The Serpentine Beast window was enormous, three or four stories high. Its lower section—the Green Man serving as its root—could not be seen from inside the building; one had to go outside to the Transfiguration Courtyard to see it.
Normally, no one paid it any attention. But now it was raining, the raindrops pattering crisply against the window. Such weather was perfect for sleeping. Only those who truly loved Quidditch would brave the rain to play a match in weather like this. Pomona hoped someone had cast a Waterproofing Charm on his glasses.
"You mean the scout did it?" Pomona asked.
Severus took a sip of Shrivelfig juice and shook his head in good spirits.
"It was because of the scout that he was cursed. The scout won't come in weather like this today, so you don't need to worry."
Her feelings were complicated.
Gryffindor's reserve Seeker happened to be in his seventh year this year. He truly needed this opportunity more urgently than Charlie did.
"But he framed someone else," Pomona said.
"It was just a 'joke,'" Severus said calmly, taking another sip of Shrivelfig juice. "Like the things Black and Potter used to do."
Pomona noticed that "Potter" and "Black" had switched places.
"What?" he said, as though he had noticed nothing at all.
She lowered her head and shook it.
"Do you feel ashamed?" he asked evenly.
"A little," she said.
Then he lifted her chin, making her raise her head and meet his eyes.
He scrutinized her as if he wanted to see through her soul.
After they stared at each other for a while, she averted her gaze.
"Drink it." He held the juice he had just drunk to her lips.
She took it and drank—not only did she drink it, she drained the whole