The Weasley’s had finally, finally left his rooms, the house elves done clearing the table and Severus just beginning to bask in the wonder that was complete and utter silence when his front door slammed open with enough force to jostle paintings all around the room and the most oppressive feel of freezing heat, if that were possible flooded his senses a full minute before three teenagers entered his rooms.

Well, two teenagers and one furious young mage.

Severus sighed. As alarmed as he was he could not help but be grateful that it was only Harry, albeit a truly furious Harry if the stray magic was anything to go by, instead of a revenge seeking Voldemort, or worse still, Dumbledore. A confrontation with either was bound to be long, drawn-out and messy and vastly inconvenient, but Harry he could deal with.

“I’m sure you were not given that much homework, child.” He said softly, walking up to the small teen he could now see was being held down by his two classmates.

“It was Professor Dumbledore, sir.” That came from Longbottom, who somehow wasn’t catatonic at the thought of facing the Great Dungeon Bat in his own rooms. Severus wondered if he would ever get used to this new, confident Neville Longbottom.

He was less surprised to know that Dumbledore was the cause of harry’s distress. He’d figured that sooner or later the headmaster would attempt to push Harry’s limits again. Perhaps the old man had a plan, beyond feeling out harry’s magical strength so as to gauge the boy’s potential against Voldemort. Perhaps it was something all the more sinister. Severus didn’t know. What he did know was that if harry didn’t calm down soon he’d have smooth walls instead of the layered stone he favored.

“Very well. Thank you for ensuring Mr. Potter returned safely. You may both return to your common room.”

“But sir – “

“I assure you, Ms. Granger, I am more than capable of dealing with my son in this state. Do you truly need a second dismissal?”

Severus watched her flounce out of his rooms, not forgetting to slam his door shut. She would attempt to make him pay for that at their lesson tomorrow, he was sure.

Neville shifted, resting Harry’s bookbag on a nearby table. “Good night, sir.” He murmured. “Take care of him, alright?”

Severus wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to answer. “I will, Mr. Longbottom.”

Soon he was left alone with his teenaged ward. No amount of hair-stroking, shoulder-shaking or cheek-tapping caused any response and Severus frowned. If the boy was so wrapped up in his thoughts then he should at least be able to feel some of that distress through their link, but it was alarmingly silent.  Frowning harder now, Severus maneuvered his floating son to sit in front of him on the couch, pressed his potions stained fingers to the boys temple and sought out their odd mental connection.

And his head exploded with sound. Screaming winds and breaking glass, angry shouting and a heavy, unintelligible bramble of noise clashed all around him and for a moment Severus was lost, lost in the near tangible anger filling his son’s mind. It was only a moment, however, and soon he gathered himself and recommitted himself to the task at hand. Harry was in here, somewhere, and he had to find the child, and bring him back. Without melting the castle.

It did not take him as long as he feared to locate Harry’s mental projection. The child seemed to sense him, his mindscape twisting and turning in a dizzying series of dips and dives to bring him to what seemed to be a molten lava whirlpool, sucking in the scattered angry thoughts and sounds in a mindbending display.

Harry was at the bottom. His hands were somehow four times their normal size and pitch black, and with them he packed and pressed the tail of the whirlpool into a molten ball of heat, turning it over and over in his hands as the swirl above collected more and more of his anger. The area around them was barren, the ground covered in sand and ash for what seemed like miles. Harry didn’t appear to notice him, but Severus didn’t believe that to be true. The boy had led him here, after all.

After a long minute of standing and watching the molten ball grow bigger by the minute, Harry finally spoke.

“I hate him.” The voice was soft and echoey as if Harry were made of wind and smoke or was speaking to him from the Great Beyond. Severus didn’t like it one bit.

“I highly doubt you do, child,” he replied. “But it is perfectly acceptable to want to.”

Gravity, or some thought-variant of it, seemed to press down on him and for a second Sevrus thought he would suffocate, before the world reoriented itself and he was back on the couch.

Harry was crying on his chest.

“I hate him!”

“That’s alright, Harry.” Severus soothed. “That’s perfectly fine.”

“I hate him! Why does he have to be so mean to me? I didn’t do anything. Seamus was picking on me!”

Really? The Finnegan boy was the cause of all this. He briefly remembered hearing something about his mother attempting to keep him out of school this year, before Harry began to kick.

“It’s not fair! I didn’t do anything, and now I’m suspended. I hate him so much! I wish his beard would fall off!”

Severus staunchly tamped down on the urge to laugh out loud. As precarious as the situation seemed, amidst Harry’s very obvious distress and Albus’ various manipulations, the fact that Harry’s ‘hatred’ ran so deep he would inflict a lack of facial hair on a man who was making his life miserable just tickled him in ways it probably shouldn’t just then. “There, there. A suspension is nothing to cry about. Mr. Finnegan will come to regret his actions by the end of the week, I assure you, child. Calm down now. Let’s not make ourselves ill.”

“But I have to see him. He’s making me go to lessons everyday ‘cause I’m suspended for a month.” Angry teenaged fists beat against his chest. “I didn’t do anything! Why am I the only one being punished?” He broke off in a sob, heaving his frustrations against the potions master’s chest. Gradually, gradually, the temperature in the room righted itself, and Severus sighed, rubbing circles in the child’s back. He did not know what game Albus was playing.

But he would find out.

Potions Master’s Office

Thursday, September 14th, 6:15 pm

Nerissa Ethridge was a feisty, feisty thing.

Severus sat, rather sulkily in his office chair, thinking. He surreptitiously ran potions stained fingers lightly over the still smarting area of his face before dropping his hand quickly to the quill on his desk, hoping the blond woman hadn’t seen him rubbing his cheek when she’d looked up from fixing his tea.

From the smile on her face, he’d say he was fairly unsuccessful.

Damned woman.

She had floo’d into his office some twenty minutes ago. In hindsight, he considered that he shouldn’t have given her permission to enter his rooms. Before he’d even had a chance to ask after her health she had landed a sound slap to his face.

His first instinct had been to draw his wand.

Not that he had intended to do anything with it, since Severus Snape was not the woman-beater his father had been, but years of working with Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy had taught him that if you drew your wand and looked menacing enough when they were getting on your nerves, chances are they’d lift their skirts and flee.

Apparently Nerissa Ethridge was made of sterner stuff.

“Do you have any idea what happened to me three nights ago, Mr. Snape?” she had asked as he attempted to glare a hole through her rather fine head. “After you shoved that rather pointy portkey into my stomach?”

His already bad mood had soured further. “That was a portkey to a secure location; I was thinking only of your safety. If you have come here to be ungrateful – “

“Do you remember where this ‘secure location’ happened to be?”

He’d sneered. “A Prince family home in Cornwall – “

“Wrong!” Severus had blinked then, the only sign he would give that the rather loud voice from her rather small body had shocked him. “I ended up in a room in a brothel on Knockturn Alley, Mr. Snape. A room that happened to be in use, Mr. Snape. Would you care to explain?”

Severus had been so shocked he’d lost all his decorum and asked, in a rather undignified squawk, “What?”

“What? There are several ‘what’s I’d like explained, actually. What on earth were you thinking, portkeying me away like I am some kind of damsel?” The amount of vitriol she packed into that one word had shocked even him. “What right do you have to control my movements? I am a grown woman! I have been for quite some time, as a matter of fact. What did you expect me to do, once I’d reached this ‘family home in Cornwall’, hmm? Wait for you to remember I existed? It’s been three days! I realize that your duties here and Harry would keep you very busy but some consideration, Mr. Snape, would have been very much appreciated.”

He mulled that over. Had it really been three days already? Merlin. “I am sorry, Miss. Ethridge. It was not my intention to offend.”

She stared at him, hand still on her wand. “No. It never is with you men, is it?”

Severus swallowed the biting retort that burned his lips, mainly because the only real experience he’d had with women were here at work and with Lily, neither of which he felt equipped him for the type of battle he would have started had he spoken.  Instead, he fished for some information. “I trust you managed to escape that room without much difficulty?”

She gave an unladylike snort. “Escape? Why would I have had to escape? Tell me, Mr. Snape, did you read The Prophet at all over the past few days? Remember any news at all about Knockturn Alley?”

She was baiting him, he knew, but for the life of himself Severus could not find the will to be bothered by it. Much. He’d made a rather large mistake here, after all. He lowered his wand and cast his mind back over the papers he’d read since the Ministry Fiasco. The regular Auror raids, a fire rather close to Borgin and Burkes the Dark Lord hadn’t been happy about, a group of men apprehended by a wizarding citizen for carrying out sex acts with a pair a female minors, a robbery, dementor sighting -

“You’re thinking far too much, Severus. “

In truth, he wasn’t. Or maybe he was, but not in the way she probably thought he was. She had appeared in a brothel room, just like that group of men had been apprehended in. Merlin, but the woman had managed the single largest citizen’s arrest in Wizarding history.  His eyes flashed up, swiftly cataloging her petite frame and perfectly coiffed hair piled atop her head. He couldn’t see it. “You cannot seriously expect me to believe – “

“I do not care what you believe, Mr. Snape. The fact is I did subdue and secure all twelve of those men and had energy to spare to slap that silly little bint that dared attack my hair because I was spoiling her holiday fun. And that was after one of those bastards hit me with a bludgeoning hex in the back.” Severus had paled, taking a half step forward before stilling himself even as she waved him off, annoyed. “Of course you’re worried now. All the danger’s past, hasn’t it?”

“I am sorry, Miss Ethridge. I saw the Death eaters throwing spells and my first instinct was to protect – “

“Oh I already know all of that, you idiot. You’ve got chivalry written straight across that stately nose of yours. That is not what I’m pissed about!”

Severus’ brow had furrowed in confusion over that very same stately nose. “Then what – “

“What the hell are you doing with a portkey directly into a private room of a brothel? You told me you were celibate!”

Her face had been red suddenly, the color high on her cheeks and her blue eyes blazing with an intensity that would scare lesser men, and sometimes Cornelius Fudge himself, but despite all this and the fact that the wand held in her hand, though pointed at the stone floor, had emitted bright red sparks against her liquid grey robes as her voice rose, Severus found it in himself to through his head back and laugh. Of all the things she could be angry about, she’d chosen something so inconsequential…

She slapped him again then, closing the gap between them in one swift move. Severus had caught her hand, could not help the tightness of the grip he held her impossibly slim wrist in, the humour gone and fire burning in his eyes. “You do not want to assault me again, Miss Etheridge. It would be most unwise.”

“Do not threaten me, Mr. Snape. I will not tolerate being treated like some stupid little maiden you can pat on the head and dismiss. I was under the impression that we would be truthful to each other, since we neither of us appreciate falsehoods.” Though her gaze never wavered and she never flinched from his ire, the bright blue pools of her eyes had shimmered just slightly with a film of tears. “Am I wasting my time?”

Inexplicably his gaze had softened, the grip on her wrist loosening enough that her hand slid into his, and Severus, reserved bachelor and father of one, gently brushed a kiss to soft pale knuckles. “You are not,” he had murmured softly, never breaking eyes contact. “Forgive me, Nerissa, I meant to disrespect. It just seemed amusing at the moment that of all the things you could be angry about, of all the reasons you have already given, you chose something I view as inconsequential and easily explainable.”

She had sniffed then, her little nose adorably pink all of a sudden. “It is not inconsequential,” she insisted softly. “But explain anyway.”

“For the purpose of keeping up appearances, so to speak, I was sometimes required to attend Death Eater ‘socials’ for lack of a better term. Lucius Malfoy had a thing for loose women and bequeathed” an eyeroll to express how he felt about Lucius’ bequeaths, “all of his closest friends, in as much as the man had friends, with portkeys to different brothels for our personal use. Once or twice a group would all go to one person’s room, and with enough alcohol in their systems and a few well-placed confundus charms I was able to avoid taking part in the ‘revelry’ myself.”

Another sniff. “And you’ve never…?”

Severus had graced her with the tiniest of smiles. “I have never, nor do I want to.”

“Oh.” She shifted, and a stray curl bounced up against his shoulder. He thought he should have felt odd, standing less than an inch away from a beautiful young woman, holding her by only a hand near his chest, but he couldn’t find the will to, and so discarded that thought.  “Why did you keep it, then?”

His eyebrows had risen slightly as he slipped into lecture mode. “Aside from the half-dozen rare blue diamonds, the cluster of jewels is worth well over fifteen thousand galleons. The diamonds, white gold and steel pearls make it a very pretty bauble, if one appreciates those sorts of things. I had it stored away, in case I ever needed something to hold over Malfoy’s head, or a hefty trade for a goblin.”

It was Nerissa’s turn to be confused. “Then why’d you give it to me?”

Severus had blushed, as much as he was able, and found their intertwined hands very interesting. “I am certain I had cast my own portkey spell on it before I gave it to you, but I did not test it. I suppose Malfoy made them all somehow un-reroutable.”

“Severus? That hardly answers my question.” The light amusement on her soft voice gave him strength enough to raise his eyes.

“I heard my father once say to my mother, ‘Precious stones for precious souls’. I felt it fit.”

He didn’t think he would ever get used to or understand how one hundred and one emotions could flit across a woman’s face, but as Severus watched Nerissa’s face brighten and simultaneously darken with a blush seconds before her head came to rest on his chest , Severus decided he wouldn’t mind trying.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She had then decided that he needed tea. He’d been finishing up a pot when she’d floo’d in, having just put Harry to bed, but Severus wasn’t brave enough to contradict her.

“The Department of Law Enforcement is being delightfully heavy-handed with those offenders, would you believe it?” she asked as she stood to pass him a cup. “I suppose we have young Mr. Snape  to thank for that.”

“Indeed. The Ministry often never gets more work done than when they have a shiny figurehead they need to be seen upholding.” His tone was bitter from past experiences, but truthfully Severus was rather relieved his new… ‘lady-friend’, he supposed to correct term was, steered clear away from any more emotional discussions. He also felt he should not be surprised. In the short amount of time he’d known her the young Miss Ethridge, all of twenty-eight years the previous May, had proven herself remarkably adept at making conversation, or, more accurately, navigating conversations with him. Perhaps it was a class taught at that preppy little school she had attended in lieu of Hogwarts. He imagined something like ‘Social Graces 101 – How To Keep a Conversation Going With a Snarky, Unsociable Pariah’ or something along those lines. “The young females?”

“Physically healthy, absolutely fine. Both weeks away from their seventeenths, you know. Not that that makes any difference, though I suppose DLE wouldn’t be so hard on their male party-buddies if they hadn’t been Muggles.” She peeked up at him from the rim of her cup, eyes sparkling, waiting to see his reaction.

He did not disappoint. “Muggles! Are they mad? Bringing teenaged Muggle girls into the seediest area of magical Britain? Exposing us to two foolhardy children!”

“Oh, relax Mr. Snape. The girls thought it was all great fun – “

“Great fun! I hope they’re parents showed them ‘great fun’ before they were Obliviated.”

“Oh, they’ve been removed from their parents’ care, haven’t I told you?”

“No. You have not.”

“Well if you’d just let me finish the story…” She trailed off with a smile.

Severus glared.

She gave a small laugh. “Oh alright. Turns out their parents are into all sorts of things. The DMLE brought the Muggle police into the investigation, and they found pounds of natural hallucinogens of some type in the parent’s luggage, and that got them all excited so they did some more digging. Do you know what a ‘swinger’ is? But anyway, the parents are all swingers who bring their partners around their kids. One of the girls confessed she teamed up with her mother once.” She had lost her smile, her voice low and terribly sad. “They’re such young girls, too.”

Severus studied her as she fingered the handle of her teacup, eyes staring unseeingly into the depths of the jasmine-mint infusion she’d insisted on. There were enough clues for him to piece together at least a partial history of the young woman before him, and none of what he surmised was happy. Or pleasant. It did explain a few things, however.

Her irrational flare up over the brothel room could be attributed to a former relationship spoiled by infidelity, the fear that he had lied to her from the same. The look in her eyes as she spoke about the two Muggle girls brought to mind something Severus did not want to think was experience, personal or otherwise, but he could not be sure until she told him herself.

He would, could wait.

“This all sounds suspiciously like inside information.” He said casually to his cup. “I was not aware that the DMLE were so free with their investigations…”

Her smile was back, if smaller than he would like. “I have a friend in the department I asked to keep me up to date.”

Severus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “This friend wouldn’t happen to have a particular fondness for the color blue, would he?”

Nerissa startled into a laugh, nearly upsetting her tea. Severus took a sip of his, smug. He wasn’t half bad at conversations either, it seemed.