Cats Choose Us; We Don't Own Them
AN: Much of this chapter simply wouldn't exist without J K Rowling and her marvellous creations. You might recognise this scene from HPatOotP. All I did was let the cat in.
Severus Snape does not own any pets - doesn't want to, in fact - but someone clearly forgot to tell the cat that.
After appearing out of nowhere this morning, getting under his feet while he'd been cramming in a last second study session on the way to his exam, and then, for no real reason he can discern, jumping at the door to the room and wailing like Moaning Myrtle, he remembered why he'd never wanted a pet. Professor Flitwick had had to go and shoo the creature away from the hall eventually. He'd thought that was the end of it.
No. It's following him now. You get used to the feeling of being stalked when you're the favourite plaything of Potter and his friends. Its eyes feel like cool air on the nape of his neck, which is distinctly more pleasant than the spider leg feel of his tormentors, but still enough to make him twitch. He focuses harder on the exam paper in his hands. There's a sense of hope flickering inside that if he ignores it, it will fixated on someone else. His luck cannot be all bad, right?
Before long, he finds himself on the edge of the lake. Through habit, he settles himself in the cloak of shadow provided by a selection of bushes. The grass is cold beneath him, the memory of this morning's dew seeping into his robes. He doesn't mind it as much as he should. It reminds him of the Slytherin dormitories. No, not the damp itself, just the possibility of it. Of course, Severus doubts that there ever would be an appearance of damp, even if the whole thing sits underneath the Great Lake - and doesn't that just scream 'disaster waiting to happen'?
The cat tumbles into the brush behind him.
Severus sighs. What was that about luck? There's no luck for someone with a name like his, all hissing and curling and slippery, like the very harbinger of omens.
He stuffs his paper into his bag - he shouldn't worry over it so much anyway, he's good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, he's definitely got the exam nailed - and hurries to his feet. There's still a chance he can lose the cat. Hogwarts is a big school.
"All right, Snivellus?" Potter calls from behind him.
Fuck's sake. He jerks around, dropping everything in his haste to reach for his wand hidden up his sleeve. He's not fast enough, of course, Potter's always one step ahead as he disarms him.
He hears the thud as it lands in the grass.
And then he hears Potter's' bloody mutt laughing as he approaches. Severus dives for his wand.
"Impedimenta," Black cries, and Severus' body is thrown dramatically off course before he can reach his target.
Fuck fuck fuck.
The eyes of the other students fall heavy on his shoulders, holding him down as much as the spell. He tries calling his wand to him, hurtling thought after thought after thought towards it with increasing desperation. If he can just have it back, gain strength from the familiarity of it, he can teach them not to touch him again, not to even look at him, again. He's stronger than they are, all of them.
He feels them step closer. Ignore them, ignore them. Just for now, this moment. Get the wand. Get the wand. Come wand. Accio. Accio. ACCIO.
It doesn't so much as wiggle in his direction, and, as laughter begins to penetrate through his haze of concentration, he begins to tug more violently against the bonds holding him. They have to break. Have to break. There's no way Black can have magic powerful enough to keep him down forever, is there?
No. He can't be this weak.
He turns his eyes on Potter. "you—wait. You—wait!"
"Wait for what?" Black asks. "What're you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?"
A part of him snorts at the unoriginal insult the mutt has bestowed on him. It always boils down to his hair and his nose and his name as though he hasn't cursed every God existing and not for this body.
The rest of him doesn't have the same cool detachment, spitting curses and hexes and every swear word he has ever heard his father utter at him.
Even his anger isn't enough to direct his magic.
And then soap erupts inside his mouth. It's killing him slowly. Slipping down his throat, foaming in his lungs - he can't cough it out fast enough, gagging...
"Leave him ALONE!"
Lily.
The bubbles slow in their appearance as Potter switches his attention. Severus would laugh if he had the air to do it with. Idiot. Did he think Lily would fall over herself under his simpering eyes?
He doesn't waste time listening to his pathetic attempts at flirting - ignoring, for the moment, of his own pathetic failings, of Lily having to see him so weak, again - instead fighting harder against impediment jinx. He can feel the bonds of it beginning to wear away, now that Black's attention is fixed somewhere else. Yes. Yes. It's slipping. He crawls, inch by awful inch, towards his fallen wand, coughing up soap. He's surprised by the appearance of the kitten, once forgotten after Potter's attack, now sitting vigil over his wand as though hiding it from view. It mews at him, green eyes bulging. Hurry. Hurry.
He crawls faster. So close. He stretches out his fingers, and the kitten nudges the wand into them.
Yes!
"Sectumsempra."
A flash from his wand hurtles towards Potter. Black calls a warning, but it's Severus that has the upper hand now, and his chest swells at the sight of blood splattering over Potter's robes. His spell had worked! He knew it would, of course, but -
Severus' body jerks into the air, suspended by an invisible thread around his ankle. His robes flutter down him and over his face. Cool air hits his legs; heat flushes his cheeks.
NO!
Why can't they … why can't they just leave him alone? Isn't it enough that he has all the failings of his father's face, that he has to be the punchline to every single joke?
And now, to be so paraded in front of Lily…
The spell is broken, and he falls into a heap on the floor. This won't stand, no, he can't let it stand. His hand is almost shaking as he rushes to his feet, a curse on his tongue, and then Black freezes him before he can get the magic out.
"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Lily is there again, her own wand out, beautiful red hair flying in righteous anger, anger for him. It fills his heart with dark curls of shame. What use is his magic, what usd is his power, if Lily has to defend him? It should be him protecting her, looking after her, the way he had when they were children. Lily had needed him then, his stories of Hogwarts and magic. She doesn't need him now. Surely she can see that. Surely that will make her leave.
Lily says something that makes Potter sigh, and The curse slithers away from him. Her eyes are watching, watching his pathetic excuse of a person scrabble to his feet. The darkness inside is spreading further, chilling him. He can't meet her curious stare, can't look at her at all.
"There you go," Potter said. "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus—"
Something snaps. He doesn't know what it is, only that, in the face of her beauty, her courage, he's floundering. Is this how is father felt, knowing his wife could do things that he couldn't? Knowing his wife was something more, something he couldn't hold a candle to?
"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"
That's what Tobias Snape would say. Yes. Yes. Shatter her, break her, show her how utterly worthless she is so she needs him again.
No. Wait. Why is he saying that?
"Fine," Lily says, pummelling shards of ice into his very soul. "I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus."
Severus can't even find the strength to respond. Seeing her rosebud lips insulting him, spilling out that horrible name, he has never imagined such a thing.
It's so wrong.
"Apologise to Evans!" Potter cries. Severus stares unblinking at the wand in his face.
Fuck, he's right. What world has he fallen into where James Pratface Potter is actually right?
His mouth flaps like a fish, gasping for air. He needs to speak now, say something, make her look at him, apologise, apologise, apologise.
"You make me SICK," Lily bites out. Severus no longer knows who she's talking to; it might as well be him. She doesn't look at him once as she turns on her heel and leaves.
It matters very little when Potter sends Severus into the air once again, and nothing at all when he calls "who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" because all he can do is watch Lily hurry away from him and it's all his fault.
As it turns out, Potter doesn't get to bare Severus' all. The kitten, having had enough of his jeering, digs its claws into his leg. He drops Severus like a sack of potatoes. "What the-?"
This time, Severus doesn't attempt revenge. Doesn't make any noise at all.
All Slytherins know when to cut their loses.
AN: The title comes from a quote by Charles Dickens - 'What greater gift than the love of a cat' - and the chapter title comes from Kristin Cast.
There'll be a proper introduction next time, never fear.