Chapter 28: Midgame

A/N: The Arabella Figg in my head looks like a more mannishly-dressed Katharine Hepburn in "The Lion in Winter". The presence of Tori Amos in this fic is partly my own self-indulgence, and partly the fact that it is thematically appropriate. Watch for a reappearance of the song, "Bells for Her."

Okay, time for some back-refs again.

Character inspirations for Blaise: she is basically the spawn of Jane Fancher's J. Wesley Smith in the Groundties trilogy, and Ari Emory in C.J. Cherryh's Cyteen. There is a certain element of Wes' interaction with Stephie Ridenour (who I mentioned in the Prologue as being the inspiration for my Severus) in the way Blaise reacts to Snape, though it's more in terms of the reader knowing what the character does not about another character's background.

Claws: Well, I've already mentioned the influence of J.L. Matthews' Caitlin Tyler on her... but she's also VERY Wes, right down to the nickname business (Wes= "the Wesser" and Claudia = "Claws") and certain seemingly blind prejudices which actually make sense as you learn about their past, plus being nuts for and players of a fancy aerial sport (I keep hoping the wonderful Ms. Fancher will do more with the "bracketball"she so casually mentions in Harmonies of the Net--- it sounds GREAT!). She's also influenced by Cherryh's Bet Yeager in Rimrunners. And, frankly I had thought of her as being somewhat like Kiyrstin and Anevai in Fancher's Dance of the Rings and Groundties, respectively... but I'm not sure I'll be able to pull that off to an extent that the reader will buy it. Oh, well. Bill Weasley will be glad to be the Voice of Reason for the series, and he's probably got a better temperament for it. :D

Claire: Polgara the Sorceress in David Eddings' Belgariad and Malloreon. With, as per usual for strega, a dash of Ari thrown in. :D (And I just recently settled in with Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan series... Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan, anyone? >GRIN<)

Michael, duh, his Corleone namesake as played by Al Pacino, but having spent the last 25 years in love with Claire. :> For those who think he's pussy-whipped: you have yet to see him dealing with... ahem... The Family. >GRIN<

And finally, the extent to which I have pulled and am going to pull stunts with perspective is the result of immersing myself at frequent intervals in the works of the abovementioned authors. Except, of course, that they do it MUCH better than I. Go read Cyteen and anything by Fancher that you can put your paws on and you'll see what I mean.

There's a Sphinx-reference in this chapter, too! See if you can find it....

____________

Snape supposed that he shouldn't have been surprised when Claudia showed up again that afternoon at lunchtime.

As usual, she came in uninvited, but instead of throwing herself over "her" chair, she went right to his desk, leaned her hands on it and stared down at him. "I just spoke with Hermione Granger."

He didn't try to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. "And?"

"And she told me... everything."

Snape folded his hands on his desk to keep them steady. "Your point being?"

His refusal to react seemed to infuriate her--- but it was the only possible tactic to use, given the circumstances. She glared at him. "What have you got to say for yourself, then?"

"That it was the best... tactic I could think of to save her life and to preserve as much of her sanity as possible under the circumstances. That I regret every bit of the harm that I did to her and that I'll do everything in my power to ameliorate as much of the damage as possible--- whatever the cost." He held her eyes.

She smiled thinly, and finally backed off, rocking back on her heels, hooking her thumbs in her belt, and studying him. "Well, well, well... how... interesting." She turned on her heel abruptly and headed for the door, where she paused. "She's a jammy cow, you know."

And with that, she was gone, leaving him rather profoundly disturbed. She couldn't mean....

But knowing her, she probably did.

Well, Claudia and Hermione were different people....

He hoped.

*****

That afternoon after classes but before dinner, he had another visitor.

Arabella Figg wasn't in the habit of paying calls on anyone, so it startled him nearly as much as Claudia's entrances when he found his old Head-of-House at his door. "A-Arabella." Hard to call her by her given name, when habit and survival instinct urged every bit of deference he could muster.

She stood in the doorway: a rail-thin old woman who carried herself with no hint of frailty, rather like a banner, dressed in the loose trousers under a belted witch's robe that a lot of the female Aurors, Claudia included, affected; from what he knew of it, Arabella Figg had started that tradition. "Am I interrupting anything?"

He gave her a dry look. "You're actually asking?"

She snorted. "You're not my student anymore, boy---" She stopped at the look he gave her. "Oh, well--- some habits never die, I suppose." She regarded him amusedly. "Well?"

"No, you're not interrupting anything." He'd barely been able to concentrate since Claudia's visit; his afternoon classes had been a nightmare. And talking with Professor Figg wasn't likely to help, but she was not the kind to take no for an answer.

He sat behind his desk, taking a petty sort of thrill in being the one in control of the space--- memories of far too many conversations in her office could still disturb him. "What do you want?"

"To talk with you." She dropped smoothly into one of the chairs across from his desk, draping her arms over the armrest and stretched out her legs, crossing her ankles in a move that didn't look remotely delicate. "Claudia's here."

"You noticed." The sarcasm dripped from his tongue.

She ignored it. "What happened with you two?"

"She didn't like... what I did as a Death Eater."

"Funny; she's the only woman I know who'd feel that way---" At his expression, she stopped, looked away. "That was uncalled-for, I suppose."

"When did that ever stop you?" He wasn't able to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Touche." She regarded him with some amusement. "Nice to see you've continued the tradition of the Head of Slytherin being a sarcastic git."

"In a manner of speaking." He saw a chance to get back a few old scores. "Actually, Albus chose me for the job at least in part because he knew I could be counted on not to continue a few of your other traditions."

She twitched at that, a visible flinch. "Would you like to hear me say it?"

"What?"

"That I was wrong. That I shouldn't have fallen from a great height on all of you for three blasted decades---" She gave him a little wry look. "Though I imagine you of all people can understand now why I did it."

"I suppose---" He allowed himself a slight smile. "And there are days when I'd like to let Malfoy have it between the eyes like you used to do his father."

"Don't worry--- I make up for your laxness in my Defense classes."

"Oh, I know--- he and his cronies come whining to me about you at least once a week." He leaned back in his chair, looking at her and feeling a great weariness sweep over him. "Arabella---" her name came easier this time--- "why did you do it?"

She closed her eyes, looking like he felt. "Because of Lord Voldemort. Because he had the indecency to soil our house with his presence--- because once, Slytherin was a name to be proud of." She made a vague gesture with her hand, opening her eyes to look at him. "Have you ever looked in the trophy room? Before 1950, half the trophies in that room went to our house--- the ambitious ones, the driven ones. Then, after that... that filth started gaining power, we started losing the good students--- the ones with the drive and the knowledge and the determination went elsewhere, precisely because they knew Slytherin's reputation, because they didn't want to be tarred with that brush; they knew it would work against the accomplishment of their goals. All we got were the dregs of the old pureblood families."

"Not all."

"Yes--- the Teasdales, and Michael Zabini and Claire Snape." She chuckled. "It always amazed me that Michael got in--- I suppose the Sorting Hat considering an old Mafia family to be equivalent to the sort of old wizarding family that was ending up in Slytherin by then."

"Actually, I think one of his grandmothers was a pureblood."

"Ah--- that's enough, sometimes." She nodded. "And the others--- the Teasdales, the Scarlattis, your father's family--- they're prominent hybrid-fortune families, no one would ever suspect them of supporting Voldemort; it wouldn't be in their best interests, even if the scum would take them---" She shook her head. "But that's all, Severus. That's all we've had, since the Reign of Terror." One hand clenched into a fist. "I wanted the old days back, Severus. I wanted the old glory back for our house. That's why Albus brought me in, when old Dippet finally kicked the traces and Lucia Flint admitted that she was out of her depth. She was a good Head of House, you know," the old witch added parenthetically. "Good for the kind of students Slytherin used to get, I mean---"

"Like you and Alastor Moody."

"Precisely." She shook her head. "Not that I've any right to be proud... if anything, I was worse."

He couldn't argue with that. "What made you think treating us like we were already in the Dark Lord's camp was going to help anything?"

She opened her mouth, her eyes flashing--- then sank back in her chair. "I don't know, Severus." She waved a hand--- then shot him a nasty smile. "The same things that make you walk all over the Potter boy every chance you get: frustration, bitterness, the desire not to see a destructive pattern repeated in the next generation--- ring any bells?"

Snape gritted his teeth. "My objections to Potter's behavior are specific and verifiable," he said through clenched teeth. "Surely you don't mean to tell me that you saw an identical behavior pattern in the whole of Slytherin?"

She glared at him. "The seeds of it, certainly--- and I wanted to crush the ringleaders before they could take over and corrupt the rest of you."

He supposed it was a sort of a compliment that she didn't include him as one of the ringleaders. But it didn't make up for... other things. "Too bad you missed a few," he said coldly.

At once, the anger fell away from her face, to be replaced with... dear Merlin, was that actually remorse? From Arabella Figg? "Severus... if there's one thing I regret about my tenure in Slytherin, it's not... dealing with Ellen Wilkes."

He waved a hand thinly, gathering the shreds of his usual sarcastic mien and rallying for a counterattack. "I suppose it worked out for the best--- I saved a few lives, after all, gave some of your colleagues a cleaner death than they would have otherwise had--- not to mention my work as Dumbledore's spy---" He regarded her coolly, feeling his control slip. "Out of curiosity, why did you miss her, out of all of them? You came down on the rest of us hard enough."

She leaned back in her chair again, looking at him wearily. "Would you believe... I thought she was good for you?"

Snape started "Good for me? Circe's swine, how?"

"Because you were a lonely little runt and she was a good-looking confident older girl who could teach you some things about how to be appealing to the distaff gender," Arabella said bluntly, looking him in the eyes--- then she softened. "I thought she was good for you. I thought--- Merlin's beard, I thought it was rather lovely that she'd taken you under her wing." She snorted bitterly. "A sign that perhaps my efforts with Slytherin had finally begun to pay off."

Snape stared at her, astonished--- and not least because he could understand how she felt; any teacher could, especially one cursed with a houseful of students they despised. The thought that you'd finally gotten through to someone, after years of trying--- it was almost infinitely seductive. "I didn't know," he said finally.

"No reason for you to." She settled deeper into her chair, her eyes hooded. "Seems like both of us managed not to know a few worthwhile things, eh?"

It was a tacit apology, but he couldn't resist one more dig. "Well, you were right about one thing--- she did teach me how to... appeal... to the opposite sex." He put just a hint of a cruel purr into his voice, and she looked up, startled.

"I never meant for anything like that to happen!" Her voice was sharp; the color drained from her weathered cheeks. "Severus--- no. I take full blame for... not seeing what was right in front of me." She lapsed into silence.

"Apology accepted," he said tartly, though he wasn't sure if that had been one. "And if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not think about it."

"You were the one who brought it up." He flinched, avoiding her eyes.

"That I did." He took a deep breath. "Arabella--- was there something you actually needed to discuss with me?"

"I simply wanted to see if... there was anything you wanted me to do, as regards Claudia."

"Claudia." Now he managed to look at her. "She was one of your favorites, wasn't she?"

Arabella smiled grudgingly. "You could say that... she had the most amazing knack for winning people over, for getting someone's attention... but that wasn't it. Do you know what was?"

"Tell me." Hearing Claudia praised to the stars wasn't exactly good for his nerves about now, but it was rather like worrying at a loose tooth; he couldn't help it.

"The way she held that House together. I'd... much as it galls me to admit it, I'd lost control over the Slytherins. By her fifth year, she had the House... not exactly united, but... functioning again. Got the younger ones to... try. Rallied the older ones behind her--- amazing what they'll do for a Quidditch champion---"

"Isn't it though." But it was Potter he was thinking of--- father and son.

Figg's smile said she knew his thoughts. "Only she wasn't a troublemaker. Saw what was wrong in the House and tried to make it right. Not that there was much a child could do, but she did more than most adults." She shook her head. "Blast Fudge anyway---" Snape looked up, surprised. "If he hadn't sent her off to run that stupid agente amoreuse game--- and against the parents of the children who'd adored her in school, to boot--- maybe we'd have had a real role model for the House...." She trailed off, ruefully, then snapped back to her usual brisk self. "Which doesn't answer my question--- is there anything I can do for you about Claudia?"

He thought of her earlier visit. "I've no idea. You'll have to ask her if there's any way she can forgive me. Which I doubt there is."

Figg shook her head. "Stubborn little chit, she always was. And that Romeo-and-Juliet number she used to play with William Weasley---"

"They're still together. Though I believe his mother wishes it were otherwise."

"Amazing--- I'd never had suspected a Gryffindor male of having the perspicacity to stick by her after what she's done--- most of them would have taken her behavior literally."

"Well, we're talking about one who stood up to Sirius Black over her in his very first year, " Snape felt obliged to point out. He approved of Bill Weasley; shame none of his brothers had taken after him in terms of the combination of brains and sense.

"Point." Arabella shook her head, got to her feet. "Well, if there's nothing I can do---"

Get out of my office, perhaps, and leave me in peace. But all he said was, "No. Thank you."

She snorted, hearing the false note in it--- she was better than the Dark Lord at detecting falsehood. "Then I'll leave you to your splendid isolation. See you at dinner?"

"Yes." There were only a few minutes till dinnertime; if she had the decency to leave now, he'd have time to swallow the assorted potions that would bully his system into some semblance of functioning after the day he'd had.

She got up; he stood courteously as she let herself out.

******

When Hermione got back to the common room, Harry was waiting for her. "Hello."

"Hello yourself." He was looking broody, not his usual mien. She went and sat by the fire with him.

"What is it?"

He took a deep breath. "Claudia Teasdale. Sirius." He looked up. "You."

"Me what?"

"Why'd she want to talk to you?"

Hermione weighed just how much she had any business telling him. "It was... about what happened at Christmas. With Malfoy."

Harry looked relieved. "Is she... doing something... about it?"

Hermione leaned her head back on the chair. "It's... complicated. Like what Blaise is doing."

"Malfoy's father's more dangerous than he is, Hermione." Harry looked worried.

"I know. But..." She wanted to say, I've got Snape on my side, but the words wouldn't come. Because she didn't think Harry would like her relying on Snape... and truth to tell, she didn't want to lean on him. Not now. "Harry, I've got to do this thing. Can you understand that?"

Harry gave her a long, slow look. "Yeah, actually." His fists clenched. "It's how I feel... about Voldemort." Hermione stared at him; only a second ago, he'd been warning her about Malfoy's father... and now... this? "I... want to be the one, Hermione. I know it's crazy, don't tell me it is. But I... just want to get him back."

Hermione looked at him for a moment, trying to erase all the myths about Voldemort... and about The Boy Who Lived. Just seeing her friend... and what he needed to do. "I don't blame you," she said at last. "And... look, if I can help you do it, I will. Just promise me...." She paused, not sure exactly what she wanted to say.

"I'll help you with yours," Harry promised at once. "I swear on the Founders Four."

"But will you trust me? No matter what? Even if... even if I do something... you don't like, or can't understand?"

Harry looked narrowly at her. "What do you mean?"

"I... I don't know," she said after a moment. "I just... I can't promise I'm going to... that everything's going to be like it was, okay?"

Harry looked at her steadily. "Okay. I think I can live with that. Just... help me, okay?"

"I swear on the Founders Four." She held out her hand.

He took it.

And she couldn't help but wonder what Snape would think of this. And realized with a start that the thought of Snape being angry with her for it was more amusing than scary.

After a moment, Harry drew back, looking solemn. "When Teasdale stopped you... I thought she was going to talk to you about Sirius."

"She did... a little," Hermione admitted. "But... Harry, she's got reason to hate him, okay?" Harry looked rebellious. "It's not my place to explain," she said, "but I think you ought to ask... at least ask Sirius about what happened with her and him his seventh year, all right?"

"I already owled him about her." Harry's voice was remote, shaky. Then, very softly, "Hermione, why are all the adults in my life... why's there something wrong with all of them? The Dursleys are just awful, Remus is a werewolf--- and he's not even there all that much--- and now Sirius...." He shook his head. "Hermione... is there... is there something wrong with me?"

Oh, Merlin. This was too much like Snape. But at least Harry was still asking; he hadn't decided yet. "Oh, Harry---" Impulsively, she leaned over and hugged him, hard. "Harry, there is nothing wrong with you, I promise," she said against his shoulder. "Nothing--- there's so much right with you---"

Harry stayed stiff for a moment, then his arms went around her in return. "But--- but--- but---"

"But nothing." She pushed him back a little so that she could look into his eyes. "Harry, your mum loved you enough to die for you. That means something---"

"But I was just a kid--- maybe---"

Hermione affected a scornful tone that would have done Snape proud. "Maybe what? Whatever was wrong with you hadn't shown up by then?" Harry looked embarrassed. "It would have shown up by now, Harry, and you'd have been in Slytherin, chumming around with Malfoy."

"The-- the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin."

"And you'd likely have fallen in with Blaise and the Teasdales, just like we did anyway," Hermione said in as no-nonsense a voice as she could manage. "So it wouldn't have been all bad." She gave him a little shake. "Listen, Harry, if there were something wrong with you, living with the Dursleys would have turned you into someone... awful." Someone like Snape, she thought guiltily, someone who could be a Death Eater... but also someone who could come back from it.

Which gave her an inspiration. "Listen, Harry--- even if you had gone bad... people can come back from that. And you didn't... you still care about being good. Someone who was really all bad--- like Malfoy--- wouldn't."

Harry looked up reluctantly, a shy smile creeping onto his face. "You think?"

"I'm certain of it." She hugged him again. "Trust me, you're fine. And if you're ever not---" She pushed him back to give him a wicked little Slytherin-esque smile. "I'll put you out of your misery, okay?"

He grinned guiltily at her, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Promise?"

"Promise." She let him go. "And now we'd better get off to bed--- it's late." She touched his scar with a finger. "Remember that, Harry. Your mum died for you. That left enough goodness in you to hurt Voldemort--- it would have destroyed you before this if there was something really wrong with you." Not mentioning that Voldemort had taken that protection into himself.

Harry gave her a look that said he remembered even so, but all he asked was, "You think so?"

"Yes--- and Voldemort could only get that protection through you. It wouldn't stick without your blood in him." She got to her feet, and Harry followed suit. "I mean that, Harry. You're a good person. Don't---" she thought again of Snape, speaking in disjointed bursts of a loveless existence. "Don't start letting yourself believe that there's something wrong with you. Promise me that."

"Okay." He gave her a look that said he wasn't wholly convinced. "If you promise to remind me."

"That's what friends are for." She hugged him again--- and realized that despite being in close contact with him, she hadn't flinched once. "Hey--- look at us." She pushed him back.

"What d'you mean?"

"Since Christmas, I've been twitching every time Ron comes near me--- and you're not even making me nervous. That should tell you something about your honorable intentions."

This time she got a real smile. "I'm glad to hear it." For a moment they stayed in front of the fire, then Harry smiled again. "G'night, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Harry." And he went up the stairs to his bed.

But Hermione stayed down in front of the fire for a while, thinking. About Harry... and Snape.

Snape, who was a worse mess than Harry. Who already believed in his own worthlessness.

And she knew that whatever she did to make things even between them--- to get her own self-respect back--- it couldn't be anything that would hurt him worse. That she couldn't be another person who sent him the message that he wasn't worth anything.

This would take some thinking.

*****

Claudia stayed the next morning for breakfast; again, Snape wasn't in the Great Hall. Hermione decided to pay him a visit that afternoon, with the help of the Concealment Cloak.

He was skulking in his office, as she'd expected. He looked up, with a little shiver, when she took off the cloak. "Hello, Hermione."

"Hello, Severus." She perched on one of the chairs by the fire. "How are you?"

He snorted. "You don't usually waste time with small talk."

"It's not an idle question. I haven't seen you at mealtimes."

"That's because I haven't been there."

"Claudia?" He started. "She told me... about the two of you being friends, and how she blew you off after---"

"After she found out what I was." Hollow voice. He gave her a look. "Can you deny that she had justice?"

"Actually, yes, I can." He gave her a startled look. "You did... the best thing you could, under the circumstances."

"What I did with those Aurors, Hermione, was not the same kind of thing I did with you." His tone brooked no argument. "I told you, I killed those women---"

"Cleanly--- at least in comparison to what the likes of Lucius Malfoy would have done to them--- was going to do to them, right? They were going to be killed anyway, and you made it a clean death. That's all somebody can ask for, in that kind of situation." She held his eyes. "And you realized that what you were doing was wrong, and you came back to the good side, and you've tried to make amends---"

"Impossible." His tone was a flat denial. "I can never make up for what I've done--- the lives I've destroyed---"

"And even though you don't think you're worthy of forgiveness, you keep doing the right thing," Hermione said, changing tactics smoothly. "That's more impressive than doing it because you think you can do penance and clear your conscience."

Snape smiled thinly. "If you insist."

"I do." She waved the chair forward so that she could lean her arms on his desk, rested her head on her arms. "Severus, you've done something more impressive than most people could even dream of. And I am impressed." But-but-but, whispered a little voice in her mind, reminding her of what she wanted to do with him.

"Then you're easily impressed." He leaned back in his chair.

"Actually, no. Except maybe by your standards, which strike me as self-abusive." There, Granger, put it out on the table.

He didn't rise to the bait. "If they are, it's no more than I deserve."

She sighed. "If you really want to wallow in misery, I suppose that's your right. But you'll have to forgive me if I refuse to share your low opinion of yourself."

"That's your privilege," he said wearily. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

"You've been warning everyone in this school since the first day we set foot in your classroom," Hermione said equably. "I still like you." Which, she realized with a shock, was true. She liked his obvious intelligence, liked that vicious wit--- at least, when it wasn't directed at her or her friends, which admittedly, wasn't as often as she could wish--- liked the way he used his sarcasm, a deadly weapon put to deft use in expert hands. Liked the moments of softness he'd shown her--- oh yes, she liked that, liked him vulnerable and open to her, for her. A side of him she doubted that even Claudia Teasdale had seen.

He was looking at her oddly, as if she'd said something completely mad. "Hermione, I've done nothing but hurt you since you came to this school---"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," she said calmly. "If nothing else, I seriously doubt that anything less than the Unforgivable Curses will ever intimidate me again after walking into your classroom once a week for five and a half years."

He smiled thinly. "The Headmaster will be pleased to hear you say that--- we had that discussion the summer after my first year." He sighed. "After seven years under Arabella Figg's care in Slytherin, I was rather inclined to... consider the dangers of being too harsh with students, however belatedly. The Headmaster... suggested to me that sarcasm and favoritism in small doses were good training for later life."

"Except for the Slytherins."

"Softening up the Death Eater Youth League for the slaughter, as I said before." A weary chuckle. "With the bonus of being allowed the freedom to permit some... licence to a few true favorites, like my cousin." He passed a hand through his hair. "Not to mention preserving my status as a loyal supporter of the Dark Lord." He sighed wearily. "And who could do that job but a monster?"

Hermione studied him carefully, weighing her next words. "Someone who can see what's necessary, and do it, whatever the cost. Someone with a harsher conscience than most of the so-called good, honest people in the world. Someone strong enough to survive living in the darkness without becoming part of it again." She smothered a wry smirk. "Severus, if you can still worry about your ethics, the odds favor that you don't need to."

He gave her a black look. "What's that Muggle expression? Catch-25?"

"Catch-22: if you're worried that you're crazy, you probably aren't. Same principle."

"How comforting. Rather restores my faith in the essentially sadistic nature of the universe."

"Always glad to be of help." She relaxed, with her head on his desk, and let herself study him, wondering if she was being entirely fair to him, given what she wanted to ask of him.

Soon. But not now.

As if on cue, Snape regarded her bleakly. "Merlin--- I have no right to put such a burden on you, after all you've suffered at my hands---"

Hermione let a mischievous smile creep onto her face. "I like you better when you're human. Makes me feel less... powerless." She hadn't meant to let that out, but there it was.

"Powerless... oh, Merlin." He looked despairing. "And yet you can sit there and speak to me, can... " He closed his eyes. "You amaze me, Hermione."

"Don't be too impressed." There it was, the opening she'd needed. "I'm not... that together." She swallowed.

"You don't have to be," he said gently. "Hermione, whatever you need of me... don't hesitate to ask. You have that right. And if it's in my power, I'll do it."

Now... now was the time to tell him what she wanted, to prepare him, at least. But she couldn't. Her mouth felt frozen shut.

After the O.W.L.s, she thought, and was tempted to laugh at her sense of priorities. But really, she wanted it to be a time when there were no distractions... nothing on her mind except how to get what she needed without hurting him.

And so she only said, "Thank you," and got to her feet. "I'd... better be going. It's late."

At the door, she turned. "Any chance of seeing you at meals tomorrow?"

"Is Claudia going to be there?"

"Should it matter?"

He sighed. "I suppose not. But I rather think I'd ruin her appetite."

Hermione gave a deliberate shrug. "As you think best, of course. Goodnight, Severus."

"Good night, Hermione."

She wasn't particularly surprised--- though quite pleased--- when he turned up at breakfast the next day. Blaise, sitting at the head of the Slytherin table, gave her a thumbs-up and a grin.

And Hermione knew, with a deep certainty, that she was doing the right thing.

Chapter 29: Counterpoint: Queen to Knight/Bishop to Queen

Claudia Teasdale grinned to herself as she unlocked the third lock on her Auror's trunk--- the compartment she used for personal things. Rummaging past the jumble of books, music, and her old Chudley Cannons' robes--- ah, there it is.

Her broomstick; a new model, from one of the companies her parents owned. The Rimrunner: a perfect Seeker's broom (well, in theory; the current model still had some bugs that made it unsafe for anyone but an expert). Christmas present from her parents. And she hadn't had a chance to try it out yet.

She chuckled as she lifted the broom out of the trunk and relocked the latch. It had driven Alastor crazy, when she was in training under him--- "An Auror's trunk's not for personal effects, even if you are strega," he'd grumped, and gone on about wasted space.

At least until she'd gotten good enough to pick the locks on his trunk and found all the junk her packrat of a mentor still had. "Broken Sneakoscopes, Alastor?" And he'd given up that argument, more proud that she'd managed to break his protections than annoyed with her cheek.

Of course, he had made her devise a new set of protective locks, which she supposed could be considered a punishment. But he hadn't yelled at her or even been sarcastic about it, which counted for... approximately everything in Claudia's book.

She shook her head at her woolgathering. Here was a gorgeous spring day, a Quidditch pitch, and a new broom, and she was wasting them all sitting inside?

Rubbish.

She got to her feet, tucking the broom under her arm, and strode out of the room.

*****

The "Slyffindor Seven"--- minus Blaise and Hermione, who avoided anything to do with Quidditch practice--- had taken over the Quidditch pitch for a 2-2-1 game: the Teasdales against Harry and Ginny, with Ron playing Keeper. It was, as Catlin privately admitted to Harry, who agreed, rather boring compared to being a Seeker, but it was better than not playing Quidditch at all. Which no one in the group but Harry got to do in any kind of formal way most of the time.

It was a desultory sort of game, anyway: both Harry and Ron, little as they wanted to admit it, had the OWLs too much on their mind to concentrate, and the twins were still worried about Blaise (though less so with Claudia on the premises). In fact, they'd only come out here after Blaise had insisted that she needed time to herself--- which Ginny, at least, had seemed to regard as a good sign, and dragged the rest of them out here.

So it was a shock to everyone when a green-clad blur suddenly streaked through their midst, snatching the Quaffle out of Harry's hands and speeding toward the goals.

Ron dived out of the way just in time as the Quaffle flew past his head--- and bounced off the hoop. A blistering oath followed.

At once, the twins snapped out of their moment of surprise and shot across the filed. "CLAUDIA!!!"

The green blur managed to come to a stop--- to Harry's eye, it looked rather chancy--- in time to let Claudia Teasdale hug her siblings. "Saw you lot practicing and couldn't resist---"

"What is that broom?" The question came out in near-unison from all five of the younger people.

Claudia laughed easily. "It's a Rimrunner--- experimental model. Our parents---" gesturing at the twins--- "have a magitransport company---"

"We did all the Portkeys---"

"For the World Cup last year!" The twins, as usual, chimed in, in stereo.

Claudia grinned. "Anyway, we've got a new model of broom, and Mum's letting me test it by way of a Christmas present."

"Your mum?" Harry could understand why Ron was surprised; for one thing, his mother would never have wanted any of her children testing an experimental anything, much less give one of them an experimental broom for a present. Even if they could afford one.

Claudia, however, interpreted his comment differently, and bristled--- but the twins spoke over her. "Mum does the personnel stuff for the company---"

"I know I told you that, Ron!" Catlin had her hands on her hips; hard to do while sitting thirty feet up on a broomstick.

"---and Dad does the technical side, but it's Mum's decision who does tests and stuff."

Ron held up a hand, surprised. "I just meant--- my mum wouldn't give one of us anything that she wasn't sure was safe---"

Claudia rolled her eyes. "Say no more; I've met your mother." That statement, Harry thought, was rather loaded, given that Claudia and Bill Weasley had been involved at some point.

As if reading his mind, the young Auror tipped him a wink and a grin. "Anyway, if you lot don't mind, I'd like to play a game or two with you."

Ron's eyes bugged out. "Mind? Gosh, no---"

Claudia gave him an insouciant look. "Careful, there, laddie--- my sister might get jealous---"

Catlin laughed. "Only if you won't share his brother!"

The Slytherins laughed, while the Gryffindors blushed. Claudia gave them a look. "I think I know why the Gryffindor house color is red," she said speculatively. "Because you lot blush so much!"

"You'd know, wouldn't you?" Ginny put in. "Bill and Charlie talk about you--- whenever Mum's not around to hear."

Claudia looked genuinely pleased. "Really?" She looked about to say more, then broke off.

Harry decided to cover up, even though he didn't know why she'd stopped. "Three-on-three, then?" he asked.

Claudia looked thoughtful. "Well, we could--- or---" she got a mischievous look--- "we could run a Seeker's Challenge---"

At once, Catlin's eyes lit up. "Could we? I didn't think we'd have enough Snitches---"

"I brought some along," Claudia said, "knowing I was going to be seeing you." Catlin grinned.

Harry frowned. "What's a Seeker's Challenge?" Ron and Ginny looked equally puzzled, which reassured him.

"It's an old Quidditch tradition--- only reason Kennilworthy Whisp didn't put it in that book of his is because the League asked him not to," Claudia explained. "Too many Challenges takes away from practice time, and if it had gotten too much public attention, every idiot with a broom would be wanting to Challenge for a place on a pro team."

"But what is it?" Harry asked stubbornly.

The twins spoke up. "A hundred-and-one snitches---

"---ten minutes---"

"and as many as five Seekers."

"The one who gets the most Snitches wins."

Claudia grinned raffishly. "That's how I got my spot on the Chudley Cannons--- they have a really awful habit of doing everything by seniority, but the League rule is that whoever wins a formal Seeker's Challenge gets to be Seeker for the team."

Harry couldn't help but grin. That was useful information--- especially since playing Quidditch was the only thing he could think of to do when he got out of Hogwarts.

Assuming he lived that long, with Voldemort out there--- He shuddered.

Claudia's voice broke through his reverie. "So, Potter, you in?"

He shook himself. "Sure!"

Claudia held out her hand, almost negligently, and after a moment, they saw something come flying across the grounds: a mid-size wooden box.

All three Gryffindor gaped. "How'd you do that?" Ron.

"Is that Auror magic?" Ginny, looking fascinated.

Claudia shook her head. "Nope--- being able to do controlled wandless magic is part of being strega. Blaise can do it too, and---" again, she broke off.

"Please tell me you don't do that during Quidditch matches," Harry said.

Claudia laughed. It was a nice sound, Harry thought, like a bell, deep and clear and certain. "No--- that'd take all the fun out of it." She banked her broom around--- to Harry's eye, it looked like she had a bit of a time turning it--- and headed for the ground to put the box down.

Harry exchanged glances with Catlin, and they started to follow her, but Claudia waved them to stay up in the air. "Nah--- I'll give you guys a head start, since I'm an ex-pro and all." Harry thought Ron looked offended--- and wondered why; after two terms of hanging out with Blaise Zabini, he was used to the odd blend of arrogance and friendliness that seemed to characterize strega. Apparently Ron wasn't.

"And what are we supposed to do?" Ron asked sharply. "Just watch you?"

The twins grinned. "I'll bet---

"Claws has something in mind!"

"That I do." She opened the box, revealing a glittering mass of Snitches--- and a double set of Bludgers and bats. "Fancy being Beater for a day?"

At once, Ron's face cleared. "Sounds great!" He swooped down, along with Florian and Ginny, and they collected bats.

Claudia looked up at the other two Seekers. "Ready?"

"Ready!" Catlin looked just-plain-excited.

"Ready!" Harry was a little more nervous; he'd never played a Seeker's Challenge before, and he didn't want to make an idiot of himself in front of Claudia.

Or Ginny, who was grinning happily at him and holding her bat at the ready.

Claudia mounted her own broom, then flipped some sort of catch on the box.

At once, the air was filled with a glittering gold cloud, which dissipated as the Snitches spread out--- and four Bludgers went rocketing into the air.

After that, it was sort of a blur of ducking not one but four Bludgers; avoiding three Beaters, all of whom had whacking every Seeker as their goal; and trying to swoop after as many Snitches as he could find.

Harry couldn't remember having a better time.

The Snitches didn't have as many places to hide as in a real game; there was none of the usual business with the Quaffle that could really get in a Seeker's way--- though the Bludgers were a worse distraction than usual.

And Claudia Teasdale was a distraction in and of herself. Harry noticed right away the difference in a professional player--- damaged leg or not, she was first-rate.

And her broom was touchy. Harry, watching her closely, could tell how much effort she was having to put into controlling it. It would pull tight turns at high speed, but Harry could see from the way she held it that it was--- loose was the only word for it; the price for that maneuverability was a broom that was far too sensitive. Not to mention the little glitches that had her pulling hard out of dives and banks.

But despite that, she was still an excellent flier--- and a blasted tough opponent. Her favorite tactic seemed to be cutting in front of another Seeker with a wicked laugh and pouncing on the Snitch they were about to capture. Catlin seemed to accept this as normal behavior, but Harry was getting rather frustrated.

"Oi! Claudia!" He felt a little funny, calling her by her first name, but there were too many Teasdales on the field not to.

"What?" Her hair was coming out of its ponytail, and she looked ten years younger.

"Are there any rules about this Challenge?"

She gave him a measuring look, then shook her head. "Do your worst!"

"Thanks," he called back--- and then dove at her, hard.

She gave a little shriek--- more of anger, he thought, than fear, and more of amusement than either--- but simply held her ground as he came hurtling at her.

So that was her game, was it? Well, she'd have to move, wouldn't she?

Wouldn't she?

At the last possible second, as he was about to slam right into her, she rolled over in midair, so that he shot past her--- and suddenly, there was another broom hooked to his: Claudia had managed to tangle their brushes together.

He pulled up abruptly; the broom stopped, but he kept going forward, right off the end of his broom----

Then he was floating in midair; Claudia and her wandless magic again. He gave her a sheepish grin. "Okay, you win."

"Actually," came an arch voice from the other end of the field, "I win." It was Catlin, her arms full of Snitches, jetting over to join them. "While you two were playing around I---"

"Cleaned up," Claudia said, rumpling her sister's hair. "All right there, Potter?"

"'D be better if I had a broom under me," he admitted, unable to keep from grinning.

Claudia reached behind her to fiddle their brooms apart.

By now, the three Beaters had joined them. "Was that what you did to Charlie?" Ginny asked. "When you sent him---" she grinned, blushing a little--- "'arse over teakettle,' as he puts it?"

"Nah--- this is illegal," Claudia said offhandedly.

"Then what did you do to him?" Harry rather thought that learning any dirty-but-legal tricks Claudia Teasdale had up her sleeves was a good idea.

She grinned and shook her finger at him playfully. "Ah-ah-ah, Potter--- you're Gryffindor; I'm not giving away anything that might let you annoy my sister---"

"As if I'll ever get to play on the first team---" Catlin looked sour.

Claudia gave her sister a look. "Cat, hon--- what, exactly, did we just do?"

Catlin's eyes got round. "A Challenge? That's---"

But they never found out exactly what it was, because at that moment, one of the Bludgers, neglected for too long, came hurtling at the clump of them.

Catlin shrieked and rolled--- but Claudia, as she had when Harry dove at her, stayed perfectly still.

And then she did an odd thing, something Harry'd never seen any witch or wizard do before. She snapped her wrist up in front of her, closing her fist so that her hand faced her chest.

And like that, all the Bludgers stopped. Stopped dead.

Ron stared at her. "Wicked!"

"Isn't it though?" Claudia said nonchalantly, clenching her fist again; as if they were on strings, the Bludgers made their way to the box. "Another strega-trick--- that fist-clenching routine is a quick way for us to draw power." She gave her sister's armful a look. "Let's get those counted." And she started for the ground.

Catlin had not only managed to get more Snitches than either Harry or Claudia; she'd gotten more than the two of them combined. "I'm impressed," said Claudia, rumpling her sister's hair again. "That'll teach me to get distracted."

"Won't it though?" But Catlin was flushed with pleasure.

"Looks like Gryffindors aren't the only ones to blush a lot," Ginny teased.

"True enough," Claudia said easily. "Another round?"

"Only if we all get to chase the Snitches!" Ginny retorted. "My arms are tired from hitting Bludgers." Harry put his arm over her shoulders in comfort.

Claudia glanced at them--- then did a double take. "Damn and blast--- will you two not do that?"

Harry started. "What?" He hadn't thought Claudia was the type to mind a little casual affection.

"Look like James Potter and Lily Evans. Because you do."

Something clicked in Harry's mind suddenly; he'd almost forgotten--- "So that's why Snape took points off us at Valentine's Day!"

Ron gave him a look. "Since when does he need a reason?"

Claudia sent a similar look at Ron, then turned her attention to Harry. "You probably reminded him a little too much of your parents," she said, then laughed. "Cousin Severus has many wonderful qualities, but he has got a sadistic sense of humor." For a moment her eyes flickered, and Harry wondered what was behind them. Then she shrugged. "Which is fun if you're his accomplice, but not so much so if you're on the receiving end."

"I don't get it," Ron said suddenly. "How could you and Bill be friends with--- Snape?"

Claudia gave him a measuring look, suddenly more serious than Harry had yet seen her except when she was talking about Sirius Black. "Because he was ours," she answered him. "Because he looked after both of us. Because I learned about being somebody's older sibling from how he treated us---" She looked Ron in the eye. "And Bill will tell you the same thing."

Ron looked taken aback; Harry knew that he admired both his oldest siblings tremendously.

"Bill doesn't talk about it," here her lips thinned, "because your parents never understood how he could be friends with Slytherins. Never mind that my own family's half-Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. But that's how it is."

Suddenly, she was all smiles again. "You know, he's the reason both of us are in our present professions--- he used to teach us some of the curses the school doesn't, in the library after-hours."

Harry gaped. Snape---breaking rules? "But--- he's so strict with all of us now---"

"That's probably why, "Claudia said impishly. "He doesn't want to have to deal with the kind of pranks we got up to!" She gestured at the box. "Now, are we going to play another round? Or pack it in?"

Harry frowned; he had the feeling that Claudia didn't want to continue this conversation, but wasn't sure what that meant, or what he should do about it. But one thing he did know--- "You knew my parents," he said, not making it a question.

Claudia grinned. "Right--- I owe you a conversation on that score, don't I?" She gave him a serious look, then grinned. "But not at the moment--- it's a lovely summer evening---" it was moving that way, certainly--- "and we should make the most of it."

And they did. This time Harry kept his mind on the game--- and so did Claudia, which meant that she won.

******

That night, after curfew, Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk and went looking for Claudia.

His curiosity stopped at the dungeons; if she was down there with "Cousin Severus" he was damned if he'd follow her. But he did look everywhere else for her.

And found her in the South Tower--- where Blaise had been attacked--- sprawling over a chair with a book in her hand.

She looked up as he approached. "Hello, Potter."

Harry started, drawing the cloak off his head. "How did you---" Claudia didn't have a mad-eye like her mentor---

"Elementary, my dear Potter," she grinned. "You're the only one in the school with an Invisibility Cloak who's got cause to be looking for me."

He blushed. "I thought I was being quiet."

"You were--- Aurors just have a few charms we use that aren't commonly known---" At his look, she shrugged and elaborated. "Enhanced hearing." She sat up and gestured to the chair across from her, which looked considerably newer than the one she was sitting in. "Take a load off." And, with a grin, "The cloak, too--- I like talking to whole people, thanks muchly."

He did as she bade him, and asked the question he'd been dying to since he'd met her. "You knew my parents--- didn't you?"

She nodded. "As well as can be expected, given that they were seventh years when I started, and in a different House at that." Mischievous grin. "Bill knew them a little better--- I'm amazed he didn't tell you."

"Well..." Now that she mentioned it, it was odd that Bill had never mentioned that he'd been at Hogwarts at the same time as Harry's parents. "We only met once--- and---" he had a flash of inspiration--- "I'll bet Mrs. Weasley didn't want him to upset me."

Claudia's expression cleared. "Now that makes a lot of sense, knowing Molly..." She grinned at him--- more mischief. "You know, Cousin Severus knew your parents rather better than I did---"

"I know what he thinks of my dad," Harry said shortly.

Claudia laughed outright. "You've said a mouthful." She sprawled back on the chair. "Well, I'll tell you, you won't hear much better from me about James Potter than you did from Severus." She considered. "Maybe a little--- I could take him or leave him. Quidditch-head---"

"That's pot calling kettle---" Harry felt obliged to point out.

"S'pose it is," Claudia said with a phlegmatism he hadn't expected. "But then I never got the idea that the world owed me anything because I could catch a Snitch faster than most people. He and his little crowd got away with murder--- and I'm not just speaking figuratively here." She looked over at him seriously.

"I know about that," Harry said, starting to feel sorry he asked. "Sirius and my dad played a prank on Snape---"

"A potentially lethal prank, Potter." Claudia regarded him--- well, if it hadn't been Claudia, he'd have said she was looking at him sternly. "And, from what I heard, the only reason they didn't get thrown out of school was because the Headmaster would have had to explain why, and that would have meant explaining to the rest of the world that Remus Lupin was a werewolf." She grinned ferally. "So you see why Severus can't stick any of that lot."

Harry crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. "You're telling me a lot about Snape--- but I want to know about my family."

Claudia regarded him amusedly. "Well, most of what I know about them is from Cousin Severus--- most," she added savagely, "at least as far as your father's concerned---"

Harry decided he really didn't want to hear about Sirius from Claudia. "What about my mum?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

Instantly, her expression cleared, and she grinned. "Oh, now there's a story," she said, laughing. "'The Lily Evans Appreciation Society'---" At Harry's puzzled look, Claudia explained: "That was what Bill and I called Severus and Black--- because, well, they were." She giggled. "Both mooning after her--- though Cousin Severus was more decent about it."

Harry laughed. "You mean he hated my dad because he was in love with my mum?"

Claudia shook her head. "Not exactly. You know what strega is, right?"

"I... think so," Harry said cautiously. "Powerful witches---"

"Partly." Claudia leaned back and put her hands behind her head. "Basically--- and I'm sure Blaise explained this to you--- strega knows. She's certain of herself, despite what the outside world says to her."

Harry frowned; it was a question he'd wanted to ask since Blaise had told him about strega. "Mrs. Weasley always seems pretty sure of herself to me---"

Claudia did a double-take. "Oh, right; you're a Gryffindor--- been a while since I explained strega to a Gryffie." She grinned. "The difference between strega and a powerful, intelligent witch who isn't strega... is that strega likes to put her knowledge to use--- to put our mark on things, so to speak." She gave him a wink. "Basically, we're bossy bitches, the lot of us, at least in our... areas of certainty." She laughed. "Which can sometimes send us output-only--- that's what Snape's mum is like, if you're curious."

Right now Harry was more interested in his own mother. "What's that got to do with my mum?"

Claudia gave him a look. "Everything--- you see, Lily Evans could have been strega. She had the brains, the raw talent--- but she never acquired that certainty, or the desire to put it to use." Claudia took a deep breath. "Cousin Severus thinks that it was your father's fault--- and Black's--- for treating her like she was an ornament."

"And did they?" Harry fought to keep his voice steady, regretting having asked her now, if this was just going to be the same sort of harangue that Snape would have given him.

"I'll believe it of Black," Claudia said flatly. "Your father--- I don't know, maybe. I know---" here she grinned--- "your mum had a lot on the ball when she wanted to--- and that blowing up Voldemort was the act of strega."

Harry shivered, trying to take it in; a question surfaced. "If strega could have defeated Voldemort--- why didn't you?"

"Because he had the good sense to leave us alone." Claudia grinned smugly at him.

"So you just let him rampage, destroy other people---" Harry was starting to get angry.

"No! Didn't Blaise explain---" Whatever Claudia saw on his face apparently told her that Blaise hadn't, and she went on. "Look, do you know the Greek word moira?"

Harry shook his head.

"It means your 'lot' in life--- those things that are given you, that are your responsibility: your work, your loved ones, even. Your destiny, as it were." She grinned sheepishly. "Sounds like Trelawney-babble, doesn't it?" Harry had to grin at that. "Except that it's a fate you make for yourself. And for strega, within her moira, as regards those things that are hers, what I called her 'areas of certainty'--- she's unstoppable. Outside that radius, she's a very powerful witch, true, but not more than others--- certainly not enough to take on someone like Voldemort." Claudia sank back, smirking ruefully. "So the pillock left us and our families and our work alone, and there wasn't much to be done about it---" The smirk widened. "Until he underestimated your mum."

The remark brought his focus back to the topic of discussion. "Tell me about her?"

"Severus could do that better than I---" this with a grin. "You know, you really ought to ask him sometime--- I guarantee it'll put him in a better mood than thinking about your dad every time he looks at you." She considered. "Then again, it might not be such a good idea--- he's likely to be reminded of how your dad treated her."

Harry frowned. "You keep saying that--- like he beat her or something---"

Claudia shook her head. "Not saying that--- though I wouldn't put it past Black--- just that he never really saw her." She shook her head. "Not that I knew much about it--- but it never looked to me like he quite understood what she could be." She shrugged. "Typical Gryffindor, I guess--- glad Severus and I cured Bill of that attitude."

"What 'attitude'?" Harry felt his blood pressure rising.

Claudia shot him an amused glance. "The one that spawned Quidditch in Bed, of course," she teased. "Sexism--- sometimes well-meaning, sometimes genuinely cruel, but predicated on a lack of respect for women."

"And Slytherin's any better?" Harry asked, thinking of Malfoy.

"Actually, yes--- that's why most strega come from my House. Legend has it that half of Salazar Slytherin's family was strega, you know." She grinned. "That's supposed to have been one of the first reasons for anti-Muggle prejudice: the old pureblood families had a tradition of respect for the female of the species that Muggles didn't, and they didn't want to see their children exposed to that sort of filth."

"Then how do you explain Malfoy?" Harry demanded. "What he did to Blaise---"

"Bad company?" Claudia teased, then sobered. "Well, history's not my forte, but I'll tell you this: prejudice isn't good for the human spirit. Once you get the notion that someone's beneath you, all bets are off--- and Malfoy's been raised to believe that anyone who's connected with Muggles is not his social equal." She grinned raffishly. "Though from what I hear, his daddy wasn't all that happy with him--- Lucius may be a pervert, but he knows enough of the old ways to have a healthy fear of crossing strega--- let alone two of her, in the same family, within a question of moira."

Harry had to smile about that--- and a happy thought occurred to him: if Hermione were strega, she'd be safe from Lucius; she'd be able to get him back. Suddenly being as supportive of her as possible seemed like a very good idea.

He thought about what Claudia had said--- bossy bitches. Which had basically been his first impression of Hermione. And liking to leave your mark on the world... that sounded an awful lot like S.P.E.W. to him.

"That's what happened to Voldemort, after all," Claudia said, snapping his attention back to her. "He crossed strega, within her chosen moira--- her family. And she blew him to hell and--- unfortunately--- back." She gave him a look. "You know, Cousin Severus thinks that if she'd been strega from the get-go, she probably could have done for the bastard right then and there--- made a clean job of it."

Something in the way Claudia said that made Harry look twice. "And what do you think?"

Claudia grinned. "What do I think?" She leaned back, arms behind her head again. "I think that Cousin Severus tends to have an exaggerated notion of strega's power--- which is not surprising, considering that his mum, who is also strega, went out of her way to convince him of her omnipotence when he was little, and that he seems to have transferred that perspective to strega as a whole." She gave Harry a playful grin. "If you'd been the arrogant, headstrong, troublemaking daughter of James Potter and Lily Evans, you might have gotten a wholly different reaction from him."

Harry pondered that for about a second, decided he didn't want to think about it. The idea of having Snape favor him was worse in some ways than being hated.

Claudia seemed to guess his thoughts, for she shook her head. "Well, you're not, so don't worry about it." She tapped one foot in the air. "Anything else you'd like to ask me?"

There was something, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know her answer. Wasn't sure he wanted to know why she hated his godfather so much. So he temporized. "I don't--- think so--- but can I owl you if I think of something?"

Claudia looked surprised, then grinned. "Sure--- or better yet---" she held up her arm, and suddenly a large red-and-gold bird came swooping in.

"Fawkes!" Harry exclaimed. "But how did you---"

Claudia shook her head. "Uh-unh--- this fella's all mine." The phoenix settling himself on her arm, trilling softly; Claudia drew the bird close and stroked him, like Hermione sometimes did Crookshanks. "His name's Bennu--- Benny-boy for a nickname--- and he has an uncanny knack for knowing when he--- and I--- are needed." She held out her phoenix-bearing arm and addressed the bird. "Get to know him, Benny--- he may be looking for me in a little bit." She looked over at Harry. "I told Blaise about that talent of his--- and Hermione."

Harry blinked. "You---"

Claudia winked at him. "Yup." She sobered. "Look after her--- and whatever you do, don't emulate your father... much less Black." She got to her feet and stretched, rather abruptly. "Listen, if that's all, I'm for bed--- got to get an early start tomorrow."

Harry hastily got to his feet. "You're leaving."

She grinned at him. "My work here is done, I think--- at least for now." She picked up her cane; Bennu settled on her shoulder, nipping affectionately at her hair. "Walk me downstairs?"

Harry started. "Uh--- sure." He hadn't thought Claudia would want that kind of traditional courtesy. Apparently there was more to strega than he realized.

Claudia distracted him from that line of analysis with a comment about Quidditch, and that occupied their conversation until they reached the Great Hall and went their separate ways.

When he got back up to Gryffindor Tower, Harry spent most of the night lying awake, thinking about what Claudia had told him.

And what she hadn't.

He hoped Hedwig came back soon.

******

The morning after Claudia Teasdale left, her phoenix appeared with the post owls, coming not to the twins but to Blaise.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny traded a set of glances. "Wonder what that's about?" Harry asked.

"Yeah--- why didn't she just give--- whatever it is--- to Blaise while she was here?" Ron asked rather scornfully.

Hermione shrugged. "There's probably some reason for making a display of it--- knowing Slytherins."

"But what?" asked Ginny, looking over at the table.

They found out afterward, when the Slytherin trio came over to them--- still walking in their flying wedge, Hermione noticed with some amusement. "Got something for you," Blaise said to Hermione.

"What?"

Blaise flipped her a square case she'd never expected to see at Hogwarts: a CD jewelbox. "From Claudia. Sent me one too--- burned them herself."

"Why didn't she send it to Hermione herself?" Ron asked, looking over Hermione's shoulder at the CD.

Harry joined them. "Tori Amos? Who's that?"

Blaise smiled. "You'll find out---"

"We've got a CD player here---"

"That runs off magic---" The twins, contributing their usual two Knuts apiece.

Hermione looked up, impressed. "How did you---"

Blaise held up a hand. "Later. We'll bring it to the library--- with headphones."

******

Snape smiled as the peregrine falcon swooped down to land by his chair.

Claudia Teasdale wasn't the only one with a sense of the dramatic. And he'd give it even odds that she and Claire had coordinated their deliveries. Blaise--- and the rest of Slytherin--- would likely be too wrapped up in the arrival of Claudia's phoenix to notice the Zabini family mailbird making a delivery to their Head of House.

And even if they did notice, he reflected, it might be good for... certain of his charges... to be reminded that Claire was still taking an active interest in her daughter's well-being.

Several of the other teachers regarded him curiously; Dumbledore smiled benignly. "Claire's keeping in touch with you, I see?"

Snape snorted, watching as the curious expressions of his colleagues dissolved into understanding. "Who else do you know who uses a falcon?" Thank you, sir. His life was complicated enough without McGonagall or one of the others poking their noses into his business.

However, he could safely say that none of them would want to touch this issue with a ten-foot pole. Malfoys, rape, and strega in the same sentence were a potentially deadly combination. Add in the Muggle Mafia and you had the sort of explosive substance inclined to make normal people back away slowly.

And to fascinate a Slytherin. Snape took the scroll from the bird and sent it on its way; he'd use the school owls for his reply.

Which was best made in private. He gave the letter a pat as he set it by his plate. With Claudia gone--- a significant source of stress removed--- and Claire at a safe remove---

---where she wouldn't find out what he'd become---

--- he could settle in to enjoy watching his young cousin take a deserved revenge on the little Malfoy brat. That little stunt with Quidditch in Bed had a certain flair... and he had the feeling he knew exactly what her next step was.

Education. He chuckled to himself. Tormenting poor Florian Teasdale was one thing, but if Blaise intended the sort of all-too-appropriate revenge on Malfoy that he expected... well, he just might give her a few pointers.

Assuming she'd take them. The Headmaster might disagree, but as far as he was concerned, his cousin had every right to settle in her own mind what level of threat he presented. A former Death Eater, particularly with his record, was not going to be the most reassuring figure in the world to a young strega uncertain of her powers and having just faced a threat to her person--- and all the more because she had trusted him, as her mother's favorite cousin. Malfoy might have been able to assault her... but Snape could make her beg for it. A worse threat, in some ways, than "pure" force, even if only a Slytherin--- and not all of those--- would understand it. Power versus force... he was certain that Malfoy wouldn't.

Yet. He had the suspicion that Blaise was very likely to change that.

He made a mental note to discuss it with her. Revenge was all well and good, but if the little Malfoy-spawn's casual chauvinism and entitlement were to mutate into a genuine rage against the distaff side, he'd be a worse monster than his father. Snape had seen a few of that type... like Black.

Let the Headmaster and the others insist that he'd been only joking... both times. But his sense of humor had nearly killed Snape... and done worse to Claudia---

The memory brought a fresh surge of the pain he'd lived with for the time of Claudia's visit here; he pushed it aside.

But a talk with Blaise was a good idea. Along with a reading list--- advice on... technique. Tactics. Conditioning, in a word. Not all of the books were in the library, but he could put his hands on a few.

And if all else failed, he could owl his mother.

The thought brought a grim smile to his lips. She'd been famous for it, at Durmstrang, and, Durmstrang being Durmstrang, no one asked too many questions about her "private lessons" for certain attractive male students.

Sometimes he thought she'd rather done him a favor, with the poisons. He never had figured out where his mother drew her lines. Or if.

After breakfast, he took the letter to the dungeons with him, locked it away. He'd read it during morning break.

*****

His first class--- Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff third years--- was mercifully uneventful; he wasn't sure he could have dealt with a crisis, with his cousin's letter on his mind.

The parchment had one of Claire's seals on it, coded to the recipient. He pressed his thumb over the combined Snape and Clemens family crest, and the wax loosened to allow the parchment to unroll.

"My dear Cousin Severus---" it read,

"I trust you understand the reasons for my hasty departure--- I know how taxing it is for Albus to have one of the school governors on what he rightly considers his territory, especially after that nonsense Lucius pulled three years ago--- which ended in my taking his seat on the board, so I suppose I shouldn't complain, but honestly, cousin, sometimes I don't know how you can stand to deal with that self-important albino weasel; you handle him and his vile excuse for a son far, far better than I would, and I'm grateful that you were there to look after my daughter. Not that I would ever call for Dumbledore's resignation, certainly not over a personal matter, but as strega, it behooves me to respect what might be called Albus' moira--- you know I've often said he'd have been strega himself but for the little matter of gender, and his accomplishments deserve respect in their own right. Which of course is no excuse for leaving without spending some time with my favorite cousin."

Snape smiled to himself: an apology from strega tended to be maddeningly indirect, unless you knew what you were looking for. Claire tended to effusions: that whole first paragraph was an apology both to him and to the Headmaster; he'd have to be sure to pass it on.

Not that Claire needed to apologize, as far as either of them were concerned. She had, after all, been defending her daughter--- and she had a right to be angry. He'd wager that it had taken all Claire's self-control not to simply allow her husband to declare vendetta and wipe the Malfoys off the face of the earth. And would have done--- except that it wouldn't have solved the more pressing problem, by Claire's lights, of Blaise's insecurity.

"I trust my offspring's vendetta is proceeding apace. Cousin, may I ask that you inform me at once if her... designs... spill over onto anyone besides Malfoy and his accomplices? My daughter is young, and I fear she's inherited a double dose of ill-temper. Florian is a lovely young man, and strega-raised; under normal circumstances, Blaise understands the responsibilities and requirements this places on her--- but these circumstances are anything but normal, and I have no wish to see two young people further damaged by young Malfoy's ill-considered lusts. Blaise would not forgive herself if she should bring harm to a young man she cares for--- dare I say it loves, at least by the standards of adolescence.

"Nor would either of us forgive ourselves for any collateral damage done to you, cousin--- and I am not certain it is possible for Blaise to understand, at this point, the possibility for such. I have seen the kind of treatment you and Sebastian have suffered at the hands of that woman---" it was a harsh black scratch in contrast to Claire's usual neat swooping hand --- "while Blaise merely knows of it. There is a difference. I know what you're thinking, dear cousin--- don't defend your mother to me. If your place in my moira had been sufficient, I would not have allowed her a free rein--- but even that is strictly her fault, for limiting your involvement with the rest of the family.

"I hope this finds you well, and I know that you will keep me informed of any further developments.

I remain always,

Your loving cousin,

Claire."

The closing was followed with her full signature, in blood-- - a very private letter.

Snape sat back, smiling ruefully. Trust Claire to get in a snipe at his mother.

At the moment, he wasn't sure if her stance on the subject of Blaise's behavior was an inconvenience or not. The last thing he wanted was for Claire to know that Blaise inarguably had some justice in doing him a little damage, if only on Hermione's behalf. He knew strega--- knew Blaise was setting him up for Hermione.

In fact, he welcomed it. On several levels.

But he rather thought it would be a good idea to have a little chat with his cousin's daughter before he replied to Claire. After all, she had asked him to keep an eye on Blaise.

The evening, he decided, would be the best time for that. Knowing Blaise, she'd hoard whatever Claudia had sent her.

And he rather thought he'd know right where to find her.

*****

Madam Pince looked askance when the Slyffindor Seven brought the discplayer into the library at lunchtime, but since they weren't common objects at Hogwarts, she didn't recognize it as a potential noisemaker, and the headphones were a considerable improvement on their Muggle counterparts, courtesy of an Exaudio Charm.

And Hermione, listening to the music, understood why Claudia had called exactly the amount of attention she had to the gift. Making sure everyone knew it was from her to Blaise--- and if she knew her Slytherin friends, they'd be sure to play the music in the common room that evening, thereby letting Malfoy know that Claudia knew exactly what he'd done. But not letting anyone but their little group know about Hermione.

And giving tacit encouragement for Hermione to tell the twins.

Which she might... in her own good time.

First off, there was something she had to take care of.

"You know," she said to Blaise as they headed out of the library after lunch, "it's funny how music can... help make your mind up for you." Blaise raised an eyebrow in silent question. "'Baker, Baker' and 'Bells for Her.'"

Blaise grinned. "Nice mood music."

"I thought so." And they split up, heading for their classes.

*****

Snape's guess proved correct--- that evening, he found Blaise in the South Tower.

The music was so faint he didn't hear it until he was on the top step; Blaise, her eyes closed, appeared oblivious to everything but the sound.

Except for the crackle in the air around them, that told him she was aware of everything.

She opened her eyes slowly at his approach; he saw the tell-tale sheen over the silver.

"Hello, cousin." He kept his voice soft, in keeping with the music--- memories of too many times sharing songs with Bill and Claudia made his own eyes sting. He blinked, then moved off the staircase. "May I join you?"

She nodded, gesturing to the other, newer chair across from her. "That one's courtesy of Claudia."

He settled into it with a studied show of gingerness. "I hope it doesn't share her... opinion of me."

Blaise looked away, then down at the music-maker on the arm of her chair. "This is what was in the package she sent me---" She reached out and did something arcane to the device.

Instantly, words filled the air. Severus had enough experience with teenagers to know when he was being sent a message; he listened in respectful silence.

"Baker, Baker, baking a cake

Make me a day, make me whole again

And I wonder what's in a day

What's in your cake this time

I guess you heard he's gone to LA

He says that behind my eyes I'm hiding

And he tells me I pushed him away

That my heart's been hard to find

Here there must be something here

There must be something here here....

Baker Baker can you explain

If truly his heart was made of icing

And I wonder how mine could taste

Maybe we could change his mind

I know you're late for your next parade

You just came to make sure that I'm not running

Well I ran from him in all kinds of ways

Guess it was his turn this time....

Time thought I'd made friends with time

Thought we'd be flying maybe not this time

Baker Baker baking a cake make me a day

Make me whole again

And I wonder if he's okay

If you see him say hi."

When the song ended, she turned the music-maker off, then looked over at him. "That's what you were doing, wasn't it." It wasn't quite a question. She half-closed her eyes and recited: "'You just came to make sure that I'm not running....'" Then, more softly, almost choked. "'Make me whole again.'"

Her eyes closed the whole way; a tear slid out from under the dark lashes. His heart wrenched. "Cousin---"

Blaise opened her eyes. "Thank you." She swallowed, trying to clear her throat, though she made no attempt to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Thank you... for knowing what to do, and doing it---" she broke off, looking away, finally reaching to dash away the tears.

"It's my duty," he said quietly. "As your Head of House; as your cousin---" he reached out, slowly, and gently tucked a finger under her chin, turning her face back to him. She submitted to the touch without resentment. "As someone who considers that your talent and ability deserve to be realized to their fullest--- not hampered by... unhealed wounds." Which, he supposed, was the closest a Slytherin would come to a display of avuncular affection--- unless of course said Slytherin happened to be a Teasdale, but then they turned out as many Gryffindors and Ravenclaws as Slytherins.

Blaise managed a shaky smile--- then her eyes flickered. "Like Claudia."

He drew back, not ready for questions on that score. She watched him, her eyes troubled. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Of course." He clasped his hands in front of him: giving her his full attention, and showing it.

Silence for a moment, then--- "How... could you do it?"

The same question Claudia asked him--- but different. Blaise wasn't accusing... just asking. "Why do you ask?" He thought he knew the answer--- the question was, would she say it?

"Because... I need to know. " Now she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. "What's the difference between you and Malfoy?" Earnest expression--- again, asking, not accusing.

It was a question he'd had cause to ask himself a great deal in the last fifteen years... and especially the last few weeks. "Do you mean," he asked slowly, "the difference between what I did as... as a true Death Eater--- or after?" Meaning Hermione.

Blaise snorted. "The first--- you explained the second very nicely the other day--- something else I appreciated."

"The first." He sighed heavily. "The difference," he said slowly, "is that I realized what I'd done wrong, and tried to make amends."

Blaise regarded him soberly. "That makes sense." She sat up, crossed her legs neatly, looking up at him in a manner remarkably reminiscent of Hermione. It unsettled him--- precisely because it was... not unpleasant. "So, then... d'you think Malfoy can... be inspired to understand that?" She looked down at the music box and recited. "'Maybe we can... change his mind.'" It was half a dare.

Snape felt a rare, genuine smile pulling at his lips. "I was hoping you'd ask that." He sat back in his own chair. "What exactly did you have in mind, cousin?"

Blaise's lips twitched, impishly. "You know that."

"Sex then." He pursed his lips at her slight smirk that accompanied the equally slight flush at her cheekbones. Reached into a pocket of his robes, pulled out the list he'd readied that morning. "These should give you a good idea of the... differences in technique that will achieve your result."

Blaise took the parchment--- smiled. "Good old Aspasia...." She looked up. "You're not telling me that Hogwarts library has these?"

"They're strega-locked," he assured her. "I'm going entirely on Claudia's recommendation and that of... certain other witches of my acquaintance."

"Meaning Lucretia." Blaise bit her lip, looking away, as if biting off words.

"What is it--- you can ask me anything, you know."

Blaise looked back, the impish look in her eyes again. "No, I think not." She got to her feet. "Thanks awfully, Cousin Severus." She headed for the stairs. "I'd better go down to the library, if I want to get these before curfew---"

"Cousin." She stopped at his voice. "When you... execute your plans for Malfoy---"

"Yes?" Her eyes were midway between uncertain and challenging.

"Be sure and get pictures."

Blaise's eyebrow went up. "Why, Cousin Severus, I didn't think you went in for that sort of thing."

Snape twitched. "Hardly---though I confess I do find the notion of a Malfoy at strega's mercy rather entertaining--- but actually I was thinking more of the options for blackmail it offers."

Blaise giggled. "I'll tell Florian--- he's setting up the camera."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You... discussed this with Florian?"

"Of course--- I wanted to be sure it wouldn't upset him." She grinned then, conspiratorially. "The camera was his idea--- but I'm not letting him watch." Her eyes darkened. "I don't even play those games with him yet--- I'm not having him see me do it to someone else first."

Snape breathed a sigh of relief. Perfect judgment calls, all. He wasn't sure if he could credit that to Claudia, or Claire, but it was the Blaise he'd come to expect in the last five years. Whatever effect Malfoy'd had on her, he hadn't permanently damaged her sense of proportion. "Excellent," he confirmed.

Blaise smiled. "Thanks."

A thought occurred to him. "You're going to do this right away?"

Blaise looked startled--- then grinned. "Nah--- there's an old expression in my family: 'Revenge is a dish best served cold.' It takes as long as it takes."

He nodded; he'd wondered about the sudden escalation... but clearly his cousin wasn't as precipitous as he'd expected.

Blaise was still standing by the door, looking at him thoughtfully. "You know, I've changed my mind about something."

"Yes?" He tensed, not knowing what was coming and therefore automatically suspicious.

"I don't think I want to be Claudia Teasdale any more."

And with that, she was gone.

*****

For a moment, Blaise paused on the stairs, out of sight of the tower, wondering what Cousin Severus would have done if she'd asked the two questions that had popped into her head.

Did your mother teach you how to do what you did to Hermione?

And....

Would you teach me?

She shook her head, banishing the thought. If there was one thing she'd learned from Claudia Teasdale, it was where to draw certain lines.

Before they drew on you.

Sometimes you learned better from others' mistakes than you did their successes.

She shook her head, banishing the thought, and headed upstairs to the library, and the books awaiting her.

And wouldn't Madam Pince's expression be a sight when she came to the checkout desk with these in her arms?

The thought brought a real laugh to her lips.

*****

Back in his chambers, Snape pulled out Claire's letter and a blank sheet of parchment. Took a moment to collect himself, then settled in to reply.

"My dear Cousin Claire---

"No apologies needed; speaking professionally, I can say that it was best for Blaise to have some opportunity to adapt to her situation independently of her mother's presence--- and you are a force to be reckoned with, cousin, governor of the school or not. You offered her exactly the level of support she needed.

"I believe that Claudia Teasdale's presence was also a help; your daughter appears to have stabilized considerably since their visit.

"On which subject--- I think you may rest assured that Blaise is targeting her aggression into appropriate channels. From a recent discussion with her, I gather that she is planning a... proportional response, with an eye to awakening young Mr. Malfoy's conscience. I believe Florian Teasdale is setting up the audiovisual equipment--- though Blaise does not plan to involve him in the event itself."

(He could almost hear Claire's laugh.)

"Rest assured, also, that I will keep a close eye on her. As you reminded me, I am the son of Lucretia Andropolous Snape--- I know what can be expected of strega, and I should much prefer to see Blaise following the pattern of her mother rather than mine. I think it certain that she feels the same.

"I remain, as ever,

"You devoted cousin,

"Severus."

He added his own blood-signature; if Claire wanted privacy, she'd have it. His own seal on the roll assured it; even the Dark Lord would be unlikely to tamper with a message to strega from a member of her family.

Not, perhaps, that even Voldemort would necessarily object to the content. He spared himself a moment's indulgence, imagining the Dark Lord's reaction to Malfoy, Jr.'s stupidity--- not to mention his flouting wizarding custom. Conscious as he was of his status as Slytherin's Heir, the Dark Lord wouldn't dream of crossing strega, the respect as much a matter of his own sense of wizarding tradition as of prudence.

He wondered idly what old Salazar would have thought of a Muggle-born strega.

Such as Hermione promised to be.

*****

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

They were lying side by side on Blaise's bed; Blaise was leaning over Florian, stroking his hair idly.

He grinned up at her. "What's not to be okay with?" The humor left his eyes, and he added, "You've spent too much time with the wrong sort of Muggle males---" the grin came back--- "though Susie would tell you that there's no right sort." Florian's second-oldest sister, Susan, was a student at Kings College, studying genetics, and according to the letters the twins got from her, surrounded by sexists. (Blaise always thought her discussion of male science-types sounded a lot like Eleanor's in Carl Sagan's Contact.) Given that Susan had been raised by strega in a very egalitarian household, Blaise suspected that her standards were rather higher than most. Whereas Blaise, having grown up around Italian Roman-Catholic mobsters (if that wasn't at least a double redundancy) had learned to expect... rather less.

She laughed along with him, though. "And you're strega-spawn. Tell me now if this feels like a betrayal or something. Anything." Her tone brooked no argument: sometimes being strega was an advantage for her partner, too; Florian now had a perfect excuse for being honest with her.

He put one hand behind his head, looking up at her seriously. "If it were any other situation... maybe. And then only because you won't shag me."

"Yet." Blaise kissed the tip of his nose firmly. "Forgive me if I didn't want to have to stop for two years after my sixteenth birthday."

"Right, right---" Florian found the vagaries of the law more amusing than she did, though equally frustrating where it concerned their personal life. "But seriously, Blaise--- no, I don't mind." He smirked. "It's not as if you fancy him or anything---"

"Well, I don't know." Blaise phrased it playfully, but the fact was that Malfoy was good-looking. For a pillock, anyway.

"I'm not talking about aesthetics, and you know it." Florian grinned up at her, then sobered. "You're avenging yourself on him." It wasn't a question.

Blaise looked down at him for a moment, feeling--- as she had since the beginning--- no little surprised at how quickly Florian had fallen in with her plans for Malfoy. Impulsively, she bent and kissed him on the tip of the nose. "You're a treasure, you know that, love?"

Florian blushed a dark red, but looked up at her soberly. "I'm Claudia Teasdale's brother." The serious look was replaced by a raffish grin. "Besides, you're letting Cat and me wind up Malfoy's goons while you educate their boss--- my sense of chivalry's quite satisfied."

Which did rather sum it up. She bent and kissed him, rather more seriously this time.

He returned the favor.

When they decided to come up for air, Blaise smiled at him. "Thank you."

He caught her hand, kissed it. "Thank you,"

"Why, whatever for?"

He shrugged disarmingly. "Being you. Loving me--- loving me back." Abruptly, as if embarrassed by the confession, he turned away.

Blaise attempted a patch on the awkward moment. "Blast Malfoy's sense of timing anyway--- wish I could have had more time to settle this, but it's almost the summer hols--- I'll never have time to---" She flicked a hand at the books covering the desk.

Florian grinned back at her. "Look on the bright side--- he'll have the whole summer to stew."

Blaise grinned. "There is that."

Florian got up. "And it's going to take almost as long to set up our side--- I'd better go drag Cat away from Weasley and see if we can't get your snooping system in order."

Blaise grinned at him. "Thanks---" then sobered. "I meant it, Flor. You're a treasure."

He was standing by the door. "You too--- don't forget that." Then, with a little courtly bow, he was gone.

Blaise shook her head, grinning, rather goofily, as she reached over to the stack of books Cousin Severus had suggested to her. A number of them she'd already read--- her mother's idea of sexual education involved an understanding of both the power and the pleasure involved. But now she was seeing them in a new light.

Control. Manipulation. And not in jest--- not the kind of games she'd planned to play since she was old enough to understand them, games in which the exchange-of-power had its own natural limit, agreed on and understood by the partners.

This was the real thing. Dangerous. But--- if she controlled herself--- doable.

The goal, after all, was only to get his attention. Hormones would do the rest.

It was, ultimately, a question of motivation.

And, at the end of the day, pleasure--- as she suspected Hermione and Cousin Severus could tell her only too clearly--- was a better motivator than pain.

She bent to the books with the kind of concentration she seldom gave to anything but the stock market.

A/N The Sphinx-ref is Claudia calling Hermione a "jammy cow" which Professor Vector does in "Letter From Exile". And for much the same reason. >GRIN<

Also, the "Rimrunner" broom is named for the C.J. Cherryh novel of the same name. Claudia and Bet Yeager would like each other, methinks. >GRIN< The line "Revenge is a dish best served cold" is from somewhere in the Godfather saga.