PART 4.

When Severus firsts sees the brownish-grey owl fly over to him during breakfast about a week before his final exams, he is quite surprised.

More than anything, he isn't expecting anyone to be owling him at this time. He doesn't even subscribe to any magazines or newsreels. So, it's obviously someone trying to correspond with him.

It's what's inside of the letter that bothers him the most.

-----------------

To Severus Snape:

I have been privileged enough to have my Lord talk to me about his interest in both your employment and future interest in his true affairs.

Your mother, Eileen Prince, says to tell you that she counsels you to accept this offer.

It is in your best interest.

Regards,

Lucius Malfoy

-----------------------

SEVERUS SNAPE POV:

-----------------------

I don't know why this is happening to me.

I had everything planned out.

There is something that bothers me most about this.

One being that Malfoy has only been interested in me and my mother since my fifth year when it became obvious that the Headmaster of this stupid school was quite interested in my health.

Or so he calls it, ever since the little spells of rage I had after my fifth year when his 'pets'-- Black and Potter--tried to have me killed.

I hate everything that there is to do with my mother's family.

My mother recently just getting back in good favour with some of her family relations.. The only reason being is that my mother found my father in bed with another woman and is trying to buy back her own

She thinks I'm ignorant of that. But I know that I'm going to be used in her schemes. I am considered a viable source of information ever since my 'sessions' with the Headmaster. Where we both basically sit there and drink tea with each other while he tries in vain to make conversation.

I have nothing to say to the arsehole so I just ignore him, except to ask if the time is up.

Then there is the fact that I am the school's best Potions student--one who's making extra money by creating and making healing potions for Madame Pomfrey and, indirectly, for St. Mungo's.

…I don't like where this is leading me…I feel trapped.

I know a little about this 'Lord' and his ideals and, really, they make no sense to me.

But the employment issue?

Reality is I'm never going to get a job in the Ministry because I am a Slytherin, and in these trying times even if the Headmaster himself hands them a letter of recommendation, they'll see it fit not even as toilet paper.

-----------------------

End of Severus Snape POV

---------------------

Severus is sitting at the table not even bothering with the pretence of trying to study. Instead, he stares off into space completely unaware of anything around him.

It bothers him that he really can't make a choice in what is being asked of him.

Not for the lack of trying.

What bothers him on this particular day is that he can see the logicality of it all. Of what Malfoy's 'Lord' proclaims to fight against.

The oppression against whether a man is a Slytherin. In this day and age, the Wizarding world is still like it was in medieval times…politics and ideals. Conservative in the very strictest sense of the word.

However, Severus knows that all that is truly being done is switching the one idea of oppression for another. Which isn't exactly the way that things get done.

There exists the idea that in order to fight this oppression means to murder and pillage, creating a general fear to venture out in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds…

Severus sighs and runs his long potion/ink-stained fingers through his overly greasy, black hair.

It's obvious this so-called Lord will not be able to win this war unless he changes these ideas. Oppression ruled by fear hasn't worked in the Muggle world and, no doubt, will fail to work anywhere else.

But perhaps this Lord will change his ideas. Perhaps he will come to realize some things may work, but killing people for something as trivial as not having the fucked up genetics of an incestuous bloodline is not one of them.

------------------

During the time that Severus is being bothered by all these thoughts, Kingsley is sitting at his side working diligently at his homework.

Severus tilts his head to watch the boy work. His left hand is being used as a headrest as he just contemplates the young wizard to his right.

There is something about him that intrigues and tires Severus. Perhaps it's the fact that the young Ravenclaw is his opposite in every sense of the word.

Mild-mannered, handsome, someone who seems to be forever suspended in the time of divine sensuality…

While Severus himself is hot-tempered and hook-nosed, forever stuck in his own idea of hell…

"So, what do you plan to do?" Severus himself isn't used to the softness in his own voice.

Kingsley looks at him with his big brown, almond-shaped eyes. Obviously surprised that Severus had spoken to him. Perhaps a bit shocked that it wasn't an insult.

"Um…I was thinking of being an Auror," he says with a look of rightful pride, his big eyes the essence of innocence. Severus allows the corner of his mouth to tilt.

His eyes feel heavy. Like there is lead being weighed at the bottom. He feels this sadness in his chest, but for some reason it doesn't seem to him that he's really sad.

"What about you?" Kingsley says this up close and quietly to him. Like a frightened animal who, if spoken to, normally will run away.

Severus shifts his black eyes to stare at the slight shininess of Kingsley's nose and shrugs.

Kingsley smiles. A small smile that says more without words than what he's saying out loud.

"I think you'll be a scholar."

Severus lets out a huff of air from his nose.

At that moment, he thinks he can feel the caves that teenage acne have left on his skin. He can feel the dryness of his hands…

Kingsley tilts his head to go back to his work when Severus makes up his mind.

He uses his right hand to run itself down the smooth, darkest of dark skin on the boy's neck. Leans forward, tilting his head so as not to stab his nose into the poor boy in front of him.

Softly pressing his lips to the firm jaw with skin so dark he thinks of the times in history when African kings ruled on high and everything was simple.

-----------------------------

"So, Mr. Snape. Where do you plan to go, now that you are free of this asylum as you call it?" Headmaster Dumbledore is looking at him over their tea cups. There is no twinkle in his eye.

Severus swirls the contents of the tea he only ever pretends to drink.

"I think you feign ignorance, sir." The Old Coot isn't an idiot. Despite whatever Severus always says.

"How so?" Dumbledore puts down his tea cup and stares hard at the greasy, black-haired young man before him. The long, beak-like nose has a streak of black hair falling across it.

"May I ask you something?" Severus ignores Dumbledore's question.

Frowning, Dumbledore nods.

"Why?" Severus' face is hidden by the way he bows his head.

"Why what?"

"Why did you let them get away with it?"

Dumbledore sighs.

"We've been through this, Severus. I don't wish for Mr. Lupin--"

"I'm not talking about Lupin. I don't care about Lupin. He didn't do a damned thing. I'm talking about those two fucks--"

"Language, Mr. Snape!"

Severus snaps. He slams his tea cup on the big desk and stands up. Not caring at all that he's scalded his hand.

"Mr. Snape!"

"Goodbye, Headmaster. And wonderful play that you've managed to create here," Severus says with a nasty smile. Thinking that all the hurt and betrayal he's ever felt at this school came from the inactions of this man.

"Whatever do you mean?" Dumbledore has a hardness in his eyes that tell Severus he knows that he, Severus, has been practicing Legilimency.

"Well, think about it, sir. An Example of the most typical ploy is to feign illness, procure medicine, and then sell it on the black market. What you do is give people a false charm of Goodness, assign them the guilt and then give them some way of overcoming that guilt." Severus pauses and knows that Dumbledore is indeed following his train of thought.

"For you, sir, being typical isn't your style. Instead, you must manipulate people to believe that you yourself are without prejudice or cynical pessimisms. Indeed, sir, I must take off my hat to you. After all, you perhaps are the greatest master at this game of cynical ploys."

With that Severus Snape. Greasy Git.

Leaves