burbaged (burbaged) wrote in changedrpg, @ 2011-07-19 23:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | !date: 1997 - june, charity burbage, severus snape |
Who: Charity Burbage and Severus Snape
What: Asking for Help
Where: Hogwarts
When: End of Term, 1997
Status: Complete
Rating: Low
The castle always seemed so much less alive without the students, like a husk of the thing it was meant to be. Every year, Charity found herself glad that she had her own home to enjoy during the summers, that she didn’t have responsibilities at the school or in general that kept her any longer than she had students to teach.
Which didn’t explain why she was still in her office, the day after students had gone home for the holidays - apprehensive of the months that stretched out before she came back to the relative safety of Hogwarts. She looked at the things she’d packed up in her office and finally made the decision she’d been putting off at least since her last article.
A few moments later, she was walking into the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. She didn’t see anyone, and thought she might have been too late, but then noticed that in the upstairs office a light was still shimmering, and so started up the stairs.
There were few days Severus relished more than that one in June when he could wake secure in the knowledge that the castle would be empty. The near-silence was a blessed relief, even if he’d spend the first week of it marking pile after pile of truly pathetic essays, and the relative solitude transformed the entire grounds into something like the paradise it had been during his childhood Christmas holidays. Summer was easily Hogwarts’ best season.
It was never perfect, of course - enough of the faculty was hanging around that he was bound to run into someone, and of late Horace had taken to coming uninvited to his office on some flimsy pretext to scope out some of his rarer and more valuable artifacts. When he heard someone approaching his office he threw down his quill and headed for the door, fully expecting to head off a glad-handing Slughorn - and stopped short of running into Charity. He raised an eyebrow, his surprise otherwise lost in the usual blank of his face. “Can I help you?” She, at least, probably wasn’t here to try to con him out of some priceless object, so that was a decent change of pace.
“I hope so,” She said quickly, and she gave him a smile that looked a bit... well, nervous wouldn’t be the right word, though there were certainly nerves behind it. Unsure, maybe. That was at least closer to the truth of things. “Can I speak with you? Were you busy?”
She knew Snape’s disposition quite well, of course. She’d been at Hogwarts long enough, and she’d been in school with him, though she was sure he’d never taken notice of her and she’d barely taken notice of him. Still, his personality wasn’t a mystery. Even so, Charity didn’t find him as disagreeable as some of the other Professors. If given the choice between sitting next to Snape, and sitting next to Trelawney at dinner, she’d choose Snape without question, for example.
Besides, there really was no one else to take the request to.
Severus was, of course, always busy, and he was inclined to say so - but leaping up from his desk had given him an opportunity to glance at the clock, and he was a little disturbed to find that he’d been at the same task for a little over five hours. He could do with a break in the third-years’ collective butchering of Vampires. He gave a jerky nod and waved her brusquely into the office. “What is it?” he asked, pointing her to one of the chairs sitting opposite his desk, and taking his own seat again. He could imagine worse interruptions, really. Professor Burbage didn’t natter, and she got quite a lot of points for not being Albus.
Charity hadn’t been in the office of the Defense class since, she thought, Remus had been professor. It was quite a different sort of decor with Snape, she noticed, not surprised, but she didn’t comment as she came in and took her seat.
“I don’t know if you’ve seen my recent articles?” She didn’t want to assume - some people had given up on the Prophet altogether over the last few years.
“One or two. I’ve heard them discussed.” He folded his hands over the pile of parchment in front of him, and looked a little more closely at her. He’d heard quite a lot about them, actually, and not from friendly sources. Personally, he didn’t quite hold with publication of such a political nature, but he’d rather enjoyed some of his brothers’ reactions. It wouldn’t do to be ungrateful. “Quite provocative, I thought, in this - climate. I was a little surprised.”
“This climate is exactly the thing that prompted me to go to the Prophet about writing them,” She said, and her chin lifted just a little bit, as if to say she wasn’t ashamed of anything she’d written, but a moment later some of that defense faltered, too, and she sighed and settled back in her chair, hands fidgetting together a little in her lap. “I’d known that they wouldn’t be well-received. I think... I was a bit naive, thinking that the ideas in them would be... “ she trailed off then, shaking her head. “Naive. But even had I known what would happen, I’d likely still have written them. Or, no, I know that I would, because I plan on writing more. But I’ve... “ She bit her lip a moment at what she’d be admitting, then said quickly, “I’ve been receiving threats.”
“Hm.” He listened with the beginning of a very slight smile, neglecting to disagree with her characterization - naive wasn’t quite as strong a word as he’d have chosen, but one had to admire the audacity - before sitting up a bit straighter. “Really. Shocking. Threats from whom?” That was the most important question, of course. Letters from old purist shut-ins might be unpleasant - he had to imagine the majority of correspondence in response to Prophet articles had to come from that demographic - but they couldn’t be worth worrying over.
She wasn’t surprised at all that he didn’t argue her estimation of herself. Still, she’d already taken the stand, and in her mind there hadn’t been another option. Staying quiet wouldn’t have done anyone any good, and what sort of example would that have been for her students?
“That’s the problem, of course,” She said with a helpless sort of shrug, but she met his eyes as she talked about it, too, she’d been shaken, scared, but she wasn’t cowed by the fear. “There are the type I expected. Old purist who freely leave their name and describe their family lines in their letters, talking about what a disgrace I am. Those don’t bother me. But the others...” She cleared her throat. “Those that detail just exactly what should, or will, happen to me and all other blood traitors. The anonymous ones. Those are different.” And she’d been getting a string of them from a hand she was sure was one person, which was really beginning to scare her.
He quirked his eyebrow at her briefly, his utter lack of surprise quite clear on his face. He found it interesting that she actually appeared to be a bit disturbed, but of course it wouldn’t fall under the usual daily life of a professor to receive graphic death threats - not even here. “Words are just that - words,” he said, with half a shrug. “Anyone can write, and one hardly needs any imagination these days to come up with something horrid to say about blood-treason. If you think they’re legitimate, though …” He could probably have offered to look at them and identify the author, but it wasn’t as though he could go boasting of his intimate connections with the Death Eaters. “Hadn’t you better contact the authorities?”
She stared at him for a moment, then chuckled, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Severus. I’ve gone to the Aurors. They said I ought to be concerned, and look into warding my summer home, which I did. But then suggested that I just ought to stop drawing attention to myself, and that it would likely die down. Between the two of us, I don’t think they have much idea what they could do to protect someone who was being targeted. They’re stretched a bit thin as it is, without my being.... paranoid.” If that was what it was. After the last owl, she wasn’t so sure.
“Drawing less attention to yourself sounds like an excellent first step.” But he’d sung that song to several people here before, and why should she be the first to listen? “But I suppose the damage is done. And I admit I wouldn’t entrust my personal safety to anyone with quite as much to do as the Aurors, no.” And unless she was here to ask him to come inspect her wards, there was really only one thing that could have brought her to him. “But there’s only so much one person can do to defend herself, of course. I’m sure you took a bit of it home from school with you.”
He was a clever man, quick to understand what was driving people. She’d always appreciated that, even when it she’d thought the conclusions unfair to some. “I’m not very strong in defense. Honestly, I always focused on other magics... put it aside as something I’d learn when I needed it. Now I need it, and I’m afraid I’m a bit too old to pick it up properly.”
Severus gave a dismissive sniff. “Most of ours are too young to learn it properly, really. You have the basics; you’ll be able to pick up what you need.” At least to guard against garden-variety thugs. “There are certain areas you can concentrate in that will give you a little more return on your investment than others.” He paused, considering the massive weight of essays he’d still not even looked at and, against his better judgement, continued: “If you like, I’m sure I could provide a little guidance.”
The look of relief and gratitude on Charity’s face was easy to read, as was the fact that, obviously, this was what she’d been hoping for from this meeting. “Thank you, Serverus.” She said sincerely. “I’d appreciate that more than you know. One of the … writers. I’m afraid he’s sent me a string of them. As if he’s... obsessed...” And now, of course, she did sound paranoid. She knew it. Still, she was sure she was right.
Genuine gratitude wasn’t something Severus was accustomed to - most people with whom he associated preferred to hide it very well indeed, if they ever experienced it at all. He always found it a little disconcerting, but he swept past it with a breezy nod, and settled back into his seat. Giving lessons to a competent adult would essentially be a vacation, anyway; and maybe she only needed pointers. “I’d be interesting in seeing the letters, if you still have them. But it’s more important that you should learn to defend yourself, of course. There are ways to detect poison safely, for instance, should your mail become even more sinister. Relatively simple ways at least to delay face-to-face attacks.” He shrugged. “I’m in and out of the castle most of the summer. I expect you’ll find me easy enough to catch.” With this load of paperwork, he wasn’t going anywhere.
She hadn’t thought to bring the letters with her, though that was possibly because most of them were locked away in her desk. “The aurors kept a few of them when I filed the report,” She said, nodding. “But I’ve had more since then. I can bring them by if you think it might help.” Though, what he could do about the letters themselves was anyone’s guess.
“It would satisfy my curiosity.” As like as not it was just some idiot would-be admirer of the Dark Lord, but there was always a chance he’d have already made the fool’s acquaintance. “Do. Perhaps we can draw some conclusions. If nothing else, I’ll be able to walk you through the basics. It ought to go a little more quickly than when you were eleven, lacking the usual cutting up and impertinent questions.” He’d often reflected on how much more he could accomplish if only he were given students who weren’t idiots. Or children.
“I’ll bring them by then,” She said, biting her lip and then standing up. She’d done what she’d come for, and she didn’t want to take up more of his time worrying like a child. “Sometime before I leave tomorrow.” Before she left she added, “Thank you, Severus.” Again, and quietly, and sincerely.