaside but if it saved Severus from being apprehended then she would have to grit her teeth and get on with it. She nodded, stealing one last solid hug from her husband.
“Go on then,” she insisted, not wanting to show him her distress at leaving him again so soon. “I’ll go straight to Hogwarts. How will you communicate?”
“We’ll see. I’ll find a secure way.” He hesitated, not wishing to terminate the meeting but knowing he must. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks at any point.”
She shook her head, pressing her lips together to keep the sorrow from rising through them.
“I’ll contact you. Take very good care of yourself, for my sake.” He touched her face and gave her a smile. “And say sorry to Lupin for your earlier behaviour.”
And he was gone, silently Disapparating back to the vibrant carpet of grass and the slowly disintegrating boathouse. The doorway suddenly became devoid of any reassurance and she shivered as the final drops of the dark magic evaporated from her head. Stepping swiftly back into the street she almost collided with the same old women she had already bumped into.
“Well, really!” the one with the purple rinse exclaimed.
“Such a rude and clumsy woman! And these new-agers are usually so polite,” her companion replied tetchily.
“I’m sorry,” Maeve said in her most sincere voice, thinking that they were over-reacting. She had no recollection of them from earlier, nor could she remember the exact features of the old man that had spoken to her. She could vaguely remember leaving Remus, but why had Severus told her to apologise to him?
Walking slowly and with the appearance of having a solid purpose she walked to the top of the smaller hill and turned inland. Whitby sat at the foot of the North Yorkshire moors and it was a very steep climb out of the town towards the ragged flatness of the moor that slumbered restlessly above it. She walked with dogged determination up the incline, her breathing beginning to labour as her lungs fought for air. She had that unsettling feeling of being watched, of someone following at a distance, and she hoped that she was right. If they were observing her then they weren’t watching Severus. Maeve wondered if they could possibly have followed her last night, discovered his whereabouts?
Finally she crested the hill and continued to walk away from the populated safety of the town, her eyes looking for a suitable place to catch the wind and disappear without the Death Eaters knowing what she had done. At the end of the stretch of houses stood a small stone bus-shelter and beside it stood a coach, picking up the thin stream of passengers that had been inhabiting the shelter. As the coach pulled away she hurried towards it and, stepping into its shadow, she quickly focused her mind and in seconds was swept up in the flurry of the vehicle’s wake.
The two Death Eaters that had been following her waited for a few minutes, unsure of her intentions, before approaching the small building. The one with the cold eyes peered into the darkness and scowled as he realised she had gone. Hadn’t they been told she was unable to Apparate? This wasn’t going to look good when they returned to the Dark Lord, not at all. Although none of the Death Eaters were officially considered more important than others, they were definitely regarded as a cut above by most of the younger ones. This would certainly lower their status in the eyes of everyone. As they left the town behind them they carefully blasted a large part of the cliff away, not waiting to witness the effects of their malicious disappointment.
Harry was walking by the lake, his mind not wanting to take in the busy preparations that were going on around him for the funeral. A huge marquee had been erected and filled with chairs in anticipation of the many people wishing to pay their final respects. He had only snatched a quick glimpse through the entrance as he walked past, seen the white flowers that had been placed at the ends of each row of chairs, had recognised the funereal setting. Firenze had tried to talk to him but he had muttered excuses and left the centaur standing alone. Even Hagrid had been unable to get more than a mumbled good afternoon from him.
And now here he was, the late summer sky spread above him, weighing down on him, pregnant with expectation of his next move. The surface of the lake was far from placid today. Heads occasionally broke the mirror of water and the giant squid had also put in an appearance, watching him closely for a moment before disappearing once more to find the kraken. Ron was expected tomorrow, travelling up with his family and Hermione, and in some ways Harry was glad of another evening alone to collect his thoughts. Strains of music began to come from the marquee and he felt their melancholy slip over him, a mantle of mourning that would not be shaken.
Harry flopped down onto a grassy spot that allowed him full view of the lake and allowed him to ignore what was going on behind him. Withdrawing a notebook from his cloak he began to look at the scribbled notes that he had been studiously making over the course of the last few days. He smiled to himself as he thought of how impressed Hermione would have been had he only displayed this much conscientious activity with his homework. He was busy trying to work out the connection between R.A.B and Voldemort when a small voice mumbled a hello. Harry raised his head, a frown of frustration crossing his face that instantly softened when he saw the round face of Neville.
“Hi, Neville. You’re a bit early for school.”
“I know. Gran brought me herself. Said she didn’t trust the Hogwarts Express with Professor Dumbledore gone. She wanted to speak to Professor McGonagall personally before term starts and she thought she could attend the funeral while she was here. Gran always liked a good funeral.” Neville shrugged, as if bemused by this penchant for the morbid.
Harry disguised his sorrow well at the mention of the funeral; converting the grief into quiet anger that he pounded down into the bottom of his heart, ready to be dragged up again when he needed it.
“There’ll be a lot of people here,” he replied. “Dumbledore was a well-respected man.”
“More than anyone else,” Neville agreed, nodding his head. “Have you seen Professor O’Malley? I’ve looked in the staff room and in her office but I can’t find her.”
“She’s not here, not yet anyway. I don’t think she’ll be returning as a teacher this year, Neville. I think what Snape did has ruined her life as well as taken Dumbledore’s.”
Neville’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t think her life is ruined. She could return if she wanted to. What Professor Snape did shouldn’t prevent her from teaching. It’s not like she helped him or anything.”
“That’s quite right, Neville.” The voice made both of them start and Harry jumped to his feet. Maeve stood behind them, her cloak damp and slightly sooty-looking, and her hair dishevelled. “What Severus did would not prevent me from teaching. But I haven’t quite decided what I intend to do yet with regards my future here at Hogwarts. I understand Professor McGonagall is having the usual difficulty finding a replacement for my old job and the Potions position is now seen as a poisoned chalice.”
Harry nodded. He hadn’t really thought too deeply about the vacant teaching posts because they wouldn’t affect him too much, but he did know that, to his knowledge, not many people had stepped forward to fulfil the empty positions.
“You could take the Potions job,” Neville said brightly. “You’d be even better at that than you were at Defence Against the Dark Arts.”
“I hardly think the school wants another Professor Snape teaching Potions at present. Do you, Neville?” Maeve had already rejected the prospect of either her old job or Severus’. The thought of teaching in his dungeon had been too ridiculous given the circumstances.
Harry glanced away from her, not wishing for the reminder that she was no longer Professor O’Malley but instead carried the name of a man he loathed.
“An’ what are you lot doin’ lurkin’ around the lake?” Hagrid was carrying a huge tree trunk across his broad shoulders and lumbering towards them. His eyes peered at them morosely, wanting someone to turn back the clock a week.
“Discussing the numerous teaching vacancies that the school’s managed to acquire,” Maeve said, feeling the discomfit that she knew would be with her permanently if she chose to stay at the school.
“Ah, well.” Hagrid tried to find the words but his half-giant’s mind failed and he coughed loudly to cover his uncertainty. “Bin ‘ard these last few days an’ no mistake. But we ‘ave ter carry on. Be a shame ter lose you. Professor McGonagall mentioned you might not be stayin’”
“I hardly think my presence would be tolerated as a teacher, do you?” Maeve knew she was pushing things. She had to push things to see how far she could rely on people if she were to be Severus’ eyes and ears as they sought out the Horcrux that he believed to be here.
“Well, now, I don’ know about that.” Hagrid looked uncomfortable, shuffling his huge feet across the grass. “I reckon we need as many good teachers as we can get. An’ no matter what they say about yer ‘usband, you were one of the best teachers we ‘ad.”
“You were good, Professor,” Neville said, making Harry grimace at the obvious flattery. “I’d like to have you back. Don’t really care what you teach.” Neville was already growing slightly excited by the idea of his favourite professor teaching Potions, a subject he had not enjoyed overly much so far. “And besides, we should - we need - to stick together, I would have thought, given what we know about you-know-what.” He became a little embarrassed, the yawning gap of the summer making him wonder if everything that had happened with their binding prophecy the previous year was just a figment of his own imagination.
“We’ll have to see.” Maeve gave Neville this small concession while she regretted not discussing the question of her return to school with Severus. “But there are other things I also need to take care of so even if I did return, it might not be for long.”
Harry flushed a little as he realised that she was probably referring to the Horcrux hunt. They would have to discuss it soon and he didn’t want to admit he was no further forward with his mission to find them than he had been the previous day. Harry was no fool, but he had expected to be able to find things in the Pensieve and in the library at Grimmauld Place. What he was starting to fear was the possibility that he would need to re-connect with Voldemort before he could locate them, something that filled him with dread.
“Well, you think on about it, Professor,” Hagrid said, shifting under the weight of the tree. “I’m off ter fix up one of the walls on the stable o’ that ‘orse of yours. Something gave it a good kickin’ las’ night and I’d like ter know what it was.”
“Really?” Maeve looked alarmed. “Was Saoirse hurt?”
“Nah, right as rain, just a bid odd tha’ she never left the stable. Ruddy great ‘ole in the side of the building, an’ all.”
Hagrid nodded to Harry and Neville before shifting his great bulk in the direction of his hut. Neville watched him go with a worried look on his face.
“Should he be messing about building walls with the funeral tomorrow?”
“It’ll help keep his mind off things,” Maeve said. “People usually find it’s best to take their mind of the most painful things.” Looking towards Harry she wondered if he were taking his mind of things or dwelling on them. His very presence by the lake suggested the latter. Harry was there but he was distant and she knew his mind would be tied up with everything but the prophecy that Neville had spoken about earlier. As her mind wandered back to the prediction that Professor Trelawney had made, she wondered how it would fit with the discovery of the Horcruxes. Severus hadn’t even mentioned the necklace or the fact that the three of them had to take on Voldemort in some way. Had Dumbledore’s death overshadowed it? Had the discovery of the Horcruxes meant that her own part in Voldemort’s downfall was now changed to the point that the prophecy had been invalidated?
“Ah, Professor Snape.”
Harry froze for a moment, his face turning fiery red as he tried to tell his ears they had misheard. It was only when Maeve smiled and began to move away did he realise that Professor McGonagall, who had just appeared from the direction of the marquee, was talking to her. Neville looked uncomfortable at Harry’s obvious confusion and suggested that they both walk up to the school and try to persuade the house-elves to feed them.
“I’m not hungry, Neville,” he growled, and stalked away from them, ashamed of his own behaviour and unable to do anything about it. He couldn’t help the boiling hatred he felt, couldn’t help wanting to avenge Dumbledore the way he did.
Stranded, Neville shrugged disappointed shoulders and left the two professors to it. He was still hungry and he’d have to find food on his own if Harry wasn’t prepared to help.
“It’s good to see you made it back. No Remus?” Professor McGonagall seemed to have aged significantly in the past week. Maeve took in the extra lines that crept along beneath tired eyes. The strain of losing a good friend and of taking on the school was worn like a badge of penance on the older witch’s face.
“Erm, no. I think he’s following on. I had to leave in a hurry.” Maeve tried her best to look apologetic.
“Is it worth the trouble of me asking exactly what it was that delayed you?” There was no hope in the headmistress’ voice.
“Not really.”
“Very well. It seems everyone is cultivating their secrets and I fear that it could lead to problems.” Professor McGonagall gave Maeve a shrewd look before turning the conversation swiftly back to her most pressing problem. “I have managed to appoint a new Transfiguration teacher; a young lady from Aberdeen, Aileen McKenzie. She was a highly suitable applicant and was more than happy to take the position.”
“That’s good news,” Maeve said, pleased that at least one problem was solved.
“I also have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher arriving first thing tomorrow, which means I will have to ask you to clear out your things from the classroom.”
“Of course.” Maeve was a little disappointed to learn that the position she had said she did not want to take was now filled. She was just about to ask who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers was when Professor McGonagall smiled.
“What I would like you to do is move your things as far as the Potions Classroom.”
“Oh.” Maeve was now really regretting not speaking to Severus about still teaching at Hogwarts. “I’m not sure that’s what the pupils would want, give the current belief about Severus and what happened.”
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips tightly together, fighting the impulse to speak against the former Potions master. “That’s something that we don’t have the time to indulge in at the moment. I find myself in dire need of a Potions teacher and I also find I have someone more than capable of the job standing before me. I would hope that, as a kindness to me, you would see your way to taking on the position, at least for now.”
“May I have until tomorrow to think about it?” Maeve asked, hoping that Severus would contact her in the meantime.
“Certainly. Let me know when you have made your decision. I would not wish to bind you to a place you would rather leave but it would help me a great deal at this very difficult time. I can continue to look for a replacement if you find the position untenable. I would hate to think that after all Professor Dumbledore has done for you, you would let his school down at a time when it needed help.”
“I’ll think it over tonight and give you my decision in the morning,” she said, regretful that she was not able to be open with her and stung by the quiet barb at the end of Professor McGonagall’s plea for assistance.
Professor McGonagall gave her a curt nod and swirled back towards the marquee. A loud crash shattered the air and the headmistress picked up her skirts and hurried towards the tent to find out what the latest disaster to befall the school was. At least, Maeve reflected, the worst that it could be this time was a broken vase rather than a broken life.
As she walked towards the school she noticed a figure walking up the drive, small case in one hand and cloak hanging over an arm. His head was bowed and she couldn’t make out his expression as he toiled along the gravel. Maeve remembered Severus’ instruction to apologise and began to fret that, in the sway of the stray corruptive force, she had done or said something really awful. It was no good putting it off, she would have to face him sooner rather than later and she found the discomfort of having bad feeling between them too much to contend with.
She hurried across the swathe of grass diagonally and managed to head him off, her feet making no sound on the soft surface. She was almost upon him before he realised he was not alone. As his head rose from his chest she offered him a weak smile filled with remorse, a remorse that came more from her desire to make things right than from any regret over what she might have unwittingly done. He stopped walking and looked at her sadly, unsure, despite the smile, what he should do now that she was here. He had been worried about her since she had stormed from the room and relief at seeing her in one piece overcame any anger he might have borne. Remus carefully placed his case and cloak down on the gravel and watched her warily as she came to halt a few feet away from him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine and the next, I don’t know. I don’t even remember arguing with you but apparently I did.” The words tumbled over one another in their anxiety to please.
“Yes, you did,” he replied, unable to keep a touch of severity out of his voice. “Quite vociferously.”
“I’d been in contact with something, something that made me behave that way. It doesn’t really excuse whatever I said to you, but I am sorry. I hate us not being friends. Hate it when we argue.”
“It was most unpleasant,” Remus said, half-severe and half-guilty as he realised what she had been in contact with. His visitor that morning had left behind such a cloud of evil that he himself had been sickened by it. No wonder then that it had affected Maeve in such a bad way. “But you don’t need to apologise. It obviously wasn’t your fault.” He opened his arms, inviting her in to seal their reconciliation with an embrace. Maeve jumped at the opportunity and felt normality descend again as she and Remus became friends once more. He released her, picked up his things and they walked together towards the castle, companionable silence reigning as they attuned themselves with the sombre atmosphere surrounding them. It wasn’t until they stepped inside the cool hall that Remus spoke again.
“Have you made a decision about your job yet?” he asked.
“No, although Professor McGonagall has filled all but one of the available positions. You’re not coming back to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, are you?” She recalled her failure to ask Professor McGonagall who the new teacher would be.
“No,” he grinned. “I think my days of teaching that particular subject are over. It was only Dumbledore’s constant loyalty that allowed me to teach “ to even attend the school “ and without it I hardy think the school will be the place for me. I’m here now to pay my respects and then I think I will be done with Hogwarts.”
Maeve recognised the sadness behind his words and wondered if she too would be done with Hogwarts after the passing of a few months.
“Professor McGonagall has asked me to teach Potions, at least until she finds a more permanent replacement. I thought the students might find that a little difficult.” Maeve looked to him for an honest opinion.
“Why? I would have thought it would be harder for you than for them.” Remus’ intelligent eyes were well-trained in offering just the right look of sympathy and he employed it well now. Maeve needed to be deflected from her worry for the students but despite his first attempts she still worried about her name.
“I saw Harry’s reaction to Professor McGonagall calling me Professor Snape. I don’t think I could inflict that on the entire school.”
“Harry will not be here. The rest of the school did not bear the same intense loathing for Severus as Harry did. They will just be grateful to have you teach them. I would be more worried about you in that dungeon wondering where your husband is and what danger he is in.” He paused to imagine her in that cold, dreary place and shuddered. He looked into her hopeful eyes and knew he had to be considerably more cheerful for her. “You know, if you were worried about your name, you could always keep your old one, just for teaching.”
“I couldn’t do that,” she said with a sad shake of her head. “It’s bad enough that Severus is bearing the guilt for what happened. I couldn’t deny his name when he needs whatever small sliver of support he can get.”
“No, you’re right. I should not have suggested that.” Remus looked momentarily abashed, his attempt at offering her another option falling flat on its hopeful face. “But I think spending a few months here at Hogwarts would be good for you. It would give you time to re-adjust and decide what you are going to do next.”
“Back again?” The sneering voice insinuated itself into their ears and Maeve gave a little shudder as she turned to face Filch.
“So it would seem, Mr. Filch,” she said, while Remus merely gave a half-smile at the grubby caretaker.
“No husband with you though, eh? Shame that is. He was the only one of you sloppy lot that knew how to teach. Place’ll go to the dogs even more now he’s gone. Still, he did everyone a favour by -”
“That’s enough!” Remus barked in such a ferocious voice that Filch looked momentarily afraid of the force behind it. “I believe you were another that was kept on out of Dumbledore’s kindness, so I suggest you be very careful what you say.”
“Keep your hair on,” he grimaced. “No sense in getting upset, waste your energy, and so close to a full-moon.”
“Don’t you have something unpleasant you could be doing elsewhere?” Maeve said, disgusted that Severus had spent so much time cultivating this man’s trust and complicity.
“Aye. I’ll be off. I’d watch yourselves though.” And with a lusty sniff he wiped a grubby sleeve across his nose and turned his back on them, shuffling away towards his office.
“That man is deeply offensive,” she said as she watched him go.
“He knows a lot about Hogwarts though, an awful lot about Hogwarts.” Remus also found him objectionable but couldn’t help feeling that Filch was just another messy product of poor circumstances.
“Yes, yes I suppose he does know a lot about the school,” Maeve said, her mind shifting to a place where it could regard the creepy man as useful.
As they began to walk towards her rooms there was a loud explosion from the foot of the main staircase and a suit of armour blew across the hallway in several pieces.
“What on earth?” Remus began, turning to survey the messy scene.
“Sorry!” the shuffling figure of Professor Flitwick appeared. “Sorry, new charm’s not quite ready. Don’t worry; I’ll have it cleared up in no time.”
Remus shook his head and smiled down at the Charms professor.
Life was beginning to feel like it was full of monumental explosions that needed tidying up after, be they real or emotional. Maeve couldn’t help wondering where the next one would spring from.