Birch Wood and Dragon Heartstring, 11¾ Inches
AN: First thing's first, it must be stated categorically that Birgit rules. She is the best and she is brilliant - and all positive adjectives beginning with "B" can be applied to her without hesitation. In fact, every positive adjective of any letter of any alphabet can be applied to this most brilliant of betas.
Cheers to Iva and featherxquill for the reviews (I am a Brit, featherquill XD) for chapter six. Elain: I had no idea what you were saying, but for some strange reason, I don't think it was anything good...
But tis time for the party! What will Sweet do, the pretty, reclusive, nutjob that he is? Read on to find out!
It was the night of Professor Slughorn's long-awaited party and Severus arrived at the Potions Master's office at half-past seven with Evan Rosier and a crowd of older Slytherins, including the Black sisters and Lucius Malfoy. He was with the group because for the past couple of weeks they had all been suspiciously nice to him. Not nice in a honest and friendly way, like Lily Evans was, but nice in that they were sucking up. He knew fine well that they still looked down on him because of his half-blood status, but because he was useful, because they were scared of Muninn, and because he wouldn't be bullied, they would "put up" with it.
Severus sighed inwardly as he was again dragged into conversation with Malfoy. The prefect was asking questions about Professor Sweet. It was no secret that Severus was Sweet's favourite student and that the man favoured him, turning a blind eye on one occasion when he hexed Remus Lupin so badly in a Practical Defence lesson that he had to go to the Hospital Wing - an incident that had cemented his reputation as being "up to his armpits in the Dark Arts." Little did they know. But Severus didn't give the older boy the satisfaction and rebuffed his every attempt at wrangling information out of him. To Severus' relief, Malfoy eventually gave up and instead turned the conversation around to hexes, a subject Severus was ready and willing to discuss.
When they arrived at Slughorn's office, Andromeda Black, who had remained uncomfortably silent for most of the way, broke off from the group to join her boyfriend, the Muggleborn Gryffindor, Ted Tonks. Bellatrix loudly and viciously voiced her contempt and swept inside, with Malfoy and Narcissa following behind. Rosier cast an amused glance at Severus, shrugged his shoulders, and went inside. Severus walked in after him.
Slughorn had went all out in decorating his office for the party - and it was much bigger than Severus remembered it, having been magically expanded to fit the many witches and wizards the Professor had invited. It looked rather like a huge, medieval tent - the ones that kings would use while on Crusade. Sheets of blue and gold silk marked with the fleur-de-lis draped down from the ceiling. The party-goers sat in circles of huge blue and gold cushions while being served goblets of wine by house-elves. There was music coming from somewhere in the middle of the room. Someone was playing the piano. Not one to pass up an opportunity when he saw it coming along, Severus grabbed a goblet of wine from a passing house-elf and made for the source of the music.
People had gathered around the piano player. It was no wonder, for whoever it was was really rather good, even though the piece was a little too slow and too mournful for Severus' taste. Severus saw Professor McGonagall with the tiny Professor Flitwick, nodding approvingly and tapping her foot in time to the music. The Headmaster was also there, standing right at the instrument, leaning on it, with his chin resting on his hand, his blue eyes staring into a distant and private place as he listened intently to the melody washing over him.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the music ended. The player stood up and bowed politely as his audience applauded. Severus recognised the golden-haired figure immediately.
"Bravo, Icarus," Dumbledore exclaimed, clapping enthusiastically.
Sweet nodded and graciously accepted the Headmaster's praise. Then he turned around and caught Severus' eye.
"Excuse me," Severus heard him say, as the manoeuvred his way through the throng towards him.
"I never knew you could play the piano, Professor," Severus said as Sweet reached him.
Sweet smiled his wry smile and replied, "Well, I never told you, and you never asked. But what is this?" he asked, frowning slightly as he discovered the large goblet of wine in Severus' hand.
"It's a goblet of elf-made wine, Professor," Severus retorted, with an incline of his head. "I've never tried it before and this is probably the one and only chance I'll get for a while. And I figured if things go badly here, then at least I'll have it to keep me company."
This comment made Sweet laugh, and a few turned around and looked curiously at this unexpected phenomenon.
"I dare say you're right, Severus. But nevertheless..." he said as he deftly plucked the wine from Severus' hand, placed it down on a tray and picked up one for himself. "You're far too young to be going down that route. You should have at least another ten years before you feel the need to hit the bottle. Oh dear god—"
In a heartbeat, Sweet's expression changed from quietly amiable to openly hostile as Horace Slughorn approached with Professor Skimmer and a man he didn't recognise. Severus smirked as he noticed Sweet take a few hasty swigs of his wine.
"Good evening, Icarus, Severus," Slughorn began jovially, completely unfazed by Sweet's frosty demeanour. "Inigo Skimmer I'm sure you both know already—" the wiry, red-haired DADA Professor nodded genially, "—but Newt Scamander, I don't think either of you will have met? Fantastic Beasts has reached its fifteenth edition only recently. Isn't that marvellous?"
A stout, cheerful-looking man with a large moustache stepped forward and shook first Sweet's and then Severus' hand. "Icarus and I have met before," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "We were both guest speakers at the Heidelberg Dark Arts conference a few years ago. If my memory serves me correctly, Mr Sweet delivered a rather brilliant paper on the role of the mind in spell-casting. It has certainly changed the way I cast."
The corners of Sweet's mouth turned up ever-so-slightly. "Thank you, Mr Scamander," he said graciously, bowing his head. "It's an honour."
"Not at all, dear boy," Scamander exclaimed with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You've got a good head on your shoulders. You'll be outselling me in a few years."
Then Scamander smiled and turned his attention to Severus, who had to fight to restrain himself from spluttering an excuse and running off to sit quietly in a corner where no one would bother him. "Who have we got here, Horace? Another of your rising stars?"
"Ahhhh, Newt, this young man is Severus Snape," Slughorn informed him as he lifted a pork pie from a passing tray. "One of my lot. Eileen Prince's boy. He has her talent for Potions. A natural, just like Miss Evans."
Skimmer and Scamander both made approving noises as they looked over their shoulders at the pretty, red-headed girl who was scowling darkly at James Potter and Sirius Black.
"Eileen Prince, eh?" Professor Skimmer said, eyeing Severus curiously. "I remember her. A few years below me at Hogwarts. Slytherin house, I think. Good at Gobstones, too."
"Oh yes, of course, Inigo. I'm so glad you remember," Slughorn said. "She was definitely one of mine. Couldn't have been prouder. I had her all set up for a very prestigious research apprenticeship at the Potioneers' Society." Slughorn sighed deeply and shook his head, fixing Icarus Sweet with a strange look, adding pointedly, "Alas, it was not to be!"
All present turned to look at the young Professor. Scamander's and Skimmer's were looks of polite inquiry. Severus' look, however, was curious and calculating. Slughorn had implied something when he mentioned his mother - there was no mistake about that. Judging from the look on Sweet's face, he knew it too. An ugly flush of red had crept onto the young man's pale cheeks, and he had drawn himself up, trembling slightly. His reaction, when it came, shocked even Severus.
"How dare you..." Sweet began with a fierce whisper, staring down his nose at Slughorn with a look that seemed remarkably like hatred. "How dare you! You invite me here, you harass and harangue me for twenty years just so you can insult me?"
Instinctively, Severus took a step back. He'd never seen Sweet so angry before. Well, he'd seen him angry when he was shouting and bawling at pupils in his class - that was routine. But this was different. Sweet looked as though he was ready to hex the Potions Master until he was crawling on all fours to Dumbledore with feelers sprouting out of his head.
Slughorn, on the other hand, seemed remarkably composed, looking like the Kneazle who had not only got the cream, but the canary and the pet hamster to boot. All around them, people were beginning to stare. Dumbledore, with his uncanny instinct for detecting trouble brewing, was making his way through the crowd.
And thank god for that! Sweet's going to kill something.
"Now, now, Icarus," Slughorn said, with a placid smile. "You don't want to cause a scene. Not in front of all these people. Not in front of young Severus—"
"If you dare imply— If you ever mention her in front of me again, Horace, so help me god—"
"Gentlemen," Dumbledore said, announcing his presence with a hint of warning in his tone. "May I ask what is going on?"
The Headmaster's question, however, went unanswered, and his attempt to diffuse the boiling tension between the Head of Slytherin House and his youngest member of staff failed miserably.
"Imply?" Slughorn exclaimed, his eyes widening in protest of his proclaimed innocence. "My dear Icarus, I was merely passing comment on the fact that I deeply regretted Miss Prince not having taken up my offer. A tragic waste of talent—"
Tragic waste?
"Excuse me," Severus said icily, the anger rising, bristling at the allusion that his mother had wasted her life just because she hadn't joined some stupid Potioneers' Society. "My mother didn't waste her talent."
For one moment, Slughorn looked taken aback. He hadn't expected Severus' intrusion into his little mind game with Sweet, and appeared to have genuinely forgotten he was there.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Severus," he exclaimed, patting him on the shoulder. "I didn't mean—"
"Shut up, Horace!" Sweet hissed suddenly, venomously, his blue eyes burning with a cold and calculated fury. "Shut your fat, ignorant mouth." Then he turned and addressed Severus, his voice quavering with alien emotion. "The man means everything he said, Severus. He believes your mother wasted her life. And I have nothing more to say to him."
Sweet turned and, with what appeared to take enormous effort, he inclined his head politely to Scamander, Skimmer and Dumbledore before sweeping away through the crowd, who gave him a wide berth. All eyes fell immediately upon Slughorn, who shook his head sadly and lifted a goblet of mead from a tray.
"Always was a rather strange young man," he announced, with a vague wave of his hand. "Handsome - and very talented, there's no doubt about that. Technically, he should have everything going for him. But he has absolutely no idea how to interact with other human beings." Slughorn sighed. "It is rather a shame. If only I'd got to him sooner—"
Suddenly, there was a bang as the door to Slughorn's office was kicked open and a whirlwind of black robes advanced towards their group at speed. Sweet was back, and his heels clicked determinedly as he advanced across the floor, his mouth curling up at one side as he reached in the folds of his robes for his wand.
"No. I've decided..." Sweet said, his voice dangerously soft, his eyes glittering with malice, "... you're not getting away with it that easily."
There was a split second where Slughorn dropped his goblet and attempted to reach for his wand, but Sweet was too quick. There was a searing flash of light and the next minute, Sweet had bound the Potions Master in the silk drapes like a helpless fly caught in the snare of a waiting spider. Dragging Slughorn behind him, he sprinted out the door before Dumbledore could counteract the spell.
Severus made to run after Sweet, but Dumbledore held him back.
"Stay here, Severus," he said gently but firmly, in a tone that would brook no refusal, before he went after Sweet with Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Skimmer hot on his heels.
On Monday, the first years trudged along to Professor Sweet's Practical Defence class to find that the rumours were true: it had been cancelled. Most of them showed their relief by skipping down the Great Hall for an early lunch with great whoops and cheers. Severus, however, feeling troubled, went to the place he always went if he was out of sorts. Sitting down at a desk near the Restricted Section in the library, he opened a book on basic Transfiguration and closed it with a sigh, unable to concentrate.
"You'd better get reading that, Snape, or McGonagall will have your head," Lily Evans' voice came singing from behind him.
As unlikely as it seemed, Severus Snape and Lily Evans had struck up a casual friendship of sorts. It had begun as an intellectual arrangement - both sides benefiting mutually from it. Every week or so, they would meet in the library and check one another's essays. Severus, having no patience for Transfiguration, would give his homework to Lily to check, and in turn, he would go over Lily's work for Potions. Their combined pursuit of knowledge had evolved gradually into a friendship characterised by a great deal of sarcastic banter and good-natured teasing.
"Spare me, Evans. I'm not in the mood," he retorted wearily as she sat down across from him with a thud.
Lily studied his face for a moment and seemed to find something amiss. "What's wrong, Severus?" she asked, her eyes alight with concern.
"This may sound a bit strange, what with general opinion running against him and all," Severus began curtly, "but I'm worried about Professor Sweet."
Lily nodded seriously. "Yeah, you are his favourite student," she mused. "His only favourite student, I think, so I can imagine you would be, even though I think he's—"
"Yes, yes, I know!" Severus interrupted her angrily. "You think he's a flaming nutter! You and the rest of the bloody school!"
"Well, the fact that McGonagall almost had to call Ministry—"
The gossip of what had happened that night at the party had spread round the school like wildfire. Sweet had apparently dragged Slughorn up to Ravenclaw Tower and had dangled him over the edge, screaming at him like a lunatic. Dumbledore had tried to calm him down, but it was only when Professor McGonagall had threatened to call the Magical Law Enforcement squad that Sweet released the Potions Master. Contrary to popular opinion (which expected, nay demanded, that Sweet be dismissed), Dumbledore did not sack his youngest and most volatile staff member, but instead suspended him from teaching for two weeks and ordered that both Slughorn and Sweet stay as far away from each other as possible. Naturally, because Severus' mother had been mentioned somewhere along the line, people had assumed he'd been involved somehow. He'd had to put up with getting very odd looks from people all weekend, and had set Muninn on a gaggle of gawping Ravenclaw idiots, which had earned him his first detention.
Therefore, Severus gave Lily a stare that said "if you bring it all up again, I'll never forgive you."
Lily took the hint and shook her head, an amused smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "Look, Snape," she said frankly. "If you're that worried about Professor Sweet, then go see him,"
Severus looked aghast at the audacity of Lily's suggestion.
"He won't throw a hissy fit at you if you go up and visit him," Lily continued, reading Severus' thoughts and laughing at the stricken look on his face. "He thinks you're brilliant. Everyone knows that. He might even be grateful for some company," she added, though her face betrayed doubt.
For a while, Severus thought about it. He was sure Lily was right. He didn't think Sweet would start throwing things at him if he went along to see if he was okay. Besides, there was still that allusion to his mother Slughorn made the other night - the one that had set Sweet off with such spectacular results. It had been niggling away at the back of his mind ever since the party. Yes. He would go and see Professor Sweet.
"Alright then. I'm going," Severus announced, packing up his books in his bag. "If Muninn comes looking for me, tell him I'll either be in Sweet's office or in the Great Hall."
Lily looked puzzled. "Tell Muninn?" she asked incredulously.
Bugger...
"Yes," he replied, sounding more composed than he felt, having almost given away the fact that Muninn could not only understand English, but could also speak it - and other languages - perfectly well. "Just tell him if you see him. He'll understand what you're saying."
"Okay," Lily said slowly, laughing and looking at him in a curious way. "I'll tell him. And I'll look over this for you," she added, waving his Transfiguration essay at him. "You'd better get my Potions effort back to me tomorrow, or else!"
Severus rolled his eyes and nodded, before heading up towards Ravenclaw Tower to look for Sweet. But no sooner had he set foot near the place, than he heard a set of unfortunately familiar and very unwelcome voices talking quickly in hushed whispers. He ducked round a corner and stood perfectly still as Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew walked past.
"Don't know what's wrong with him," he heard James say concernedly. "He looked really ill, but that doesn't explain why we couldn't visit him last night."
Sirius nodded in agreement, a frown passing over his handsome face like a shadow. "And he looked really beaten up this morning. Scratches everywhere. As if he'd been in a fight with a werewolf, or something."
"We should go see him again tonight," Peter suggested. "We could sneak up later when everyone's asleep."
"Good idea, Peter—" James said, before stopping short at the sight of Severus leaning against the wall, his eyes narrowing.
"Nosy git," he said, fixing Severus with the look of pure loathing he reserved specially for his hated Slytherin enemy. "What're you all about, listening in to our conversation like that? You got nothing better to do?"
"Believe me, Potter, I have no desire to breathe the same air as you, let alone eavesdrop on your scintillating conversation," Severus retorted acidly. "It just so happens I was heading along here and in a vain attempt to spare myself from being subjected to the hideousness that is your stupid, smug face, I stood here, hoping the horror would pass me by. How wrong I was..."
Sirius smirked, and cocked his head insolently to one side, a strand of dark hair falling over his face. "You know, what, Snape? I think you're afraid we'll gang up on you without your mad dragon to help you. I think you're scared we'll do the same to you as we did to your stupid mate, Avery."
Severus scowled defiantly, although part of what Black had said was true, and he hated him for it. A few days ago, Avery had got into a fight with Pettigrew in Herbology - and Potter, Black and Lupin had come to the whimpering drudge's rescue. Avery had been sent flying over the hedge with a spectacular hex they'd learnt in Sweet's class and had smacked his head on the reinforced glass of Greenhouse Four. This had earned all three offending Gryffindors detention (and Avery a trip to the Hospital Wing) but since then, they'd been travelling around in their detestable little pack, with Potter and Black hexing anyone who so much as looked at them the wrong way.
Sirius drew his wand. Behind him, James smirked and did the same. Pettigrew leaned back and appeared to be readying himself for a showdown. Severus looked from Black to Potter, his dark eyes darting calculatingly from one to the other. Then, in a flash, he whipped out his wand and cried, "Expelliarmus!"
Both Sirius' and James' wands flew from their hands, but as Severus caught Black's swiftly in an outstretched hand, James, with lightning reflexes, snatched his from the air and countered with a spell of his own before Severus had time to react.
"Scourgify!" he shouted.
The next minute, Severus felt as though he was going to throw up and choke at the same time as foul, soapy froth gargled up from the back of his throat, filling his mouth, stopping him breathing. He fell to his knees, coughing and spluttering violently. He could hear Potter and Pettigrew laughing in the background. Black shouted, "Nice one, James. He could be doing with a good scrub." This elicited another round of laughter. Then the red mist descended and Severus, focusing wholly and entirely on the spell he was about to perform, rose a shaky hand and pointed his wand at Sirius Black. He wasn't about to lie down at the feet of the Arch Idiot and be humiliated by his sidekick. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to cause Black the greatest amount of pain imaginable.
Concidero! he thought with all his might.
There was a noise like metal cutting through air followed by a shocked hiss of someone drawing breath sharply. Blood spattered in an arc across the opposite wall. There was a cry of outrage and he felt himself being hauled up roughly by the collar. The bubbles were still frothing from his mouth, making him gag, and his face felt as though it was on fire.
"You're a nutter," James hissed into his ear. "And you're disgusting. Don't think I don't know what kind of stuff all you Slytherins are into. You make me sick—"
"James! Whoa, mate!" Sirius voice called out in warning.
James Potter whirled round, with Severus still spluttering in his grip, to find himself face to face with Professor Sweet. Instantly, with a jolt of pain, Severus felt his knees hit the floor. The bubbles stopped and he gasped for breath. Sweet had his wand drawn and had stepped forward out from the shadows, observing the Gryffindor boys with an unsettling impassivity. The young Professor looked different from usual today, but that was probably because he had forsaken his academic robes in favour of a greyish blue frock-coat, with a white starched shirt and neck-tie and neatly pressed trousers. The effect amounted to something altogether less aesthetically severe, but the look in the man's eyes quashed all such superficial fancies.
"What are you doing here, Severus? Shouldn't you be at lunch?" Sweet asked quietly, not taking his eyes off Potter and his cronies.
"I'm sorry, Professor," Severus replied, his voice hoarse from coughing and his face going red from the admission he was about to make. "But I... I came to talk to you."
Sweet stared at him curiously for a moment, then turned back to Potter, Pettigrew and Black.
"There will be fifty points missing from the Gryffindor hourglass by the time you return to the Great Hall," he said coldly. "You will also serve a weekend's detention each, separately, and with me. Now get out of my sight."
Without another word, Potter, Black and Pettigrew headed off downstairs towards the Great Hall - but not before Black threw Sweet a startlingly filthy glare. Sweet ignored it, and continued to watch them, his blue eyes boring into the backs of their heads, until they rounded the corner and were out of sight. Then he turned on his heel and marched down the corridor, motioning Severus to follow him. He unlocked a door about halfway down and stepped though. A little bemused, Severus entered behind him.
Sweet's office was not what he had expected. For some reason, he was looking for a sparse and inhospitable environment: bricked-up windows, the only light coming from an oil-burning lamp or two; dusty tomes piled high in bookshelves; a few ancient, battered pieces of furniture arranged solemnly upon the floor - that sort of thing.
Instead he emerged into a light, airy room with an oak floor and tall windows. White curtains stretched down to gently brush the boards, and the sun streamed in. There were lots of books, but only a few remained in their bookcases. The rest of them were stacked high in teetering piles around Sweet's ridiculously messy desk, looking as though they were consulted on a regular basis. There was a beautiful rosewood piano in the centre of the room and a gramophone next to it, which was surrounded by a scattering of records, among them reading: Scarlatti, J. S. Bach, Handel, Purcell, Haydn, Beethoven, Mozart. Some of the names were vaguely familiar to Severus - classical composers, he mused - though he had never listened to any of them before. His dad was more into the Beatles and the Stones, so his exposure to music had been pretty much limited to what his dad tuned into on the wireless.
"You like it?" Sweet asked with a smile, indicating the piano.
"Yes, it's beautiful," Severus answered truthfully. "I was looking at your records, too. You like your classical music, don't you?"
Sweet nodded. Then he walked over to the piano and sat down, flicking out his coattails as he did so before conjuring a seat and a cup of tea for Severus. Severus accepted it gratefully and sat down and watched, enthralled, as the young Professor began to play.
It was a more cheerful melody than the one he'd played at Slughorn's disastrous gathering: quick, sharp and jaunty with lots of clashing chords. Sweet made a few mistakes, but every time he did, he just blinked, smiled a little and soldiered on. Not that it mattered to Severus. He didn't notice and thought it was wonderful. When Sweet finished, Severus gave him a tentative round of applause, which made his favourite Professor laugh.
"You're a first year and already you're patronising me," he said with a shake of his head. "That was a lamentable performance. I'm afraid I'm no professional."
Severus shrugged. "I couldn't tell," he replied, honestly. "It was good. You're very good."
It was Sweet's turn to shrug. "My mother and father thought it prudent that my sisters should pursue suitable social accomplishments, and they hounded them ceaselessly to learn an instrument," he said with his wry smile. "Ironically, I was the one who was most keen to learn. As soon as they left Hogwarts, my sisters stopped completely, but I carried on," he finished, playing a little chord.
"Could you teach me?" Severus asked impulsively, regretting it instantly.
He blinked and shook his head, muttering something that passed for an apology, and looked away, cursing himself for being so damned forward.
Sweet observed him solemnly for a moment, a thin finger tracing his lips, before he smiled and said, in a low voice, "Will you be willing to practise? You should know well enough by now that I don't suffer fools gladly."
Severus swallowed and nodded quickly.
"Excellent," Sweet said, turning again to the piano and starting to play while continuing his conversation. "That's all I needed to hear. Oh, and while you've agreed to take piano lessons, I would also be willing give you some pointers on helping improve your hexes," he added slyly. "I believe there are a few young Gryffindorian men of your acquaintance who need taking down a peg or three?"
This remark made Severus positively glow.
"Of course, Professor," he said happily. "I'd be only too glad—"
He trailed off, noticing that Sweet had stopped playing and had fixed his cool gaze upon one of the tall windows.
"Your dragon is floating just outside my window," Sweet said quietly. "I don't think it's very happy about you being here."
Severus' head whipped round. Sure enough, Muninn was there, hovering effortlessly in mid-air, its eyes narrowed to slits. Sweet was right. Muninn didn't look at all happy. Lily must have been true to her word and told the dragon where he was. His stomach tied itself into a guilty knot.
"It isn't," Severus said, as he stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder. "It still hates you for getting it with the Binding Curse on the train, I think."
"I see," Sweet said thoughtfully, falling into a long silence, his eyes still locked upon the dragon.
"Errr..." Severus began, when Sweet showed no signs of surfacing from his reverie, "When should I—?"
"Thursday afternoon when you're timetabled for Practical Defence," Sweet interrupted, anticipating his question. "I'm not doing much, anyway," he added sardonically, before he resumed his curious staring match with Muninn.
Muninn was waiting for him, perched rigidly upon the statue of Hesper Starkey when he neared the entrance to the Slytherin common room. As soon as he opened his mouth to tell Muninn to shut up - because he knew what it was going to say - Muninn went ahead anyway and said what Severus knew it was going to say. This made Severus angry, and the fact that he had told the dragon to shut up made it angry too. It wasn't long before the two were locked in a fierce, furious whispering match.
"Don't know why you're so worked up about it!" Severus hissed, waving his hands in the air. "Oh no, wait, I do—"
"It is nothing to do with the train, Severus," Muninn spat, its blue eyes flashing. "He wants something from you, of that I am sure! I know what happened at Horace Slughorn's party. I know what made Icarus Sweet do what he did. Horace Slughorn mentioned your mother and Icarus Sweet was ashamed—!" At this, Severus opened his mouth to protest in outrage, but Muninn overrode him. "When your mother was mentioned, something he did, something Icarus Sweet did to her made him ashamed. He could not face being exposed, and so he silenced Horace Slughorn."
Severus had been listening to Muninn, his head cocked sceptically to one side, his arms folded in stony silence.
"Alright," he conceded, his voice dangerously quiet, "you have a point. I'll admit it. I can't say that I wasn't thinking along the same lines. But if I'm going to find out, then what better way to do it than to have an excuse to go up to his office every week?"
Muninn said nothing. Severus, it appeared, was victorious. But before he could gloat, Wilkes appeared round the corner.
"Alright, Snape?" Wilkes called out excitedly, until he spotted Muninn and stopped short.
"Be careful of him," Muninn insisted, its words entering Severus' thoughts for only him to hear, before fluttering down to land on his shoulders in order to glare at Isidore Wilkes.
"Wilkes," Severus replied, acknowledging his fellow first year by inclining his head.
"Err... yes," Wilkes began hesitantly, his eyes locked on Muninn. "Bellatrix— Bellatrix Black has some news. She asked specifically that you come to hear it. Evan and Dunstan are already inside—"
Not again.
"Fine, fine!" Severus said, waving a hand irritably. "I'll come and listen to Bellatrix Black ranting on about Mudbloods for the umpteenth time. I was just about to go in, anyway."
"Alihotsy!" he snapped, and the stone door slid open.
He strode past Wilkes with Muninn wrapped around his shoulders and emerged into the Slytherin common room. The place was normally welcoming and comfortable (if never quite cosy) and there was always something of interest going on, whether it was Lucius Malfoy talking politics, or just a group of students discussing the day's lessons. Today, it was different. In the middle of the room, her proud figure silhouetted in the firelight, surrounded by Slytherins young and old, sat Bellatrix Black. Her grey eyes glittered as she regaled her captivated audience with what appeared to be a scintillating tale. It wasn't her usual Mudblood rant, that was for sure.
At the sound of his approach, Bellatrix looked up and caught his eye. Everyone turned to stare. With a sharp smile, she nodded and gestured to an empty seat. A cold sensation flooded the pit of Severus' stomach.
They've kept that seat for me...
Trying not to look afraid, Severus nodded graciously at the older Slytherin girl and took his seat. Wilkes stood behind him, leaning on the high-back of the chair.
What's the hell's going on? Well whatever it is, it's big. It must be, to have everyone here like this...
It wasn't long before he found out.
Bellatrix resumed her story, adopting a strangely awed, hushed tone Severus had never heard her use before. Her pale face was flushed and she trembled slightly as she spoke.
"I came into his presence," she whispered, as though speaking in a sacred place. "I came into his presence and almost wept at his feet. The man - no, for he is much, much more than a man - our Saviour, the one who will cleanse our world and rid us of the pestilence of Mudbloods, was standing before me. As I knelt in the darkness before him, he spoke of what wonders he could teach me, of all I could learn under his watchful eye far from the clutches of the Old Fool. He told me that with my help, he could once again raise our families to the glorious position they once rightly occupied, to force the wizarding world to recognise and to respect our birthright, our superiority. He told me all this, and at once I knew that I was destined to follow him. The Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort. Our leader. Our Saviour."
"You met him?" Severus heard Rosier gasp in awe, the fire cracking and spitting in the background.
"Yes, little cousin," Bellatrix replied with an elated smile. "I have met him. Rodolphus has met him, and we have joined with him."
There was a sudden frission around the circle of Slytherins - of what Severus did not know. Was it excitement? Perhaps apprehension? Or both at once? Severus didn't know what the rest of his House thought, but he knew how he felt. He felt sick.
Wilkes clapped him on the back and whispered "Now that's something, eh, Snape?" but Severus couldn't bring himself to answer. He just nodded mutely and, after mumbling his congratulations in Bellatrix's general direction, he made an excuse about being tired and having a headache, and then headed to his bed as though in a daze. He didn't care when he saw the looks the others gave him, when he heard the whispers following him out of the common room.
When he reached his bed, he ripped the curtains back angrily, closed them, and threw himself onto the mattress, burying his head in his pillows.
"What is wrong, Severus?" he heard Muninn ask gently.
Severus sniffed a little. Angry tears threatened at the corners of his eyes. He had grown so used to the dragon perching on his shoulders he'd forgot it was there.
"Why was I Sorted into Slytherin?" he whispered, his voice quavering. "All this talk about cleansing the wizarding world of Mudbloods and Muggles and... and blood-traitors - it's making me ill!
I mean, why do they follow him? WHY? I know they don't know - and I'm glad they don't know - but it was his fault. He was the one who hurt mum. It was him... It was him and his followers..."
Then the tears that had been threatening to fall earlier finally spilled onto his pillow. Severus wept quietly for a while, his small shoulders shaking with fury and grief at the injustice of it all. He choked back a sob as he felt Muninn nuzzle its delicate head under his chin in an attempt to comfort him. It didn't really work, but Severus appreciated it nonetheless. For a very long time, Severus just lay there on his back upon his bed, stroking Muninn's soft, blue mane, staring into space.
He didn't attend any more of his classes that day. Or the day after that.
AN: Yes, Sweet plays the piano. He would be a Hogwarts pin-up if he only he could resist the temptation to AK the photographer and along with the poor sod who would dare suggest a photoshoot. Yes, he is a complete and utter nutter. And I like him like that. grin
I've given you the jist of what happened to Severus' mum. You'll find out exactly what happened and the effects of it in the next chapter.
Once again, cheers for all your support, guys. Your reviews mean a lot to me.
Chapter eight: Severus goes nuts! Angst and nasty thoughts abound - be warned! T'will be dark.