Chapter 11 Help Yourself
Snape spent the next two weeks absolutely pissed, vacillating between fear and anger. Drunken oblivion, however, did not quiet the twin voices that taunted him. What have I done? and What are you going to do now? rang out endlessly in his head. He did not leave his suite, and amazingly enough, Minerva and the rest of the staff let him be. Other than the furtive presence of cleaning house-elves, he was left to do exactly as he pleased. So he drank, and when he ran out of alcohol, he started to raid his potions stores.
Accordingly, he woke up naked on the floor; or rather, he re-gained consciousness sometime midday to a blinding sunlight branding him with what was surely to be a wicked sunburn. Crawling over to one of his unpacked boxes, he fished out a phial of hangover cure out and swallowed in one go. Proceeding to drag his sorry corpse to the shower, and sat under scalding hot water until he felt marginally alive. After dressing, he downed a second phial of the hangover cure, and summoned a house-elf for food.
Basic needs taken care of, he sat numbly at the kitchen table, debating if he could make it to the bed to sleep, or if the sofa was the safer bet. Slowly, it dawned on him that duelling voices in his head had finally gone silent. Taking that as a hint, he made for the sofa. Unconsciousness quickly followed.
When he woke again, it was the ripening purples of dusk and an insistent knocking at the door.
Flinging the door open expecting to find the Headmistress, he was startled to find a student and hastily bit off the scathing greeting on his tongue. He stared, wondering if the boy was some sort of drink-induced hallucination. He would have sworn that Minerva had told him that the floor had been warded to prevent students from entering...
"Are you quite finished?" the dark haired child drawled, his manner and tone such a spot on reproduction of Lucius Malfoy that he was reduced to blinking stupidly down at him.
The boy's robes proclaimed him Slytherin. Whilst he wore a prefect's badge, his face still had the soft edges of youth; he couldn't be more than fifteen. A fifth year perhaps?
"Children," Snape said, placing heavy emphasis on the first word, "...are not allowed on this floor."
"And yet, here I am." the boy stated flatly. "To repeat: are you finished hiding in your rooms, or will I be forced to go to the Headmistress for help?"
He glared down at the boy, feeling the oncoming weight of responsibilities bearing down upon him. What are you going to do, Severus Snape? taunted that damnable voice again.
"In." He ground out, and opened the door wider. The boy walked past him with a satisfied swish of robes.
Snape followed him in, and lowered himself back onto the sofa gratefully. The boy chose to stand with his back to the windows, the fading twilight granting his countenance a nimbus of mystery. He had the smooth cheeked appearance of a child well-loved and cared for, and his strong and symmetrical face held the promise of forthcoming masculine beauty.
"Who are you?" he finally asked.
"Aelius Greengrass. I am the Slytherin Prefect."
"The Slytherin Prefect?" he queried.
"There are only thirty-six of us. There are no Slytherin seventh years, and only two sixth years, both of whom wanted nothing to with House Duties. The girl that was made prefect along with me left at the start of the year. Thus, I am the only Slytherin Prefect."
"And the Headmistress did not see fit to promote another in her place? Professor Slughorn did not step into the breach?" His head started to pound, and he could feel the beginnings of anger stirring.
"There were no suitable fifth-years to take her place; I convinced Headmistress McGonagall that we should be left to handle our own matters. She allowed it." Snape noted that Greengrass did not address that matter of Slughorn.
"And clearly, that was a wise choice as you are now at my door, requesting aid." he said with no little sarcasm.
Anger flickered in the boy's eyes. "We were perfectly fine until you decided to return. Given that you are the reason the entire House is in a state of disorder, it only seemed fair that you be part of the solution. Unless, of course, you would prefer to continue hiding. In that case, I'm sure the Headmistress will be more than happy to assist Slytherin House..." Greengrass matched his sarcasm with equal snideness.
"As you have pointed out several times, I have not left my quarters. I fail to see how I could have been the cause of any sort of petty drama or House issues." Snape rose from the sofa, fighting the urge pace. To run.
"Oh, really? Let us think: Seven years ago, you unleashed a killing curse on the remaining Death Eaters. Do you know how many current Slytherins lost a parent or close family member to that little bit of magic? More than half of us!" Rage darkened the boy's treble tone to a deeper baritone. "For some reason, the Slytherins are are rather afraid of what will happen once you take control of the House. I can't imagine why!"
The boy's words were like a bucket of cold water, effectively dousing his temper. Drawing up the cold shields of Occlumency, he pulled his flailing thoughts inward and submerged them into the far depths of his mind.
The urge to pace abruptly disappeared; he found himself looming over the boy in a intimidating pose that would familiar with countless generations of Hogwarts students. He stayed silent for a long moment, until the ire in the boy crystallized into fear. Finally, he spoke.
"You will call a House meeting in the common room an hour from now. Everyone will be present; I will tolerate no excuses nor absences. Is that understood, Mr. Greengrass?"
Pale faced, the boy nodded. "Go." Greengrass made for the door. "And Mr. Greengrass- do not make the mistake of forgetting... you requested my assistance."
Snape stood at the window for a moment, looking out into the placid depths of the lake. Aware he was doing nothing more than stalling, he pushed away from the window and walked to the bedroom. Opening up the wardrobe, he selected a set of his more formal robes. At first glance, they appeared to be nothing more than his normal black wool. Under candlelight however, the fabric shimmered with a faint dark green sheen. Let them not forget that I too am a Slytherin...
As he stripped off his t-shirt, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. The two previous weeks had not been kind. He had lost weight, and so long without running meant that he looked skinny rather than merely lean. His complexion, never a becoming shade of white, was yellowed-tinged, and his upper body was littered with various scars and hex-marks. Most prominent, of course, was the vivid remains of Nagini's bite and the faded Dark Mark. Well, at least you don't have to do much to look the part of a monster.
Casting a quick cleaning charm on the robes, he pulled on a white undershirt and began to button up the many fastenings of the frock coat. He could of used a charm for that task as well, but he'd found over the years that the mechanical, repetitive act of buttoning served to mentally re-enforce the public persona that he wished to project; it was like strapping on armour. Lastly, he pulled his dragon-hide boots over wool socks.
He looked at the mirror a final time. Gone were the Muggle clothes. Gone were any fears, doubts or vulnerabilities. Professor Snape had returned to Hogwarts.
Snape strode through the dark stone hallways of Hogwarts as if eight years had not eclipsed. He came upon several groups of students in the corridors; the first, a group of Ravenclaws, had frozen in place with identical looks of silent terror, appearing for all the world as if they had been petrified. As he passed three Hufflepuffs near the Great Hall, one student screamed and ran other direction while the others huddled together in a tight ball. He gave the group a look of withering scorn, and continued down to Horace Slughorn's quarters and office.
He knocked on the door perfunctorily; without waiting for an answer, he opened it and walked in. The wards were so poorly cast that even a first year would have no problem entering. Indolent, stupid man! Stepping through the wildly disorganized office to the private rooms beyond, he found similar chaos. The rooms had been decorated in Slughorn's typically ostentatious style, and there were small piles of paper, books and miscellanea stacked on every available surface. The house-elves had managed to keep the rubbish under control, but it made little difference in the grand scheme of things.
Slughorn was dozing on the sofa; his red and blue striped pyjamas clashed horribly with the plaid chintz of the cushions. He stirred when Snape pushed a pile of books from a straight-backed chair to the floor and sat down.
"Severus..." Slughorn slurred. Merlin, are there any professors left at Hogwarts who haven't taken to drinking? Next I'll find that Flitwick has a long standing drug habit. "I wondered when you'd be down to see me. I don't mind telling you, I was right chuffed when Minerva told me that you'd be coming back... " The man's eyes drooped from half-mast to mostly shut as his voice trailed off. Slughorn was as bad off as Minerva had described; indeed, he had aged even worse than she had.
"Undoubtedly," Snape intoned, voice causing Slughorn's rheumy eyes to focus again on him, "You will be doubly pleased then when I tell you that I will be taking over Head of House duties from this point onward."
"Oh... you will? Bless you, Severus." Slughorn smiled, looking as if the weight of the world had been taken off his rounded shoulders. "I don't suppose that you've reconsidered picking up the teaching load as well?"
"No. That will be yours until end of term."
"No harm in asking, is there? Still though, you will find that there is little to do. Shouldn't disturb you at all. There are so few Slytherins, and the Greengrass boy takes care of most everything. Why, I can't recall the last time I even had to deal with any students outside of office hours..."
The man chuckled a little sleepily, the siren call of unconsciousness clearly winning. "Any problems you have will come from the other Houses... but you already know that. You should have seen the reactions to the news of your return. Minerva announced it at dinner several weeks back. Put everyone off their chow, it did... The students sent out so many letters that the Owlery was empty for a week. And the headlines of the newspapers! Calling for Minerva's head, each and everyone of them."
"And how did the Slytherins react to the news?" He kept his voice uninflected.
It took Slughorn several seconds to reply. "Not a peep amongst them. Just kept eating. No one's come to me with a problem..." His head started to nod into the armrest.
Snape rose and watched Slughorn, fighting the urge to hex the sleeping man. Little wonder Minerva was willing to welcome me back with open arms. The utter neglect of the man! As if any Slytherin would be so open as to display emotions of that sort... With that thought, he turned and walked out of the room.
Snape did not run into any other students during his second sojourn down the halls of Hogwarts. Instead, he turned a corner and found Minerva waiting for him. Anger crackled through him at the sight of her.
"Do you have anything to say to me, Headmistress?" he fairly snarled.
She gazed back him, face calm except for the stubborn tilt of her chin. He found the gesture oddly reminiscent of Granger. "Only that I trust you, Severus."
"Any other placating words before I go in?"
"The password is victis honor." She stepped back, hands decorously clasped together. A picture of demure, uncomplicated womanhood if there ever was one. Not as manipulative as Dumbledore my arse!
"Honour to the vanquished? How... appropriate." Sparing her a final glare, he swept past her and made for the entrance to the Slytherin Dungeon.
Author's Postscript: Happy weekend once again! As always, I want to start by thanking my beta, Muggle Jane, and all you wonderful readers. It so fun to read your reactions to this story! It definitely lets me know if I am on the right track. Shout outs to Fire The Canon, SlytherinWitch1, punkyredhead, LoveInTheBattleField, Luna de Papel, orlando switch, and Smithback who all left comments- they are much appreciated! Punkyredhead, great comment first of all, and you so far have come closest to correctly guessing the origins of the chapter title "Excrement and Oscillators. I'll give you another hint- this is an older film that shares a birth year with Harry Potter, and it also taught me to never order the fish. Surely that's clear enough?
Orlando switch, your comment was spot on. Indeed, "switching from survival to actually fully living your life is one of the most difficult things to do." It is a truly sisyphean task, and one I would not wish on my worst enemy.
And alas, Luna De Papel, if you did not like the ending to the previous chapter, I fear that you will not like this one. A cliff is a cliff, no matter how skillfully disguised...
And finally, thanks to all of the new folks who followed and favourited the story this week. I love getting to learn a little about those who are reading, and best of all, what other stories you recommend!
Coming up Tomorrow: A Showdown at the Slytherin Corral...