***

Chapter 12: Say What You Want

Geillis sat in the staff room, sipping tea and contentedly reading a new book, which she’d picked up on her last trip to Glasgow. Say what one might about Muggles, she was nonetheless quite fond of their poetry.

The door opened, and in came Professor McGonagall. “Ah, there you are, Geillis. I was wondering where you’d gone.”

Geillis smiled. “Certainly not far, Minerva. My third-year class today has been cancelled, as the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are presently on a field trip with Professor Sprout. I believe that they are inspecting the field behind Hogwarts, trying to get patches of grass to grow. I thought that I’d relax a bit before my fourth-years bombard me with their compositions this afternoon.”

McGonagall laughed. “It sounds like you aren’t looking forward to this.”

“Well, some compositions aren’t that bad, but most often they tend to be rather boring at this stage. Fourteen-year-olds are usually obsessed with love spells--and then they are usually quite disappointed when I explain why they don’t work.”

“Ah, I see.” McGonagall looked at Geillis’ book. “What are you reading?” she asked, curiously.

“It’s an anthology of Muggle poetry,” she said. “I’m quite fond of some of it. Right now, I’m reading a few of the more humorous pieces in the collection, but really, there’s quite a lot of variety in this book.”

McGonagall nodded. “I must admit to some fondness for their poetry as well. It seems as if they make up for their lack of magic with the skill of their writers, artists, and musicians. We have so few of them ourselves.”

Just then, the door opened and Professor Dumbledore stepped in. “Hello, ladies,” he said cheerfully. “Fine day, isn’t it? It’s a pity it’s so cold out, or I’d decree that all possible classes be moved outside for the day.”

Geillis and McGonagall murmured their assent, and Dumbledore asked them what they had been talking about.

“We were discussing Muggle poetry, Albus,” said McGonagall. “It appears that Geillis has a taste for it.”

“Ah, poetry!” exclaimed Dumbledore. “I rather like it myself. Tell me, Geillis, can you identify these lines?

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gire and gimble in the wabe."

“‘Jabberwocky’ by Lewis Carroll,” she replied instantly. “All right, then, it’s your turn. What about,

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays."

“That’s Robert Burns,” said Dumbledore. “‘Afton Water’. It’s one of my favourites, actually. And how about,

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?”

“William Blake, ‘The Tyger’,” she said.

“What about this one?” came a voice from the once-again opened doorway.

“My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hair be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damaskt, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.”

It had been Severus Snape who had spoken; he still stood in the doorway, leaning calmly against the frame, looking steadily at Geillis.

“Shakespeare,” she said. “Sonnet 130—one of my favourites, by the way. I love how he pokes fun at the poetic conventions of the day in that one. Here’s one for you, then, Severus--

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new avail my dear time’s waste:
Then can I drown an eye unused to flow
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,
And weep afresh love’s long since cancelled woe,
And moan th’expense of many a vanished sight.
Then can I grieve at grievances forgone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er
The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored, and sorrows end.”

“Sonnet 30,” he replied.

There was a mildly awkward silence. Snape inwardly groaned as he realized that he had gotten too close to the line that he was certain that he didn’t want to cross. As for Geillis, she was rather embarrassed. Watch it, Gaerwing, she thought dryly. It's not like the man's in love with you, after all.

Finally, it was McGonagall who broke the silence. “I have another one,” she said.

“Oh a deal of pains he’s taken and a pretty price he’s paid
To hide his poll or dye it of a mentionable shade;
But they’ve pulled the beggar’s hat off for all the world to see and stare
And they’re haling him to justice for the colour of his hair.”

Geillis sent her a grateful look as Dumbledore said, “That’s Housman, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s got a title, but it begins with, ‘Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists?’, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed it does,” said McGonagall.

“What about this one?” said Geillis.

“Your friendship much can make me blest--
Oh, why that bliss destroy?
Why urge the only, one request
You know I will deny?

Your thought, if Love must harbour there,
Conceal it in that thought,
Nor cause me from my bosom tear
The very friend I sought.”

“Robert Burns,” said Snape, stiffening slightly. “‘Love in the Guise of Friendship’.” It didn’t show much, but his face grew slightly cold. Albus and Minerva shot a look at each other. Something was very wrong.

Oh, nice move, Gaerwing, she thought. You've really stuck your foot in it this time. Better try to smooth those feathers now, or he’ll sulk for days. Dratted misunderstandings! You seem to be good at being the source of them today.

“I have another one,” she said, hurriedly.

“I studied my tables over and over,
Backwards and forwards, too,
But I couldn’t remember six times nine,
And I didn’t know what to do
‘Till Sister told me to play with my doll
And not to worry my head;
‘If you call her “fifty-four” for awhile
You’ll learn it by heart,’ she said.

So I took my favourite, Mary Ann,
Though I thought ‘twas a dreadful shame
To call such a perfectly lovely child
Such a perfectly horrid name,
And I called her ‘my dear little fifty-four’
A hundred times ‘till I knew
The answer of six times nine
As well as the answer of two times two.

Next day, Elizabeth Wigglesworth,
Who always acts so proud,
Said ‘Six times nine is fifty-two’
And I nearly laughed aloud!
But I wished I hadn’t when Teacher said
‘Now, Dorothy, tell if you can,’
For I thought of my doll, and--sakes alive!--
I answered, ‘Mary Ann’!”

The other teachers laughed; even Severus cracked a slight smile. However, nobody could identify this poem. Finally Dumbledore asked, “What is that one called, Geillis?”

“‘A Mortifying Mistake’ by Anna Maria Pratt,” she said, looking pointedly at Snape. He nodded, almost imperceptibly; good, he understood. “Now, I’d best get going. I have a class to teach in about ten minutes. This has been fun, though--we’ll have to do this again sometime.”

McGonagall and Dumbledore bid her adieu, but Severus stepped over. “May I escort you to your classroom, Professor Gaerwing?” he asked, holding out his arm, his tone half serious, half-joking.

“Certainly, Professor Snape,” she smiled, slipping hers around it, as was their custom. They walked off together, chatting softly.

“Whatever could all that have been about?” wondered McGonagall, slightly amused.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Only they know, Minerva, even if they aren't admitting it to themselves.”

“You mean--” she wasn’t sure how to say it.

“I mean that they've been dancing around each other since Christmas,” Dumbledore explained. “I don’t think I need to tell you why.”

“My word. Still, they certainly seem to have been good for each other,” she admitted. “Do you think that they’ll ever figure it out?”

“They’re both smart people, Minerva,” he said. “They’ll see it in time. Given Severus' rather difficult nature, it's amazing in itself that they have managed even to become friends in such a comparatively short time. Now, how about a nice warm cup of tea? It’s bloody cold out there.”

***

The next day, Cassiopeia Sinistra began her subtle campaign to separate Geillis and Snape. She was fortunate enough to have read a few Muggle books in her younger days, and in one book, she had seen the perfect way to do what she wanted to do. Good old “Pride and Prejudice”. It was a shame that she’d had to return it to the library before she could finish it.

“So, Severus,” she said to him at breakfast, “when may we begin to wish you and your lady joy?”

He stared at her as if she had grown an extra head. “What on Earth are you talking about, Cassiopeia?” he asked.

“The state of the relationship between you and Professor Gaerwing,” she said. “When will we be hearing about the...understanding between the two of you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Snape. “We have a perfectly good understanding as it is. We are friends, Cassiopeia, and nothing more.”

Geillis jumped in. “He’s right, Cassiopeia. Our relationship goes no further than simple friendship.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Sinistra. “The two of you have been constantly together since September. There has to be something more to this than what you are saying.”

“Say what you will, Cassiopeia, there’s nothing more than friendship between us,” said Snape firmly.

Oh, I certainly shall, thought Sinistra. After all, you're not the only Slytherin on staff.

***

Rumour mills are the same the world over, and the one at Hogwarts was especially well-maintained, as it was a relatively small community. Within an hour, there was not a student, teacher, ghost, house elf, or miscellaneous other creature that had not heard that Professor Snape and Professor Gaerwing were going to be married. The fact that he had performed artificial respiration on her when she had died had metamorphosed; they were now saying some nonsense about “true love’s first kiss” awakening the seemingly dead Songspells teacher. Deny it as they might, nobody listened to them; it didn’t help that Geillis turned slightly pink whenever somebody mentioned the latest version of the rumour to her. She was embarrassed, true enough; it was her private life that was being examined in public after all, hers and Snape's.

Snape's attitude towards the rumours was more direct than hers. He simply deducted house points from any student he caught spreading the gossip.

This of course only served to make the situation worse, and finally the two decided to simply act as they had been doing for the past several months. Gossip was a fleeting thing. Eventually it would pass when some other juicy piece of "news" became more attractive.

And yet, the rumours were beginning to make Geillis a little nervous. “I wonder if it’s still such a good idea to attend the Valentine’s Day ball together,” she mused. “It’s not like either of us really has much use for that foolish celebration, anyway.”

Snape sneered. “Indeed. However, it does not appear as if the two of us have any choice in the matter. Dumbledore has decreed that all students fourth-year and older, as well as all members of the faculty and staff, are to attend--unless they are confined to the Hospital Wing.”

Geillis smiled wryly. “I didn’t really expect that he’d be willing to consider anybody’s absence,” she said. “However, it was a nice thought.”

“The rumours would be perpetuated in any case, Geillis,” Severus pointed out. “If we were both to fail to attend the ball, everybody would be convinced that it was because we were together elsewhere, and perhaps indulging in--illicit activities. An ill-timed absence could be worse than a seemingly damaging presence.”

She sighed. “I know. What I meant was, instead of going to the ball together like we planned, maybe it might be a better idea to attend--but separately.”

“You know as well as I do that they will say whatever they please about us, and damn the facts,” he said. “Why deny ourselves the pleasure of each other’s company? If we must suffer, we might as well lend each other some moral support.”

She stared at him. “Severus, by the sound of it you have been associating with me far too often lately. You’re starting to sound a bit like me. ‘Moral support’ indeed!”

He smirked. “Nonetheless, I meant it. Let’s just go to the bloody ball and suffer together, all right? I’ll pick you up at your rooms, like I did before the Christmas feast.”

She sighed. “Oh, all right. I’ll be waiting at seven o’clock.”

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t a mistake.

Once again, Geillis stood in her office, nervously awaiting Severus’ knock. She was dressed in a gown which Nathan had often said suited her well; it was a kind of silk which looked blue in one light, silver in another, and a sort of lilac colour in the sunlight. As usual, she wore little jewellery--only the pendant that Severus had given her and an amethyst ring on her right hand. She had only recently become partial to amethysts, but they did look rather lovely with the gown.

The knock came at seven o’clock sharp. She sang her identification spell and, on discovering that it was Snape who had knocked, she took a deep breath to calm herself. “Come in,” she said, when she was certain that her voice wouldn’t tremble.

The door stood open. “Ah, Geillis--you look lovely,” he said.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “You’re not too bad yourself, you know. But--what on Earth did you do to your hair?”

Snape shuffled his feet slightly, looking down. His hair was all standing on end. “Ah, I tried washing it this afternoon. I think that some static might have been generated when I attempted to dry it…”

She stifled a laugh. “Does this happen every time you wash it?”

“Unfortunately, yes. However, when I do make the attempt, I always hope that it was simply because I misunderstood the directions on the shampoo bottle. And always, it becomes clear that I was wrong.”

“Oh, dear.” She smiled. “Fortunately, my mother sent me some styling goop which she actually thought I’d use. I never bother with the stuff, but if you put it in your hair, you should have it at least vaguely resembling its…usual state.” She hurried into her bathroom and retrieved the stuff.

“Geillis, would you please?”

This time, she didn’t bother to repress the laugh. “Certainly,” she said. She removed her ring and applied the hair gel to her friend’s head. Eventually, his hair appeared to be as greasy as ever. When she was done, she let him have a look in the small mirror in her bathroom.

“So much for that experiment in hair care,” he said ruefully.

She smiled. “Perhaps next time you should just let it dry on its own,” she said as she washed her hands and replaced the ring.

“Be that as it may, perhaps we should go now, before the whole school notices that we aren’t at the ball yet,” he replied. “Ah, I almost forgot.” He took a small box from one of the pockets of his robe. “I thought that I should bring you something--that is, I hear that it is the custom on such an occasion to bring a flower…” He opened the box, and in it lay a corsage made of a pale blue rose and baby’s breath. He attempted to pin it to her dress, but her assistance was needed after he gave himself several rather dreadful sticks with the pin. “It’s been awhile since the last time I did this,” he said, his voice slightly sheepish.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Thank you, Severus. It’s lovely.”

“The Headmaster helped me to choose it,” he admitted. “I nearly purchased one which was bright red with some strange orange flower around it, but he convinced me that as you never wear those colours, I should probably try something a little less flamboyant. Besides, everyone knows that red is a Gryffindor's colour.”

She chuckled. “Something tells me that it’s a good thing that you always wear black, Severus,” she said.

He simply offered her his arm. She slipped hers around it, and they walked to the Great Hall in companionable silence.

***

A silence fell over the hall as they entered, punctuated with murmurs from the students of “Disgusting!” and “I can’t believe she’s actually here with him!” and similar sentiments, as well as the sound of mock retching from several parts of the room. Blast, thought Geillis. I told him we shouldn’t have arrived together… Well, it was too late now. They sat down together, and began talking.

But not for long. “Oh, Geillis, Severus, I’ve been looking all over for you!” They groaned simultaneously. It was Sibyll Trelawney, professor of Divination. “Yes, Sibyll?” said Geillis hurriedly, before Severus could make any kind of snide comment.

She rolled her eyes dramatically and placed the back of her right hand on her forehead, with a ridiculous expression of prophecy passing over her face. “I have foreseen that your first child will be a girl. Congratulations!”

“What?” Both Geillis and Severus said it at the same time.

“You will be married,” she said. “Your first child will be a girl. I have foreseen it; the crystal never lies.”

“Unfortunately, Sibyll, the crystal is notorious for showing you what you think you’re going to see,” said Severus nastily. “I hardly think that wish-fulfillment--or at least, fear-fulfillment--qualifies as a valid prophecy.”

Trelawney sniffed. “All right, then, don’t believe me,” she said. “Just invite me to the baby’s naming ceremony, or I’ll use the classic Sleeping Beauty curse.” With that, she swept away dramatically.

The effect was rather ruined when she, keeping her nose up in the air, failed to see Professor Quirrell in front of her. The results were predictable. As she rapidly apologized several more times than was actually necessary, a stammering Quirrell helped her up with one hand, trying to hold his turban onto his head with the other. She gave Severus and Geillis a dirty look, and proceeded to sweep off again--but this time, she kept her eyes on where she was going.

Severus sighed. “I don’t know whether to be amused or terrified,” he said.

“Quite frankly, my friend, I’d rather be amused,” said Geillis. “You know her track record in regards to accurate prophecies. Besides, with our tempers, do you really think we’d stand any sort of chance together?” she laughed.

He wanted to say “YES!” He wanted to shout it out to the entire world, and damn Voldemort and the possible consequences. Fortunately a more sensible part of his brain cut in, and he simply smirked. “I don’t think I’ll answer that question, Geillis,” he said. “It might mislead anybody who happens to be listening in on our conversation.”

“What do you mean?” Her silver eyes were full of questions.

“Never mind,” he said, cursing himself for the slip. “May I have this dance, Professor Gaerwing?”

Geillis, knowing when to let the subject drop--always a useful skill when dealing with Severus--smiled at him. “Why, certainly, Professor Snape,” she said. He took her hand and led her out to the dance floor.

The music was a rather delightful waltz. All right, Gaerwing, don’t mess this up, she thought. It had been awhile since the last time that she had danced, and then she had only been terrific in the sense that watching her dance was almost as terrifying as dancing with her. Fortunately, Nathan hadn’t been much of a dancer, either.

It wasn’t long before Snape realized that she was having trouble. Tripping over your partner’s feet tends to be a rather good clue. Biting back a nasty comment--this was Geillis, after all--he simply said, “Having a few problems, Geillis?”

She smiled a bit sheepishly. “I’m afraid so,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I last waltzed, and I was never very good at it anyway.”

“Just follow my feet,” he said. “You’re a musician. You’ll get the rhythm of it eventually.”

“Don’t count on it, Severus,” she said. “I may have a good sense of rhythm, but I’ve also got two left feet. In the metaphorical sense, of course.”

“Oh, it isn’t that hard,” said Snape. “You’ll get it.” He reflected that this was probably the first time in a long while that he’d actually been patient with anyone, with the possible exception of his Slytherins.

She smiled at him, but kept on stumbling over his feet every few minutes.

He found that he didn’t really mind. Her stumbles were a good excuse to hold her closer for a moment or two.

There’s a definite advantage to being the most-hated teacher in the school, he mused. At least there’s plenty of space around my partner and I when we attempt to dance.

***

While Geillis and Snape were busy tripping over each other’s feet, Professor Sinistra crept into the hall by Geillis’ rooms. She had gone to some trouble to find the Songspells teacher's new password; she knew that Geillis wouldn’t be back for awhile, but still, there was no harm in being cautious.

Is this right? she wondered, as she sneaked into her colleague’s rooms. This is theft. I’m a thief. Does this make me any better than she is?

She shook the thought out of her head. Of course she was better than Gei--er, Sashara. She was doing this to save the life of the man she loved.

She saw what she was looking for--a black handkerchief trimmed with black lace that she knew that Sashara was particularly fond of. It had been a gift from Snape, a replacement for the one which had been destroyed when he’d cast the Extractus Toxinus spell. Now all that she had to do was find a suitable recipient for it.

Professor Sinistra took the handkerchief, left the office, and disappeared into the corridor.

***

After the students had been sent back to their Houses, Snape escorted Geillis back to her rooms. They were talking softly. “I know this is a rather overused expression, but I really enjoyed myself tonight,” said Geillis when they reached her door, with a short smile.

“As did I,” he replied. There was an awkward silence.

Suddenly, Geillis laughed. “I feel like a teenager on a first date,” she grinned at him.

He smirked. “So, you actually consider this to be a date?” he asked.

“Of course not. Neither of us wanted to go, remember? Therefore, it doesn’t count.” Her grin at him was impudent.

He laughed--a rare sound, low and velvet-soft--and spontaneously put one arm around her waist and one hand on her cheek. Is this wise? he thought, suddenly nervous. Careful, my lad...do you really want to cross this line?

Oh, Merlin, he’s going to kiss me, she thought, panicking, as their eyes met. He lowered his lips to hers, and their lips barely brushed when there was a sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Thinking of it later, Geillis wasn’t even sure that they had really touched, that she and Severus really had kissed. The two of them sprang apart almost guiltily, Geillis’ face slightly red and Severus’ face slightly paler than usual.

“Forgive me,” he said, and swept away.

“Where did he go in such a hurry?” asked Professor McGonagall, whose footsteps had interrupted them as she did her nightly check-up of the school. She had rounded the corner just as the two professors had jumped apart.

“Darned if I know, Minerva,” said Geillis, still a little pink.

“By the way, Geillis, exactly what were the two of you doing when I turned the corner?” she asked, amused.

Geillis thought quickly. “Oh, he was just giving me a hug,” she said. “You know, ‘thank you for a wonderful evening’ and all that. He doesn’t like people to see him showing any sort of affection; you know that.”

The older witch didn’t believe her. “But why did he ask you to forgive him?”

“I’m afraid you’d have to ask him yourself, Minerva,” Geillis said, her voice apologetic.

However, Minerva knew that she wouldn’t get any answers from Severus as well; she let the subject drop. “It was a lovely evening, wasn’t it, Geillis?” she said, changing the subject.

“It certainly was,” Geillis replied. “However, I’m completely exhausted. If you’ll excuse me, Minerva, I think I’ll have a bath and go to sleep.”

“Of course. Good night, Geillis.”

“Good night, Minerva.” Geillis spoke her password, entered her rooms, and was gone.

***

She looked at her desk as she stepped in. That’s odd, my handkerchief is missing. She looked around for it for awhile, and when it failed to turn up she decided to look again in the morning. Possibly one of the cats dragged it off somewhere when they got in here this morning. I’ll find it later. Right now, I’m too tired—and a bit too confused—to do much more than go to bed.

Her dreams that night were fragmented, however, and she slept quite poorly. Thankfully, the next day was Saturday, and she didn’t have to worry about teaching.

***

I can’t believe it. Severus Snape, you’re losing your mind. You actually tried to kiss her. It’s a miracle that she didn’t slap you in the face.

Such were Snape’s thoughts as he fumed all the way down to his dungeon home.

It didn’t help that soon after he entered his rooms, Lucius Malfoy attempted to contact him through the use of floo powder. “What is it?” he snapped as his former best friend’s face appeared in the fireplace.

“I hear some rather disturbing rumours about you from my son, Severus,” said Lucius. “He says that you are falling in love with some witch that you work with.”

“That’s despicable of you, Lucius, to use your son as a spy. However, I will not argue the morality of the situation with you. The rumours are completely false.”

“How did they start, then?” Lucius clearly didn’t believe him.

“I know buggerall about it, Lucius,” he said. “However, I can assure you that I am not falling in love with Geillis Gaerwing.” Well, it was partially true. He was beginning to wonder if he hadn't crossed that line some time ago. “What’s so important about it, anyway?” he asked. “Why are you so upset about this preposterous piece of meaningless chatter?”

“You know as well as I, Severus, that it is a weakness. It may prevent you from doing your job correctly once the Dark Lord rises again. Suppose he tells you to exterminate the entire population of Hogwarts, save those who are loyal to him? She is almost certainly not one of the faithful.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Malfoy, use your brain if you have one. I’m cultivating a friendship with Geillis because Dumbledore’s fond of her. She could be useful once our Lord returns.” He needed to pacify Malfoy. The man was not a good enemy, as Snape had reason to know.

The other man nodded slightly. “There is wisdom in that,” he mused. “Get the ear of some of the ones on the other side, and you may make a more effective spy than you were last time. I like your deviousness, Severus. Perhaps the Dark Lord was wise to not kill you after all.”

Snape merely nodded. “Is that it, then, Malfoy? Good. I need to get some sleep.”

“You may want to try to get rid of the rumours, Severus,” counselled the other man. “They could prove to be a liability later on.”

“I think I’ll take my chances, Lucius,” he said. “You know how persistent rumours can be, in any case. It’s better to say nothing; denial is almost always taken as confirmation of the supposed fact.”

Malfoy nodded. “All right, then, Severus. I shall speak with you again.”

Ominous words, those, Snape reflected, as he washed his face and got rid of the hair gel. Quietly he went to bed, wondering all the while why Geillis hadn’t slapped him for trying to kiss her.

***

A/N: Sorry if it’s a bit strained. I’m not much good at writing romance, but believe me, this is better than some of the trash I used to write.

The chapter title is the name of a song by Texas. It’s one of my favourites, so I jumped at the chance to use it. =)

OK, I admit that the first part of the chapter was partly written simply so I could show off some of my favourite poetry. =) I got to thinking about what the teachers might do in the staff room, though, and this scene just sort of happened.

As a sort of side note, Shakespeare’s 30th and 130th sonnets are my two favourites. Sonnet 130 is written in the form of a “blazon”, which is a sort of catalogue of a woman’s good points that are extravagantly praised by the poet. I never really liked that sort of poem, since it seems to me that the poet is displaying the woman as a sort of trophy piece. Naturally, I like Shakespeare’s take on it, since it’s a parody of sorts. =)

I don’t know if I explained this before, but I decided to call Professor Sinistra “Cassiopeia” because that’s my favourite constellation. Plus, there’s the somewhat cheesy thing about Cassiopeia being “The Big W”, and “W” being the first letter in the word “witch”. Whatever.

“Pride and Prejudice” is, of course, written by Jane Austen. One of the characters, a Miss Caroline Bingley, attempts to head off any relationship between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy before it can actually start by using tactics quite similar to what Professor Sinistra does in this chapter. If memory serves, she fails miserably.

I’ve seen rumours circulate even faster than the one in this chapter. Never really understood the purpose of gossip myself, but I know how it works, having been its victim once or twice. =P

I got the idea for Geillis’ dress from the Emily books by L.M. Montgomery; there is mention of a shot-silk dress that looked blue in one light, etc. in “Emily Climbs” and, if I’m not mistaken, also in “Emily’s Quest”.

I still don’t know where that bit with Trelawney came from. Honest. I just always imagined that she was the sort to go off so snootily and then get into a minor accident.

Speaking of accidents, Geillis may not be as accident-prone as her cousin Julius, but she’s still a bit of a klutz. And before anyone tells me that musicians have to have a great sense of rhythm and therefore must be able to dance well, I beg to differ. I’ve seen it, though perhaps I flatter myself in saying that I’m not quite as bad at dancing as Geillis is.

Anyone catch the reference to Shakespeare’s “Othello”? It’ll pop up again, trust me.

Again, I apologize for the awkwardness of the near-kiss scene. I don’t read much romance, and I’m not great at real-life romances, never mind fictional ones. Hopefully it doesn’t hurt the story too much.