How you see me
"So I feel very guilty, you see… I thought I remembered the exact place where I put it, and when I went back, it was another book. I am sure Filius is going to ask for it in a few days. He said it was the most precious book he owned!"
Severus nearly chuckled. He was exhausted, and having Minerva pacing his office back and forth at this time of the evening had apparently become amusing to his worn out brain. It was a much better alternative than the death eater meeting he had had to attend last night. Had it been earlier in the day, he would certainly have thought of some kind of cunning blackmail, because she was here to ask something from him, he knew that, and it did not often occur.
"Do you want me to apologize to Filius on your behalf? I suppose I could, but it would only postpone the inevitable…"
Minerva finally decided to sit down, and took a sip of her tea.
"I was rather wondering if you had any advice?"
"I have already told you that a meticulous classification of your books would prevent that from happening." He glanced at his own personal library. "I could teach you the system I invented. I find it very effective…"
But his colleague – his friend – just rolled her eyes.
"I have no wish to become a maniac like you are. This appartement looks like a realtor advertisement."
"What did you have in mind, then?"
"I do not know. A spell, perhaps? I have tried all the basic ones. Nothing worked."
Severus frowned.
"Do you expect me to propose… dark magic of some sort?"
Minerva laughed, unaware of her friend's discomfort. "Well, if I just have to steal some of Filius' hair, I will… I care about my life, you see," she joked.
But Severus did not laugh. Suddenly, he was very tensed, and his face unreadable, as it always was when he was trying to hide intense emotion. Had she come here for that? To ask him to do the dirty work? Was she now laughing about it, in his face, as so many had done before? He was aware this reminded him of something. Of many things, actually. It was always about those who thought themselves to be morally superior; not because they were, but because fate had put them on the right side, and others would pay for them.
He was tired of that.
"So you thought about asking to the school's famous death-eater", he remarked icily.
Minerva slowly put down her cup of tea, a surprised expression on her face. She had not seen it coming, and what had been an amused gaze a few seconds ago was now an angry, disgusted one, and she could see from the way he was gripping his armchair something was wrong. Had she… hurt him?
"Severus, no, I really did not mean –"
"I do not care what you meant", he cut her. "You could have gone to Albus – is he not the most powerful wizard here? You could have asked Madam Pince – but no, you came to me. What exactly were you expecting, I wonder?"
Each of his words was poisonous. Minerva was speechless, she did not understand his reaction, she had not anticipated this at all – but she was sickened by the thought he could think this of her. That she still thought of him as a death eater, after all these years. They were friends, and surely she knew that. She would never… How could he think that she would even imply…?
"Severus. It was never my intention to make you feel that way. I am sorry."
Was it fear he could see in her eyes? Was she afraid of him now? Severus felt the need to leave, to hide, but she was the one in his apartments, staring right through him, mirroring the terrible things he had done the previous night – and he felt dirty. He felt as if he was covered in blood again, not his own, and she knew that, she could smell it.
"Leave", he just said, standing up. "Please."
For one second, Minerva thought about obeying him. He would not listen to reason tonight. But if she left, would she not admit she was guilty?
Was she?
"You are not a death-eater, Severus. Not in my eyes, not in the eyes of those who love you. You will never be, and that is why you are one of my closest friends – but please, remember that if I ever made you feel that way, it was unintentional. I will do better. I just thought, since you have created so many spells, that perhaps one would work. I am sorry. I really am."
She did not except an answer from him. He watched as she left silently, her words still standing between them, and he wondered if once again he had been wrong.
If once again the Dark Lord's poison was running through his veins, twisting his thoughts.
He was just so tired.
But he would bring her the book. At least he was more than a death eater – he had a sharp mind, and an excellent memory.