开云体育

Chapter 32 - The Filthy Little Thief or A Blue Christmas Without You

Tel' Lindar 32

The Filthy Little Thief or A Blue Christmas without you.\r\n\r\n

***

"Excuse me?"

Bronwyn smiled at him. "I said do you want to see?"

"My students' N.E.W.T.S. and O.W.L.S.?"

"Uhm... yes!"

Severus pinched his nose in ire. "Not only is what you have done unethical and immoral, it is -" Bronwyn smirked, " - completely illegal! You... we could lose our jobs!"

Bronwyn made her way around him and went into her office. He followed her to the door, intending to continue his tirade. He watched her open a desk drawer. "I'm not going to tell. Are you?" She extracted several scrolls.

"Bronwyn, if you took-"

"There were several copies! I don't think they'll miss one." She lifted a scroll. "Come on!" she cajoled. "Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"No."

"Oh, please! Where is your sense of adventure?" She waved the scroll enticingly under his considerable nose.

"I have done all the adventuring I plan to do. No."

"I'll be honest. I'm curious to see if they screwed you as badly as they screwed me."

"What?" That brought Severus up with a start. "Screwed you?"

"Oh, yes. Right up the arse without the benefit of lube," she stated baldly. "Screwed. As in 'did you wrong,' 'did you dirty,' 'did-"

?

"I am well aware of what being screwed is. What I do not understand is what you meant by screwed me as badly as they screwed you."

Bronwyn set the scrolls down and reached over to her planner. She pulled out several sheets of paper. "These are the objectives given to me for the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Years." She handed them to him. "Notice the overwhelming number of wars and plagues. Amazing, isn't it? World War I, World War II, the Korean Conflict, Salem Witch Trails, the One Hundred Years' Wars, the French Revolution, the Bolshevik Revolution, the Black Plague, the Opium Wars - now there's a fine, shining moment in Muggle history for you; the Vietnam Conflict, the Crusades-"

"Bronwyn, that is lovely. I am sure the Fifth through Seventh Years are wallowing in blood and gore, but what does this have to do with screwing you? "

Bronwyn rolled her eyes and flipped the scrolls. She picked one up and unrolled it. "Describe in complete detail, including dates and outcome, the causes and circumstances of the Children's Crusade-"

"Bronwyn. Does this have a point? You said the Crusades. Obviously-"

"Obviously not! Severus!" Bronwyn snapped angrily. "The Children's Crusade is a very sad and misfortunate footnote of the Holy Crusades history. It had no political impact whatsoever. If anything, it was the probably the first anti-war peace protest march in history. However, with the Peasants' Crusade-"

"Good Gad, Madam! All these Crusades-"

"Exactly!" She threw the scroll on her desk. "When one says Crusades," she pointed to the objective on her guide, "one is talking about the five Holy Crusades - usually the first one in the 1097! The Fifth Years have studied those. The Children's Crusade isn't the point. It isn't even a conflict, only a large group of mostly orphaned and peasant children marching for peace! Yet, that's what they asked about. They also ask to discuss in detail other minor skirmishes that had no bearing on the outcome. They are asking for obscure references for obscure battles for obscure wars. To make matters worse, they ask the Seventh Years questions that are from the First year objectives! I understand building a program, but they should give me time to build it! If I was responsible for making sure the Seventh Years were well versed in all seven years of objectives, they-"

"- should have informed you."

"Yes!" Bronwyn sagged back on her desk in relief. "Apparently, someone is out to make me look bad. If the students do horrifically, there is no one to blame but me."

Severus handed her back her objectives. "If the students do not do well, your position here would be in jeopardy."

"Yes, it would. I'm sorry, Severus, but the Slytherins purposely failing that test some weeks back has rather ominous connotations."

"Yes, I can see where it would bother you." Severus rubbed his fingers together. "Still, why would you procure the Potions tests?"

Bronwyn's grin was gritty. "Because, my palms burned hotter over yours."

***

I, I live among the creatures of the night
I haven't got the will to try and fight
Against a new tomorrow, so I guess I'll just believe it
That tomorrow never comes

Self- Control
Laura Branigan

***

Severus pinched his nose tightly.

***No, not painful enough!***

Seventh year - sleeping draught -Meridiatio -

***That sleeping draught had not been used in a century. It wasn't as potent...***

... NoxNoctis...

***Except that particular potion simulated death too well!***

Thank Merlin, Longbottom would not be subjected to this test.

?

*** Remus' potion is on this too. Mental note to self - Have Albus retrieve... no... I will retrieve updated objectives we apparently did not receive.***

"Your headache is escalating."

"Do tell." He pressed on the bridge of his nose again.

"How bad?"

Severus rolled up the scroll and tucked it into a pocket in his robes. "In your eloquent words? I have been screwed. Question-" he tapped his lip thoughtfully, with a long tapered finger, "by whose hand are we screwed?"

"Fudge?"

"Fudge is a figurehead, a puppet of the worst sort. He might have signed it, but he did not write it. I am more inclined to think Malfoy is behind this."

That brought Bronwyn up. "Malfoy? Lucius Malfoy? Why would he come after you? I thought he was your friend?"

"Malfoy," Severus stepped up to her and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, "is friend to no one. He lives due to his money and his political clout. Do not forget I am considered a traitor - not trusted by either side. There are those on both sides who are saddened that my demise did not take place. I dare say, causing one to look incompetent and me losing my livelihood for it would be a step to bring me down."

Bronwyn allowed herself to be pulled close and she made a great show of straightening the lapel of his frock coat. "Well, I am glad you did not die."

"Really? You might have been left in the care of Remus."

"Or Albus!"

"Really, Bronwyn. That is a disgusting thought."

"Are you ready for dinner, Severus?" She patted his collar one last time.

He nodded and stopped in front of the door. "Bronwyn. Do you have duties Saturday?"

She grinned. "No."

For a moment, Severus seemed to be at a loss for words, struggling... "Would you care to have dinner with me?"

"I have dinner with you every night, Severus," she reminded him gently.

"I meant not here. I meant somewhere... nice, private. We could discuss... the changes of our objectives."

"Ah. Objectives," she smiled serenely. "Should I wear casual or dressy?"

Severus looked around; making sure Amadeus was not nearby. "Something easy to remove."

"Ah." She placed her hand on the doorknob. "Amadeus! Stop chewing on the bedpost and come to dinner!"

She was answered by a sharp yip, followed by padded feet coming down the stairs.

***

Crabbe was on time.

Frankly, she was shocked by that. She expected him to be tardy and surly.

He *was* surly.

He plopped in a chair, quill in hand. "Do I have to write an essay on spit?"

Bronwyn was threading through papers on her desk. "No. I wanted you to do me a favor."

The teen snorted. "Me? Do you a favor? Are you dumb?"

Bronwyn set down her papers and looked at the boy for a long minute. He blushed and put his head down. "You are aware I've not said anything to Professor Snape or Professor Lupin yet about your artwork?" The boy gulped. "I can ignore your disrespectful statement, or add it to what I will tell Professor Snape and Professor Lupin. Would you like them to continue in their ignorance?"

"Yes ma'am." It was hissed.

***Ah, you *do* have manners... ***

Crabbe muttered, "I'm sorry, Professor Powell." She nodded, accepting the grudged and forced apology.

She finally pulled a large piece of parchment from the pile on her desk. Laying it on the desk next to the student, she whispered, "Will you copy that?"

Vincent stared hard at the sheet laid before him. He reached out reverently, "You want me to copy... this?"

"I believe that's what I said."

It was a pencil drawing... A woman sat on a low tree branch, a long flute in one hand, the other draped over the shoulder of a tall Elf...

"That's you."

"Yes."

"And..." his finger wavered in the air, "your husband?"

"Yes."

Vincent's finger slid around the edges of the parchment. "With quill and ink, it will be difficult to do the shading."

Bronwyn opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out a-

"What's that?" Crabbe looked suspicious.

"It's an evil Muggle contraption." Bronwyn intoned seriously. "It is called a 'pencil'." Crabbe recoiled. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a Muggle gadget?"

"I ain't 'fraid of nothing made by a stupid Muggle!" He snatched the slender piece of wood from her and made a few test strokes on his scroll.

"Try this." Bronwyn extracted a heavy piece of parchment from under the pile on her desk. "You might find this easier to draw on." She slid the parchment on his desk.

For an hour, the teen drew, copied. Once discovering what an eraser was, he wore out the one on the writing utensil in his hand, causing her to dig out a large pink one. The occasional curse word escaped and she chose to ignore it.

Bronwyn saw Severus come in, saw him glide like a shadow to the darkened corner. Amadeus saw him as well, choosing to watch him through glowing blue eyes. Finally -

"There. It's not great..."

"It's not bad, Mr. Crabbe."

It was smudged here and there and occasionally the lines weren't as clean as the original; however, the overall scope was clear, clean cut, obvious.

"You know," she mentioned quietly, as she took the copy to inspect it closer, "there are many types of mediums; chalk, pencils, oil or water based paints, different kinds of papers-"

"How do you know about this? Why the hell would you care?"

"Actually," Bronwyn picked up the original and looked at it lovingly. "I don't know a lot about art. I just like looking at it - as long as it's not modern. As for why I should care? Why shouldn't I? I've not questioned your ability; simply the subject you chose."

The silence was deafening.

"Who drew it? The original?" Crabbe - and Snape - watched as Bronwyn solemnly placed it and others she had brought in to a large portfolio.

"My brother-in-law, Rumil."

"Oh."

Bronwyn closed the portfolio and smiled at the young man. "Mr. Crabbe, I think you have talent as an artist. You need practice, probably someone to mentor you. However, I suggest," and she purposely kept her gaze locked on the teen and away from the Potions Master still hidden in the shadows, "that you exercise more caution about the subjects you draw; especially those in public. You are dismissed."

Crabbe got up to leave and stopped. "Professor Powell?" he asked tentatively. "They are... Draco... is going to ask what you made me do. I can't tell them I... drew..."

"Tell them," and with this, she handed him the now dull and shortened pencil with the worn out eraser," that I made you write one thousand times, 'I will not draw vile, filthy, disgusting, physically impossible pornographic pictures unless otherwise told specifically to do so by Professor Powell,' and that I made you write it with a despicable Muggle pencil."

Crabbe's grin was infectious. "Right. Bloody awesome, rig-"

"Your writing hand should be rather cramped, Mr. Crabbe. And you should not be very happy about it."

"Oh." He looked at his right hand, clutching the pencil. "Oh. OH! Right. Ow! It hurts!" He turned and sped out of the door, his voice echoing down the hall. "Ow! Ouch! Dammit, bloody profe-"

"He drew pornographic pictures?" Severus' voice echoed from the corner.

"Hmm hmm. Vile, filthy, disgusting-"

"I heard." Severus came out of the secluded corner, fingers flicking the edge of his cuff. "Any chance that you would allow me to inspect the filthy, disgusting, physically impossible, pornographic pictures?"

Bronwyn murmured the password to her door and watched it swing open. She hugged the art portfolio protectively to her chest. "Sorry. Used it to start the fire in my fireplace last night." She gestured to Amadeus, who preceded her into her chambers. "Good night, Severus." She swept into her chambers, the wards falling into place behind her.

"Good night, Bronwyn."

***
Friday.

Ah.

Fridays are made of serenity, peace and quiet, the things dreams are made of.

***And *this* particular Friday is better because the sniveling brats would be leaving in the morning and there will be peace and quiet until after New Years.

I can chase Bronwyn naked all through the dungeon and not worry...

Hmm.

Amadeus.

The Elves.

Bah. Oh well.

***

Severus stood over a row of vials - each one labeled with names. He lifted the first one.

***Color not quite right. Smoking slightly. Hmm. Potter. Minus thirty points. Tsk. Tsk. Too bad. ***

He picked up a second. Color slightly off. ***It is still smoking. Malfoy. Minus five points.***

He replaced it and picked up a third.*** 'Perfect color. Thick, viscous, perfect. I do not even have to look at the name. Granger. Damn girl put in a tad too much. Minus ten points. Know-it-all and a show off.'*** He replaced it carefully.

"Hey! Sevvie!"

Elrond's sons threw the door open, both heads peeking in before their bodies followed.

"There is no 'Sevvie' here." Snape muttered drolly. He picked up another vial. Weasley.*** Fifteen points off immediately.*** "I suggest you look elsewhere."

"No, no, no!" Twin Left exclaimed, taking Weasley's pitiful offering from the Potions Master and sliding it onto the rack in front of him. "You are just the Potions Master we need to talk to! Aren't you excited?"

"Be still, my throbbing heart."

Twin Left nodded to Twin Right, who went back to the door, sticking his head out and checking the hallway before shutting it and making sure it was latched tight. "We need to talk."

"Secret stuff."

"No one else needs to know."

"Shh."

"Listen very carefully, you two miscreants." Severus leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Whatever the two of you wish to discuss with me is fine, however, I will not try to keep up with both of you at the same time."

"Elladan, I think-"

"-he does not like to listen to us finish-"

"-the other's sentence. Why, I would think that-"

"-it would be boring for us to be like-"

"Silence." Severus pointed to Twin Left. "You are?"

"Elladan. We are really quite easy to tell apart. I am the more handsome one."

"You lie!" Twin Right - Elrohir, obviously, leaned conspiratorially over at the Wizard. "He is jealous. Always has been. Always will be. Women prefer me!"

"I lie? I lie? You lie, you-" Both Elves stopped chattering, as Severus calmly stood up and headed towards the door. "Where are you going? We have-"

"-much to discuss-"

"I am going to the Astrology Tower, to throw myself from it. Or perhaps I shall converse with Amadeus. Merlin knows I so enjoy his jovial and witty company."

Both Elves stared at him dumb-founded. "Ah." Elladan dead-panned. "Snape humor."

"Poor Bronwyn."

"Uma."

"Look," Elrohir slid between the Wizard and the classroom door. "We need to talk about Bronwyn's bow."

Severus turned looking over his shoulder. "You know where the damned thing is?"

"Well... n'uma... no." Carefully Elrohir herded him back to his desk. "Not exactly-"

"Not... exactly," Severus hummed silkily. "Thank you. You have been a tremendous help. Now if you do not mind-"

"Waitwaitwait!" Elladan held up a hand as if to ward him off. "We can sense it. Not as strongly as Thranduil, but we can."

Severus raised an eyebrow and steepled his fingers. "You can sense it?"

"Uma!" Elrohir was bouncing. "We scoured Soho when her last descendant died. London, we crisscrossed all of England, but we couldn't-"

"-feel a thing. Nothing."

"Nada."

"Nil."

***Damned pointy-eared prats! They want me dead! And they want it to be a particularly painful death. ***

"However, once we were well into-"

"-Scotland-"

"One. At. A. Time."

Deep, heavy sigh from both. Finally -

"We could sense it."

"You could... sense it." Severus said softly. "How, pray tell, do you sense it?"

Elrohir reached back and dragged a stool forward. He plopped onto it with an audible thud and propped his elbows on the desk. "We just know. Somewhere within fifty kilometers, Bronwyn's bow is humming away. We cannot tell hot or cold, near or far. Just a fifty kilometer radius.

"Thranduil would know better. Have a better idea."

***Thranduil. King of the Greenwood Elves. Excellent ruler. Looks like Malfoy. Loving father. Bane of Bronwyn's existence. Another Elf. Lovely. Only I could be so blessed.***

"And why would this... Thranduil... have a better sense?"

"Because, silly-" Elladan pulled up a fellow stool and dropped down next to his brother, identical hands propping an identical chin, "he had the bow handcrafted for his son, Legolas."

Severus concentrated very hard on the vials in front of him. "Bronwyn's bow was not made for her by your bloody Valar?"

"No!"

"N'uma! Whatever gave you that idea?"

Severus could feel the stirrings of a headache coming on. "How did Bronwyn's bow become Bronwyn's bow?"

"Oh, that's a lovely story-"

"-make you cry-"

Severus glared.

"Sorry."

"Habit."

***If they twitter, I shall curse them both with an Avada Kedavra...***

Both Elves were staring at the Wizard expectantly. "Well? Go on."

"Bronwyn's bow belonged to Legolas up until right before the War of the Ring. He was part of the Fellowship escorting the Ringbearer to Mordor to destroy the Ring. On the way, while trapped in the Dwarven Mines of Moria, they met up with a filthy and injured young boy, with above average skills with a bow. They escaped the Mines and fled to the Forest of Lorien where they were picked up by the Warden Elves of Lorien - specifically Haldir and his Wardens...

***

"And what of this one? He did not start with you!" The Big Elf took the edge of his bow and lifted the boy's face, thick mucused drool dribbling down his chin, Bronwyn's features now plainly visible to The Voyeur. "He is a beardless boy. How did you become saddled with him?"

A tall, slender Elf - Legolas - clutched his arm. "He was lost in the mines. He does not know how long he's been there or who he is. He aided us..."

The Elf - Haldir - looked at Legolas. And sneered. "This pitiful scrap saved your lives?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you losing your touch, Prince of Mirkwood?" He smiled grimly. "Your father would be so disappointed..."

***

"When the Fellowship prepared to leave and continue their journey, each one was given gifts from the Lady of Light. Legolas was given a Galadhrim Bow."

"Very nice gift." Elrohir added.

"Of course, Legolas couldn't carry two bows; Galadhrim bows are huge, things of beauty." Severus had seen Haldir's bow. If his was a Galadhrim bow, it was large. "Legolas gave his old bow to Bronwyn. A gift to her for her courage."

?

"Courage?" Severus snarled. "I thought her actions were rather fool-hardy."

Both twins were silent, gazing at him with serious grey eyes. "How Bronwyn puts up with you," Elladan whispered, "I will never know."

"Believe me," Snape picked up yet another still smoking vial, "it is a double ended wand." He set it back in the case, not looking at the identifying label, not caring, and stroked the rim leisurely. "So the bow of Bronwyn's belongs to an Elf and his father still lives?"

"U'ma."

"And he might give us a better lead on the whereabouts of his son's bow."

"U'ma."

"And you are certain that it is close by."

"Within fifty kilometers. U'ma."

Snape continued to worry, fondle the rim of the vial. "And you have not contacted him?"

Both twins looked at each other. "Yes. We have. He has things to clear up, but he will be coming to Hogwarts."

"When?"

"He has to attend to his estates, take care of accounts-"

"He has someone he wants to visit -"

"When Can I Ex-Pect Him?"

"Oh." Elladan seemed shocked at being pressed. "Right after the New Year. Sometime."

*Oh joy. Yet another Elf. *

"He has to attend to his estates, take care of accounts-"

"He has someone he wants to visit-"

"No doubt some lass he's currently attached to-"

"He will leave her appeased, no doubt. But, do not tell Bronwyn. It will-"

"-only upset her."

Severus had his head in his hands. The top of the Astrology Tower was looking better and better.

"Oh. We forgot-"

*Wonder of wonders*

"-we have a surprise for Bronwyn. A Christmas surprise and we need your help."

*Oh please, kill me now...*

***

Saturday dawned cold and clear. The Grand Entrance bustled, bobbled, a sea of excited children filing out the doors. Bronwyn watched anxiously as a still subdued Harry followed the two youngest Weasleys and Hermione Granger through the hallway.

"He's going to The Burrow." Remus said amiably. "Molly will coddle him and he'll work through this. He'll grieve."

"Grieving takes time, Remus. He needs more than coddling."

"I know." Surprisingly strong hands rubbed her shoulders, working at kinks, knots. "I know. He's talked to me a great deal as well as to Elrond and his sons."

On cue, the three Elves, together with Erestor, came up behind the two professors, bags in hand. "Can't you stay through the holidays? Saes?"

"I am sorry, Tithen Aras." Both twins kissed a cheek. "Things to do, places to see, time to spend with long lost relatives." They grinned at Elrond, who was smiling benignly.

"Erestor?"

"I must go soothe Glorfindel's hurt feelings."

"I'm feeling better!" She grabbed the dark Elf by the hands. "Have him come here! We'll go to Rosmerta's and clear the place out with raunchy songs! I'll buy the drinks, even!"

Erestor shook his head. "N'uma. I am sorry."

"I can't believe you're all leaving me alone through the holidays!" she pouted. It was a serious pout and the Elves and Remus could hear the hurt in her voice.

"But you will not be alone, Tithen Lindar," Elrond assured her. "Remus and Severus will be here. They will keep you busy."

"I can't believe my own daughter and grandsons can't be arsed to even owl me! Rumil and Orophin keep brushing me off!"

Therein lay the crux of Bronwyn's pique, and Remus' heart broke for her. She didn't know they had been sent back to the Undying Lands for a time for protection and she chaffed for lack of family contact. Elrond enveloped her in a fatherly hug. "I will personally box their ears and stand over them while they write you long, informative missives. Happy Christmas, little one."

"Yada, yada, yada. Just be that way. Leave me alone." she mumbled, watching the Elves move down the stairs and out the doors.

"They won't get a moment's peace on the train, y'know." Remus whispered. "They have been a source of much curiosity - Elrond and Erestor, that is."

"They are very different from the Twins."

"Well," Remus rose up on his toes before shoving his hands in his pockets and settling back down. "They are rather quiet and reserved compared to-"

"They are mature! The Twins still carry on like rambunctious teenagers!" Bronwyn sighed heavily. "Except when they fight. Lord, Remus. I have never seen such methodical killing machines when they are in battle." They watched in silence as the rest of the students filed noisily out of the large doors. Finally, the last student was gone, the last squealing, excited voice was quiet and the doors came to a screeching close. Remus' hands were still shoved in his pockets and he continued to rock on his feet.

"So, what are your plans this afternoon?"

Bronwyn's eyes glazed over slightly. "Severus and I are going into Hogsmeade."

"Oh?"

Bronwyn's eyes swept over the now almost empty Hall - seeing the lone student watching his departing classmates through the lead windows. "Sad case that one is."

Remus watched as well, as Crabbe finally pulled away from the glass and slowly ambled back down into the dungeons. "Aye. Nothing really to go home to."

The two professors watched as the young man unhurriedly disappeared from view. "Do you think it's true what they say about his mother?"

"What? That she's hooked up with Lucius Malfoy to pay for hers son's schooling? Probab-"

"Really, Remus. Do you not have anything better to do that talk about students' parents' sex-lives? Is yours so lacking?" The Potions Master stood behind them, swathed in a heavy winter cloak and scarf. He held out an emerald green coat to Bronwyn. "Are you ready, madam? Put this on as I do not wish for you to catch a chill."

Bronwyn took the coat from him and pulled it on. "Blame me; I asked a question, he answered." She began to button the cumbersome thing. "I'm sorry, Remus, I forgot. We will probably be gone all day and into the evening. Would you watch Amadeus for me?"

Remus nodded and waved the two off, both sidestepping the History of Magic Professor, Scrapton. The Wizard blanched when he saw Bronwyn and scurried off, sweat gushing on his brow.

"I don't like that man!" Bronwyn whispered as he disappeared around the corner. "He gives me the creeps."

Severus watched blandly "I suspect you frighten him as badly as he gives you the creeps." And with that, he swept her out the door and into the crisp air.

***

Out there on the sidewalk, a Santa Claus stands
Right by a fake chimney, a bell in his hand
The second one's smoking a smelly cigar
The third one picking his nose in a bar

***to the tune of ‘Away in a Manger'***

?

***

*Merlin save me from women who shop.

Merlin save me from women who shop at Christmas.

Merlin save me from Christmas.

Merlin ... Save me...

***

Down at the end of the row of shops was a small, intimate restaurant, where the lighting was low and the food was excellent. Bronwyn and Severus sat in a candlelit corner, packages heaped upon packages miniaturized, yet still taking up an enormous amount of space in the Potions Master's eyes.

And the most frightening thing was, she had ordered more! Thank Circe those would be delivered by owl post.

"Did you have to purchase everyone a gift?"

"I didn't purchase a gift for everyone, Severus." Bronwyn was knocking back her fourth glass of wine - an excellent Chardonnay. The rack of lamb had been stripped bare of any flesh and there was nothing left but streaked goblets that the fruit sorbet had been served in. "Only those close to me; my family - even though they won't be here, damn it to hell, and a few... others."

Severus sipped his wine - still on his first glass. "Especially-"

"Yes, especially him. Lord knows he needs it the most!"

"Hrrmph!"

Bronwyn finished her glass and sat it down a bit too firmly. She raised a single finger and peered at him in the dim light through a squinted eye. "Don't tell me you begrudge a single person a gift?"

"No, I do not. I am glad, however, that you did not seem to feel I need one."

Bronwyn grinned snarkily. "I got you one."

"You did not."

"I did so. Was I in your sight the entire time? Hmmm?"

***Merlin, save me..***.

Severus' voice echoed eerily from within his raised wine glass. "I do not see why you felt the need to get me anything." He put his hand over her wineglass to keep her from pouring another.

"I said those close to me. You are close to me." Her eyes lowered, as did her voice. "You mean a lot to me. Of course, I would get you something." She tapped her glass with her fingernail. "Why can't I have any more?"

"Because, madam, I plan to leave you breathless this night upon our return and I want you to know I have left you breathless."

"Well," Bronwyn reached for his glass, only to be smacked lightly for her cheek, "that won't be difficult."

Severus picked up the glass she had reached for. "Now you are reading my mind. Are we not a pair?"

Bronwyn picked up her water glass. "How many surprises on your tests?"

Severus contemplated the ruby glow of his wine in the candlelight. "Too many. Niggling things. Things not used anymore. Things from... old editions."

Bronwyn tried to study the body of her water and decided it was a lost cause. "I am sorry."

"Why?"

"I feel responsible."

"Why?" He gestured for the waitress and signaled for their check. Bronwyn waited until the transaction was complete. Severus stood and helped her into her coat.

"I just feel like someone is taking their ire at me out on you."

The Potions Master smiled at her belief. "Bronwyn, too many people want my neck with or without you. I am a former Death Eater; I swore loyalty to Voldemort."

"Severus! I saw what happened up there. If you told people, Harry would vouch for your story!"

The Wizard snorted before taking her by the arm and leading her out into the cold night. "Believe me, madam. No one would listen. It is done and over. Come now. It is cold and my bed is warm." He steered her down the lane back towards Hogwarts. "Or would you rather stay out here and argue banalities in the cold?" Bronwyn shook her head vigorously. "I thought not." In a rush, he hurried her down the road, his arm wrapped around her protectively.

Deep in the shadows, glittering, glowing eyes burned brightly in the dark.

***Soon, mother. Soon and very soon the Elves and the Traitor will not be able to protect you. Sleep well, while you can.***

***

Severus had her in his chambers, on the rug in front of the roaring fireplace, one leg thrown over hers and his arm tucked protectively around her waist, fingers tantalizing, playing at the bottom of her sweater. Occasionally, his hand would drift, brushing her breast. Bronwyn's hands were tangled in his hair, pulling closer, her mouth wrapped in a tug of war with his. Contented and frustrated sighs and inhalations were evident and had the room had windows, no doubt they would have been fogged up. Bronwyn's hands would wander to his waistcoat, working feverishly at the many buttons, only for him to laugh and pull them away.

"Not... yet..." His mouth descended on hers yet again.

"When?" Bronwyn was grinding under him, the heat of her beckoning.

"Brazen vixen." Severus' mouth moved to her ear, resulting in the expected response. She groaned, gyrating against him. Her hands moved down to his groin.

"Stop... teasing... merde, Seve…...rus... you need it too."

You have no idea, madam. His lips moved to her neck, nipping, scraping. Finally, his hand moved upward, under the sweater, stroking her skin until he reached the lacy edge of her bra.

This incited more growls from her. She ground herself against him. "Oh, pleeease, saes..."

"Please what?" he breathed in her ear.

Her mouth wrapped, tugged at his ear. "Stop... teasing!"

"Please what?" Severus pulled back away from and looked down, the fire from the hearth reflecting in his black eyes.

"Touch them. Touch me. Get out of your clothes!"

"You mean," he pulled her sweater above her breasts and pulled her bra down roughly, exposing her to the air, "you want this?" He wrapped his fingers around her nipple and rolled it roughly between his thumb and forefinger.

"Aaaah... merde..."

Severus' mouth met hers in a viciously deep kiss, cutting off whatever it was she had to say.

***Ah, so this is what my former classmates called 'tonsil hockey'***

Bronwyn pressed herself into his hand, into ... him... the layers of clothing were becoming oppressive, cumbersome, hot... she had managed to get one hand under his waist coat, her heated touch roaming at the waistband of his trousers, pulling, yanking at his shirttails.

***cannot have this. She will think she's in control...***

?

Severus tore his mouth from hers and moved between her legs. He slid downwards so his waist was firmly settled at her juncture. With great deliberation, he lowered his head and nuzzled the aroused breast he had been fondling.

"Aaaargh..."

Almost roughly, he pulled her nipple behind his teeth, sucking firmly. Again, her hands were in his hair, her head thrown back, as she undulated against him. He bared her other breast completely and proceeded to tease it mercilessly with his free hand. Bronwyn was humming, circling to a beat that was making him harder than...

With a great amount of sorrow, he removed his hand and his mouth, pulling her brassiere back in place before pulling her up off the floor.

"Wha-... are we going to your room?" Bronwyn was uncomfortably wet. Before she could say anything else, she found herself standing and being moved towards his chamber door. "Where are we going?"

"Your rooms. You are going to your rooms."

"But I-"

Severus smiled smugly down his lofty nose. "You have been ill and I would not want to rush you in your bid to recovery. Nor would I want you to feel coerced. Go to bed, Bronwyn. Good night." Bronwyn found herself standing outside his chambers, door closed quietly in her face. Her breath was hitched, heavy, Severus' words earlier in the evening were echoing in her ear...

I plan to leave you breathless this night upon our return and I want you to know I have left you breathless.

"Fucking son of a bitch!"

She imagined she could hear him laughing at her behind his door.

"Well," she fumed to herself, pulling her sweater down and storming towards the door, "I don't need you, I don't need your kisses, or your hands, or your damned prick!" She threw the door of her classroom open and hollered down the hall, as if that would cause him to hear her. "I Have Toys!" She punctuated each word with her fist. "I don't need this kind of rubbish!"

Had she not been cursing so loudly, she would have heard Severus laughing at her outburst from behind his door.

***

Sunday saw Bronwyn running hither and yon, decorating her chambers, for no one but herself. There was a tree decked in ribbons and cherubs and angels on her patio, which had been charmed with much grousing by Severus to stay warm. Anne- Marie Hooch and Russ Sprout were aiding her, chattering and giggling women. The wine flowed freely.

Severus hid.

She had threatened to do his chambers; to string his mantel with popcorn and berries; threatened to put up a fir tree with miniature potion bottles and bugs, bedecked in silver streamers.

He had responded that unless she wished to only be satisfied as she had been the previous night, to go right ahead and put up that infernal tree.

She called him Scrooge.

Remus ran in and out, demanding she oversee his own chambers, strung with enchanted twinkly lights, the smell of pine and balsam in her rooms intoxicating.

She was being placated, coddled, watched... She knew this. Kept busy, mind constantly working, yet at odd moments, melancholy would descend. Bronwyn missed her daughter, her son, her grandsons. She missed Rumil and Orophin as well as his wife and son. For weeks, the halls had echoed with the sounds of Elvish voices and languages and she realized how much she missed hearing familiar voices; the cadence, the lilt.

She missed Haldir.

Missed him horribly and while she sought solace in the arms of the Potions Master and admittedly found it, there were differences between loving the sunshine while craving the darkness. Deep down, she was coming to the realization that Severus was going to be an important part of her life, for a long time, even after her bow was found.

***If I... we... can find it...***

Dammit!

"Dammit to hell!"

What?" Russ' fuzzy head popped around from behind the tree. "Bronwyn? Are you all right?" Even Ann-Marie stopped and looked down from her lofty perch, close to the top of the tree.

"I'm fine. Fine." Bronwyn backed up and looked at the tree on her magically warmed patio. "The tree looks lovely, ladies. What say we clean up and get ready for dinner?"

Russ and Ann-Marie looked at each other knowingly. "Would you like us to wait for you, Bronwyn?" Ann-Marie asked gently.

"No, no. I have it. I'm okay." They stepped back while Bobbin removed the paper and boxes the ornaments had been stored in and for a moment, Bronwyn touched an ancient ornament that had been in her family for too many millennia...

Faeowynne made this one... Beckett this one... Anselm... aaah... this one...

...a small faded box hung from a low branch, the gift that it had contained, hanging around her neck...

My Air, my treasure, my most precious jewel...

"Bronwyn?" Ann-Marie was standing next to her, looking at her anxiously. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine... Really...."

Russ patted her hand and nodded towards the little box, clutched so tightly in Bronwyn's hand. "That one must have been special. What was in it?"

Very shyly, Bronwyn showed them the rings around her neck, explaining the inscriptions in Sindarin and Westron inside each.

"You are very lucky. Not many women are referred to as a precious jewel."

Amadeus was pressing against Bronwyn's legs, whining. Bronwyn scratched him behind the ears. "Yes. Yes. I am very lucky. Not a moment goes by that I don't forget it." She nodded towards the door. "You two go on. I need to shower and I'll be up shortly." The two witches left quietly, Bronwyn warding the doors and heading quietly up the stairs.

***

Dinner was boisterous, jovial, noisy; all jollity being made by the professors. Severus was disgusted at their joyful behavior. Such a bad influence on the six students staying over for the holidays.

The Canare twins, whose parents were in the jungles of South America, quietly excavating an ancient Wizarding settlement. A Hufflepuff and two Ravenclaws; both orphans.

And Crabbe.

Truthfully, Severus didn't blame him; he wouldn't want to go home either, knowing his mother was paying for his education, his clothing, her- their home, on her back under the gruntings of his best friend's father. Who knew what atrocities she was experiencing? Severus had seen Lucius at work. Deep inside, he was grateful Narcissa wasn't subjected to the man's more perverted tastes. Tearing his mind from that thought, Severus looked at Bronwyn, joining in on the lively conversations, exchanging barbs with Remus, chittering with Hooch, Sprout and McGonagall. He noticed Scrapton attempting several times to join in and not getting very far. Constance Bellany just looked on, enjoying the conversation, without having to join in. Dumbledore was also enjoying the noise, laughing at Sprout's joke. At one point, Hooch looked at him questioningly and he shrugged. Her guess was as good as his.

Finally, during dessert and after the students quietly filed out, Bobbin brought some wine to the head table.

"Bobbin? This isn't the wine I told you to bring."

"No, Missy Bronwyn. It isn't."

"In fact-" she inspected the label, "this isn't in my wine cabinet at all."

"No, Missy Bronwyn, it isn't."

Bronwyn scowled at the little elf. "Bobbin? Where did you-"

"It is a gift." A booming voice rang out from the back. "Nor did I bring it for you!"

Bronwyn stood up, glaring at the tall blond Elf standing proudly at the entrance of the dining hall.

"Who is that glorious creature?" Hooch whispered to Sprout.

If Bronwyn could have vaulted over the table, she would have. Instead, she crawled under, followed by Amadeus.

"GLORFINDEL! You old reprobate!" She bounded down the aisle. Easily, she slid into the Sindarin language, leaving the rest of the staff in confusion as to what she and the Elf were saying. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

The Elf glared at her from down his nose and stepped back. "I am most put out with you, Madam Bard."

Bronwyn stopped and planted her fists on her hips. "Oh, are you now? And pray tell, what did I do?"

The Balrog Slayer put a hand over his heart. "Why you denied my presence at your side, when you were deathly ill, knowing I worried and-"

"You are SUCH a liar!"

"N'uma, I do not lie."

"Yes, you do!"

"N'uma, I-"

"Uma! You would have used my infirmity and inability to speak and converse intelligibly to your advantage and declared yourself winner of many bawdy song contests!"

"Well," Glorfindel shrugged elegantly, "there is that, still-"

"Still, my arse! Tomorrow, we shall go to Rosmerta's and commence with bawdy songs and make Wizards' hair curl and drink each other under the table!"

Glorfindel sighed over-dramatically. "I wish that were so, however, I feel you will be... otherwise occupied on the morrow."

"Occupied?" Bronwyn was aware of her fellow professors coming up behind her. "What do you mean occupied?"

"Why, Bronwyn," Glorfindel stepped to the side, pulling the door behind him open. "I am only a messenger. I come bearing gifts." The Elf didn't have a chance to finish pulling the door to the side, when bodies, tall, lithe, Elven bodies, flew through the door, barreling, crashing into the small woman in the aisle. The noise Severus so despised escalated ten-fold as Bronwyn attempted to embrace the Elves launched at her.

"Is that all of them, Severus?" Dumbledore whispered in his ear.

"I have no earthly idea, Headmaster. Perhaps you should ask her yourself."

Bronwyn was in tears, laughing, hugging, names falling from her lips.

Faeowynne, Ennahan. Elran, Rumil, Orophin, Alilian, Tomasil...

"This is almost perfect! Almost! Almost! What a wonderful Christmas surprise!" Bronwyn had her daughter by the cheeks, gently smoothing back her hair behind pointed ears. From the corner of her eye, she saw Amadeus slide under the table, yipping to answering giggles. Bronwyn's eyes grew wide. "Now it is perfect!" She leaned over and looked under the table.

And saw two identical sets of dark indigo eyes staring back, chubby hands and arms wrapped around the wolf's neck.

"Happy Crith-mith Mama!"

?

"Happy Christmas, my Duncan!"

***
tbc
***

A/N on the Children's and Peasants' Crusades.

In his proclamation of Clermont in 1095, Pope Urban II promised immediate absolution and insured salvation for all who journeyed to fight and free the Holy Lands from the Turkish Muslim Infidels. (Not my words.) Great Lords, Barons and Counts were recruited, along with their standing armies of knights, promised great riches from the east.

What he didn't tell them was all the Byzantines asked for was a contingent of soldiers - or knights - to aid in making sure the Muslims didn't set up another harem any closer than they had.

Apparently, the peasants and poverty-stricken felt they should get a slice of the pie as well and before the trained armies could get their act together, they formed a Peasants Crusade. Led by Peter the Hermit, who told them they were going to the land of milk and honey, they crossed the Rhine in Germany, across Hungary, where they practiced their fighting skills, slaughtering 4000 Hungarians (over the sale of a pair of shoes, of all things) and eventually into Belgrade, which was Byzantine owned.

The Byzantines, to say the least, were horrified by the mob, rightfully expecting a well- trained army. Despite efforts to curb any trouble, the peasants stole everything they could get their hands on. Once arriving in Constantinople, they were shipped across the Straits into Muslim lands immediately, where they quarreled amongst themselves and murdered Christian inhabitants.

The Turks, being much better organized and equipped at dealing with rabble, slaughtered them.

There is also a rumor that a large group of orphaned and peasant children, numbering in the thousands, marched to the Holy Lands before the Peasants, in a bid to convince the Muslims to bargain for peace. They disappeared and there is no trace of what became of them.