"Rita Skeeter?" Snape saw through her machinations instantly, his dark eyes narrowing with dangerous recognition.
Orli pressed her finger to her lips in a conspiratorial shushing gesture, her eyes dancing with mischief.
"You are absolutely, utterly reckless!" Snape seized her hand and yanked it away from her mouth with barely controlled fury. "Have you given even a moment's consideration to the consequences if that venomous harpy discovers your involvement?"
"If she finds out, I'll slip something particularly unpleasant into her morning tea," Orli said with mock sweetness, but seeing the thunderous expression darkening Snape's features, she quickly amended: "It wasn't even my brilliant idea—Ron suggested the whole thing."
She offered a silent apology to Ron for throwing him under the proverbial Knight Bus.
"Another intellectually challenged, muscle-bound Weasley," Snape muttered with characteristic disdain, though notably, his grip on her hand remained firm and possessive.
"Don't look so insufferably pleased with yourself," he continued, his voice dropping to that silky, dangerous tone that made her pulse quicken. "I had absolutely no idea you possessed such... formidable capabilities. Wielding Fiendfyre to destroy Horcruxes? The arrogance is breathtaking."
"Professor..." Orli's fingers shifted restlessly within his grasp, only to find themselves captured even more securely, as if he were administering some form of delicious punishment.
"Don't call me Professor," Snape said with cold finality. "I clearly have no authority over you anymore. You've made that abundantly clear."
"You can still control me," Orli employed her time-tested strategy for soothing her temperamental bat, gazing up at him with practiced innocence while maneuvering their joined hands until their fingers intertwined properly. "You absolutely can."
The rigid tension in Snape's aristocratic features melted away like ice in summer. He studied her face with an expression caught between exasperation and helpless affection, then released a long, weary sigh.
"Orli, I cannot endure that kind of devastating loss again," he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of old grief. "You understand that, don't you? The thought of losing you..."
Orli felt her throat constrict with emotion, her nose beginning to sting with unshed tears.
She pressed her forehead gently against his arm, breathing in the familiar scent of potions ingredients and something uniquely him.
"You won't lose me," she whispered fiercely against the dark fabric of his robes. "I swear it to you. I promise."
Snape's fingers tightened around hers with desperate intensity, as if he could anchor her to safety through touch alone. They stood in the dusty silence of the Shrieking Shack, drawing comfort from each other's presence.
"How are you managing Umbridge's professor evaluations?" Orli asked eventually, lifting her head to study his face.
"The pink toad hasn't reached me yet," Snape replied, his mouth curving into a predatory smile that would have terrified lesser mortals. He looked down at her with something approaching fondness. "It's hardly a challenging obstacle to navigate. You needn't concern yourself."
"Recently, on... that side," Orli ventured carefully, "has everything been progressing smoothly?"
"The Dark Lord won't risk harming me," Snape said with deceptive casualness, as if discussing the weather rather than his precarious position as a double agent. "His ranks have been... significantly depleted. My unique position makes me far too valuable to dispose of carelessly."
Someone unfamiliar with the deadly game he played might think infiltrating Voldemort's inner circle was as simple as taking afternoon tea.
"Have you been taking your respiratory potion?" Snape deftly changed the subject, his keen eyes searching her face for any signs of lingering illness.
Orli nodded obediently, then suddenly remembered something that had been puzzling her: "How did you know I was coughing in the first place?"
Snape averted his gaze with uncharacteristic awkwardness, a faint flush coloring his sallow cheeks. Several long seconds passed before he finally admitted: "I... occasionally employ Legilimency on Potter."
Orli felt a warm flutter of delight as a possibility both surprising and wonderful occurred to her—perhaps while monitoring Harry for legitimate reasons, Snape also used those mental connections to keep watch over her daily activities. But she wisely kept this realization to herself. If she voiced such thoughts aloud, her Professor might very well become "embarrassed and furious," as the saying went.
They lingered in the Shrieking Shack's familiar shadows until duty called Snape away. Before departing, he escorted Orli to a secluded street corner in Hogsmeade, watching with protective intensity as she donned her Invisibility Cloak. Only when she had completely vanished from sight did he Disapparate with the sharp crack of displaced air.
Orli made her way along the main thoroughfare, moving with practiced stealth to avoid the weekend shoppers. As expected, she spotted Fred, George, and Lee Jordan engaged in animated conversation outside Zonko's Joke Shop, no doubt planning their next spectacular bit of mayhem. Further along, she passed the Owl Post Office, where a steady stream of postal owls emerged every few minutes, their legs adorned with colorful bands as they carried packages and correspondence to destinations across magical Britain.
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