Chapter Four
Levitating a drunk, vomiting giant home would have been a tedious task for him usually, or for any of the faculty that had been called upon to manoeuvre the half breed back to his bed. But Snape's concentration was only partially on the game keeper's shoulders who he was levitating.
This evening, he had not only met Lily Evans, but also bought her a drink, learned of her marital status, and been given permission to meet her at her place of work!
Although in his outwardly, normal display he looked casually on as the slumbering giant's dribble threatened to splash the flagstones outside of Hogwarts and Argus Filch swore bitterly, Snape could not wait to get to his chambers and smile as wide as he dared.
As Filius and the rest of the staff managed to get Hagrid to stagger to his bed, he turned towards the castle and began to walk.
"Severus!"
Turning, irritably, he looked to where the voice had come from. Professor Sinistra, flagged by Professor Vector came running towards him, they had been waiting for him...
"Malfoy was caught-"
"Let me guess..." interjected Severus, raising his hand to stop them. "Malfoy has done something regrettable with a Gryffindor. I shall deal with it-"
"No...Severus. Its something more serious than that." Vector replied darkly. "He was found to have tried to place the Cruciatus curse on Hermione Granger."
Snape's mouth opened slightly, but he managed to catch it in time and remain impassive.
"...There shall be no need to trouble Mr. Malfoy, or the headmaster. I shall deal with him " Snape said smoothly. "Where is he?"
"Your office." Professor Sinistra replied and sneezed.
"Thank you..."
Snape took off at speed, walking through the wooden doors, down through the foyer, towards the dungeons.
It had been a splendid evening. One spent in a world of light and hope and now he was dragged irretrievably down into the depths of darkness and dankness by Malfoy's actions this evening.
Unsure of what he was even going to say to him, he threw open his office door to find Malfoy casually reclined in his chair, his feet on his desk.
"Get out of my seat this instant." he calmly hissed.
"I think not...Snape." he smirked. "I guess you're here to tell me off about cursing that mudblood, am I right?"
Snape felt a slither of anger uncurl in his stomach.
"That word has no place in this school, Malfoy. I have told you that before. Now kindly vacate my seat before I do it for you."
Malfoy raised his eyebrows and calmly got up and walked over to another seat in his office, sitting on it heavily. In the dim light of the fire from the fireplace he saw a cloud of dust evacuate it.
"What happened?" Snape snapped, leaning on his desk.
"Granger had it coming." Malfoy replied carelessly. "Swanning around this school like she owns the place. Someone had to teach her a lesson."
"Are you aware what the penalty is for using an unforgivable curse?" Snape asked, staring at Malfoy.
"Azkaban. But lets face it, as if my father would allow that." he snorted, looking to the jars on the shelf.
"Your father could not save you from that fate, Malfoy. You must understand that." Snape darkly muttered.
"My father answers to a higher master than Cornelius Fudge." Malfoy grinned.
Snape looked at him and swept upon him, inches from his face so that it wiped the stupid smirk from him.
"Wipe that childish grin from your stupid face, Malfoy." he spat. "You think that working for the dark lord is a walk in the park? If you fail to meet his expectations even once you and your family will be dead!"
Malfoy smirked again.
"...Fail to meet his expectations?" he asked softly. "...What, like you would? You're on the wrong side, Snape. And you're running out of time to join us."
"...Join you." Snape repeated with a sneer. "You think this is some silly game, boy. Where you all get club rings and say some ridiculous vow?"
"...Not rings...Snape."
Severus' eyes met Malfoy's sleeve.
Severus had heard that before, Voldemort marked his followers with a tattoo, a branding that they called the dark mark...Could he have placed it on a 14 year old boy?...Could those around him have done it?
"I will write to your father, and you shall serve a months detention starting Friday. Do you understand?"
Malfoy gave a shrug. Barely bothered.
"We'll see..." And with that he left the office.
Snape sat heavily on his chair.
...Had the dark lord somehow, returned? And marked Draco with the dark mark?
Impossible.
The dark lord had met his end 13 years ago when he had tried to kill Neville Longbottom. The story was legendary.
After one of the Longbottom's friends had betrayed their secret to the dark lord. Frank Longbottom had met his end trying to protect his wife and child. He was no match for the killing curse. Alice Longbottom had wrapped her arms around her son trying to shield him and her sacrifice had led to the killing curse placed on him being ineffective. They called it the Sacrifice of love.
He-who-must=not-be-named disappeared without a trace and now Neville Longbottom was the boy who lived. The only surviving person to have lived through the killing curse.
And ever since, Voldemort had been missing.
Dumbledore had often expressed his belief that one day he would return, though Snape knew of only one conceivable way, and that was too horrific to even contemplate.
If Lucius was indeed receiving orders from the dark lord...what would this mean for him...
Was time running out?
It was suddenly all so incomprehensible.
No. The dark lord was not back, it was impossible. Malfoy had clearly overheard his father talking to a business associate who had decided to put the fear of God into him...
Tomorrow, it would all be a distant memory, he would have to apologize to Miss. Granger and order Draco to do the same and then after lessons he might walk into Hogsmede and...
Suddenly, the warmth of the evening before this incident refilled the room like a pleasant scent.
...then he remembered her scent.
And her hair...
And her smile.
Snape smiled despite himself and realized that single evening, not even an hour in her company and he was smiling as if he were drunk on Butterbeer. It would have to be something he kept in careful check tomorrow during classes. Any form of merriment on his part would be seen as a weakness and therefore would lead to unnecessary blemishes on what was a wonderful memory.
No, this particular brand of happiness would have to dwell exclusively in his battered soul, for now at least.
Locking his door, he walked towards his bed and lay on it, still fully clothed, clothing his eyes to fully summon her beautiful image to his mind.
Those eyes, those beautiful almond shaped eyes...Locked onto his.
It filled him with the warmth of firewhiskey...