Severus was in a snit, as he stalked up the corridor towards the staff room at precisely nine twenty- nine, that evening. Part of it was sheer anger at whatever trumped-up excuse for gossip- mongering someone had called this Ethics Review over, Merlin only knew…and part of it was fear that he did, indeed, know what the reason was, and the fear that it did, indeed, have some basis for for the coming accusations to stand. Choosing to ride the anger, rather than let the fear ride him, he threw Dumbledore a hard look as the Headmaster approached from the other direction.
“Ah, there you are, Severus! Allow me to get the door for you.” Opening the door, Albus ushered him into the empty room. Or perhaps it only looked empty. Severus wouldn’t put it past Hermione to be in here already, lurking somewhere in that blasted Invisibility Cloak. Dumbledore touched his arm, gesturing with the other hand. “Perhaps you would feel more comfortable in your usual chair, over there by the hearth? But if you could please turn it to face the rest of the room, rather than the fire? I’m sure the others would appreciate having your full attention.” Wary, Severus moved to the low armchair and moved it around, scraping it over the hardwood floor so that the stones defining the cheerfully lit fireplace would be at his left elbow. There was a small niche behind the chair, between the fireplace and one of the bookshelves lining the room. Albus reached behind the chair, into that niche, and pulled out the wrought iron stand containing the fire tongs, poker, hearth brush and coal hod.
“There…now we won’t have to crawl behind you in order to stoke the fire, if anyone wishes to do so by hand. I myself like to use the occasional Muggle touch; gives me something to besides merely waving my wand about…”
“Albus, did you really—” he started to interrogate the old wizard, but the door opened again and in trooped several of the school’s teachers. Effectively ending any chance for a private conversation. Disgruntled—she probably was in the room, wearing that dratted cloak—Severus sat down in the chair with ill-grace, though he did his best to erase the urge to scowl from his expression. An Ethical Review was not nearly as serious as an Ethical Hearing, but it was serious enough. Very serious, if he didn’t tread very carefully for the next little while.
To his bemusement, the teachers who entered the staff room didn’t sort themselves out into their chairs. Rather, they chose to come over to him. But not to greet him; instead, they bent over— and in Flitwick’s case, rose up on his toes—and peered at his face. Puzzled looks crossed more than one face before they retreated to their usual, preferred pieces of furniture. But rather than settling into the usual hodgepodge of clusters and solitaries scattered around the room, Severus watched with carefully concealed trepidation as they Summoned their seats with a bit of wand- prodding, arranging them in a double-rowed semi-circle that faced him and the hearth that was centered along one wall of the long, wood-panelled room.
Something gently touched the back of his neck. Severus suppressed most of his flinch, masking it by shifting in his seat, crossing his legs and bracing his elbows on the armrests, steepling his fingers in front of his chest. It was a posture he knew made him look very intimidating. It wasn’t meant to make the last few staff members uneasy as they entered, crossed over to him, and peered at his face, however—though that was a bonus. It was to chide the source of the hidden finger that had parted the hair at his nape. [Dammit, Hermione! I told you not to come here!]
{Both Professor Dumbledore and I think it’s a good idea for me to be here. Two heads will think
more clearly in a crisis than one,} she reminded him. He had to resist the urge to turn around and
search the niche behind him for her shrouded presence. {Besides, I’m the reason why you’re
having this review.}
[You will not sacrifice yourself in some stupidly noble attempt to save my career,] he ordered her, sensing the determination in her sub-thoughts. He would have said more, but the Headmaster cleared his throat.
Albus stood in front of his own chair, gesturing for the others to take their seats. When they had done so, he faced Severus. “Professor Snape…Severus,” he allowed with a brief incline of his head, no longer the dotty old wizard he usually portrayed. This matter was just a little too serious for such games. “You have been summoned before your peers for a review of your ethical behavior in this school, because of certain questions that have been raised, and doubts that have been expressed. Please understand that this is not a formal Hearing, but that anything you say tonight can be used as testimony in one, should this matter extend that far. You do have the right to demand a formal Ethics Hearing, of course, if you are so inclined.”
Severus snorted in disgust. “As I consider this review to be a pointless waste of my time, I don’t think I shall bother.”
“The allegations…sorry,” Minerva corrected herself primly, “…the questions involved are potentially quite serious, Severus.”
There had never been any real affection held between the Head of Slytherin and the Head of Gryffindor. Professional courtesy, even a touch of admiration for each other’s magical skills, but their House rivalries had kept Severus and Minerva from ever counting themselves friends. Even his work in the Order of the Phoenix hadn’t done much to abate the subtle—and sometimes not so subtle—competition between them. In some ways, their rivalry was a little absurd, from Severus’ point of view; Minerva had been teaching at Hogwarts long before he had joined the staff, and in his opinion was still a far better teacher than he could ever hope to be.
{Stop terrorizing your students so much, and you’ll be an educational match for her, any day.} [Your kibbutzing is not assisting…though your confidence in me is appreciated,] he found himself adding honestly.
Albus cleared his throat. “Be it as that may, Severus, it has been requested by some of the teachers that you be brought before them to answer the questions they hold. It has also been requested that Professor Flitwick cast a Truth-Glow Charm upon you, to help verify your answers. You may of course refuse,” he allowed as Severus stiffened a little, “but I think it would help to settle the minds of your fellow staff-members if you agreed to the charm.”
{He’s giving you the Look,} Hermione murmured in the back of Severus’ mind as she felt him start to refuse.
[What do you mean, the ‘Look’?] he questioned her as he pretended to ponder the matter, slowly tapping his steepled fingers together.
{Whenever he wants someone to do something, but can’t tell them exactly what to do, he gives us
the Look.}
[I see I’m going to have to have words with that batty old man about encouraging the three of you
in your bloody, dangerous, yearly antics,] Severus grumbled, catching her sub-thoughts on the
matter.
{Well, he’s never given us bad advice,} he heard her defend stoutly. {And this is our last year,
anyway, so the point’s rather moot by now, isn’t it?}
[…Fine. Don’t touch me while he casts it, then, or they’ll see an outline of you, too, despite the
ruddy cloak.] Sighing, Severus spread his steepled fingers as soon as he felt her finger disappear
from his skin. “Lay on your Charm, Finnegan.”
“Erm, yes… Sorry about this, Severus,” the diminutive Charms Master squeaked. Lifting his wand, he swished and flicked, “Veritas Valdemaris!”
Severus could not see it himself, but he could hear the soft exclamations of the other teachers, and knew they were now seeing a soft blue glow haloing his body. A moment later, he felt his hair shifting slightly once again as Hermione discreetly resumed skin-contact.
{You’re glowing blue, now. So long as you tell the truth, you’ll keep glowing blue, but thankfully
it won’t compel the truth out of you.}
[I do know how the Truth-Glow Charm works, Miss Granger,] he retorted sardonically. [It’s a
basic sixth-year spell, and I did graduate from here, after all.]
{Well, maybe I’m just trying to show off my good memory so I can earn back those points you
ripped from me, earlier,} she responded tartly.
[You’ll have to do better than reciting a charm learned only a year ago, to impress me,] he dared to tease her, his sub-thoughts warming briefly with humor.
“That’s a nice, bright Charm there, Finnegan; well done,” Albus praised the petite professor. Clearing his throat, he asked, “For the record, Severus, would you please state your true name?” “Severus Sebastian Snape.” He felt Hermione filing that bit of information away in her prodigious memory, and sent her a disgruntled thought. [You don’t need to remember that!]
{It’s a girl thing,} she dismissed airily. {You know, like remembering birthdays and
anniversaries…}
[…Spare me,] he muttered, resteepling his fingers together in front of his black-clad chest. “Excellent Charm,” Albus praised again. “Steady as a Muggle light. Now, would you please tell us that your name is ‘Harry Potter’, so we may verify the Charm works when you lie?”
“Not in a trillion years, Albus. But…I will say that my name is most definitely ‘Blaise Zambini’. Will that satisfy your curiosity?” Severus enquired silkily, giving the Headmaster a tight, false smile.
{The light definitely winked out,} Hermione offered, as Dumbledore nodded.
“Good, good. Unmistakably a lie. Now, on to the questioning.” Extracting a scroll from his robes, Albus untied it and unrolled the first portion. Adjusting his spectacles, he scanned the first paragraph, lips moving soundlessly for a few moments before he spoke. “According to the information I’ve been handed, you appear to have…well, lost some years in your appearance, somewhere between New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day.”
That arched one of his black brows. “’Lost some years’? What sort of rubbish is that?” “How old are you, Severus?” Minerva enquired stiffly.
“Forty-one, as you well know.”
“—You don’t look it,” Hyacinth interjected, her golden eyes scanning him from black-haired head to black-shod toe. “You don’t look at all like you did right before the holidays. No baggy eyes, no wrinkled brow, no…well, actually, you’ve still got the same horrid scowl.”
Severus increased his glare. “Good.” It wasn’t easy keeping his severe expression, given the mental giggle in the back of his head from the cloaked woman touching his nape, but he managed. “Now, would you be so kind as to inform me what my appearance has to do with this Ethics Review? Because if you’re going to ask me nothing but rubbish, I have far better things I could be doing, right now.”
“Your appearance, Severus, has everything to do with our questions,” Ermengarde reminded him. The round-faced, gray-haired Herbology Mistress usually had a bit of knitting in her hands at these meetings, but not tonight. Severus discovered he wished he could hear the rhythmic click of needles in her hands, because this line of questioning was not only absurd, it was unnerving.
“However do you mean, Ermengarde?” he asked her. There had always been less rivalry between him and the Heads of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, being Ermengarde and Finnegan respectively— save for where Quidditch and House-points were concerned. Certainly they both had also taught longer at this school than he had, and their competency had earned his respect for both of them right from the start.
The Head of Hufflepuff shrugged. “Well…rumors have been flying all around the school in the past few days that…well, you’ve changed your appearance because you’re having a sort of, erm…that is to say…”
“Oh, don’t pussyfoot around it, Ermengarde!” the Quidditch Coach snapped, hands on her hips as if she were standing on the pitch, lecturing her pupils, instead of seated in an armless chair next to Flitwick. Hyacinth told Snape bluntly, “We’ve heard rumors that you’ve snapped and are having a mid-life crisis. There’s even been a few rumors floating around that you’ve been contemplating having an affair, or are having an affair, with one of the students. The odds are currently three to two in favor of it being a heterosexual relationship, though there’s been too many names bantered about to give a short-list of contenders.”
{Good god, the woman’s blunt!} Hermione muttered, sub-thoughts taken aback.
Severus, cheeks burning, tapped his steepled fingers together and growled, “…Am I to understand that you called this meeting on my looks, and a bunch of wild rumors that I’m…I’m snogging someone?”
Half the teachers looked away, uncomfortable with his demand. The rest might have blushed, but firmed their chins and met his narrowed, affronted gaze. Minerva was foremost among them, cheeks pink but chin firm. “Yes, Severus. To be as blunt as Hyacinth, that is exactly what we’re worried about. As your peers, we have the duty to ask you if any of these allegations are true.” “Gossip and rumors, Minerva,” Albus cautioned her. “Gossip and rumors only; we are not here to make any accusations.”
“Yet,” she asserted stiffly, flicking her gaze briefly to the Headmaster and back.
“This is absurd!” Severus protested. “I have taught at this school now for sixteen years, and while I admit I have been tempted to poison a few of my students along the way, I have very carefully refrained from doing so! And I assure you, I have been tempted to do that far more often than I’ve ever been tempted to…to… The very thought of it is disgusting!” he fumed, as Hermione warned him in a sub-thought that his choice of words might lead the glow to falter if he kept charging down that path. “There is nothing more loathesome than a teacher who takes advantage of his or her students in such a manner!” he insisted, glaring at them all, knowing the glow around him would remain true. “It would be as if a doctor had chased one of his patients, or if a married vicar tried to snog a parishoner! The extenuating circumstances would have to be
very extreme to even permit such an otherwise unthinkable act!”
“He clearly means everything he says,” Finnegan squeaked from his seat beside Albus.
“—So you’re not playing hide-the-Snitch with any students, then? Male or female?” Hyacinth asked in her usual Bludger-like way.
Severus sneered at her, sharing a quick sub-thought with the girl hidden behind his back on how to field this question. “…I will admit freely to giving up some of my spare time over the years to assist certain, special students in extra-credit projects, remedial lessons, and a large number of detentions to the dunderheads that tromp through my classes without paying the least bit of attention to my teachings. But I assure you, every time I have been involved with a student outside the classroom, and it wasn’t simply a conversation, it has concerned either a remedial lesson, an extra-credit project, or a detention.”
{Uh-oh! The glow went out!} Hermione warned him. {Right on that last bit, there.} [Crap. I thought I’d covered that—]
The Headmaster’s eyes weren’t the only one that narrowed, but he was the first one to speak. “You’re leaving something out, Severus. Wasn’t there a time, about four years ago, when you
were involved with a couple students in a different way than the ones you’ve just listed?” At the
younger man’s puzzled frown, he prompted, “Such as the time that you saved Miss Granger and Misters Weasley and Potter from Sirius Black?”
“Oh. That. I had mercifully forgotten about that disaster, since I would’ve gotten an Order of Merlin, Second Class, if Black hadn’t escaped. Fine—there have also been times when I have been involved with the students outside of classtimes in the effort to save their miserable, ungrateful little lives,” Severus stated firmly, relieved to be able to relate this particular excuse. Rescuing Hermione did fall into this category, after all.
{Glow’s back,} Hermione informed him. {They’ll believe you, now.}
[Thank god you’re here to help m—damnation. I’m supposed to still be furious at your presence!] he muttered.
{Dumbledore must’ve known they’d ask for the Truth-Glow Charm, and knew you’d never be able
to see it on your own, and thus wouldn’t know what parts of this interrogation needed to be covered over, if and when you slipped.}
[Clearly. But you’re still in trouble for being here. This is a closed meeting, after all.] {So spank me, after this is all over.}
[Dammit, this is not the moment to give me a hard-on!]
She laughed in the back of his mind, her finger wobbling against his nape as she shook with amusement, though she at least had the sense to not make a sound while doing so. He firmed his scowl a little to control his own urge to laugh. Relaxing as the urge passed, he waited for the next bombshell to drop.
Albus cleared his throat again. “Well, with that question firmly set aside—it was a pity you didn’t get that Order of Merlin, Second Class, for that particular rescue—then we must focus on stamping out the rest of the rumor-fires started by the spark of your change in appearance.” He consulted his scroll briefly again. “It says here…ah, yes, that you’ve apparently entered a mid-life crisis stage. That, being in a mid-life crisis, you intend to date one of the students.”
“Ridiculous!” Severus snorted in reply, quite capable of answering this question on his own with the barest minimum of hedging. “I have no intention of dating any of my students. They would
have to be of-age and no longer attending Hogwarts before I’d even consider it…and I assure you, there’s hardly even one of them through all the years I’ve been here that I’d seriously consider dating after they left Hogwarts.”
{Nice hedging, there, just in case one of them does come out of the woodworks later on,} she praised, her sub-thoughts subdued.
His reply was prim, his sub-thoughts also carefully squashed. [Thank you.]
“So, outside of a classroom context…you aren’t involved emotionally with any of the students here?” a feminine voice asked from the back row, the voice of Kathleen Frejne, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Severus had almost forgotten she was there; despite her remarkably long blond hair and reasonably pretty features, the woman had an uncanny ability to blend and vanish into almost any setting, when she wanted to disappear. He was fairly certain it wasn’t magic, either; it was simply the way the woman was, when she put her mind to it. In her