Zenitopia

Hogsmeade Station was busier than I had ever seen it when I got off the train there, on that June day, but it shouldn’t have surprised me. After all, my arrival coincided with the opening challenge of the Tri-Wizard contest, an event which I did not fully understand, but seemed to be the only news in the Daily Prophet.

Honestly, I would have preferred my return to Hogwarts, and Wizarding Britain, to be a quieter one, but at least the fanatical attention to the competition drew the attention away from me, and my crutches. Well, mostly. Witches and wizards are so accustomed to healing injuries and ailments with a dose of potion or a well-placed swish and flick – sometimes both together – that the sight of a woman hobbling on crutches with her lower leg and foot in a cast was bound to draw some interest.

Still, most people merely arched their brows, or looked pointedly away, and at least my injury caused me to be so slow that by the time I had collected my luggage, with no small thanks to Mallow the house-elf, the platform had emptied.

Almost emptied.

For a moment, when I saw the tall, lean figure waiting silently at the end of the wooden walkway, I thought it must be some other wizard, but the very air seemed tense around him, and a stray movement caused his robes to swirl in a way that was achingly familiar. Stopping in front of him, I looked up into his dark eyes. “Severus.” I made his name both an identification and a greeting, not sure what my reception would be, but I did not reach out – could not, actually, as I was holding tightly to my crutches.

“The Headmaster sent me to meet you,” he informed me, his voice betraying no hint of his thoughts. “I’ve a dose of Pepper-Up if you are tired,” he continued, and though his tone remained neutral, I could see a slight softening of his eyes. “He neglected to share that you are injured. What happened?”

“Snapped my Achilles tendon during a show, and the Muggle press had the story before I had a chance to have the troupe Healer look at it,” I answered, pulling my gaze from his. “Pepper-Up would be helpful,” I admitted a second later.

He nodded once. “In the carriage.” I nodded, then inched toward it, hearing him instruct Mallow to move my things to the back. The house elf handled everything smoothly, and then snapped his fingers, Disapparating. I knew he would be seen a second later, walking through the castle gates, only to Apparate again once inside. I lifted my crutches onto the carriage seat, and reached for my wand, only to have Severus stop me. “Let me,” he said, and cast a slight levitation spell. He guided me into the carriage, and then joined me, tapping on the ceiling to signal the thestral pulling it, to move. It occurred to me that he could see the winged horses, though I could not, and I looked away long enough for him to reach his hand inside his robes and pull out a green glass bottle. “Drink it all,” he told me.

Obediently, I swallowed the liquid within, and almost immediately I felt its warming effect spreading through me, as if I was being hugged from inside. I smiled to myself – Severus Snape would never have actually hugged me in public, but this was almost the same. His head was tilted slightly, and he was watching me with unasked questions in his dark eyes, but I just offered a more obvious smile, and said, “Thank you, Severus, for meeting me, as well as for the potion.”

“I could not let you arrive on your lonesome,” he stated, a hint of softness in his clipped tones. “I would have preferred that you let me know you were coming.” There was regret in his voice, and an admonishment as well.

“I should have,” I admitted. “To be honest, I’m surprised my uncle didn’t tell you sooner. He can be an awful busybody when he’s not pretending to be a doddering old – ” Severus arched a single black eyebrow at me and I cut myself off before the Muggle epithet left my lips. ” – wizard.”

“Indeed.”

“The castle must be crawling with guests with the contest going on,” I ventured, more to keep the silence at bay than because I truly cared.
“Full to brimming,” he confirmed in a tone that left no room to doubt what he thought of the situation.. There was a beat of silence, and the mood in our carriage shifted slightly. “You stopped writing to me, Elise,” he stated, his flat tone conveying no hint of hurt, though I knew him well enough to see it in his eyes.

“You’d stopped replying, and I thought you wanted silence.” It sounded petty even to my own ears. “If it matters, there hasn’t been anyone else.” He bowed his head in response, and I took it to mean that he’d accepted my left-handed apology. I reached for his hand, touched it gently then pulled back.

He started at the brief contact, seemed to think over a million possible outcomes then crossed both arms across his chest, in a gesture that would have been intimidated had he been standing. Here in the carriage, however, it seemed protective, as if he was guarding himself.

We sat in silence for the rest of the ride, up the road, through the gates, and under the main portico, and I wondered if he was reliving old memories of our relationship, or just devising new ways to torture potions students. I didn’t ask, of course, but the way he gripped my hand as he helped me out of the carriage revealed more than he probably intended, and while it was neither the time, nor the place to question his intent, I took it as a positive sign.

Severus stayed by my side as I used my Muggle crutches to navigate the stairs, drawing slightly away when we entered, and found Albus Dumbledore waiting. “Ah, Severus. Thank you for bringing home our injured bird. I’m afraid Madame Pomfrey won’t be able to tend to you until Monday, Miss Foster.”

“I’ve gotten quite accustomed to the crutches,” I confessed. “But I can’t deny that I’d prefer to walk like a normal person.” I paused, then added, “Thank you for having me back Uncle Albus.”

“You are always welcome here, child,” he responded, stepping forward to enfold me in a gentle hug, in which I felt how slight and frail he really was. “You are family after all.”

I shivered then, either from the slight draft that was always present in the hallways of the old castle, or because I suddenly realized just how old Albus Dumbledore had become, and he pulled away to speak in a voice that included Snape as well. “You must be hungry after your journey, and I know Severus skipped dinner. Come along both of you and we’ll have tea and something warm to eat before I prevail upon Professor Snape to escort you to your rooms. You won’t mind if they’re in the dungeons, I trust?”

Our meal was a simple one of fruit, cheese, hearty bread and strong tea, and our conversation was equally basic. Uncle Albus quizzed me about my life – would I dance again once my ankle had been magically healed, had I been seeing anyone (this served as proof that he was not, in fact, omniscient, since I’d already told Severus I had not been dating). Finally, however, even the Pepper-Up Potion I’d taken in the carriage could no longer keep me from yawning.

“Headmaster, if I may, I believe Elise should get some rest.”

And with that we were dismissed although not without being asked, “Lemon drop, to see you off?”

Back in the corridor, Severus kept close to me since he could not take my arm. “Thank you,” I said softly. “For staying for tea, for escorting me…”

“You will need an escort to the event tomorrow, as well. Be ready half an hour before time, and I will accompany you.” He looked me up and down, and added with characteristic sarcasm that utterly failed to detract from the glint in his dark eyes, “And do remember which house you were in, when you choose your attire.”

I glanced down at my burgundy sweater made a chagrined face. “The house of vert et argent will not be disappointed in me,” I promised. “Nor will its Head of House.”