"A common enough occurrence, Minerva."

"Her skirt was around her ankles, Albus."

"And he was fully dressed, hmm? Sounds like your Mr. Snape is quite a considerate young man."

"He is not my Mr. Snape!"

"I'm well aware of that, my dear." He smiled gently. "But you do seem inordinately upset, especially for a woman who was gazing quite fondly at another pair of students who were obviously well acquainted just the other night."

"Sirius and Remus…"

"Were perhaps not quite so…involved in such a public place, but I'm sure that, had it been another head of house observing them, they would have been judged just as guilty."

"Are you calling me biased, Headmaster?"

He read the hurt in her expression and sighed. Getting to his feet, he walked over to her, pulling her into his arms despite her resistance, the stiff line of her body.

"Minerva, you are the most precious thing to me."

"Which is no answer."

"Do I think you're biased? No. I think you're more than fair. Do I think you're indulgent? Of course. That is the job of any head of house." He stroked her arms, smiling as she began to relax against him. "I also think," he continued, feeling her stiffen immediately, "that perhaps the recent…attentions paid to you by Severus might be influencing your reaction to what you saw tonight."

"I do not believe you." She jerked away from him and walked around her small desk, putting it between them. "That you could suggest anything so remotely…"

"Human?"

"Untoward! Albus, he is a student!"

"I suggested nothing, Minerva. I merely speculated that his romantic overtures of late might have made you view him as something other than your typical, hormonally charged fifteen-year-old boy."

"And what, Albus," her voice was hard and cold, "are you suggesting I'm viewing him as? A potential lover?"

"Do not assume to put words in my mouth, Minerva." The steel in his tone tightened her jaw.

"I would not assume to put anything in your mouth, Headmaster."

Dumbledore's eyes widened then narrowed and he nodded once, sharply. "Very well, Professor. I'll bid you goodnight then."

McGonagall pressed her trembling lips together, nodding as well as Dumbledore slipped through her door out into the hallway. As the latch clicked closed behind him, she sank into her chair, burying her head in her hands.

Remus glanced up from his book as the portrait hole opened. Peter, who had been staring at him instead of James all night, followed his gaze, only turning his attention back when James laughed, all of Peter's cards dissolving into ash.

Remus pulled his knees up and lifted his copy of On the Road: Cautionary Tales for Travelers by the Brothers Grimm again, ignoring Sirius as he walked over to them.

"Where've you been, Sirius?" James looked up from the hand Peter was dealing. "Peter's hopeless at exploding snap."

"Working on a project." Sirius looked at Remus. The golden eyes stared back, a glint of his wild nature flickering through them.

Remus stood up, closing his book. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you all in the morning."

"Goodnight, Remus."

He took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing at Sirius. "Actually, I think I'll take a bath. It's been a long day."

Sirius watched him stalk up the stairs to their room to get his things and sank down in the chair Remus had just vacated. "He's not happy, is he?"

"You've been gone for four hours, Sirius." James didn't look at him, only shrugged. " I think he expected you ages ago."

"He's been a right bastard all night," Peter added eagerly. "Not like normal, 'tall."

"Bloody hell," Sirius muttered under his breath as Remus came back down the steps, not even glancing his way as he headed for the portrait hole. "Remus!" He pushed himself to his feet and hurried to catch up. "Remus, wait!"

Remus stopped just outside the portrait, not looking back as Sirius climbed through. As soon as his feet hit the hallway, Remus turned on his heel and hurried toward the Prefect's bathroom, not speaking at all.

"You're obviously mad at me for some reason." Sirius collided with Remus as he abruptly stopped walking. "I was gone longer than I anticipated." His voice was soft as he rested his hands on Remus's arms, feeling the lean muscle beneath them, squeezing lightly. "I'm sorry." He rested his forehead on Remus's shoulder, stumbling as he jerked away.

Remus passed the statue of Boris the Bewildered and moved over to a nondescript door. He muttered the password and pushed the door open. Sirius followed him inside, whistling low at the sight. "How've you not told me about this, Remus?"

"Don't use it much." Remus shrugged off his robe and hung it up. "Or maybe I just figured Amaryllis had already shared it with you."

"I'm not dating Amaryllis, Remus."

"No. You're not." Remus turned and pulled a long blonde hair free of Sirius's robe and coiled it around his finger. Point proven, he turned away from Sirius and stripped off his loosened tie. "You know what the strangest thing about my condition is, Sirius?"

Sirius watched as Remus began unbuttoning his shirt, methodical fingers working the fabric free. "No."

"Even though the change is only during the full moon," he shrugged off his shirt, hanging it over his robe, "everything else, the enhanced sense of smell, keener eyesight, all of those seem to stay with me." He undid his belt then the fly of his slacks, pushing the fabric off his slim hips. "Not to the degree they reach when I change, but still, stronger than human."

Sirius moved forward, his hand resting on Remus's hips, the smooth skin taut beneath his fingers. His dark hair brushed Remus's back as he kissed his shoulder. "I barely touched her."

Remus turned and gave him a hard look. "But she was all over you, wasn't she?"

"She was doing me a favor."

Remus barked with laughter, leaving Sirius and climbing into the tub. He turned on four taps, suffusing the air with the slightly moist scent of spring. "Obviously. A big one, I'd say, given all the favors I've done you."

"Not that kind of…I didn't have sex with her, Remus."

"Of course not, Sirius. You'd never do that. But you did do something. Enough to have her stench all over you." He sank into the tub, inhaling sharply, swallowing the smells until a certain blonde left his sense. "Go back to the tower, won't you?"

Sirius watched as Remus submerged himself in the steaming water, waiting for him to break the surface. When the sandy brown mane of hair came through, he sat on the edge of the tub. "I'm sorry."

"You're not so rakish and charming that that's going to work every time."

"I'm a bastard." Sirius stretched out, arranging his lithe body on the tiled edge. "Worse than a dog." He trailed his fingers through the water, dangerously close to Remus's bare shoulder. "But you do forgive me. Don't you?"

"No." He watched Sirius's face fall, grabbing his arm as he started to pull away. "But come in anyway."

Sirius smiled, getting off the tub and stripping off his clothes. He stepped into the water, sighing as the heat surrounded him, moaning as Remus did. "Forgive me?"

Remus dunked him beneath the water, backing up as Sirius spluttered to the surface. "Clean up. Then we'll discuss forgiveness."

McGonagall stood motionless at the head of her classroom. The stone walls echoed silence back at her and she sighed.

"May I ask if you're speaking to me?"

"Would it make a difference?"

Dumbledore smiled and entered the room, watching carefully as she remained still. "Of course. If you are, we can have a nice discussion. If you're not, I'm afraid I shall have to think up some school related issue as a ruse in which I would disguise my actual purpose here, which is to apologize."

McGonagall shook her head, suppressing the urge to smile. "I suppose I would be willing to listen to an apology, though I make no promises of accepting it."

Dumbledore nodded and sighed, sitting on the table in front of her desk. "I do not doubt your honor or your integrity, Minerva."

"You only doubt my judgment?"

"Not that. Never that. I only…" He sighed and got to his feet, moving closer to her despite her cool stance. "You think solely that I'm amused by this situation, and in some ways it does delight my sense of the absurd. But last night, in the face of your anger, seeing you after seeing him…them. I think the humor of the situation was outweighed by my very real jealousy."

"Jealousy!"

"You were so outraged that I thought, perhaps that you were…" he sighed as she finally smiled, letting the unnecessary words fall away through his open hand. "I actually considered a love poem of my own."

"No. I need no more of those."

Dumbledore stroked her cheek lightly with his thumb. "Forgive me?"

"Professor?"

Dumbledore dropped his hand and moved aside at the sound of Snape's cool, hard, silky voice coming from the doorway. "I'll speak with you later about this matter, Professor?"

Her eyes held promises. "Absolutely, Headmaster."

"Very well then." He nodded to her then turned. "Mr. Snape."

"Headmaster." His eyes stayed locked on McGonagall as he passed Dumbledore, headed for the front of the classroom, sinking down behind the table Dumbledore had sat on.

"Hello, Mr. Snape."

"Professor." His black eyes flashed at her like cold fire. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything by being on time for my detention."

"Of course not." She walked around her desk, nodding as Amaryllis walked in. "Take a seat, Miss Templeton."

Amaryllis sat on the opposite side of the room as Snape, folding her hands in front of her.

"Very well, I want each of you to write at least ten inches on the practical uses of transfiguration. And I suggest you finish before midnight should you wish to have any hope of being prepared for your classes tomorrow."

McGonagall returned to her desk, resolutely keeping her eyes on the papers she was grading, refusing to acknowledge the burning stare of Severus Snape.

McGonagall looked up as Amaryllis set her parchment down. Tears still lingered in her eyes. "Professor? I know that you're discreet and everything, but…"

"Your tryst is safe with me, Miss Templeton. Though you may want to think next time about becoming so involved with someone if you don't wish for your relationship to become public."

"But she does, Professor." Snape drawled from the side of McGonagall's desk, both ladies starting at his voice. "She was quite adamant yesterday about flaunting me around campus." At Amaryllis's horrified look, he feigned shock. "Don't tell me it was all a lie!"

"I…" She glared at him, flashing hatred. "May I go, Professor?"

McGonagall nodded. "Goodnight, Miss Templeton." She watched her leave, finally turning to face Snape. His eyes were dark, trained hotly on her. "You're finished, Mr. Snape?"

"Yes, Professor." He set the parchment on her desk, his hand lingering.

"Excellent. Just leave it there then. You're excused back to your House. Goodnight."

He stood there a moment, long fingers tapping on the stiff paper. "It didn't mean anything. Yesterday."

"It meant detention for you both, Mr. Snape, which you've now served." Her hand closed around the parchment, her skin brushing his. "Goodnight."

He drew back slowly. "Goodnight."

McGonagall's hand shook as she unrolled the parchment, skimming the essay. As usual, his work was exemplary, despite his lack of passion for the subject. She followed his argument, smiling at the hypothesis until she unfurled the last roll and silvery pale writing came into view.

And you as well must die, beloved dust,
And all your beauty stand you in no stead;
This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,
This body of flame and steel, before the gust
Of Death, or under his autumnal frost,
Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead
Than the first leaf that fell,--this wonder fled.
Altered, estranged, disintegrated, lost.
Nor shall my love avail you in your hour.
In spite of all my love, you will arise
Upon that day and wander down the air
Obscurely as the unattended flower,
It mattering not how beautiful you were,
Or how beloved above all else that dies.

McGonagall buried her head in her arms, her eyes closed against the surprising onslaught of tears.

"Are you busy?"

Dumbledore looked up from the papers on his desk, his concern clear in his eyes when he saw McGonagall. "Minerva?"

She set the parchment on his desk with a shaking hand. "Another poem."

"Oh?" He stood, undecided between moving toward her or reading. "Did he…do something, Minerva?"

"He…He doesn't frighten me, Albus, but I don't know how to…" Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Undone by a fifteen year old boy."

Dumbledore smiled and pulled her into his arms. She laughed, somewhat shakily. "He's not undone you."

"He has, Albus."

"No." He pulled back, looking down at her. "Not you, my dear Professor."

"I cannot do this. I see him and I can't focus. I feel his eyes on me."

"He has exceptional taste." Dumbledore kissed her softly. "But he cannot touch you. And this whole thing will blow over. He'll tire of admiring you from afar and will find himself a girl closer to his own age."

"Severus Snape?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "We have some of the most intelligent young women in the world here. Surely one of them can see past the exterior."

"I think perhaps you give everyone too much credit, Albus."

"I think everyone gives themselves too little." Dumbledore sighed and moved away from her, walking the length of the room, his hands tucked behind his back. "Minerva, I know that this is difficult for you."

"Do you?" She sat on the edge of her desk, her arms folded across her chest. "I wonder if that's true, Albus." He tossed her an unreadable look and she shrugged. "Since the beginning, you've taken this as nothing but an amusement. Or perhaps an exercise in delving into Mr. Snape's head or, possibly, into mine."

"Do you really think so little of me?"

"I have to do something. I cannot sit here anymore and fear every slip of parchment that crosses my desk. I cannot cringe from my assignments on the off chance that there will be scribbled within them words that rake some young boys' heart bare to me."

"I know how this discomfits you."

"You do not." She slammed her hand down on the desk. She dropped her voice, the quiet even more powerful. "You. Do. Not."

"If that is what you wish to believe." His voice was tight, strained as she'd never heard it before. "But believe this, that young man who stares at you with eyes you cannot fathom; he is on a precipice. He is walking a fine line and could plummet in either direction. If I have to sacrifice…No. I will sacrifice whatever I have to in order to make sure that that young man in my care does not fall victim..."

"Victim? You think that he is a victim?"

Dumbledore's voice was completely devoid of emotion, his eyes not twinkling as he looked at her. "You can believe that he is not?" He didn't wait for her answer, sitting back behind his desk, his fingers moving aimlessly over the rim of his candy dish. "His crush, for lack of a better word, on you makes me somewhat hopeful for his future, Minerva. That he can feel so deeply for someone that his House and his friends teach him so strongly to hate makes him different, makes him…"

"More important to you than me?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "We consented to this relationship with the full knowledge that the students, the children, come first. Did we not?"

"I was unaware that I was to be led like a lamb to slaughter for their romantic and erotic pleasures." She curled her hand around the parchment. "I have no desire to be the object of his affection, Albus."

"You've no choice, Minerva. He chose you for that role."

"Let me rephrase. I have no intention of sitting idly while he sends me poems that grow more and more despairing. I have no feelings for him beyond those of a teacher. And if another of these," she tossed the essay and poem onto his desk, the wrinkled paper landing at his fingertips, "crosses my desk, I will have no choice but to very emphatically tell Mr. Snape exactly why they are unnecessary, inappropriate and will most likely end with him in detention."

"Please don't, Minerva." Dumbledore sighed. "I want this boy on our side."

"If the thought of not having me as his…whatever it is he wishes me to be is enough to send him spiraling into Voldemort's arms, then he is already beyond our grasp."

"You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment."

"That," she snapped viciously, "is because this entire situation is exclusively about my emotions. It has nothing to do with judgment. It has nothing to do with logic or rationale. It has to do with my feelings and his feelings and the fact that they are diametrically opposite. It has to do with the fact that this boy has painted me as his and I am not."

"And I wonder," he said softly, "If you are not protesting too much."

"It comes back to that, does it?" Her voice was dangerously calm. "Very well, Headmaster. If you believe so deeply, so strongly, that I am harboring some sort of buried emotion for this boy, then it is in your best interest to make sure he and I have little to no contact, since there is no guarantee that I will be able to control myself in his presence." She stalked to the door, her entire body stiff and rigid. "Save him from me. Protect your children."

"Well, well." Amaryllis stood in the hallway, her sneer fixed firmly in place. "Looks like your friend's found someone else to do his dirty work."

Remus looked up from his book at her as if he'd just realized she was blocking his path. "I'm sorry?"

"Your friend." She gestured to the end of the hall where Sirius was leaning over a third year Gryffindor, one arm against the wall over her head, his other hand playing loosely with the coppery strands of her hair. "I see he's got himself a new girl."

"Sirius collects them. Like Chocolate Frog cards." Remus closed his book, marking his page with his finger. "But it's not as if they don't want to be there, is it?"

She looked at him, her gaze narrowed. "He wanted something from me."

"Which you were more than happy to give in return for what you got from him." Remus shrugged. "You made your bed. You have to lie in it."

"It was his bed, actually." She smirked. "Quite the nice little set up he's got. All secluded. Very romantic. By the time you get there and he lays you down, you've completely forgotten any argument you might have against whatever ludicrous plan he's proposing."

"By the same token, one would think that if you had true doubts and reservations about any given situation, you'd gather your wits enough to say so. So maybe whatever it is he asked you to do, you wanted to do in the long run."

"Maybe you don't know anything about his charm."

"Maybe you don't know anything about him." Remus attempted to smile. "Sirius's charm is dangerous. You'll agree to almost anything to see those eyes smile at you, see those teeth flash. You start agreeing to the most outlandish things just to see his lips curl. You'll bend over backwards to please him, hoping that he'll grace you with his touch."

"Watch him, do you? What are you? Some sort of poof?"

"Am I wrong?" Lupin purred, his low voice sending a shiver of danger down her spine. "I've seen you, a dozen others like you. You hang around him, clamor for his attention. I see your skirts get shorter, your shirts unbuttoned lower and lower."

"You're jealous that we're not all over you, is that it?"

"I'm not jealous." He shrugged and started to move around her. "I have no reason to be." He slipped past her and headed toward Sirius. Grabbing his friend by the arm, he tugged him away from the redhead, pulling him down the hall. "We need to talk."

"She's a cousin."

"Everyone who's got wizard blood in them is a cousin to you, you git." Remus laughed softly. "But that's not what we're going to talk about."

"It's not?" Sirius looked over his shoulder where the girl was still standing. "Then can I at least go say goodbye or something? Be polite?"

Remus stopped and dropped Sirius's hand. "Do what you have to, Padfoot."

"What I have to do," Sirius leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a promising whisper, "borders on indecent and is liable to ruin both our reputations."

"I don't have a reputation."

"You will if I do what I'm thinking." He lifted his eyebrows, his smile baring his teeth. "And, as much as I like knowing how sexy you are pinned to a wall, moaning as I'm inside you, I don't need all of Hogwarts knowing it."

"No," Remus swallowed, his throat dry. "We should probably keep that between us."

"Nothing between us," Sirius promised, his hand almost touching Remus's shoulder. "But skin and air."

"I had a point," Remus floundered.

"And I'm sure it was stunning." Sirius grinned and moved back. "Ponder it while I go talk to Claudia for a second." He jogged back to the redhead who was looking in their direction, Amaryllis at her side. "Before my plans are all torn asunder."

Remus pushed away from the wall as Sirius strode toward him, a sly smile curling the corners of his mouth. "And which canary did you eat?"

"Will it get me out of anything if I simply assure you that you have no real desire to know?" He looped his arms around Remus's shoulders, the gesture nothing more than friendly. "Because I'm quite delighted with my machinations and really would hate your resounding disapproval and unexplainable defense of Snape to ruin what is really turning out to be a smashing day."

"You've not let this go? Even though your girl for hire turned out to be a bust?"

"And here I thought you weren't a breast man, Moony." Sirius grinned wolfishly. "Which isn't to say that you don't have a keen appreciation for nipples, mind you. One I myself am quite grateful for." He glanced around them and pulled Remus into a shadowed alcove. "Smell me."

"Pardon?"

"Smell me." He tilted his head, baring his neck. Remus growled, the sign of submission evoking a primal response in him. "Smell me."

Remus buried his head against Sirius's skin and inhaled the earthy, musky scent of him. He growled again, the residual smell of soap and sweat doing nothing to hide his own scent emanating from Sirius's skin. He ran his tongue up Sirius's neck, nibbling on the smooth flesh.

"No eau-de-femme," Sirius groaned and let Remus push him against the wall, his legs parting as the wolf took over, turning Remus aggressive. "Nothing to smell on me but you."

Remus sucked gently on Sirius neck, tracing the rapid pulse with his tongue. "You're trying to distract me, Padfoot."

Sirius's hands curved around Remus's hips, tugging him closer as he thrust forward, their bodies grinding together. "'S it working?"

Remus groaned and pulled back, his eyes sparkling with heat. "Tell me what you're up to."

"You won't like it." Sirius admitted, taking advantage of Remus's stance to push him back against the opposite wall, pinning him there. "So let's just pretend we've already argued, that I've apologized and we're on the making up part, okay?"

"Sirius…"

Sirius kissed him hard and fast, his tongue forcing its way into Remus's mouth. He groaned and raked his nails through Sirius's hair, his hips rocking forward. Sirius pulled away, his hands grabbing Remus's arms and pushing them against the wall, holding them there as he sank to his knees. "We're kissing and making up now, Remus."

Remus groaned as Sirius's hands released him only to find his body again lower, smoothing over his hips, over his slacks, over his flesh as he bared it. "Making up?" He panted.

Sirius grinned then flicked his tongue over the smooth head of Remus cock. "Kissing," he assured him, wrapping his lips around Remus's shaft for a moment before pulling away. As Remus groaned hungrily, Sirius sank his nails into Remus's hips, his breath hot as his mouth hovered over Remus's cock. "Then making up."

McGonagall sighed softly as the last student left the small tent. She removed her hat and set it on the table beside her.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

She swallowed hard at the voice, automatically reaching for her hat again.

"Don't. Please?"

She froze, her body tensing as he touched her hand. "Mr. Snape!"

"I wanted to apologize. I signed up for your speech and wasn't able to attend."

"It's fine." She pulled her hand away, again reaching for her hat. He pushed it away from her, grabbing it and holding it behind his back. "Mr. Snape."

"Do you let your hair down for him?"

"I beg your pardon?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Forgive me."

"Give me back my hat."

"Tell me about teaching."

"I've nothing to say to you so long as you persist in behaving so childishly."

His hands tightened on the brim for a moment then he returned the hat to her. She set it on her head, standing as she did so to alleviate the height difference between them. Snape moved away to sit on one of the benches. "Please tell me about teaching."

"Top marks are required." Her voice shook slightly and she cleared her throat. "Positions, at Hogwarts at least, don't come up that often, although there is a fine training program that we allow immediately after graduation. In my lifetime at Hogwarts, I've seen very few teachers change. Generally, they only leave when they pass on. Very few retire."

"Or get promoted?"

She refused to address the comment, not wishing to discuss Dumbledore. "Turnover rate is quite low."

"Are you attempting to encourage or discourage, Professor?"

She laughed softly. "I'm sorry. I was attempting honesty." She glanced at him quickly. "Do you think you would enjoy teaching?"

I think I would absolutely abhor it."

"Then I'm…unclear as to why you're here."

Snape reached into the pocket of his robe, pulling a smooth, cream-colored parchment from his pocket. He held it as if in a caress, his thumb grazing over the broken seal delicately. McGonagall stared down at it, unable to look away from the familiar stamp embedded in the wax.

"Where did you get that?"

"You don't have to pretend." Snape's voice was silky and soft, defined with emotion. "I acted as if it were nothing more than you returning my essay from detention the other night." He reached out as if to touch her cheek, undeterred as she jerked away. "No one is the wiser."

"Mr. Snape…"

"Severus." He slid his finger under the seal, slowly unrolling the parchment.

McGonagall shook her head, reaching out to stop him. Her hand touched his, heat singeing her skin. She jerked her hand back, her whole body trembling. "Mr. Snape, this is completely…"

He began reading, his voice sliding over the words like silk and velvet, rough and sleek all at once as if they were wrenched from his soul.

Am I not cruelly wrong'd? Believe, believe
Me, dear Endymion, were I to weave
With my own fancies garlands of sweet life,
Thou shouldst be one of all. Ah, bitter strife!
I may not be thy love: I am forbidden--
Indeed I am--thwarted, affrighted, chidden,
By things I trembled at, and gorgon wrath.
Twice hast thou ask'd whither I went: henceforth
Ask me no more! I may not utter it,
Nor may I be thy love. We might commit
Ourselves at once to vengeance; we might die;
We might embrace and die: voluptuous thought!
Enlarge not to my hunger, or I'm caught
In trammels of perverse deliciousness.
No, no, that shall not be: thee will I bless,
And bid a long adieu."

He reached out, his fingers lighting on her cheek, stroking the soft skin delicately, as carefully as he'd touched the paper. "It doesn't matter, you know."

"What," she swallowed hard, tears stinging her ears. Her heart hurt at the look in his eyes, raw and open emotion laid bare, "what does not matter, Mr. Snape?"

"Nothing matters. Not with this." He held the parchment tightly though he was careful not to crease the pristine paper.

"What is it that you think that is?"

"I know," he breathed, inching closer. "I know what it is."

"Tell me." She swallowed and straightened, tilting her chin up defiantly. "Tell me what you know it is."

"A confession. It can't be less than a confession, can it? Something this profound needs to be confessed, uttered like a sin in the darkness. But it isn't. Not if it's real. Not if it's truly how you feel."

"What makes you assume this is from me?"

He turned it to face her and she stared down at her own handwriting, the pale ink that she used for her signature personal correspondence staining the cream stationary. "It's not without its problems. But we can work around it. Detentions, study sessions. You can come to see me in my rooms. No one would look twice at a cat roaming the halls." He licked his lips, running his thumb over the flushed red spot at the apex of her cheek, stroking the heat there. "If we want it badly enough, we can do this."

"Do what, exactly, Mr. Snape?"

McGonagall closed her eyes at Dumbledore's sharp voice. Pain shot through her and she opened her eyes to look at him. The board of Governors ringed around him, watching her with curious and distrustful eyes. Snape pulled his hand away, his dislike of the headmaster clear in his eyes. "This is a personal conversation, headmaster."

"This is a school function, a school area and, in case it seems to have escaped your attention, Professor McGonagall is an employee of this school. Upon adding all of those things together, I think it is clear to all of us here that, private or not, as ambassadors of Hogwarts, all of us assembled have a marked interest in what exactly is going on here."

"Mr. Snape," McGonagall stood up, her back ramrod straight, "was just informing me of his own marked interests."

"And what are they, Professor?"

She held Dumbledore's eyes with her own, pain flashing in their depths, mirroring her own. "Well, apparently he's fallen victim to his own imagination and has pictured a perfect life for the two of us together. He seems to think that I harbor some sort of feeling for him."

"And do you?" Tiberius Malfoy sneered, his eyes hard as they swept over Snape.

"Absolutely not." McGonagall snapped her gaze to his, following it to where it bore into Snape. "He is a student."

"And a Slytherin, which I would assume is even more distasteful to your Gryffindor principles, no?" Tiberius smirked. "Of course, one would assume your Gryffindor principles would keep you from standing here slandering an innocent student in order to save yourself from some sort of taint of impropriety, wouldn't it?"

"Mr. Malfoy…"

He waved her off with his hand. "I have no desire to hear anything more you have to say, Professor. If someone who is to be teaching our children cannot control her own emotions, how is she to be in charge of groups of hormonally charged teenagers?"

"Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore's eyes were brilliant blue as they turned on the other man. "I'm afraid my hearing isn't what it used to be, but I'm almost certain that you said something somewhat disparaging about Professor McGonagall? But I know that can't be true, can it?"

"She's alone in a room with him, Dumbledore. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what the planned outcome of this little tête-à-tête was."

"A tête-à-tête would imply that both parties were interested in meeting, which I don't believe is your intention, is it?" Dumbledore shook his head, smiling at the assembled group. "I'm sure that what we have here is simply a misunderstanding, something taken to an extreme, as is the wont of young emotion." He glanced back at McGonagall, closing his eyes against the hard pain in her stare.

"It's not as if the lad's stupid enough to return any kind of affection, eh, Dumbledore?" Malfoy's light, joking tone was belied by his razor-like silver eyes. "Not exactly the loveliest of our Witch-sisters, is she?"

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"And who would beholdin' her, hmm?" Malfoy smiled ferally. "Professor."

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall bit out the words, barely acknowledging his nod as the group moved en masse from the tent. She stood there, inhaling deeply, her whole body quivering with rage. She exhaled, her pounding blood blocking out all sound until she heard the faint call of her name.

"…Gonagall?"

She whirled on Snape, her face pale and drawn. "I do so hope you're happy, Mr. Snape. I cannot believe someone who purports to be as intelligent as you do could be so amazingly stupid. This," she ripped the poem from his hand and unrolled it, the page now blank, the spelled words vanished into the ether, "was a ruse. A dupe. You've been made a fool of by someone other than yourself, for which you should be thankful because it would be absolutely unforgivable to most of your fellow Slytherins that you could have done so all by yourself."

"You can't deny…"

"I can, Mr. Snape, and will continue to do so until my dying day. I do not love you, I certainly have never entertained the idea of writing love poetry to you and, if I may be brutally honest, would never have considered you as anything other than a rather unpleasant addition to my day had you not forced yourself into my periphery."

He straightened, his eyes flashing. "Are you quite finished?"

"I have not even begun." McGonagall nailed him with her gaze. "This entire term has been hellish for me, having to endure your blatant disrespect. You've brought all of this on yourself, Mr. Snape. And whatever you get from this, whatever ridicule you find at the hand of your fellow Slytherins, I can assure you will in no way compare to the complete and utter tripe I just had to face on your behalf."

Snape nodded once to her, his face paler than normal. "Are you done, Professor?"

She returned his nod. "I am finished with you, yes."

He lifted his chin and turned, walking out of the tent. McGonagall sank down onto a bench, her entire body shaking. She buried her head in her hands for a moment before transfiguring into her Animagus form and slinking away, her tail between her legs.

Snape jerked to a stop at the gathered crowd outside the tent, his eyes landing immediately on Sirius, his arm thrown casually around Claudia's shoulders. "Hullo, Snivellus."

He ignored him, continuing to walk, moving past Sirius as if he weren't even there. He'd almost parted the crowds when a lanky figure stepped deliberately in front of him, golden eyes flashing.

"They're talking about getting rid of McGonagall." Lupin's face was set in hard lines. "Malfoy wants her fired for leading students astray."

"Let me pass, Lupin."

"If she's tossed because of you, Snape, I'll…"

"What?" He snarled. "What will you do to me? Humiliate me? Your friend Black has already taken care of that. And I'm sure he and Potter will keep up the tradition until we can graduate from this place and I can be shut of the lot of you." He pressed his hand to Lupin's arm. "Now move aside."

Remus turned as he stormed passed, grabbing Snape's arm on instinct. The rest of the crowd had dispersed, most of them moving into the tent to try and find McGonagall. He ignored the quick look Sirius gave him and faced Snape, his fury changing suddenly. "What's the matter?"

"I know you're not stupid, Lupin." Snape shook off his grip.

"It wasn't a game, was it?" His eyes narrowed in shock. "You weren't just messing about with McGonagall were you?"

"I'm not your friend Black, Lupin. I don't 'mess about'. Professor McGonagall and I had a misunderstanding and I'm very, very sure that the Headmaster has no intention of letting his…Transfigurations Professor," he sneered the words, the sound hissing from between his clenched teeth, "go anywhere."

"How will you…"

"You know what, Lupin?" Snape moved a step closer, his thin face looking more pinched and haggard than ever. "You don't care. Your friends don't care, and I'm sure I'm going to be fodder enough for your jokes for long enough without me divulging my deepest, darkest secrets to you. Now sod the fuck off."