Minerva intended to have fun tonight. She scheduled such things carefully and made sure the loose ends were accounted for, and tonight she had certainly earned fun. Gryffindor House was running as smoothly as it ever could, Harry Potter had survived his dragon and found a dance partner, and Alastor Moody was proving to be a capable, if jumpy, Defence teacher. Tonight she would prefer to be remiss in her duties as chaperone.
Luckily for her, she knew someone who would enjoy those duties and perform them far more efficiently than Argus. The only trick was forcing him out of his usual holiday reclusiveness �“ a term more acceptable, though far less accurate, than 'holiday sulk.' She rapped firmly at the heavy dungeon door, then stepped back to wait and admire his concession to holiday cheer: a rather ugly wreath of thistles hanging on a rusty nail. If he kept her waiting, she would have to do something with that.
He did. Quite certain he was within and ignoring her, she banged again. Nothing happened, and then a little more nothing.
Barging into his quarters would be impolite, and probably unsafe as well, but her Patronus was free to do what she was not. "Expecto Patronum!" The collie of her childhood, now silver and ephemeral but still dear old Trot, accepted her message and slipped through the door. Minerva settled in to wait for the results of "Severus Snape, if you do not open your door, I will turn your decorations garishly appropriate to the season!" That, she felt, ought to do the trick.
It did. "My apologies, Minerva," Severus said as he admitted her. "I had believed you to be Karkaroff."
"He has been bothering you?"
"Bothering might cover it. Though he has seen very little of me. Was there something you wanted?"
Minerva shrugged lightly. "Only to see if you were going up to the feast."
Severus narrowed his nostrils. "And finding your knock unanswered, decided to become stubborn? Never before have you been so exceptionally keen on my company without an ulterior motive."
She chuckled. "Were you not planning to chaperone tonight? It seemed your natural niche."
He raised his eyebrows, still sceptical. "Actually I was planning to stay in here, request a tray from the kitchens, and brood."
"How festive."
“It sounds rather as though you are asking me for a favour.”
Minerva sighed. “Checkmated. I am. On the bright side, for you at least, I don’t think our Mr. Potter has learned to dance.”
Severus smiled rarely, but the expression flickered into life and grew at that. “All right �“ you will owe me only a small favour, unless Karkaroff corners me. At that point it will become a large one.”
“Agreed.” Minerva held out her hand; Severus shook it. “Ready?”
“Two minutes �“ not that anyone but I will ever know the difference.”
She spent those minutes, more like five but no great trial, examining his bookshelves. Aboriginal Magics caught her eye with its well-travelled cover and slight oddity of subject matter; most of his books were related to potions or curses. She took it down and leafed through it. The table of contents and a sample page read at random seemed promising, though Severus had indulged his habit of marginalia to an absurd degree, apparently with firsthand observations. She had wondered what he did with his summers. A chance flutter of pages as she closed the book made her open it again to the front cover. A label with a graceful, stylized flower proclaimed the book ‘Property of Lily Evans.’
Minerva closed the book again, thoughtful. When had Severus had an opportunity to borrow or steal such a thing? Perhaps this was a random event, a book picked up used in a bookshop. She was uncertain where the Potters’ simpler belongings might have gone after their deaths. In that case, however, she would have expected him to have removed the label, and likewise if he had stolen it, unless he saw the thing as some sort of trophy. That left borrowing.
Severus and Lily had never seemed to be friends. On the other hand, very few people would call Severus and Minerva friends, or whatever it was, exactly, that they were to each other. In public they were rivals; privately, she supposed they still were, in an agreeable and respectful sort of way. Perhaps this book had revealed something interesting.
“If you borrow anything,” Severus said from the doorway to his private rooms, “you should be aware that I know six different curses for people who borrow books and do not return them.”
“Only six?” she said lightly, turning around. “I might be interested in Aboriginal Magics.”
His face hardened, his eyes glittering. Minerva braced herself for some comment that would make a dragon flinch, but he said only, “That was a gift from Lily Evans. Her new husband disliked the idea that she might enjoy travel, so she gave that sort of book to the person who would annoy him most.”
And yet, for whatever reason, Severus had left her name inside. Perhaps, given his opinion of James Potter, he had hoped Lily would want the book back someday. His notes suggested acceptance that Lily would not; the label suggested something else. Friends, then, and perhaps close ones at that. Minerva slipped the book back into its place and tilted her head toward the exit. Severus gave a nod of agreement, still-damp hair flopping limply across his face as he did. It seemed he had washed and changed ot formal robes in his minutes, and it seemed he was right �“ without inside information, Minerva truly would not have known the difference.
“Are you devoted to those thistles?” she asked as they left his quarters.
He snorted. “If you like them, you may have them.”
“Good Scottish thistles? Of course I like them.” She floated them onto her hat with her wand, and they fitted neatly. “Would you like a replacement? Leeks, perhaps?”
This earned her a sidelong look. “Mercifully, the holiday is almost over. If you wish to leave a wreath of Devil’s Snare, I will not stop you, however.”
That seemed too unfriendly even for him, although the thought that Draco Malfoy might be the next person to knock did give her a moment’s temptation. “As you say, Christmas is almost over. Shall we go enjoy what remains?”
“You may. I believe you gave me the task of seeing that no-one else does, and I mean to make a good showing.” He strode up the corridor, making her hurry to catch up. This seemed a most unfair trick for a wizard shorter than she, and she wasn’t about to say so.
“And I expect you will enjoy every minute of it, too, between watching Potter with his date and supervising the rose garden.”
Severus smiled, looking predatory. “I had forgotten all about the rose garden. Thank you for the reminder.”
“I have never been so glad not to be a student,” Minerva said with a laugh.
He laughed back at that, then composed himself to the usual scowl as they approached the stairway to more festive places. “You think that I would not take points from Gryffindor for their Head of House being drunk and disorderly?”
“That might start something that would leave neither Gryffindor nor Slytherin a single point by morning. After a few glasses of wine, my sense of fair play can change considerably,” Minerva warned.
“Indeed,” Severus said dryly, and they ascended to the Great Hall.