Ok. It's Friday. I've just finished school for the year. There is a bottle of banana Big M in our fridge. I am in a good mood. Here is the first chapter of Hallelujah. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling created Harry Potter. She is a legend. Go her! I, however, am not a legend. I just like to write about certain characters from Harry Potter...even though I should probably be studying for year twelve next year. Bah.
Oh, and some of this chapter is quoted from the Half Blood Prince.
Professor Severus Snape walked across the deserted seventh floor corridor, cursing the start of another school year…and Dumbledore, and Potter and, and just life in general. His steps echoed down the cool stone hallway, shadows played around his feet.
"Why do I put up with this?" he murmured, gliding past a window clearly displaying the moonless sky.
Because, said a voice in his head, this is your fault.
He stopped abruptly, shaking the cutting thoughts from his already aching head, and strode onwards towards the Room of Requirement.
Of course, he admitted, it could have been worse, as far as school matters were concerned anyway. At least he didn't have do deal with first year potions anymore - sometimes he felt as if they simply wanted to die- yet even in Defence Against the Dark Arts they had managed to cause some damage to their surroundings…namely, himself.
Why did they refuse to follow such simple instructions? He had specifically told Miss Edenbell to put her wand down, but she was either too thick-headed or foolishly rebellious to listen to his words. Instead, she would decide that it would be much more interesting to set something on fire.
It was hard enough teaching a group of incompetent first years the best way of not inadvertently killing each other with their newly acquired wands, but life was not as kind as to leave it at that. It had given him the privilege of becoming a key educator to a pyromaniac.
Not that she could produce anything more than a spark, but unfortunately a spark was all that had been needed to ignite the sleeve of his robes, which had been doused in an unknown – and now obviously flammable – liquid from when a third year had ran into him after breakfast.
Even this he could have handled, but once again, life predictably employed Murphy's Law and the situation became even more…unsatisfactory. Snape could easily have dealt with the indigo flames snaking their way up the dark material on his arm, had he not been holding an explosively charmed manticore horn at that very second. He had barely had time to drop the horn and throw a shielding charm over himself and the class before it promptly blew up, destroying the table which had held his lesson plans for the next month.
There had been screams from the first years, then a shocked silence as Severus extinguished the flames from his arm and what was left of the table. He looked down as his carefully constructed plans, now nothing more than ash.
Literally fuming, he had sentenced the imbecilic child for three weeks of detention with Filch, then dismissed the class ten minutes early, hoping that he would be able to make the class room at least slightly presentable before the next group of students arrived.
"Of course she would set me on fire as I was holding the horn," he had said exasperatedly under his breath, whilst vanishing evidence of the preceding chaos.
Severus had let the N.E.W.T. pupils wait a few minutes before walking to the class entrance. As he had opened the heavy mahogany door, he heard a familiar voice say, "I bet Snape gives us loads."
Granger.
He had saved their lives… on multiple occasions, but none of them had the decency to show him even the slightest bit of respect.
Typical Griffindors.
"Inside," he had commanded, breaking the silence which had ensued at his sudden appearance.
After ordering every one to put their books away, his eyes had swept over the room, briefly focussing on Lil- Potter's eyes.
Stupid, ungrateful fuckwit.
He began to recite the words he knew so well, but had paused when he saw the taken back and slightly disgusted expression on Potter's face. Raising his voice –somewhat puzzled, but also pleased at Potter's discomfort- he ploughed forward into his perfectly rehearsed lecture.
Eventually, Snape was forced to ask a question regarding the advantages of wandless magic, and Granger's hand unsurprisingly flew into the air. He shut his eyes, hoping to some non-existent god that someone else had the astuteness to answer the question, however, upon opening them, he found himself facing the girl again, "Very well- Miss Granger?"
"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of Magic you're about to perform, which gives you a split second advantage," she had explained, eyes lit up like a bloody beacon.
He hated when she did that.
When Lily used to learn her magic books off by heart, it had made him laugh. He'd always used to pick on her for it, and she'd forever answer him with a smirk and a roll of her eyes. When Granger did it, it was just a painful reminder of everything he'd lost. All the things he wanted were gone, and it was his own fault.
"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," he had said, hearing Draco snigger over in the corner.
Why was his godson such an ignoramus prick?
Draco was a good boy, but he could not seem to get over his blood prejudices. But then, it may just have been that Draco was jealous of a muggle born beating him in academics. More to shut him down than anything else, Snape continued to a deflated Hermione, "But correct in essentials."
Her face lit up again. Inwardly groaning, he had resumed his speech, then separated the class into pairs to practice wandless magic, when the thought came to him that it would be a perfect opportunity to humiliate Potter.
Snape hovered over Weasley who was struggling with his task. Potter stood with his wand at the ready, but he didn't seem to believe that he would be in danger anytime soon.
That's what you think…
"Pathetic Weasley, here- let me show you," he had said, and moving with astonishing speed, cast a spell at Potter.
Several seconds later, Severus was surprised to find himself pushed off balance and leaning on a desk as Potter's shield charm hit his body.
The boy was good.
As much of a dimwit as he was, the boy was very good. Even though he didn't have the focus to cast a silent spell, the boy had a lot of power when it came to defence against the dark arts. Potter was stepping into his domain.
How dare he!
"Do you remember me telling you we are practising non-verbal spells, Potter?" he had asked, aware that his displeasure was clearly showing on his face.
"Yes," Potter answered.
Never any respect.
"Yes sir."
Potter had stared up at him with an expression of pure contempt, saying, "There's no need to call me 'sir', Professor."
His inner self cheering, Severus had awarded Potter a detention, then spent the rest of the class picking on Longbottom's lacking skills, a stress reliever if ever there was one.
Thankfully, the two lessons after lunch were no more eventful than a History of Magic class.
Yes, Severus had sent a third year Ravenclaw girl into hysterics, but other than that they were rather uneventful.
It really was a rather quiet afternoon, he thought, siting the solid patch of wall where he knew the room of requirement was situated. He chuckled to himself, though not finding anything particularly funny. The quiet before the storm, some people would say.
It had seemed as if the day was finally starting to head in a better direction. But of course, just after dinner, Murphey's Law chose to strike again.
He had been gliding down to his dungeons when he'd found them. A fifth year Slytherin boy lay unconscious on the ground, and not three metres away stood a first year girl, a recent addition to his house. A Hufflepuff fourth year stood with his wand up against the first year's bleeding cheek.
Reacting one instinct, Snape cast Expelliarmus at the Hufflepuff, whose face which had at first twisted into an expression of anger, quickly drained of all colour.
The girl gave a startled cry and backed up against the wall, her eyes rapidly flicking between her attacker and the professor, taking quick shallow breaths.
Barely retaining his urge to slam the older youth face-first into the floor, he had ground out the word, "Explain."
"I- he…not me. Help-"
"Listen boy." Snape growled, making it clear how close he was to inflicting permanent bodily damage to the one responsible for hurting his young charge. "I am giving you one opportunity, to explain as to why I should not be feeding certain parts of your anatomy to the giant squid right now. Did you honestly expect you could get away with-"
"S-sir," said the child. Her voice shook, but at least she could use it unlike the filthy little coward who would soon be finding himself expelled. She stood proudly and pushed her straight blonde hair away from her face to that she could fix her blue eyes to his own.
"Yes Miss…Verrell. Please tell me what this boy has done to you and your house member so that I can get on with castrating him," Severus said, calmly.
The casual manner in his voice extracted a fearful whine from the Hufflepuff.
That's right you filthy bastard.
"No sir! Please d-don't," she pleaded, her earnest pale eyes filling with desperation, "He was helping me sir."
"Helping you?"
Severus had seen a lot of things in his life, too many things. But never had he seen someone being so obviously threatened, though claiming that their attacker was helping them. Unless he had misjudged the situ-
Not again. Not now. Not in front of a HUFFLEPUFF.
The Verrel child had pointed the unconscious Slytherin and said, "He attacked me."
"Go on," Snape had commanded in a weary tone, running his hand through his dark hair.
"That, that boy," she pointed to her older house member again.
"His name is Reginald Queron."
"Qu-Queron, he was saying something rude about Mr Filch because he's a squib. And then I said it wasn't nice to pick on squibs. He called me some really rude things. Then I said that my little brother was a squib and that he was every bit as good as he was. Then he got really angry. He-he knocked me over and started yelling at me… and he sat on me a-and I thought he was going to-" she took a deep breath and tried to compose herself; she was shaking, "that he was going to really hurt me."
The child had seemed to be on the verge of tears, but was biting her tongue trying to hold them back. Severus immediately respected her more for that sole fact.
Queron however… he had never liked that boy. He was a good pupil yes, but was a thoroughly poor example of a quality human being.
"Let me guess," he had said dryly, trying to ignore his throbbing migraine, "This is where the Hufflepuff comes in, yes?"
The young girl nodded then turned to give her saviour a shy smile. His mouth twitched, as if wanting to return it, but seemed far too scared to let any emotion show except the face of surrender.
"Yes sir," she had said, in a much brighter voice. "He saw us and then I heard him yell something, then Queron flew up and smashed into the wall. Neil –that's the Hufflepuff's name sir, Neil Howell- he helped me up. And then he was fixing a cut on my cheek but you knocked his wand away and…and that's all sir."
"I see."
What ever happened to the day where he could just return to his chambers and spend the night reading?
"Miss Verrel, if you are okay, please return to your common room…and don't worry about Queron; I will deal with him," he explained, causing a thankful grin to flicker across her face, "He won't bother you any more."
She had cast one last nervous glance to Howell, then hurried down towards the Slytherin house room, undoubtedly to hide away in the protection of her dormitory.
"Howell."
The Hufflepuff had looked up with an almost hopeful expression in his eyes, "Yes, Professor Snape?"
Snape had flattened that same expression with a simple glare.
"Mr Howell, you may have saved Miss Verell from some certain…hostility from Mr Queron, yet you do seem to have knocked a fellow student unconscious. If I were you, Mr Howell, I would remove myself from my sight before I take off housepoints, or possibly give you a few detentions with Filch… he has just been so upset since Umbridge left the school. I heard that he's taking out his anguish on the students…" He trailed off with a smirk, looking at the Hufflepuff's twitching hands.
"Y-yes sir. I'll be going now sir. S-sorry sir," he stuttered, backing off slowly then breaking into a run.
"NO RUNNING IN THE CORRIDORS HOWELL! FIVE POINTS FROM HUFFLEPUFF!"
Snape had heard a muffled whimper from around the corner where the boy had run, and sniggered. Messing with the minds off Hufflepuffs was almost as therapeutic as making Longbottom nervous…though not as satisfying as Potter's detention would be.
Severus then had walked over to Queron, kneeling down beside his head.
"Ennervate"
The boy opened his eyes, blinked twice, then frowned as he noticed the person sitting next to him.
"Fuck."
"Yes, Mr Queron. I would say that that pretty much sums up your situation right now. You know, I would give you a few detentions for what you tried to do to Miss Verrel, but I cannot be bothered wasting my time on you."
Queron blinked, waiting for the expected catch.
"Of course," Snape continued, "You mustn't remain unpunished, so how about I explain the situation to Mr Filch. I'm sure he can determine your retribution for the situation you have caused… what do you think of that?"
The boy struggled to his feet, whilst rubbing a small bulge on the side of his head. He wore an amused look as he said nonchalantly, "I think that you're a sick bastard… Nice work sir."
Snape had smirked at his response.
"You're very much welcome, Queron. But on a more serious matter, if I find that you've laid one finger upon Miss Verrel or any other student again; I will take the matter to the headmaster. Understand?"
"Yes sir," Queron had answered, with a curt nod of his head.
"Be gone."
"Gladley"
It was at this time that Snape had decided to retreat from the rest of the school world, lest something else dramatic happened and he made more of an idiot out of himself…Or injured someone- but mainly to escape any further degradation.
Back on the seventh floor, Severus reached for the handle of the door which led to the room of requirement. With a quick glance up and down the hall way, he pulled open the safeguard of his sanity, and then stepped into his mind's asylum.
The room looked the same it always did when he came.
Rich red carpet covered the floor of the average sized room which was shaped like an 'L'. The walls were an earthy colour…a safe colour, it almost had the feeling of home. Like a true home, not just a place where he lived. Some brown, comfortable looking armchairs surrounded a solid stone fire place, from in which burnt cool turquoise flames.
Above the fireplace, perched horizontally across the wall, was a long mirror held in an ornately carved frame. It was old, parts of the frame had been chipped away, as had parts of the mirror itself. Severus could clearly see himself, framed by the rectangular doorway, in its reflection.
He moved forward, gently closing the door behind him, before walking closer into the mirror. His reflection seemed tired, it was always tired.
What would it be like not to be tired?
He snorted. There was no use sulking about his fatigue. He deserved it for what he had done all those years ago. What he'd done to her… He had brought the plague upon himself.
Around the darkened corner of the 'L', blocked of from the fire's light, there were numerous bookshelves against the walls; all filled with sheet music. Thousands of dusty pages sat anxiously waiting to be pulled from disuse, to have their melodies released into to the world which once knew them so well.
Severus now fixed his gaze on the centre piece of the room: an old grand piano, its mouth wide open to let its voice pour forth with ease. It was probably much older than himself –though he wasn't particularly old…physically, at least- with some of the keys looking quite worn and yellowed.
He sat at the piano stool which creaked under his weight. With an almost relieved sigh, Snape launched straight into Prokofiev's 'Evening' for a warm up. It wasn't one of his favourite songs, but as the clear notes filled his mind, his memories of the day and other recent happenings drifted away, if only temporarily. The music , it was like a force, dragging every wounded little memory away from him. It was addictive.
This place, this was the shelter from his life. The room, the piano. It was his and his alone. He played the music with his hands, and listened with his ears. No one commanded him in this room. He could control what he did. The volume and length of every note was for him to decide. He was in charge of his actions, if only whilst in that one room.
Soon after the last notes of 'Evening' faded into nothingness, Severus turned his head to the left of the piano, then grasped for the metronome seated on a small, shaky side table. He adjusted the weight with his long fingers, setting the pace of its beat.
Once happy with its position, he began to play again, all of the songs coming from his memory. Severus never liked to read music. You couldn't shut your eyes…couldn't listen properly. It was much easier to learn a song from heart, then never look at it on paper again.
It may have been minutes, or even hours before the heard the approaching intruder alarm. He had been so absorbed the songs that he hadn't noticed how much time had passed…minutes, or was it hours, perhaps? The alarm instantly cut of his melody, and he looked up in surprise at the door. Only Dumbledore knew he came here, and he would never dare to interrupt him.
Snape stood up quickly, silently, then hid around the corner in the room, ducking in between two bookshelves, becoming lost in the shadow. He didn't want to be seen in that room, but he was also curious about who would want to come to this particular place.
Without the piano's music, it was eerily silent except for the steady crackle of the fire and-
Shit. The metronome. Hate to make it obvious that someone was just here, Severus.
He made to walk towards the offending silence breaker, but pulled himself back as the door began to ease open.
The metronome ticked lazily, yet hitting the beat with exact precision.
With a creak from the door, the intruder crept into the room slowly, as if she knew that she didn't really belong. She sited the piano and a surprisingly pretty smile fluttered across her face.
Tick, tick, tick, tick
She walked around it, hand trailing along its aged wooden features, almost as if asking for its respect, a soft smile still pulling at her lips.
Tick, tick, tick, tick
Severus stared at his unwelcome guest, one thought crossing his mind.
If someone had to interrupt me, why did it have to be her of all people?
Because, said an answering voice, that's Murphey's Law.
Tick, tick, tick, tick.
A fair chunk of this chapter was written in the Pluperfect tense (elvis had left the building, rather than he has). I am letting you know right now that I hate the pluperfect tense, as I cannot write in it very well. I will try to avoid this in the future. Sorry - Billy
P.s. If you like me and want to make me feel good, feel free to press the little review button.