NOTE: This may take some liberties in the Harry Potter world, as I haven't read all the books and may be misremembering some
things as well. Mea Culpa.

IDLE DREAMER
by Snaples

The storm raged for the third night. I expressed hope that it would continue for many more. There was something powerful, nearly magic, about the smell of lightning and the crackle of thunder. I felt renewed every time the floor shook beneath my feet.

If I could bottle that...

"The students are depressed," Dumbledore sighed, peering out his window. His face flashed blue before a clap of thunder followed.

Close. Very close. Perhaps we'd find a few trees down in the morning. I sipped my tea quietly, waiting for him to add more. He surprised me by turning expectantly toward me.

So I said, "Keeps them inside. I don't see what you're worrying about." Beyond his shoulder, I saw the sky splinter and I shuddered.

"Not everyone fancies a storm like you do."

I grimaced. "A little atmosphere won't kill them." I set the cup down. "They need to live without their mother's apron for a while. Might be educational to have them outside the closet for once." The storm agreed with me. The cup on the desk even rattled.

Very, very close.

Albus frowned. "I want you to make the rounds tonight."

I stared at him for a long moment. "Are you suggesting that I roam about the corridors and placate any students I might find shivering under the bed?"

Albus smiled, the bastard. That's exactly what he intended to have me do. "They're just children, Severus."

That was his answer to everything. An eternally naïve and optimistic answer. Pity that he could not see, or refused to see, that some of these children would grow up to be his enemy. How many Tom Riddles had he tucked in in bed himself?

The problem with Albus was that he placed an inordinate amount of faith in people he ought not to. It had taken me years to convince myself that I was not one of these misplaced trusted.

That didn't mean I had to like it any better. Perhaps it's why I took perverse pleasure in offering him subtle reminders that I could, at any time, prove him wrong about me.

"It might be passably amusing," I said finally.

Albus scowled again. "Placate, Severus, not terrify tenfold."

I gave him a somewhat ambiguous smile as I left his office.

The portraits spoke to me in anxious voices as I made my way through the rain-scented corridor, and I gave my best effort to ignore them. Even Marat took a breath from his death to moan about the shaking walls. I let him slump back against his tub without a comment and moved toward the Slytherin tower.

I decided to wait for the next flash of lightning before opening the door to the boys' dormitory. If I had to endure this tedious exercise, I might as well squeeze the most out of it. As light spilled into the tower and flickered wildly, I flung the door opened and watched, savoured, as the boys screamed in terror.

I tried my best to look affronted, even while I had the illicit urge to laugh over bent knees. "You put this House to shame!" I roared over the bellow from the skies.

Draco Malfoy peered over his covers and, most comically, hurried to drop them at his waist and adopt a semi-assured look. "Professor Snape." He glared at the rest of his colleagues who similarly cleared throats, folded arms and tried, unsuccessfully, to look apathetic to my presence.

"Shall I tuck you in, then?" I sneered. "Read you a bedtime story? Pat your heads and whisper 'there there' while I hold your hand through this gruelling ordeal?"

Malfoy straightened up in his bed. "We're fine, Sir."

Bright boy. Bright future, too, if he managed to make the distinction between ambition and cruelty. "You lot call yourselves Slytherin," I spat, ignoring him and already turning away. "Snuff the candles and go to sleep. I shall expect you all to brave the storm without the security of your--" I quickly darted my eyes to another student, who squeezed a teddy to his chest defensively when he caught my eyes on him, "--childhood foolishness such as night-lights and stuffed animals. This is not kinder garden," I scoffed and slammed the door behind me.

I smirked and pressed my ear to it quietly, listening to the hushed conversation that swept between my House students. When I caught words like 'death reaper' and 'ghoul' and 'peed my pyjamas', I left the tower satisfied.

That they were mere children, barely passed their eleventh year in this realm, made no difference to me. Anyone who invited a dalliance with magic had to deal with the consequences of facing people like me who could wield it like a cataclysmic weapon.

Natural selection. Strain the weak and make defence stronger. A concept none of the DADA teachers had ever really understood. How could they, if the principle of the matter would require them to dismiss those who couldn't grasp the basics of elemental magic?

"Give them a chance. The potential is there, it need only be nurtured."

Albus persistently made excuses. Albus was, unfortunately, nothing of a strategist.

"I don't recall the bathroom being this way," I told two startled fifth years. But how I hated the puberty-stricken student who suddenly found illicit affairs in the shadow of corners suddenly so bloody fascinating. "As I'm sure that's what the two of you were looking for out here, at this hour." I towered over them, narrowing my eyes.

To their credit, they did wait a few paces before breaking into a run toward their respective dormitory.

I consulted my pocket watch. It was nearly midnight, and I heard the call of my laboratory. I made my best research around this time, and it only irritated me further that I had to complete this utter nonsense before I could be released to my Dungeons.

I had just passed the portrait of the ample Gryffindor dame when I heard it creak open. I frowned over my shoulder and ducked into a niche. Now who could be--

Ah yes. Of course. How daft of me not to have expected a midnight stroll from this particular troublemaker. He was holding a cloak in his hands, a shimmering gold and brown fabric that seemed oddly familiar...

I squinted in the darkness, watching him as he draped himself with the cloak and melded with the surroundings. An Invisibility Cloak, of course. The breaths I had heard last night, the ephemeral touch of fabric over my fingertips... Harry Potter had been there when I'd accosted Quirrell.

Well. That was a disturbing thought. Although hardly unexpected. The boy had discovered James' outfit and was obviously using it with the same reckless enthusiasm as his father.

He was moving. If I strained my ear, I could hear the soft swish of his cloak against the ground and his anxious open-mouthed breathing.

I waited until he was far enough, far enough that I could not hear him move anymore, and produced a small vial from my pockets. The sandstone taste of the Argutiae raked down my throat as I drank it whole.

And then I could hear him, smell him, taste him as though he were standing inches from me. I moved quietly across the corridor he'd taken, irritably willing all other distractions aside. Foul daily aromas and noisy routines assailed my sensitized senses as I grasped Potter's trail, feeling the ground's subtle vibrations travel through the sole of my feet to the tip of my fingers. I couldn't bear to touch the walls as I made my descent after Potter, knowing the simple brush of stone against my flesh would seem like a raw flaying.

For a moment I thought he would veer into the Library, toward the restricted section no doubt. That had been where he'd been last night, where Filch had recovered his lantern.

But while his scent lingered in the Library, it was strongest beyond it. I followed it, tracing the same route he'd used when I'd been talking to Quirrell. I was filled with outrage at the thought of him slipping through my fingers, quite literally, so brazenly.

I turned the corner and my enhanced vision caught the door at the end of the corridor close quietly.

Oh no.

Of all the places that infuriating boy could have gone--

I disapparated promptly. It wouldn't do to simply open the door. I had no intention to make my presence known just yet.

When I apparated inside the room, I nearly stumbled on something soft on the ground. I swallowed a curse and kicked the cloak away.

My, Albus certainly put the house elves to this place. No furniture of any kind had been left. Only that sodding mirror, and Potter was currently sitting in front of it.

Men have gone mad gazing at it, wasting away in illusions.

I still remembered Albus' warning the day he'd made me move it to a secure location.

I walked silently toward it. Potter couldn't have heard me even if I had made a conscious effort to announce myself. He was fixated on the mirror, a happy smile on his face. There was something... unnaturally touching about seeing a boy so simply happy.

I moved behind him, keeping my eyes on him. I refused to meet my reflection, knowing already what I would see beyond the mist of my own self.

It took a long while for him to see me. When he did, he didn't even bother scrambling away.

The mirror of Erised will enchant you to madness, if you're not careful.

For Merlin's sake, I get it Albus. Let me take the sodding thing downstairs so we can all move on with our lives.

"Mr. Potter." My voice was vibrating - the Argutiae was short-lived, but it was still affecting my senses. He was glowing to my eyes, in spite of the decaying darkness.

"So you've found me," he said, surprisingly calm. Though had he ever been anything but? I remembered his cheek in class, that first time we were introduced. Not even the more ignorant of students could brave more than a few seconds of eye contact. Potter had glared.

I drew my robe around my shoulders, refusing to believe that it was anything but the coolness of the room urging me to do so. "Can you give me a reason not to deduct fifty points from Gryffindor? Let's see, passing curfew, using an Invisibility Cloak, being where you're most certainly not--"

"So take them away, already," he muttered.

Observe, Child. You must allow impertinence, but only to tolerable limits. When the ranks misalign--

The screaming. Watching behind the indifference of a mask as a Brother fell to his knees and wept blood against the shimmering white of his face.

I know you do not wish to be on your knees, Severus, weeping yourself dry of the blood that belongs to me.

I serve my Lord.

Grass offered magic of its own and turned from green to red under a Brother's tears.

I blinked away shadows and scowled. "Get out, before I do just that," I hissed.

"Leave me alone."

I looked up. I could not see what had him so enraptured, of course, but I looked away quickly before the mist resolved itself in my own private demons. "So be it. I'll make a note of it and pass it on to your school mates."

He shrugged, staring still at the cursed mirror.

Threats be damned. He was already beyond listening to fear. I crouched down behind him and forced myself to look over his shoulder. A third, pale shimmering, figure stood tall behind us.

Albus forgive me.

I took out my wand and muttered one of the Unforgivable Curses under my breath. I stared at the mirror, even as I willed a dazed Harry Potter to his dormitory.

The figure in the mirror moved behind me, flowing like thunderclouds, dispelling all previous concerns. "Curse you," I told it.

He will be back. All you'll have accomplished is strengthening his desires. Child. I've done the same for you. Don't you remember?

I straightened up. "This mirror is flawed," I told my reflection, desperate to ignore the shadow that consumed my reflected surroundings.

Is it?

The mist coalesced before my face into a vague mask-like shape, and the scorching black of the mark revealed itself on my bare arm.

"Flawed, terribly flawed," I muttered, and managed quite suddenly to wrench myself away from the mirror.

As I hurried through the corridor, even as the hushed voice called me from the decaying room, I moved, moved always, eager to escape the lure.

Moved toward the only cure.

"Albus," I gasped upon entering his office. "We need to talk."

He nodded wisely. "Yes, we do."

"About Potter--"

"Him as well."

END