Still Not Mine

I adjusted the straps to my negligee as I descended back down to the first floor. Ma intercepted me in the lobby with a tray of drinks and a small frown.

"Princess, you're in the Emerald Room for the rest of the night. The party got here about twenty minutes ago and should be starting to get busy about now."

"Did they request me, Ma'am?" I asked.

"No, not tonight but they have paid for the room for the whole night as usual and there are more in the party than reserved, so I need all the girls that are free to work the room," she answered handing me the drinks. Ever the saleswoman, that's our madam. I was relieved to know I was not a main attraction.

She looked at me critically.

"You need to work on that smile, girl. You look like a corpse."

"Yes, Ma'am," I answered. I smiled for her and she nodded.

"A bit better. Keep trying or I'll take it out of your hide."

Balancing the tray I made my way into the Emerald Room. Conversation was loud and raucous; there were about ten Death Eaters there and even more girls. I made my way slowly; I looked at the floor as I navigated the room offering drinks to the gentlemen and their consorts. The babble of lively conversation washed over me until one word ran into me making me stop dead in my tracks.

"Here's to our prodigal boy, Snape!"

The sound of drink glasses clanking on my tray was lost among the huzzahs. I pivoted towards the focus of amusement and spotted my erstwhile professor. There he was. The murderer of Dumbledore. My mind was flooded with images and memories: hasty consultations with a dead man's portrait and a confusing tale of twisted loyalties and even more twisted logic; I see Harry running forward toward Voldemort after the Dark Lord's ambush at the Burrow. Harry disintegrated in the onslaught. Ron blew apart a moment later. I only fell, two steps behind and caught in the backlash. Apparently no one knew I was still alive for two days.

My mouth felt full of bitter ashes. Snape. Was he a double agent? A spy for Dumbledore? Then how did we not know of the planned attack on the Burrow? Did I even care anymore? It was five years ago. This was my life now. There was no escape. I tried. I stopped caring. I felt the numbness descend down upon me once again and I welcomed it.

I poured the spilled drinks into the fake ficus plant next to me and arranged the still full drinks on the tray. I studied Snape as I walked among the guests passing out drinks. He looked miserable. Miserable and pathetic. His robes were the cut I remember but shabbier. His hair was a long, greasy curtain spilling down his back well past his shoulder blades. It was still black as night. His skin was even more pale and sallow if possible. His face, a mass of lines that made him look much older than his forty-four years. His nose still a long, thin slash of a hook marring the center of his face. But his eyes…I had seen that look every morning for the last five years. They were like mine. They were dead. Even though I only came up to his shoulders, he seemed smaller, less imposing, less intimidating. Just, less. A skinny, ugly, sad, little man. Lost.

He held himself stiffly, obviously awkward at the attention. The others laughed at his discomfort. Interesting. It would seem the prodigal boy was short on allies in the room. The talk got more bawdy as the drinks flowed and the girls got busy. I watched as Macnair whispered to Peaches, followed her with my gaze as she prowled across the room to Snape and wrapped around him like a cat and started unbuttoning his robes. I saw two spots of color appear high on his cheeks and admired the effort he put into not looking mortified. He failed.

From the conversation in the room I gathered that the Potions master had been gone from his compatriots since the end of the war. This was the most news I have ever heard. I also gathered that he did not surface by choice but was chanced upon in an apothecary shop by Rookwood and dragged to this gathering. I also took in the fact that tonight was less a celebration than an ordeal, a trial, a test. It would seem Snape's loyalties were questioned by everyone.

Peaches rubbed against his side and stroked her hand up and down his body from his collar to his crotch in long sinuous movements. I watched his trousers for any response, either there was none or he's hung like a gnat. I tried to decide what my feelings were. I could not. Maybe it was pity.

I placed the tray of drinks on the piano where Angel was playing a pleasing Jazz tune. I smirked at the Mudblood music. Ah, the little rebellions abounded that evening. We exchanged a too blank look as I took a glass of wine and downed it in one go.

Macnair had been watching the entertainment with a sneer. I heard his muttered opinions on Snape's sexual preferences and the answering sniggers. I listened as he hatched a plot to take Peaches together with Snape and see if he could even perform. I heard a sinister threat: when Snape went off with Macnair and Peaches, one way or another the Professor will be involved in a sexual act. He had no friends here to stand up for him. He was without allies. Poor dumb bastard. I pondered this. I examined my feelings. I should have some. Did I owe him anything? If I interfered there was a chance he would owe me. That was something. But having a powerless man be indebted to you was less than nothing on the face of it. I grabbed another drink and slammed it back. Replacing it with two more I moved across the room. I do not know when I decided to act. I surprised myself.

I came up on him from the side beyond my friend. Peaches had been trying all her tricks to spark a fire and I could tell she was at a loss.

"It's not you Peaches, honey. He just isn't into redheads." I said this because of something I heard once from Remus. All the old memories had come out to play tonight.

They both twisted around to see me better and I saw the relief at the rescue on her face and the narrowed eyes of confused familiarity on his. He didn't recognize me.

"Would you like a drink, Sir?" I offered. He looked at the glass of wine with suspicion.

"No." His voice was the same, dark and rich and it made me almost feel something. I flicked the thought away.

"Here, Peaches, for you then."

She laughed and reached to take the wine. Stroking a hand down Snape's unshaven face she turned to me and gestured.

"You're in good hands here, this is the honest to goodness, world-famous, Princess of Gryffindor!"

At her pronouncement he went completely still. Only his eyes snapped towards mine. I was used to people looking quickly away. He did not. I was not sure he was still breathing, he was so still. Peaches gave him a final pat that he ignored and left us in a pool of silence. A rush of thoughts overwhelmed me, why was I trying to help him? What did I care if he got raped by Macnair? What made him more special than me? Sudden shame caused me to look away first. I took a sip of the wine in my hand and then gently rested my free hand on the inside of his elbow.

"Perhaps we could find somewhere to sit, out of the center of attention, yes?" I said smoothly. I was used to guiding nervous customers but they were usually not Death Eaters. He didn't respond at first but then followed my lead. My plan was to find a quiet place to tell him what I knew and then leave him to his own devices. I owed him that much for trying to save us from Lupin in third year. That was my plan. Of course it didn't work. We had not gone two steps before Macnair descended upon us dragging a bewildered Peaches. He did a bad job of looking jovial when he was obviously furious that his clever scheme fell apart before it even got off the ground. I wondered at how he seemed to want Snape so badly.

"Severus! Come, my friend! I have found a tasty morsel to share! Let's go upstairs and get this party started for real, old man!"

I moved closer as if to snuggle Snape's arm to hide the fact that I was digging my fingers into his elbow until my knuckles went white.

"Thank you, Walden, but I have found my own for now," he said smoothly. That voice. He moved his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. I relaxed against him. Macnair narrowed his eyes. I could see his thoughts as they formed on his face. He wondered at the dynamic of the untrustworthy Snape choosing the Princess of Gryffindor. I could find no way out of this predicament. It looked suspicious because it was suspicious. How did I get into this? Why? I looked up at Snape with a stupid, simpering smile. I could not tell what he was thinking. His face was a blank mask. I realized I was honestly nervous. I was not happy about this feeling. Snape did a curious thing then. He rubbed his thumb up and down my back as if to calm me. I do not know if that is his intention, but it worked.

"Well grab your doxy and come with me, brother," Macnair said with forced bonhomie. He reached out and grabbed Snape by the shoulder and pulled him along. I followed along with a gentle hand on my back guiding my way. I was calm all the way up the stairs until we all got to the door of one of the guest rooms and his thumb stilled. Then it hit me: I was about to fuck Professor Snape.

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