and if you have five seconds to spare
The romance had been doomed from the start. She just hadn't realized it until now. And Septima Vector felt awful for it. All her careful (and some not-so-careful) planning had finally come to fruition, only for that horrible man to ruin it all. He had been more cunning and underhanded than even she-and, well, that just was not right.
It was not her own relationship that she was mourning, of course; she was the one keeping that from getting where it ought to have gone years ago. No, she was much more upset over the very recent demise of the very necessary periodic shag-a-thon between Severus Snape and her best friend, Auriga Sinistra. Years she had spent, years, trying to get them to fuck, already. She thought she had finally succeeded. For six months, the two had shared something in which Septima could take vicarious satisfaction. And then Snape had gone and ruined it all.
You see, apparently, Severus Snape had, in fact, been as evil as he looked. A fact which she still tried to deny fervently, although it was getting tougher. She could explain away the Quirrell-threatening and the werewolf-baiting and even the random disappearances that always seemed to have been prefaced by a good deal of left-arm-twitching. But there was no way to possibly justify dumping your almost-girlfriend only two weeks before killing your boss and going on the run.
No, the Auriga-of-six-years-ago had been (amazingly) right about him. And now, the Auriga-of-the-present was inconsolable. Or, at least, she had been when they had last seen each other at the end of term. As a matter of fact, the girl had been a downright mess, between Snape's betrayal and Yaxley's appearance and her father falling ill. And she hadn't sounded much better when she'd written to Septima to say that the old man-though he wasn't so old, she thought, but Muggles aged differently from wizards, didn't they?-had passed away. Hence the reason that she, Septima, had been utterly shocked when she had returned to Britain at the end of August to discover a positively chipper Astronomy professor inviting her over for tea.
Auriga was smiling all through her puttering around the tiny kitchen she was sharing with her mother for the summer. She looked better than Septima had ever seen her; she had clearly started wearing makeup (and at 35, it was about damn time, if you asked her) and actually seemed to have done something to her hair. Even her wardrobe had improved drastically-rather than the unsightly pink jumpers and loose black trousers she once had such an affinity for, she was wearing proper robes, today, and rather fashionable ones, at that. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought that Auriga was under her mother's Imperius curse.
Still, she asked as the other woman poured her tea, “Aur, sweetheart, have you been feeling alright?” But there was even something in the amused smile that seemed just unnatural-absolutely nothing like the usual, easily-flustered and nervous Auriga. This Auriga (if it even was Auriga) was cheerful and nonchalant. Honestly, it was starting to creep her out.
It wasn't until Lucinda had swept into the room and said, “Have you told Septima about your new boyfriend yet, dear?” that a hint of the real Auriga slipped through. She blushed madly and sent an admonishing glare at her mother before amending, “He's not really my boyfriend...” Of course he wasn't; she would naturally still be upset about losing Snape. “We're just sort of... seeing each other.” This would, of course, have to be one of Auriga's elaborate-but-ultimately-ill-fated lies to appease her mother.
“Of course, darling,” soothed Lucinda, winking slyly at Septima before turning to leave, “though I wasn't aware that 'seeing each other,' these days, meant spending the night together three nights in a row, every week.” She giggled. “Well, I'm off! You girls have fun.” And she disappeared through the front door.
Septima eyed Auriga suspiciously. “So where have you been going for all that time?” Because the likelihood of Auriga actually spending that much time in the company of a man was akin to the odds of winning the Daily Prophet sweepstakes without even entering. That is to say, not at all.
“Well...” began Auriga, taking a seat at the kitchen table, “I've been at my... gentleman friend's flat, haven't I?” She was still blushing.
That didn't seem right, at all. She ought to have been traumatized by all the tragedy surrounding her life, the past several months. Severus Snape-whom Septima had long believed would eventually break down and marry the twit (Snape's words, not hers)-had turned out to be everything they had hoped he wasn't. Her father, the favorite of her two parents (Auriga had long attested that he was the only sane person in her family, which ought to have said something, because he was a Muggle who had the stones to marry a semi-famous witch), had died of a heart condition that had no Muggle or magical remedy. And now, she had spent the majority of her summer living in a flat with her mother-presumably to console the woman after her husband's death-who drove her so unbearably batty that she had to make up a story about spending the night at her not-a-boyfriend's flat in order to escape her incessant, well, mothering. Auriga ought to have collapsed in tears as soon as Lucinda closed the door.
What was going on, here?
“You don't,” said Septima slowly, “mean to tell me that your... gentleman friend isn't just someone you made up as an excuse to get out of the house?” The idea of Auriga having even acquired a lover, on her own, seemed just preposterous.
A scowl pinched the corner's of Auriga's mouth. “He is most certainly not made up.” She seemed offended at the suggestion-not that it was unreasonable. When you knew Auriga Sinistra as long as Septima had, you learned that she was not always, well, in touch with reality. Particularly following such stressful events as those that had occurred this summer. “He is, in fact, a rather prominent public figure. With money. And good-looks. And sexual prowess. And, er. Things.”
That was starting to sound more like Auriga. “Oh, really?” Septima lifted an eyebrow. “Do I know him?”
Auriga stared into her teacup. “I, er... well, I don't know.”
“Who is he?” She was, after all, a brilliant Arithmancer-and before she had turned twenty-five, a regular model in Witch Weekly-and periodically engaged to a famous musician. She had to have made the acquaintance of almost every “public figure” in wizarding Britain (and a few outside it, as well). If Auriga weren't making all this up, then Septima probably knew the fellow. Whether or not she approved, well, that would depend entirely on-
“I-I can't...really say.”
Septima balked. “Well, why not?”
It took Auriga a moment to answer, and when she did, she spoke carefully. She may have been reasoning it out for the first time. “Well... he's in the Ministry. And, um. It would not be good to seem as if the Ministry is trying to interfere at Hogwarts and-”
“They've already said the Ministry has appointed Snape Headmaster,” Septima cut in. Auriga flinched at the name. (She had not recovered flawlessly, after all.) “And added another couple of Death Eaters to the staff. So they're already interfering.”
“Yes well-”
She narrowed her eyes shrewdly. There were only two reasons that you tried to hide who you were dating. “Why don't you want me to know who he is? Is he famously unattractive, or... I don't know... married?”
“Yes!”
“Which?” But the look on Auriga's face told her. “Oh, sweetheart, haven't I told you a thousand times what a bad idea it is to get involved with a married man?”
“But-”
She held up a finger. “I know, I know, I've done it more times than I care to remember, but it's different with me.” Sympathetically, she reached for Auriga's hand. “You aren't cut out for that kind of thing, dear. You're too... innocent-” Auriga began to protest, but Septima shushed her. “You are. He's probably told you he wants to leave his wife.”
A guilty silence hung in the air.
“There, there, dear. It would probably be best if you ended things as soon as possible. I don't think I could bear it if he hurt you, so soon after...” After Snape broke your poor heart like that. Septima watched the tea leaves swirl around the bottom of her cup.
They sat for a while without speaking, before Auriga suddenly piped up. “He's not going to do a Snape.” Her voice was barely a whisper. It was hard to believe she was even talking about it again. “I know him. From... from a long time ago. And he... he's kind. To me.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her fingertips. “And... I just don't think... I mean, he won't... I'll be alright.”
Septima squeezed her hand, and smiled. “I'm sorry. You're right. You will be.”
It was not her own relationship that she was mourning, of course; she was the one keeping that from getting where it ought to have gone years ago. No, she was much more upset over the very recent demise of the very necessary periodic shag-a-thon between Severus Snape and her best friend, Auriga Sinistra. Years she had spent, years, trying to get them to fuck, already. She thought she had finally succeeded. For six months, the two had shared something in which Septima could take vicarious satisfaction. And then Snape had gone and ruined it all.
You see, apparently, Severus Snape had, in fact, been as evil as he looked. A fact which she still tried to deny fervently, although it was getting tougher. She could explain away the Quirrell-threatening and the werewolf-baiting and even the random disappearances that always seemed to have been prefaced by a good deal of left-arm-twitching. But there was no way to possibly justify dumping your almost-girlfriend only two weeks before killing your boss and going on the run.
No, the Auriga-of-six-years-ago had been (amazingly) right about him. And now, the Auriga-of-the-present was inconsolable. Or, at least, she had been when they had last seen each other at the end of term. As a matter of fact, the girl had been a downright mess, between Snape's betrayal and Yaxley's appearance and her father falling ill. And she hadn't sounded much better when she'd written to Septima to say that the old man-though he wasn't so old, she thought, but Muggles aged differently from wizards, didn't they?-had passed away. Hence the reason that she, Septima, had been utterly shocked when she had returned to Britain at the end of August to discover a positively chipper Astronomy professor inviting her over for tea.
Auriga was smiling all through her puttering around the tiny kitchen she was sharing with her mother for the summer. She looked better than Septima had ever seen her; she had clearly started wearing makeup (and at 35, it was about damn time, if you asked her) and actually seemed to have done something to her hair. Even her wardrobe had improved drastically-rather than the unsightly pink jumpers and loose black trousers she once had such an affinity for, she was wearing proper robes, today, and rather fashionable ones, at that. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought that Auriga was under her mother's Imperius curse.
Still, she asked as the other woman poured her tea, “Aur, sweetheart, have you been feeling alright?” But there was even something in the amused smile that seemed just unnatural-absolutely nothing like the usual, easily-flustered and nervous Auriga. This Auriga (if it even was Auriga) was cheerful and nonchalant. Honestly, it was starting to creep her out.
It wasn't until Lucinda had swept into the room and said, “Have you told Septima about your new boyfriend yet, dear?” that a hint of the real Auriga slipped through. She blushed madly and sent an admonishing glare at her mother before amending, “He's not really my boyfriend...” Of course he wasn't; she would naturally still be upset about losing Snape. “We're just sort of... seeing each other.” This would, of course, have to be one of Auriga's elaborate-but-ultimately-ill-fated lies to appease her mother.
“Of course, darling,” soothed Lucinda, winking slyly at Septima before turning to leave, “though I wasn't aware that 'seeing each other,' these days, meant spending the night together three nights in a row, every week.” She giggled. “Well, I'm off! You girls have fun.” And she disappeared through the front door.
Septima eyed Auriga suspiciously. “So where have you been going for all that time?” Because the likelihood of Auriga actually spending that much time in the company of a man was akin to the odds of winning the Daily Prophet sweepstakes without even entering. That is to say, not at all.
“Well...” began Auriga, taking a seat at the kitchen table, “I've been at my... gentleman friend's flat, haven't I?” She was still blushing.
That didn't seem right, at all. She ought to have been traumatized by all the tragedy surrounding her life, the past several months. Severus Snape-whom Septima had long believed would eventually break down and marry the twit (Snape's words, not hers)-had turned out to be everything they had hoped he wasn't. Her father, the favorite of her two parents (Auriga had long attested that he was the only sane person in her family, which ought to have said something, because he was a Muggle who had the stones to marry a semi-famous witch), had died of a heart condition that had no Muggle or magical remedy. And now, she had spent the majority of her summer living in a flat with her mother-presumably to console the woman after her husband's death-who drove her so unbearably batty that she had to make up a story about spending the night at her not-a-boyfriend's flat in order to escape her incessant, well, mothering. Auriga ought to have collapsed in tears as soon as Lucinda closed the door.
What was going on, here?
“You don't,” said Septima slowly, “mean to tell me that your... gentleman friend isn't just someone you made up as an excuse to get out of the house?” The idea of Auriga having even acquired a lover, on her own, seemed just preposterous.
A scowl pinched the corner's of Auriga's mouth. “He is most certainly not made up.” She seemed offended at the suggestion-not that it was unreasonable. When you knew Auriga Sinistra as long as Septima had, you learned that she was not always, well, in touch with reality. Particularly following such stressful events as those that had occurred this summer. “He is, in fact, a rather prominent public figure. With money. And good-looks. And sexual prowess. And, er. Things.”
That was starting to sound more like Auriga. “Oh, really?” Septima lifted an eyebrow. “Do I know him?”
Auriga stared into her teacup. “I, er... well, I don't know.”
“Who is he?” She was, after all, a brilliant Arithmancer-and before she had turned twenty-five, a regular model in Witch Weekly-and periodically engaged to a famous musician. She had to have made the acquaintance of almost every “public figure” in wizarding Britain (and a few outside it, as well). If Auriga weren't making all this up, then Septima probably knew the fellow. Whether or not she approved, well, that would depend entirely on-
“I-I can't...really say.”
Septima balked. “Well, why not?”
It took Auriga a moment to answer, and when she did, she spoke carefully. She may have been reasoning it out for the first time. “Well... he's in the Ministry. And, um. It would not be good to seem as if the Ministry is trying to interfere at Hogwarts and-”
“They've already said the Ministry has appointed Snape Headmaster,” Septima cut in. Auriga flinched at the name. (She had not recovered flawlessly, after all.) “And added another couple of Death Eaters to the staff. So they're already interfering.”
“Yes well-”
She narrowed her eyes shrewdly. There were only two reasons that you tried to hide who you were dating. “Why don't you want me to know who he is? Is he famously unattractive, or... I don't know... married?”
“Yes!”
“Which?” But the look on Auriga's face told her. “Oh, sweetheart, haven't I told you a thousand times what a bad idea it is to get involved with a married man?”
“But-”
She held up a finger. “I know, I know, I've done it more times than I care to remember, but it's different with me.” Sympathetically, she reached for Auriga's hand. “You aren't cut out for that kind of thing, dear. You're too... innocent-” Auriga began to protest, but Septima shushed her. “You are. He's probably told you he wants to leave his wife.”
A guilty silence hung in the air.
“There, there, dear. It would probably be best if you ended things as soon as possible. I don't think I could bear it if he hurt you, so soon after...” After Snape broke your poor heart like that. Septima watched the tea leaves swirl around the bottom of her cup.
They sat for a while without speaking, before Auriga suddenly piped up. “He's not going to do a Snape.” Her voice was barely a whisper. It was hard to believe she was even talking about it again. “I know him. From... from a long time ago. And he... he's kind. To me.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her fingertips. “And... I just don't think... I mean, he won't... I'll be alright.”
Septima squeezed her hand, and smiled. “I'm sorry. You're right. You will be.”