Chapter Text
Tel Lindar Chapter 31
You've got me so frustrated or Sliding down the Razor Blade of Life
***
The Big Elf stood at the river in the same spot where he had stood not many weeks before and grieved.
He grieved his losses, grieved his pain, grieved for her.
But for now, he glared, stared angrily into the water, gentle eddies swirling. Had he been looking, he would have seen fish - silver and rainbow colored marine life, that at one time he and his brothers would have spent sweet hours baiting hooks and fishing for; cooking over crackling fires while telling tall tales, each trying to out-best and out-disgust the other.
However, he saw none of this, was not aware of the life playing in the water, nor of the greenery surrounding him.
His gaze was stonily fixed on an orange, a slice removed, floating in the current.
Followed by another...
And another...
And...
"Saes, tell me you are not going to-"
The river was filled with floating oranges, some eaten from, some not. The sound of music rose eerily from the water...
***As we go bob bob bobbing along...***
"Ai!" The Big Elf beseeched the sky. "The Valar have such a strange sense of humor!"
"Of course we do, Haldir of Lorien." Tari stood behind him in the shadow of the trees, the hint of her smile heard in her voice. "It was during a fit of laughter and joyous song that we created the Hildor, the Afterborn, Men."
"Bane of my existence." The Big Elf mumbled. "I should have never allowed Elessar and his band of miscreants to enter The Golden Wood. My life would have been that much easier!"
"Haldir," the Valar chided, "are we back to that argument again?"
A stone bounced through a break in the floating oranges. "N'uma." It was sullen, childish and the Big Elf cringed at the sound of his own voice as soon as he uttered it. "Witless Wizard!"
"Ah." A stone, skipped by an unseen hand, not by the Big Elf, bounced over the water. "What?" She took in the Elf's look of amazement. "You think that all the Valar do is to sing, create, and ponder the ways to make your life miserable? Manwe skipped stones long before you were a thought in Iluvatar's mind." Another stone went skipping across the water. Oremé was not to be outdone. He created waiting."
"Waiting?"
"Yes. Long lines of waiting, waiting for their beasts to be brought from the stable, waiting for the children to be born, waiting for the crops to be ready for harvest, waiting in silence for their enemy to make his position known, waiting-"
"Forgive me, my lady, but I think Manwe created the more blissful of the two." The Elf skipped the last of his stones across the water, before turning his back to the river.
A final stone followed his as the Valar turned with him. "That is the feeling of many; however Oremé invented waiting strictly for the Afterborn, specifically the Rohirrim, whom he loved greatly. He claims it taught them patience and gave them strength of character.
"Heh." The Big Elf thought back on the few Men and Horse Lords he had had the dubious pleasure of meeting. "Made them stubborn."
"Made them tenacious," Tari shrugged. "They are Men."
"I hate waiting."
"I know, Haldir." She smiled slightly. "Oremé invented it for you, as well." A cool breeze blew through the trees, riffling strands of hair on the Big Elf's shoulders. "Haldir-"
"I know, I know! She *needs* him. I see that."
A cool hand smoothed the hair from behind his ear. "He did take very good care of her during her illness. Rather... innovative. Surely you cannot begrudge him that."
"I do not begrudge him that." The Big Elf scowled. "He took excellent care of her."
"And?"
"He worried for her. Took matters into his own hands, when others were unable to help her."
"And?"
Angry eyes flashed deep stormy blue. "Stop that."
"One would believe that you have spent too much time among us and have become over-comfortable to speak to us as equals, my Child." The Valar was no longer cajoling or humored. "Perhaps ‘tis time to send you on to the Halls of Mandos."
"N'uma. Saes." As quick as the Big Elf had been to anger, he was now contrite. "I apologize. I was... hasty in my... rancor." He reached out tentatively, touching the Valar lightly on the arm. "Saes. Do not send me away from her."
Understanding and pity crept into her eyes. "It will only become more difficult for you; cause you more pain and grief. To watch her lean more and more on the Wizard."
The Big Elf licked his lips nervously before admitting, "She needs him. I understand that. I accept that." Stubbornness as old as forty one millennia reared its head. "But I would stay, to aid her, to comfort her, to ensure he does not allow her to stumble or fall." He narrowed his eyes. "I will happily go to the Halls once her bow is secured, once her place back by my side is assured. Please do not send me from her side before then."
Tari covered his hand with hers. "You know what you ask?"
"Uma."
"So be it." Slowly, the two walked off in opposite directions; he through the woods, fading into a colder place, shifting shapes, turning; she walking, daintily over the water, skipping over oranges.
***
Deeply dippy ‘bout the curves you got
Deeply hot, hot for the curves you got
Deeply dippy ‘bout the fun we had
Deeply mad, mad for the fun we had
Deeply Dippy
Right Said Fred
***
"Excuse me?"
Severus did not notice that Bronwyn had stiffened in his arms, he was simply aware of the shiver that raced through her body as he whispered in her ear.
"I said I want the morning you and I were cheated-"
"I heard what you said!" Bronwyn ducked under his arm and purposely strode to behind his chair, effectively putting distance between them. "Go fuck yourself!"
Severus looked at the empty space between his arms before releasing the wall and turning to look back at her. "I beg to differ with you yet again, madam, but I believe I will be fucking you."
Bronwyn grabbed the back of the chair so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Not in this lifetime if you keep this nonsense up! In fact," she continued hotly," you'll be spending time with your most devoted partner - your right hand!"
"Belittling yourself, again. Once and for all, that is my job." Severus shrugged and went to the mantle to pour himself a rather stiff Scotch. "What have I done now to displease you?" he asked quietly.
"Does setting the stage properly or foreplay mean anything to you?"
Severus finished his scotch and set the tumbler down lightly on the mantle next to the decanter. He turned slowly and advanced on her. "I believe we discussed guilty feelings, madam."
"Guilty?" she gasped. "Guilty? You think this has to do with guilt? Try I'm not in the mood!"
Severus rounded the chair and watched with perverse delight as she turned loose of the furniture she had sought refuge behind and began to back up. "Not in the mood? Why, Bronwyn, I find that difficult to believe." Again, she was pinned to the wall, hands splayed at her sides against the cool stone. "You are such a vibrant, earthy creature." Her breathing was heavy. Labored. Slowly his hand stroked upwards, not quite touching, grazing the air above her breast. Through her undergarments, her shirt, he could plainly see her nipples harden. "Not in the mood, indeed. Your body says otherwise." His lips caressed her jaw line.
"I... don't... care what my body says! I... can't right now!"
His lips continued to graze her jawline. "Is it that time of your lunar cycle again? I have told you before it does not bo-"
She shoved him away roughly. "My God, you twit! Would you kindly think with the head between your ears and not the one between your legs?" Again, she slid from between his arms and moved back into the middle of the room. "For the past several weeks, I have been excruciatingly ill, infused with herbs, remedies, medications, drugs, and God only knows what you've concocted. I have been unable to move, unable to talk, had my classes handed over to two hyper-active - don't look at me like that and don't start! - over-enthusiastic Elves - I said do NOT start - been over-whelmed with caring guests and shocked at your sudden admirable bedside manner! I am slowly losing my mind or at least alarming bits and pieces of it, have discovered my home is not REALLY my home and yes, I know, I know, I can ‘have' the house, but the giving of your magnanimous gift, quite frankly, isn't very characteristic of you. It's not very Slytherin of you! Then again on second thought, demanding payment with my body, could very well be in character for you! Either way, all of this has made my head spin and you want the morning Lucius stole from us? Well, I am so sorry!" She stood in the middle of the floor, hands fisted on her hips. "I am not in the mood. You need lotion? I'll give you lotion! What scent would you prefer?"
Severus was leaning against the wall where she had been entrapped against, taking in her dramatics. Slowly, he applauded the performance.
"You... you..."
"Try... neithadol." Severus pushed himself from the wall and slithered up against her. To his great pleasure, she didn't back up or back down. "Are you sure you do not feel the least little bit... guilty?"
"Argh!" She poked him in the chest. "I'm not in the mood. I'll let you know when I am!" She turned on her heel and marched off towards his chamber door.
Severus Accio'd the tumbler and decanter of Scotch. He poured himself a drink and set the decanter down. "I will wait. Patiently, but Bronwyn," She paused with her hand on the door knob. "Be prepared to beg for release."
She sneered at him before walking through the opened door.
"One more thing, Bronwyn." She stopped and turned, looking in through the door frame. "Your husband was right." She raised a questioning brow. "You are a fiery one. I am enjoying playing in the flames." With a flick of his wrist, he shut the door in her astonished face. Chuckling dryly, he saluted her lingering dust before raising the glass to his lips.
?
***
Classes resumed on Monday, a quieter, subdued, but a healthier Bronwyn presiding over her students. Her younger years inundated her with questions; mostly concerning when they would get to have a snowball fight. The First Years were over excited, questioning, talking over each other to gain her attention. How long had she known Lord Elrond? Who were the Elf twins - were they THE Twins that modern wizards were descended from? What about the quiet, dark haired Elf? A Fourth Year student actually blurted she thought he was rather dreamy, much to the amusement of her classmates. Amadeus had the good graces to wait until he went behind her desk before collapsing on the floor, chuffing wildly. Bronwyn sat on her desk, her feet in warm boots, looking over her First Years as they chattered. She finally raised one finger, signaling quiet. "Who brought Professor Snape when I was ill?" She was slightly shocked as the little Ravenclaw raised her hand. "You were very brave, Gerundavae."
The child blushed under the unexpected praise. "I was more scared for you, than I was scared of Professor Snape," she admitted.+
"I suspect he deducted points?"
"Ten for pestering him and five for my cheekiness." Gerundavae puffed out her chest and announced proudly.
Bronwyn raised her eyebrows and saluted. "My, my, my, are you sure you aren't really a Gryffindor in disguise? I must have a chat with the Sorting Hat." The child giggled. "I think points for bravery in the face of adversity are in order. Class? What say you?" Even the Slytherins giggled at that. "Now class, about that paper Professor Snape assigned..."
***
At the end of class, Gerundavae hung around her desk, slowly gathering papers, straightening her book bag. Bronwyn could sense she wanted to say something, but if she lingered too long-
"Gerundavae, if you have something to tell me, you had better get it out now, else Professor Snape will be here. I would hate for him to deduct the points I just replaced."
The smile the little Ravenclaw gave her was dazzling. Quickly, she looked behind her, making sure the brooding man Bronwyn had mentioned was not hovering about and that they would not be overheard. Deciding the coast was clear, she looked up at Bronwyn with sparkling eyes. "You didn't have to give me back my points. It was worth it just seeing the look on Professor Snape's face when I told him you were barfing all over the floor!"
Bronwyn had to laugh at the child's admission. "I'm sure it was." Gently, she turned the child and pushed her towards the door. "Off with you now. That report is due on Wednesday and it won't write itself."
"Yes ma'am."
If only the Upper Years would have been so easy.
***
The day was tense, long. Harry was conspicuously absent. Lord Elrond's sons had been most unusual instructors. The girls in particular wanted nothing but to talk about them, their insinuated love lives, their hair and skin care. (Well, all the witches, except Hermione, who rolled her eyes at such antics.) The brothers had regaled Bronwyn's classes with tales of pomp and ceremony, wars with monsters and evil creatures, making connection with wars older than time with the one they were currently studying. In the Seventh Years' eyes, the Twins had concocted the lessons, the discussions...
The snowball fight.
"Professor Powell," Draco drawled, "What was the point?"
"The point was a physical recreation. The point was to understand the mind - set of the soldiers, the battle. The point was to learn to work together and lay differences aside. The point was to get you out of this stuffy castle and expend some energy. Mister Malfoy, not all of us can play Quidditch!" Bronwyn looked over at Crabbe, who was scribbling away in his notebook. "Mr. Crabbe, would you care to join in on our conversation? Or at least show us what you are drawing?"
The blustery young man slammed the notebook shut, shoving it quickly between books. "No, ma'am. Sorry."
Draco mimicked him, silently, much to the amusement of his chums. Bronwyn watched the young man's face turn an alarming shade of red. Figuring she had embarrassed the teen enough, Bronwyn backed away. "Very well. Let's go over what you've learned in my absence and decide how good the Elves were as teachers. You have N. E. W. T. S. coming up and I want to see what you've retained and I don't think what kind of shampoo do Elladan and Elrohir use to keep their locks all shiny and such will be on it. Quiz time - get out your quills and parchment!" She was met with the prerequisite moans and groans and she smiled inwardly, looking forward to being challenged by the group.
***
Friday evening came quickly and Bronwyn found herself anticipating as well as dreading the evening. Dinner went slowly, even though she felt as if she was rushing. Sound echoed strangely in her ears, as if she was in a cave. Amadeus had been unusually clingy, as if he knew she would be leaving him behind for the evening. She conversed with Remus, Minerva, the Twins, even Albus. She'd be damned if she could remember a single word. At some time, she excused herself, pleading exhaustion, returning to her chambers to change into something stealthy.
Severus showed up after eleven, much to Amadeus' growling, snapping anger.
"Peevish tonight, is he not?" Snape muttered nastily.
"I don't know what's wrong with him," Bronwyn responded. "He's been afraid to let me out of his sight as of late." She stroked him behind the ears fondly. "I'd take you with me, big guy, but you would glow in the dark." Amadeus made a beeline to the fireplace, where he began to nose about the ashes. "Don't you dare! No! No!" Bronwyn smacked her hands together and moved him away. "Look at the mess you made! Bobbin will go crazy cleaning this and I'll have to bathe you!"
For some reason, that excited the wolf and disgusted Severus. "Really, Bronwyn. It is almost midnight. The party will be in full swing and I want to be in and out of The Ministry before someone decides to use their office as a trysting rendezvous."
The two made their way, quietly moving to the apparition point, but they did not escape unseen.
Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were up in an abandoned classroom, although Pansy was in no position to look out of the window. Draco watched the two dark figures steal across the yard, barely visible. ‘Where are those two off to so late?' he wondered. He curled his lip in disgust and for a moment, while he was distracted, he deflated. He grabbed Pansy by the hair, pulling her away. "Not so hard, girl! Am I going to have to replace you?"
The Slytherin mumbled apologies all the while, cursing her parents. The things she endured to get into the Malfoy clan.
***
Several pops later, Bronwyn and Severus stood in front of an abandoned warehouse.
"This is it?" she whispered. "This is the Ministry of Magic?"
"Silence." Severus had his wand out and was whispering spells, unweaving wards. They made their way down through corridors, down an elevator, past a statue of a witch, an Elf and a Giant. Down more corridors. Once, he pulled her into a dark alcove, as a loudly whistling watchman, who seemed determined not to look at anything, strolled by. They waited until he was gone before continuing.
"Itching yet?"
"Not a twinge."
Further into the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, before reaching -
Records: The Board of Governors; school records, and the I.R.M. - The Internal Revenue of Magic. Marriage Records, Birth records...
Bronwyn's palms went off.
With a whispered ‘Alohamora', the door to the Birth and Marriage Records swung open. The two tiptoed in, the Wizard watching behind them. With a ‘Lumos', the tip of his wand lit up, illuminating rows and rows of cabinets. Her palms were not as hot has they had been.
"Well?"
She rubbed her hands together and peered down the many rows of cabinets. She moved back and forth, trying to find...
Bronwyn's palms itched increasingly the closer she came to the wall, and she stared at the cabinets, perusing, scanning the identifying labels.
"Well?"
"Severus, you sound impatient. It's unnerving!"
Severus rolled his eyes. "Do hurry."
For several precious minutes, Bronwyn moved up and down the rows of cabinets, hands scanning, touching. Occasionally, she opened a drawer, fingers flipping...
"Well?"
"You are not helping!" she hissed.
"I am not here to assist you. I am-"
"Yesss?"
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "We need to-"
"Oh, I get it! You aren't here to help me, but we need to hurry! Thanks!" Again, hands outstretched, she scrutinized the cabinets, fingertips stroking, dancing over wood. She moved around the corner, the heat becoming more intense.
"Bronwyn. Those are the school records, not birth-"
"Be quiet. You aren't here to assist me, remember?"
Finally her fingers flicked over a specific drawer. She pulled it open and...
... looked confused.
"What is it?"
"Why would my palms itch over N.E.W.T.S. and O.W.L.S.?"
Snape reached around her and slammed the drawer shut. "Do not ever think about it! It would compromise both of our jobs!"
Bronwyn pulled the drawer back open. "Our being here period compromises our jobs!"
Severus slammed the drawer shut again. "Do not be absurd."
Bronwyn pulled the drawer back open. "Absurd?" she hissed. "This conversation is absurd!"
The drawer slammed shut. "We are not here for you to sneak a glance at your tests."
The drawer was pulled back open. "I didn't come to sneak a glance at my tests!"
The drawer slammed shut. "Then why are you over here?"
The drawer was pulled back open. "Because my palms tell me so."
Snape went to slam the drawer again, but stopped. Black eyes shifted in the dim light. "What was that?"
Bronwyn made a moue. "Me breathing?"
Severus noxed his wand, leaving both in the dark. "Stay here."
Bronwyn heard him move off and the door open quietly. A light from a small concealed flashlight lit up the corner. "Obnoxious Wizard!" she mumbled. Slowly, she pulled the drawer open again and began to thumb through the files. "Let's see what's so important!"
***
Snape sat at his desk, head in hands. "I cannot believe that was such a wasted trip."
Bronwyn stood behind him, kneading his neck and shoulders, keeping her thoughts clean; not looking at her satchel on the floor. "It wasn't wasted. We now know that the Wizard who has my bow isn't British born or bred, nor did they ever attend Hogwarts. Answers a lot of questions, it does."
"It asks more questions, however. Not. So. Hard." he complained, jerking away.
Bronwyn lifted her hands, inwardly sighing. "What are you so upset about? I'm the one falling to pieces."
‘She is right,' he thought to himself. "I am frustrated," he groused aloud. "Am I not allowed to be frustrated?"
Her fingers were back at his neck, high between his shoulders. "Not *my* fault if you're frustrated," she mumbled.
"I heard that, Bronwyn." He Accio'd the Scotch from the top of his fireplace mantel and poured a stiff jigger. "Damned waste of time." he muttered, tipping the glass to his lips.
‘I know. I don't understand. Lord Elrond seemed so sure-"
"Lord bloody Elrond does not know everything." Snape interrupted tersely, the tumbler never leaving his lips. "It was nothing but a ruddy wild goose chase."
Bronwyn's hands left his neck. "Well, you're determined to sit here and moan in your cups and I'm determined to get some rest. It's three in the morning and I've had a long, tiring week." He looked up at her just in time for her to kiss him on the forehead. "Good night, Severus."
It crossed his mind to ask her to stay, but by the time the words reached his lips, she and her satchel were gone.
‘Hmmm,' he wondered. ‘Did you really swipe your O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S.?' He shrugged to himself and poured another stiff drink.
***
Don't wanna be no uptown fool
Maybe I should go to hell, but I'm doin' well,
Teacher need to see me after school
Eddie Van Halen, David Lee Roth
Michael Anthony, Alex Van Halen.
983 Van Halen Music ASCAP.
***
?
As the year began to draw to a close, Bronwyn, along with her classes, settled into a routine with her students.
Except the Seventh Years.
They were rambunctious, even more difficult than before. The Slytherins made disparaging remarks and unkind comparisons between her and the Twins' teaching style. Harry returned to class, nestled in the middle of his friends, quieter, more reserved than ever, his eyes haunted...
Grieving. He's finally grieving.
In her class, the Slytherins were more focused on her, and she took the nasty ribbing with more good nature than she would have preferred. However, as time passed, the verbal sparring between Houses, including the Hufflepuffs, began to get out of hand. After a particular horrid day, she decided she had had enough. On Wednesday, before classes let out for the Winter hols, she whipped out a stack of rolled parchment and began to pass the scrolls out. "Pop quiz, ladies and gentlemen and I do use the term loosely."
Moans and groans met her ears along with complaints of unfairness and accusations of Elven cruelty.
"Essay, folks! There are five questions; pick three and discuss thoroughly. Do not try to pop down a few sentences and think that will cut it. Short change me and you will not only deal with me, you will have serious, screeching, I-hate- Muggle-Studies homework over the hols. Don't-" her finger pointed at Draco, "- push me!"
Draco toyed with his quill as he unrolled the parchment. "I wonder," he mused aloud, "how you would fare in a proper Wizard's duel?"
"Is that a challenge, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked darkly.
"No, simply an observation." The blond head bent over the parchment, looking bored at the contents. Soon the only sound was the scratching of quills against the paper.
Bronwyn sat behind her desk, tired beyond belief. As much as she hated to admit it, the illness, the allergies had taken more out of her than she wished to let on. Erestor fussed over her; he would deny it, of course, insisting that he simply enjoyed her company in the evenings. Severus told her the previous evening that he decided that while he despised all the Elves he had met, he could stomach the ebony haired Noldor best. He didn't talk endlessly, unlike his counterparts and that, Severus decided, was a good thing. Bronwyn caught herself nodding off and jerked upright, forcing herself to scan the classroom for covert glances, tapping quills, anything that would denote cheating. Her eyes settled on the Slytherin corner, where the cheating would be going on, she hated to admit. Slytherin quills were skirting across the paper, heads bowed and brows knitted in concentration.
Save one.
Crabbe's quill was making lazy arches, circles and waves. Quick movements, followed by lazy whipped...
‘He's drawing. Again!'
His test parchment was rolled up and he was focused on the image in front of him, his tongue peeking at the top of his lip. Slowly, she rose from her desk, her attention, her eyes focused on the front of the room. Leisurely, she made her way behind the class, no one paying attention to her meandering, her aimless wandering. Silently, she came up behind Crabbe...
He heard her sharp intake of breath, but was unable to close the pad fast enough. Like a flash, Bronwyn snatched it, yanked it from his grasp.
"Professor Powell, please..."
The class looked up, watching the scene play out. Draco had a nasty smile on his face.
Vincent made a half-hearted attempt to grab at the sketch pad. "It's just a silly drawing, Professor Powell," he whispered, trying not to be heard.
"Look!" Malfoy chortled. "Professor Powell took Crabbe's coloring book away from him!" The Slytherins around him laughed while the rest of the class looked mildly amused. There was no love lost among the other three houses that one of Snape's darlings was going to get his comeuppance, even if it wasn't Malfoy. Crabbe was blushing furiously.
"Mr. Malfoy, for your outburst during a test, you have an essay due the first day back from the holidays. Fifteen feet on the Peasant's Crusade. Any Muggle library can help you. Be prepared to present it to the class." While she addressed the teen, her eyes never let Crabbe. "Mr. Crabbe, I will see you after class." She turned from the group and headed back towards the front. "Ten points, Mr. Malfoy, for harassment of another student." She could feel him staring daggers at her back. "You have ten minutes left. You might want to begin wrapping up." She sat down, opening the front of the book and began to peruse the sketches, the doodles. Several times, her eyebrows rose; once or twice, she grimaced.
As the final bell rang, Crabbe stayed seated, while the rest dropped their scrolls in the basket she had assigned for assignments and rushed out. The Slytherins - as she expected - loitered outside the door. Crabbe remained in his seat, eyes fixed on the window above Bronwyn's desk. Deliberately, she rose, sketch pad in hand and went to the door. " I do not believe, Mr. Malfoy," she addressed the teen, "that you have any business hanging out in front of my classroom door. Unless you want five more feet added to your presentation, move on." She nodded to the rest of the Slytherins. "That goes for the rest of you, as well." She shut the door.
She did not see Severus step into the hall and with a scowl, move his House down the hallway.
"I could hex you, you know," Crabbe mumbled angrily, still gazing hotly at the window, the sunlight dying.
"Don't be so sure, Mr. Crabbe. I did not survive Middle Earth and 38,000 years defenseless." Bronwyn walked around in front of him and leaned on her desk. "And if you tried, what would that accomplish? Are you so determined to go home empty-handed when you are so close to the final prize?"
The teen turned beet-red. "No."
"I thought not," she replied quietly. "I understand you have asked to stay here during the winter hols, leaving your mother home alone. Want to talk about it?"
Not the young man looked at her. "NO! Not with you, anyhow!"
Hmmm. Struck a nerve. Interesting.
She could sense Severus hovering outside the door, it would be like him, and while what the student had done was beyond improper, she didn't want his Head of House involved just yet. She opened the sketch pad and began to flip through the pages. "You did these all with quill and ink?"
"Yes."
"Hmm." She held up a nice sketch of the gargoyle that stood watch outside of Dumbledore's office. "Interesting subject."
Crabbe grunted.
"This one is lovely." She held up a sketch of Ron, Hermione and Harry, laughing at a table.
"They're morons. I think they're bastards."
"Well," Bronwyn put the sketch back in the folder, "I don't think their paternity is an issue. But I did find the shading and curve, especially around Miss Granger's jawline, to be particularly well-done."
"What do you know about art?" Crabbe hissed.
"That's my secret for now. Now this one-" she held up a gruesome self- portrait of the teen, bruised, swollen eyes, red-rimmed- "disturbs me."
"Why? Why would you care?"
"Because," again she replaced the sketch, "it tells me you're hurting. And I'm sorry for that."
Fingers tightened, knuckles white on the desk. "I don't want your fucking pity."
Amadeus, who had been under the desk, skulked out, eyes narrowed. He moved next to Bronwyn and pinned the young man in his sights. Bronwyn never looked up, replacing the sketch and continued to flip. "Language, Mister Crabbe. Did you enjoy the snowball fight?"
"Why?"
"Because you drew four pictures of it. Very nice." She reached the last one. "You realize however, this one is quite impossible, on many different planes." She held up the offensive drawing, an overly endowed werewolf - Remus presumably - humping away at a dark haired, curvaceous woman with an -
"It's rather amazing; she looks like me." Vincent had again reddened and was now focused on the desk in front of him. "Mr. Crabbe-"
"Well, yer doin' him, ain't cha? Him and Professor Snape! Draco says-" His mouth snapped shut.
"Ah, Draco says it, therefore it must be gospel."
"Look!" Crabbe finally unleashed. "Everyone knows yer sleepin' with Snape and yer constantly hanging all over that disgustin' werewolf."
Bronwyn laid the sketchpad on the desk behind her. "Mr. Crabbe, it is possible to be friends with the opposite sex."
"Not where I come from! Friendship always has a price!"
Bronwyn inhaled and crossed her arms. "I'm sorry you feel that way. Your detention will be tomorrow night at seven. Don't be late. You're dismissed. "She watched as the stocky teen barreled from the room, almost mowing down the Potions Master in his zeal to escape her presence. Snape never moved, simply watched as the young adult careened around him and stared at him dispassionately. Bronwyn used the short time to cover the sketchbook under the things on her desk. She scooped everything up and muttered the password to her chambers.
"Early for dinner, aren't you?"
Severus snarled at Amadeus, who returned the snarl. "I had Seventh Years dawdling around my doors and was hoping you would enlighten me as to why."
She exited her study and steered him towards the kitchen. "I gave them a pop essay quiz. They were probably trying to think of ways to hex me without it being traceable." She reached into her refrigerator. "Wine?"
"I suppose it is Elvish?" Bronwyn could sense that while his nose was upturned at the thought of drinking that ‘Elvish swill', he was interested.
"It is strong-"
"No. Do you have Scotch?"
"No."
"Fire whiskey?"
"No."
"Sherry?"
"I have wine, Severus. An excellent bottle from Valinor, brought by Erestor, grapes which were stomped on by nubile virginal Elleths, with amazingly clean feet; you should be so blessed to put it to your lips, grown from Elrond's own vineyard. Trust me, you will never taste finer. Take it or leave it."
Severus nodded negatively. "Why did you detain Crabbe?"
"I... ah..." she snapped her mouth shut. "That is between Crabbe and myself." She poured a glass of wine and offered it to him. "Are you sure you don't want some? It's quite good."
"I would like to know why you detained Vincent Crabbe."
"I'm horny. Are you horny?" Bronwyn asked over-brightly.
Amadeus began to cough.
*She is bluffing, trying to distract me. I should back her up and take her against the wall.*
"What is the matter? Hairball?" Severus asked smoothly.
"Severus!" Bronwyn admonished. "He's not a cat!"
*Oh joy. I never noticed...*
Bronwyn had taken several sips of wine.
"I would like an answer, madam."
"Do I ask you about every detention you hand out?"
"Ah. So he got a detention. Must have been a rather serious infraction for you to hand down that as punishment."
Bronwyn finished her wine and set the glass down with a solid clink. "I am not going to enlighten you, so unless you plan on escorting me to dinner early, or if you would just prefer to skip dinner altogether..." she trailed off, fingering, toying with the stem of the wineglass.
Amadeus hacked one last time before making a beeline up the stairs. Severus closed his eyes in disgust. If only she knew...
"You are such a base animal."
"I didn't hear you complaining about my baseness the other afternoon. In fact, the words I remember clearly are ‘vibrant' and ‘earthy'."
Snape glowered at her. "I also used the word ‘creature'."
Bronwyn glowered back. "Any other questions?"
"Yesss." Severus tightened, coiled up. "Did you find out what was on your O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S. tests that you were not teaching?"
A half-smile played about her mouth. "Sure did. Found out what was on yours too. Wanna see?"
***
tbc
***
