fic: interlude (snape, mcgonagall, g)
Surely hell hath frozen over, or something like that, for I wrote something that wasn't (1) an essay or (2) a personal statement (even though I ought to be assiduously working away on the latter)! Looks like this HP re-read is doing me some good after all.
Title: Interlude
Author: V.M. Bell
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR.
Summary: In the midst of a dark year, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape have a brief chat. Set during PoA.
Rating: G
Characters: McGonagall, Snape
Word Count: 1,147
Author's Note: I dashed out this fic as soon as I finished reading PoA; it was inspired by Professor McGonagall's exchange with Harry after she returns his Firebolt to him in which she says something like, "Do try to win, Potter, because Professor Snape just happened to mention the other day that Slytherin have owned us for the last eight years in Quidditch" (I'm being very liberal with my paraphrase) -- this is my take on that conversation she had with Snape. Many thanks to alexajohnson for looking through this for me, as it has indeed been a while since I've posted any writing for public consumption, though I'm not entirely sure if there is still an audience out there for HP fic!
--
Her cup of tea had long since grown cold -- and the pile of essays lying before her were still unmarked -- when a sudden knock on the door shook Minerva out of her reverie.
"You're not busy, are you?" came the query.
Sitting upright and straightening her papers, she turned around to find Severus, his arms crossed against his chest, lingering near the entrance to the staff room. "No, not at all," she said, gesturing to the empty chair next to her. "And it is the staff room, after all. If I had wanted privacy, I would have taken these essays to my office," she added thoughtfully.
Robes billowing behind him, Severus strode into the room and cast a quick glance at the essays before sitting down. "Ah, the infamous teapot-tortoise exercise -- for third years, am I correct?"
"Indeed. I am surprised that you remember your Transfiguration coursework so well, Severus. I had always been under the impression that you felt no other subject could compare to Potions."
"Well, Minerva, we all have our biases, do we not? But I did care for your subject."
She let out a low chuckle. "You don't fool me. If I remember correctly, you spent most of my classes that year trying to jinx James Potter when his back was turned -- " Severus's eyes narrowed at the mention of his old schoolboy rival " -- and, of course, he and -- "
Suddenly realizing the sensitive nature of the name she was about to utter, Minerva broke off and looked down at the table.
"The criminal Black," Severus offered.
"Yes," she said quietly. "He and Black would return the favor at their earliest convenience." She broke off again, clearing her throat. "Of course, as soon as exams were over, I told Albus that was the last time I would ever willingly teach Gryffindors and Slytherins together in the same class again."
"I've found it to be a very useful arrangement."
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "For needlessly docking points from my students, you mean?"
"For allowing the brilliant to truly shine against the mediocrity of their peers," Severus countered with a light sneer. He opened his mouth to continue -- few things in life brought him greater pleasure than puncturing the pompous self-righteousness of Slytherin's rival House -- but paused as he noticed the rather distant quality in her gaze. "It seems that your tea has grown cold. Care for another cup?"
"That would be lovely."
He left her to her own thoughts as he walked over to the staff room kettle and tapped it with his wand. As the water rose to a boil, he pulled out two slightly chipped mugs from the cabinet and an unlabelled tin of tea leaves. "I'm not entirely sure what kind of tea it is," he muttered as he opened the tin and sniffed its contents. "I don't suppose you mind?"
Minerva shook her head as he finished readying the tea. He returned to the table with the mugs and passed one to her. "Thank you," she said.
They fell silent now, and Minerva watched Severus cradle the mug in his hands and sip the tea slowly. It was strange to think that the wizard before her -- her colleague and a former Death Eater -- had once been a student, taciturn and studious, almost obsessively so. Could she have guessed, during those halcyon years, that he would be among those to fall into the ranks of You-Know-Who? He certainly did not run in the best circles when he was at Hogwarts, but he was a mere child then and we are all permitted our mistakes, or so Albus had told her when she raised the matter with him. In any case, the general quality of one's friends did not seem to be an especially good predictor of the future: Severus had repented his errors, whereas others -- who kept much better company -- had proved to be responsible for the most devastating crimes of all.
Minerva looked up to find Severus staring at her. "Do you ever think about Black?" she asked.
"He passes through my mind occasionally."
She studied his expression more closely, wondering how often their paths may have crossed after they left Hogwarts. She supposed that, as You-Know-Who's servants, they must have seen a great deal of each other. What an irony that was, given the enmity they shared as students, but Minerva had never questioned Severus about his Death Eater past.
"I suppose you and he were never reconciled," she finally remarked.
"No," he said, his tone as indecipherable as ever.
Minerva, however, could not be entirely distracted from the subject. "It's been twelve years, Severus, since he betrayed the Potters -- twelve years, Severus. He was in my House, one of the finest students I've ever had, despite the detentions he may have earned, and I cannot help but wonder, especially now, what must have changed within him for him to have been capable of such a thing -- or perhaps that evil had been there all along, and I was simply too blind to notice it."
Whisking a handkerchief out of her pocket, she looked away to blow her nose and flushed to think that Severus had to witness this display of weakness. To her surprise, he laid a tentative hand on her shoulder; she caught his eye, and even he seemed rather taken aback and quickly let his hand drop.
"Minerva," he began, "you cannot blame yourself for the actions of a madman. It is a long way from the Sorting to the Dark Lord, and let us be honest with ourselves: we, as professors, are only a small part of that."
"Always the pessimist," she commented.
Severus's mouth twitched, which she assumed to be his attempt at good humor. "Well, I suppose I ought to let you get back to those essays," he said after a time.
"Yes, of course, before the next batch of homework is turned in."
As Severus got up to leave, she refocused her attention on the work before her, shaking her head as if to dispel her gloomy thoughts, but she had hardly picked up her quill when he spoke again. "Oh, Minerva."
"Hm?" She looked over her shoulder to find Severus smirking as he stood by the door.
"The best of luck to your House on Saturday. How many years has it been since Gryffindor have won the Quidditch Cup? Eight, I believe?"
"And pride shall ever be the downfall of Slytherin," Minerva offered wryly. "But the best of luck to your House as well -- do you truly think that your front seven can challenge mine?"
The two surveyed each other from across the room for a moment and traded the briefest of smiles. Then Severus left without another word, shutting the door quietly behind him.
--
Signing off, V.M. Bell
Title: Interlude
Author: V.M. Bell
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JKR.
Summary: In the midst of a dark year, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape have a brief chat. Set during PoA.
Rating: G
Characters: McGonagall, Snape
Word Count: 1,147
Author's Note: I dashed out this fic as soon as I finished reading PoA; it was inspired by Professor McGonagall's exchange with Harry after she returns his Firebolt to him in which she says something like, "Do try to win, Potter, because Professor Snape just happened to mention the other day that Slytherin have owned us for the last eight years in Quidditch" (I'm being very liberal with my paraphrase) -- this is my take on that conversation she had with Snape. Many thanks to alexajohnson for looking through this for me, as it has indeed been a while since I've posted any writing for public consumption, though I'm not entirely sure if there is still an audience out there for HP fic!
--
Her cup of tea had long since grown cold -- and the pile of essays lying before her were still unmarked -- when a sudden knock on the door shook Minerva out of her reverie.
"You're not busy, are you?" came the query.
Sitting upright and straightening her papers, she turned around to find Severus, his arms crossed against his chest, lingering near the entrance to the staff room. "No, not at all," she said, gesturing to the empty chair next to her. "And it is the staff room, after all. If I had wanted privacy, I would have taken these essays to my office," she added thoughtfully.
Robes billowing behind him, Severus strode into the room and cast a quick glance at the essays before sitting down. "Ah, the infamous teapot-tortoise exercise -- for third years, am I correct?"
"Indeed. I am surprised that you remember your Transfiguration coursework so well, Severus. I had always been under the impression that you felt no other subject could compare to Potions."
"Well, Minerva, we all have our biases, do we not? But I did care for your subject."
She let out a low chuckle. "You don't fool me. If I remember correctly, you spent most of my classes that year trying to jinx James Potter when his back was turned -- " Severus's eyes narrowed at the mention of his old schoolboy rival " -- and, of course, he and -- "
Suddenly realizing the sensitive nature of the name she was about to utter, Minerva broke off and looked down at the table.
"The criminal Black," Severus offered.
"Yes," she said quietly. "He and Black would return the favor at their earliest convenience." She broke off again, clearing her throat. "Of course, as soon as exams were over, I told Albus that was the last time I would ever willingly teach Gryffindors and Slytherins together in the same class again."
"I've found it to be a very useful arrangement."
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "For needlessly docking points from my students, you mean?"
"For allowing the brilliant to truly shine against the mediocrity of their peers," Severus countered with a light sneer. He opened his mouth to continue -- few things in life brought him greater pleasure than puncturing the pompous self-righteousness of Slytherin's rival House -- but paused as he noticed the rather distant quality in her gaze. "It seems that your tea has grown cold. Care for another cup?"
"That would be lovely."
He left her to her own thoughts as he walked over to the staff room kettle and tapped it with his wand. As the water rose to a boil, he pulled out two slightly chipped mugs from the cabinet and an unlabelled tin of tea leaves. "I'm not entirely sure what kind of tea it is," he muttered as he opened the tin and sniffed its contents. "I don't suppose you mind?"
Minerva shook her head as he finished readying the tea. He returned to the table with the mugs and passed one to her. "Thank you," she said.
They fell silent now, and Minerva watched Severus cradle the mug in his hands and sip the tea slowly. It was strange to think that the wizard before her -- her colleague and a former Death Eater -- had once been a student, taciturn and studious, almost obsessively so. Could she have guessed, during those halcyon years, that he would be among those to fall into the ranks of You-Know-Who? He certainly did not run in the best circles when he was at Hogwarts, but he was a mere child then and we are all permitted our mistakes, or so Albus had told her when she raised the matter with him. In any case, the general quality of one's friends did not seem to be an especially good predictor of the future: Severus had repented his errors, whereas others -- who kept much better company -- had proved to be responsible for the most devastating crimes of all.
Minerva looked up to find Severus staring at her. "Do you ever think about Black?" she asked.
"He passes through my mind occasionally."
She studied his expression more closely, wondering how often their paths may have crossed after they left Hogwarts. She supposed that, as You-Know-Who's servants, they must have seen a great deal of each other. What an irony that was, given the enmity they shared as students, but Minerva had never questioned Severus about his Death Eater past.
"I suppose you and he were never reconciled," she finally remarked.
"No," he said, his tone as indecipherable as ever.
Minerva, however, could not be entirely distracted from the subject. "It's been twelve years, Severus, since he betrayed the Potters -- twelve years, Severus. He was in my House, one of the finest students I've ever had, despite the detentions he may have earned, and I cannot help but wonder, especially now, what must have changed within him for him to have been capable of such a thing -- or perhaps that evil had been there all along, and I was simply too blind to notice it."
Whisking a handkerchief out of her pocket, she looked away to blow her nose and flushed to think that Severus had to witness this display of weakness. To her surprise, he laid a tentative hand on her shoulder; she caught his eye, and even he seemed rather taken aback and quickly let his hand drop.
"Minerva," he began, "you cannot blame yourself for the actions of a madman. It is a long way from the Sorting to the Dark Lord, and let us be honest with ourselves: we, as professors, are only a small part of that."
"Always the pessimist," she commented.
Severus's mouth twitched, which she assumed to be his attempt at good humor. "Well, I suppose I ought to let you get back to those essays," he said after a time.
"Yes, of course, before the next batch of homework is turned in."
As Severus got up to leave, she refocused her attention on the work before her, shaking her head as if to dispel her gloomy thoughts, but she had hardly picked up her quill when he spoke again. "Oh, Minerva."
"Hm?" She looked over her shoulder to find Severus smirking as he stood by the door.
"The best of luck to your House on Saturday. How many years has it been since Gryffindor have won the Quidditch Cup? Eight, I believe?"
"And pride shall ever be the downfall of Slytherin," Minerva offered wryly. "But the best of luck to your House as well -- do you truly think that your front seven can challenge mine?"
The two surveyed each other from across the room for a moment and traded the briefest of smiles. Then Severus left without another word, shutting the door quietly behind him.
--
Signing off, V.M. Bell