Severus Snape A Soul Undiminished

Chapter 13 - Muggle

Chapter 13

Severus dreaded the next day, which had nothing to do with teaching his classes. He usually found his job as a professor at Hogwarts eventful, and could usually find some pleasure in
tormenting his students, trying to drill something into some of their thick skulls. Some skulls were thicker than others, and he doubted that Ronald Weasley had much besides solid bone sitting on his shoulders.
Professor Snape began each semester at Hogwarts vowing to himself that he would teach each of his students at least one useful thing—as among the many things they might learn, there could be that one thing that would be useful in the dangerous times he knew were coming.
He did not hold much affection for his students, and he knew he was often reviled by most students at Hogwarts—except for those in his own house, Slytherin. Even those students often did not like their stern taskmaster, but they relished in his extensive knowledge and power and jockeyed for their chance to move up in the ranks of the magical community.
Although he would not admit to having an affinity for any of his students, there were those who were...more important to him than others. The likes of Harry Potter was like a festering
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thorn in his side—and yet, he could see a part of Lily in the boy's eyes and knew that he would give all of himself to protect him. In fact, Severus knew that he would protect them all till his own ending, whether they were aware of it or not. No, he did not dread his days of teaching, but tomorrow, he must begin the tasks that the Dark Lord had laid out before him, and that would take all of his focused determination whilst hovering above the precarious precipice that lay between his sworn allegiances. If he failed to succeed in performing this macabre balancing act, it would put in motion the ending of Hogwarts, and perhaps devastation even beyond its walls.
Severus's dark thoughts were broken when Sirana lowered her hand from his and turned to face him, almost shyly. Perhaps she had felt the dropping in temperature as the icy chill of his thoughts permeated his stoic form.
"There are things I would like to—well, that we need to talk about," Sirana said, unsure of how to begin.
She had felt the shift in mood and remembered that there were things she must address about this unlikely situation she found herself in. Sirana knew that the current pretense of having all the time in the world to, she tried unsuccessfully to reject the expression, 'play house,' was not realistic, even in this surreal existence. She would, however, remain affable to this man while he continued to do so to her. She found that she enjoyed his company, noticing he was a quiet, solemn man, and so, she found herself enjoying the few words he did say. Finding herself fixating on his resonate voice, his intonation, the way his lips seemed to caress each word, and when he did
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Muggle
rarely give the hint of a smile, she felt her middle warm deep within. She chided herself for thinking like some lovesick schoolgirl. Yes, she probably could stay here indefinitely, living in a charade of blissful ignorance, but it went so much against her character of being in complete control of her own life that her mind forcefully rejected the mere concept. She had been given the opportunity to recover herself from the cruelty she had endured at the hands of Lucius Malfoy, and she was ready to confront whatever truth was laid out before her.
Severus raised an eyebrow, and replied in a serious, almost regretful tone, "Indeed." He held his hand out towards the dining table, "Please, join me," he said courteously, holding his hand out towards the dining table. "I have some bread and wine that we can share while we talk."
He knew it would have to come down to this. He could not expect to keep her as his prisoner, nor would he imagine her willingness to live as a consenting captive, playing mistress of his house, willfully accepting whatever he doled out to her without question. He had seen the fire in her eyes and her mind, and he acknowledged the choice of her own fate.
He served them both a plate of bread and poured them each an ample glass of wine. As they ate and drank, he noticed her watching him through veiled lids, and realized he was doing the same to her. Each of them had multitudes to say, and yet, it would seem that neither wanted to begin. Perhaps they were both hesitant to break the pleasant mystique that had surrounded them since her arrival. Finally, he gathered his goblet and bottle of wine, moving to sit adjacent to Sirana at
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the table. He topped off his own glass, noting she had hardly touched hers.
"Is the wine not to your liking? I have others if you would prefer," he asked, wanting to assure her comfort.
"Oh, no, thank you. It's lovely," she answered pleasantly, lifting her glass and taking a longer sip reassuringly.
"You have been a most welcome guest," he began slowly, "although an unexpected one. I would like to imagine that your stay has been...agreeable..." he drawled slowly, attempting to read her responses in real time before continuing, "I hope that you have at least found my accommodations more pleasant than those previously..." He was not one to look past finding a humorous dialog even in the most somber of circumstances, and he was rewarded at seeing a small smile turn up at the corner of Sirana's lips, even though she timidly looked down at her wine.
He was relieved to see that Lucius had not wounded her so deeply as to cause her continued discomfort at the remembrance. He pressed on. "I would like to share with you my intentions, however; they have not revealed themselves—even to me. In honor of the honesty that we promised, I will tell you that I did not deliver you from an unfortunate fate at Lucius's hands because I am a saintly benefactor. Although my intentions towards you are not malevolent, I will not dissimulate the presumption of innocence." He paused as he took in her response, observing her intently, then slowly continued, "As much as I would like to keep you here as my...guest, I must first provide you with answers to any inquiries you may have to ensure that you are able to make
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your decision based upon an adequate understanding of your... situation."
Sirana took another sip of her wine, trying not to drink too much as her tolerance had always been low. Her face was already beginning to feel pleasantly warm. Although she appreciated that it took the edge off the conversation, she needed to keep her wits about her now. There were so many questions she needed to ask. There was so much she needed to learn about where she was and how she got here.
"What is a Muggle?" She was a little surprised that that was the first question that jumped in queue past the more important questions, skipping right out of her mouth.
The same surprise registered on his face as he answered, "A Muggle...A Muggle is a person who is not of magical bloodlines—one who does not possess any magical abilities. As you may have already surmised, those who reside here are not Muggles."
He paused, and she asked, "If you are not Muggles, what exactly are you? And where exactly is 'here'?"
He replied in measured tones, "'Here' would be Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and 'we' are wizards and witches."
Sirana absorbed that information with as open a mind as she could muster. She took another long sip of wine, reflecting with amusement that perhaps she should have imbibed more heartily from the beginning.
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"Was Lucius's home also at Hogwarts School, or was that another place?" she asked, trying to piece all of it together.
"No, the Malfoys live in Wiltshire, and although they are obviously not Muggles, their home is located outside the grounds of Hogwarts," he explained.
Sirana could tell that she would need to ask each specific question in turn, seeing that he was not the type to elaborate voluntarily. "So, are Muggles welcomed here? Are there others like me?"
She could see a smile turn one corner of his mouth, and he replied with a tinge of irony, "No, there are no others like you..." he said in a low, silky voice, looking down at his own glass.
She could feel her face suddenly get even warmer than the wine could excuse, and her embarrassment that he may notice ramped up the temperature even more so. Anyone who really knew her considered her to be tough as nails—a strong, confident, resilient woman. And yet, she had always known that one of her biggest weaknesses was that her face couldn't hide anything, and those who knew her as such lovingly delighted in this trait.