Everyone amongst the staff knew it by now, Minerva McGonagall was fond of Severus Snape. Of course, as heads of antagonist houses, they were also fierce competitors. But healthy rivalry could be a fertile ground for friendship: at least, that had been the case until now.
Minerva was leaning against one of the cold dungeon walls, fuming. Her arms were crossed; she bore a stern, ominous expression well-known, and much feared, by those familiar with detentions in her company. She was determined to intercept the Potions Master, who she knew had just finished teaching his last class – she did not acknowledge any of the students who got out of his classroom, spawning many terrified whispers amongst them. She waited a little, watching as the corridor emptied slowly; finally, Severus appeared in the doorframe, pressing a tall pile of books against his chest with one hand, holding the classroom's keys in the other. Casting a quick glance at Minerva, he locked the door carefully, then acknowledged her presence.
'Minerva. To what do I owe the pleasure?'
Had she not been so furious, Minerva certainly would have made a sarcastic comment about the number of books he was holding, something along the lines of being a wizard and using a levitation spell - but they were way past this.
'Can't you guess?' she asked him. 'I just had the most interesting conversation with Albus about tomorrow's Quidditch match.'
Severus sighed, tightening his grip around his books. The headmaster had warned him, after all.
'And what exactly is the matter, Minerva? Are you afraid I may fall off my broom? I can assure you I know quite a bit about flying', he said almost humorously.
He was not usually one to try and lighten the mood - it was quite a generous move. But Minerva clicked her tongue impatiently.
'You know exactly what I am talking about, Severus', she said with a severe, teacherly tone that she had not used on him in many years.
'Minerva- '
'Don't you "Minerva" me, Severus Snape. You don't even like Quidditch! Why would you volunteer to be the referee?'
Severus pretended to be mildly offended. 'I know the rules by heart and am very good at pretending I enjoy it, thank you very much.'
Once again, the transfiguration teacher refused to join in what could have been one of their usual bickering session.
'I am warning you, Severus, if you wish to be the referee only to make sure Gryffindor does not win, I will retaliate.'
'Are you implying that I would prefer to see Hufflepuff win?'
She lost patience.
'Of course you would! All of this because you are still upset that Potter is our new seeker. Really, Severus, I did not think you would stoop so low.'
'You realize that most of your players will try to hit me with the bludgers. Do you really think that I am willing to risk public humiliation just to make sure your house does not win the game? That is too much dedication, Minerva. Even for me.'
She shook her head.
'You have never, in ten years, volunteered to be the referee. You systematically bring a book with you to read below your knees. Yes, I'm not blind. So why would you do this if not to give your house an unfair advantage?'
'In case you did not notice, Minerva, Potter was nearly killed the last time he played. Albus merely wants me to make sure he is safe this time. I am sure he has told you already'.
Minerva snorted.
"Oh, of course. And you happen to be concerned with his safety just after Slytherin lost 60 to 170. Quite the defeat, if you ask me. Albus has told me that he will most likely be there to look after the boy - it seems to me that your services are no longer required.'
'That', Severus replied coldly, 'remains to be seen. The ministry could mandate him at any time. Surely you can understand why the headmaster should wish to keep The Boy Who Lived out of harm's way, don't you?'
This time there was no trace of irony in his voice: it had grown into an almost threatening whisper.
'I'm sure that you are not the only person who can ensure Potter's protection.'
'There are things I know that you don't, Minerva. Some people I need to watch closely.'
Minerva gave him a stern look. Even she did not want to dive further into the subject.
'All I want is for you to swear that no favouritism will be shown during the game, Severus. Are we clear on that?'
But Severus had had enough. He had known from the start that students were going to follow this line of reasoning, and could not care less; but Minerva, he had hoped that she would be more discerning. What was she thinking, that he would cheat in front of the entire stadium? And even if he could - it would indeed have been tempting had it been possible - who was she to lecture him? To speak to him in such a manner, as if he were a mere student? Or even less so, as it appeared that he was not worthy of the benefice of the doubt, that same one she had been so prompt to invoke whenever Black and Potter had done anything. Making Potter her seeker, buying him that broom, that was already reason enough to lie low. But putting the brat in such a hazardous position when he already had no survival instinct? That he could not accept. He had sworn to protect the boy; she was making it more difficult.
And the matter was also personal. He was disappointed. He was furious that she could think he would, out of personal grudge, break the school rules in any way, for a Quidditch Cup no less. It was true, he was going to be uncompromising, he hoped that Hufflepuff would win - but it stopped there. Yet there she stood, having befriended him and still ready to believe the worst of him as soon as a situation called for it. Though his feelings were confused and he refused, for his own sake, to entangle them, it was clear that this did not only concern house rivalries or even professional conduct, at least on his end. But he was not of those who wore their heart on their sleeve, and for that reason, his expression remained indifferent; it would take a few more years for Minerva to be able to fully notice the slight shifts in his countenance.
'It was never my intention to use this opportunity to favour Pomona's house', he said disdainfully. 'I thought you, of all people, would know that'.
He did not leave her the chance to reply - he did not even look at her, vanishing in the flight of stairs behind her as soon as he was finished speaking.
And Minerva wondered, just briefly, if she had not gone too far.
She had spent the most wonderful evening celebrating with her lions - she had felt it, her house was revitalized and with such a mindset, the cup was only another game away. For that reason Minerva had been on cloud nine all morning, but the penetrating look of Albus Dumbledore at lunchtime, the following day, was enough to bring her back on terra firma.
'That purée is delicious', the headmaster said, playing with his food. She raised an eyebrow. 'Severus would enjoy it.'
'Certainly', she replied, perfectly aware of what subject was to follow, but unwilling to give the stick to be beaten with.
'Perhaps you know why he is not here?'
'I have hardly ever seen him here at lunchtime'.
Albus did not reply, simply staring at her over his half-moon spectacles until she could no longer bear it. She sighed and pushed her cutlery away.
'We may have had a little argument two days ago', she finally said. 'But I am sure he is not skipping lunch over something so trivial, if that is what you are implying.'
The older man leaned back in his seat, stroking his beard. 'I care about you two, my dear, and it seems to me that Severus is not well, even if he won't say anything to me.'
'You know how he behaves around Gryffindors, Albus', Minerva responded, ready to defend herself, ' -around Potter especially. I wanted to make sure he would not abuse his privileges as a referee.'
Albus raised an eyebrow.
'Is that what you think he had in mind?'
'Well, he certainly was not pleased with the game's outcome.'
Still, she was growing uneasy. It was true she had hardly seen him these past two days, but that happened often - surely it could not have anything to do with what she had said to him? Why would he have taken this to heart when they had had countless - hundreds! - of arguments before, with little to no consequences? She had not been paying enough attention.
'I thought Severus volunteering to referee a Quidditch game was quite extraordinary' Albus said softly. 'You know how much he dislikes brooms and anything to do with them.'
Minerva frowned.
'He told me it was to keep an eye on Potter. Why would he need to do that if you yourself were present, I wonder?'
'We can never be too many when it comes to Harry's safety. And he knows exactly what to watch out for. He has already done a marvellous job.'
'He remains biased.'
'Of course he is, Minerva. And so are we. I made sure he got the best broom out there. Did he not look great?'
Minerva bit her tongue.
'Gifting Potter that Nimbus 2000 was done with your express permission!'
'Indeed', the headmaster replied maliciously. 'I am biased too.'
'And you thought buying Severus a broom would be enough to make amends? He is no child, Albus'.
'I know. He did not even want it. He asked for it to be given to a student without the necessary means to purchase one - and not a Gryffindor.'
Minerva huffed.
'It will not go to a Slytherin either, then. Most parents could afford to furnish the entire team.'
'Indeed. So it is up to Filius and Pomona to make their choice.'
She sighed, glancing at her younger colleague's empty seat. She might have been too hard on him; if she had still thought, a few minutes ago, that he had volunteered to be the referee at least partly out of malice, she now realised that the very fact he was upset with her might be telling otherwise. Perhaps she had been too quick to judge, or at least should have attempted to truly discuss the matter with him. But he had not truly tried to justify himself either, she realised; there had been no opportunity for a frank conversation between his usual irony and blunt honesty, as if he had not believed that he should defend himself. The man was difficult to read.
Albus put a reassuring hand on her arm.
'Do not worry, my dear. Severus knew what the consequences would be. But I do think your opinion was always more significant to him than that of others, and for that reason, you should speak to him.'
Minerva stood, gathering her things. 'I will go find him now' she muttered. 'Thank you', she added, pausing to look at the headmaster.
He smiled candidly.
'You are very welcome, my dear.'
Minerva quickly walked down the nearest stairs, aware that this would definitely make her late. She still had a few minutes before the bell rang, but heard it at the very moment she reached the potions classroom. Severus was standing beside the door, watching his students get in.
'I would appreciate it if you could refrain from following me down here' he told her. 'That is a most annoying habit.'
She ignored his comment.
'Severus', she said, 'can I talk to you later? Maybe tonight?'
She was slightly out of breath, which the Potions Master noticed.
'You should go back to your classroom, Minerva', he said softly, lazily gesturing toward the stairs. 'Double period with fourth-year Gryffindors, if I'm not mistaken? They must be waiting for you to celebrate the victory that even I, despite my best efforts, could not prevent.'
'Really, Severus -' she exclaimed, taking a step forward – but he did not let her finish.
'I have a class to teach and so do you, Minerva. I am in no mood for this right now.'
He turned back and closed the classroom door without another word, leaving her alone with her frustration.
She went back to her own classroom, ignoring her students' questioning looks as she was 6 minutes late. She was wondering whether she should just corner him after his last class or pay him a visit later in the evening. Then, handing out some worksheets, she settled on the second option, doubting that he would be in the Great Hall for supper or that he would appreciate yet another visit to his classroom.
'We did not schedule this, Minerva. I have an excellent memory.'
'Of course we did, Severus. I even said I would bring some fire whiskey. Will you let me in?'
She, too, was a master at the art of making her decisions known before the other had had time to speak. Ignoring Severus' furious glare, she headed to his living room like she had done countless times before, sitting unceremoniously on a couch next to the fireplace. She was pleased he had finally taken up the habit of keeping the place warm. She had hardly ever met someone as chilly as him, and yet his quarters were often the coldest in the castle.
She placed her bottle on the small table in front of her, and then looked up. The Potions Master was standing in the door frame, arms crossed, obviously waiting for her to say something.
'I am sorry, Severus', she said flatly.
He raised an eyebrow, but did not speak.
'I should have listened to you before jumping to conclusions. And those conclusions do not honour me either.'
Severus pursed his lips and leaned against the nearest wall, looking at her impassively.
'Did Albus set you up to this?'
Minerva smiled guiltily.
'Of course he did. But I am here on my own volition. At least I think I am - you know - it is Albus we are talking about.'
He was not receptive to the joke. Minerva shifted her legs uncomfortably. She could see it now, in the way he stood and glared at her; she could see that she had hurt him.
'Severus, I know how much you value your Slytherins. I understand... I understand that it is often you and them against the world. But I should not have implied that you would cheat for them. I truly am sorry.'
He did not make any movement to indicate that he had heard her, his gaze resting on the fireplace. When he finally spoke it was in a low, neutral tone.
'I thought, after being colleagues for ten years, that you knew me better, Minerva. I'll do anything for my snakes to succeed, that is true - and I recognize that I may even favour them over their other classmates, because no one else will. But believe me when I tell you that I am not desperate or even just invested enough to actually bend the rules of Quidditch for them.'
'I understand.'
'Good.'
'Albus told me he got you a broom', she said in a lighter tone.
'Albus is a fool'.
'I thank you for looking after Mister Potter.'
'It really isn't out of generosity.'
'You did it nonetheless. I will make it up to you, Severus.'
Severus sighed and finally sat down on the armchair opposite to her, seemingly preoccupied with something that he would not share with her. Why was it that he was so concerned with what she thought of him?
'There is no need to apologize, Minerva', he told her, though they both knew it was untrue. 'I did what I had to do, and I would have thought the same of you had you been in my place.'
'What!'
Minerva looked indignant, especially since Severus gave no indication of having spoken ironically.
'After giving a Nimbus 2000 to a first-year, being the game's referee would only have been the cherry on the cake.'
'These rules are outdated, anyone should be able to play if they are good enough. And Albus will buy a broom for any student who needs it.'
'Yet in ten years I never once saw such a pricey broom being given to a student.'
'Another thing that needs changing', Minerva replied, conceding with her facial expression alone that he wasn't wrong.
'Hecklebot, Carson and Winder in Ravenclaw fly on antiquities.'
'I promise to look into it.'
He got up to fetch two glasses. She opened her bottle, pouring a generous amount into his glass. She looked at him questioningly.
'Too much?'
Severus opened his mouth to reply, but instead let out a loud sneeze. She frowned.
'Don't tell me you caught a cold during the game.'
'None of your business.'
'Well, alcohol is in order then.'
'How so?' Severus replied almost teasingly, accepting the drink she was offering him. She filled her glass and pushed the bottle to the side.
'I am Scottish, Severus. I use alcohol for everything. As gifts, as medicine, as a way to make amends. It always works. Now, you were talking about Hecklebot. What broom does she have? I cannot remember.'
'Please, Minerva. If you talk any more about Quidditch, my disdain will transform into pure detestation. You don't need to put so much effort into apologizing.'
Minerva smiled, peering at him over her glasses. He held her gaze.
'Friends deserve genuine apologies', she finally said. 'It is as simple as that.'