Chapter 7
The Hogwarts grounds were a little foggy, and mostly deserted. It was an unseasonably chilly late May evening when Snape met up with some of the D.A.S. in the shadow of the castle walls.
"So the next one to pass by alone, that's who we'll do them on, right?" Gibbon was fidgety, bouncing on the balls of his feet and craning his neck to see if anyone was coming.
"We know, Gibbon," said Avery in a bored voice. "But it's not even your turn, it's Snape's first night, since he's deigned to show up for once."
Snape ignored the jibe. "Isn't this a little exposed for practicing highly illegal curses?" he asked smoothly. It was almost full dark, but the expanse of grass in front of them seemed very open.
"Relax, Snape," said Avery. "We've been meeting here for weeks, never a problem yet. Which you would know if you were serious about the Society."
Snape felt a pang of worry – was this how things stood now? – but kept his face smooth. It wouldn't do to show weakness. "Some of us spend a little time studying, Avery," he said, still using the silky voice he'd been cultivating lately. "You should try it some time. I might not have to spend so much time teaching you the more creative hexes if you did." Avery's face reddened.
Snape smiled – a point scored. "I suppose someone is going to come along eventually? It just seems rather random for effective practice." To himself, he was thinking that he couldn't stay all night; he was supposed to meet Selda for more Imperius practice later, after she was done working with Madame Pomfrey in the infirmary. They had been at it at least once a week for months now, with no success. Snape thought it might be because she was already under one, and thus it was like trying to break two curses at once, and the first one remarkably strong. Even with the snogging afterward, it was still grueling work every time, with Selda shaking with terror barely held in check. And he wouldn't want her to come looking for him here.
Mulciber spoke. "Practice, Snape?" His deep, heavy voice seemed amused. "This isn't practice. It's time for you to prove you're willing to really use Unforgiveables." He looked Snape up and down. "Don't worry, we'll do a memory charm after. No one's going to know. And even if they did – we could just leave. Who needs N.E.W.T.s when the Dark Lord is waiting to take us in?" He smiled a little. "Well, if you do well tonight, anyway. You're talented, Snape, it'd be a shame for you to miss out."
Snape let his eyelids droop and smirked a little at Mulciber, hiding the twist of anxiety in his gut. Mulciber, always styling himself the leader, just because his father was already a high-ranking Death Eater. And we let him, Snape thought, because just maybe he does have some influence, and who wants to run grunt-work errands if you could avoid it, if you could somehow start a little higher up come summer…. It was all very well to think that his own considerable abilities could earn him a place, but he wasn't stupid enough to discount any possible advantages. He hoped someone would come by soon so he could get it over with. Maybe it would be Potter, though he shouldn't expect to be so lucky….
"Here we go," said Gibbon, pointing to an approaching figure.
Snape looked, and felt something clamp down inside him, like a steel trap on his innards. It was Selda. She was walking from the direction of the greenhouses, carrying a tall basket of something leafy.
He glanced sidelong at Mulciber. There was a trace of smugness on his face. You planned this, thought Snape. Or at least hoped for it. He knew Mulciber was just waiting for him to object, and that that would be the end of his Death Eater ambitions. His mind raced – how could he warn her off, without betraying himself?
Too late. She was close now. Avery and Gibbon had disappeared into the shadows. "Come on then," said Mulciber, and pushed Snape forward with a hand on his shoulder.
Selda hesitated, peering at the movement through the darkness, then saw Snape and seemed to relax.
"Severus? What…?" she began, but just then Avery said, "Immobulus!" from behind her, and she was frozen in place, her eyes wide, hands still closed on the two basket handles. Avery and Gibbon came around from behind, so that the four of them stood in a semi-circle in front of her.
"A little fun at last. Here, isn't this one of yours, Snape?" Avery asked, and flicked his wand. An ugly cut appeared across Selda's left cheek, trickling blood. Gibbon laughed nastily.
"That's not what we're here for," Mulciber said. "It's Snape's big night. Go on, then."
"Yeah, use crucio," said Gibbon eagerly.
Snape stepped forward slowly, his wand out. The steel trap inside him felt like it was crushing his lungs. He could feel Selda's eyes on him, panicked, and he did the only thing he could think of.
"Imperio!"
Avery released his immobilizing charm, and Selda stood motionless, but no longer frozen. The basket she was holding dropped to the ground and fell over, spilling night-blooming gillyflower across the grass. The slightly over-sweet scent drifted around them.
Once again, Snape held the connection tightly, but this time because he was afraid his emotions would get the better of him, that he would lose control and then what would happen? If Selda tried to fight them… Mulciber might use the killing curse on her. Or even him, for that matter. Mulciber was unpredictable at best. Better the Imperius than the Cruciatus. Wasn't it? There had to be something he could do to solve this mess, to separate the parts of his life again, he just needed time to think. Besides, whispered that nasty voice in his mind again, memory charm. What she doesn't remember….
He shuddered. Again, he could feel Selda inside the curse, a mouse in a bag, or a bird battering against glass. The trap bit harder inside him.
"Ahh, excellent," said Mulciber. "Make her kneel."
Uneasily, Snape did. She seemed almost shrunken, a small figure in the grass, her eyes blank.
"Now what?" asked Avery. "What next?"
"Oh," said Mulciber, stepping forward, "I can think of a few things."
Snape felt sick. Unwillingly, he had the tiny thought, Lily was right about you…. "No," he began. "Think of something else…."
"Squeamish?" Mulciber spoke low and dangerously. "What a disappointment." He nodded at Gibbon, who grinned and lifted his wand, pointing it at Selda. "Cru-"
In that second, although he held the Imperius as tightly as ever, Snape felt a jolt, as though the glass of the curse had exploded in his hands. The force of it made him stagger and slip, falling to his hands and knees. At the same instant, Selda whipped out her wand and was surrounded by her glowing shield. The Cruciatus curse Gibbon was casting rebounded against the surface and hit Avery, who fell to the ground, screaming. Mulciber turned quickly toward her, raising his wand, but not quickly enough; she hit him with a stunning spell that knocked him twenty feet backwards. Gibbon turned to run, and ended up in a double somersault from another stunning spell.
Avery was still wailing on the ground, and Selda stunned him as well. The sudden silence pounded in Snape's ears. He looked up – her wand was pointed right between his eyes.
He stared at the wand tip, only a few feet in front of him, because he couldn't bring himself to look at her face. Even still, he could see there were tears running down her cheeks, silvery in the shield-light. He felt… the steel trap inside him was still there, chewing his organs to pieces, crushing everything… the torn edges grated together, painfully, dissonantly. The walls of his life were crumbling, threatening collapse, and he had no idea what to do without them. He had no life without them. What did I do, he thought. Then he opened his mouth and it only got worse.
"Lily, I…." He heard his own words and wanted to bite his tongue right out.
The wand trembled in front of him, but she didn't shout. "'Lily,'" she said, so quietly he almost couldn't hear her, and shook her head. "Severus, you never would have done this to Lily."
His mouth dropped open. "Selda, I… I tried… I couldn't…." Pathetic whining, said that nasty voice, but he would have gone on anyway; she cut him off.
"Tried? Tried?" Her voice shook. "You couldn't try to just… help me? Say no to your friends? You…"
Here it comes, Snape thought. Monster, vampire – as if she had to tell him. As if he didn't already know it himself.
"Coward," she said. Her voice was low, and nearly emotionless, in spite of the tears still streaming from her eyes, dripping off her chin.
They stared at each other. He let his head fall, till he was looking at the ground.
The silver light of the shield dimmed, and when he looked up again she had let her wand arm drop.
"It was my father," she said quietly.
Snape looked at her sharply. It worked?
She stood very still, very straight, her eyes unfocused. "He did the Imperius on me every year, just before school, so I couldn't tell anyone the things he did. To me, to other children in the neighborhood." She faltered, closing her eyes. "He made me bring them to the house. He wiped their memories after. I used to wish he'd do that to me, but he never did." Her hand strayed up to her throat, as if of its own accord. "I used to scream… he started casting the silencing charm on me, beforehand, but my throat would still be raw for days afterwards." Her eyes still closed, she swayed where she stood. Snape made a convulsive movement, as if to catch her, but her eyes snapped open. "Don't. Touch me."
At that moment, he became conscious of running footsteps behind him.
"Griselda?" It was the voice of Madame Pomfrey, a little out of breath. "Are you all right? I saw lights from the window, and screaming—"
"Merlin's beard!" This was Professor Flitwick, Charms teacher, his voice even squeakier than usual with astonishment. "What happened here?"
Snape looked around – three students unconscious, Selda looking shaky, with blood and tears all over her face, and his stomach sank. It was really the end this time.
Madame Pomfrey took one look at Selda, glared at Snape, and immediately said, "Everyone up to the infirmary, and we will sort this out there." She and Flitwick levitated Mulciber, Gibbon, and Avery, and they all marched back up to the front of the castle.
Snape felt like he could barely walk through the corridors as they approached the hospital wing. He didn't dare run… and how was he going to explain this to Mulciber, when he eventually woke up? They would be expelled for sure, or even sent to Azkaban. A thought crossed his spinning mind: If you help them sneak out tonight…. The pieces of his life grated against each other. Name of Merlin! What is wrong with you? he thought. After everything that's happened… His head hurt, he couldn't think.
You need to know what you want. This thought came clear and heavy, like dropping a stone into the lake, but it was followed closely by the familiar nastiness: Or what you deserve….
They entered the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey must have somehow summoned the headmaster, because Dumbledore was standing there waiting for them, his eyes very grave over his half-moon spectacles. Reflexively, Snape summoned up all his powers of Occlumency. Though much good it'll do, he thought, despairingly.
Dumbledore watched silently as Madame Pomfrey and Flitwick settled the three boys onto beds. "What happened, Poppy?" he asked in a quiet voice once she had turned around.
Madame Pomfrey seated Selda on a fourth bed, and spoke angrily. "I'm not sure, Headmaster. I sent my assistant here out, for night-blooming gillyflower from the greenhouses – oh, I'm sorry, dear!" She interrupted herself, in the middle of dabbing Selda's cut face with an ointment, and placed a hand on her arm. "I should have gone with you. Bad things have been happening this year, strange injuries, students with muddled memories…" She glared again at Snape, who stood very still, stony-faced; then turned her attention back to Dumbledore. "Then I heard screams, very faintly from the grounds, and saw lights, and I hurried out, I met Filius in the hall and asked him to accompany me…."
Dumbledore turned a questioning eye on Flitwick, and he spoke in his squeaky voice. "And we found these five on the lawns. The three boys look to be heavily Stunned, to me."
Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes turned now to Selda, seated on the bed, and to Snape, standing to one side. "Can you tell me what happened, Miss Yewmarsh?" he asked quietly.
Selda nodded, and drew a breath. "These three attacked me," she said. "As I was coming back from the greenhouses. The flowers all spilled…. But I was able to Stun them."
"Quite the feat, Miss Yewmarsh," said Dumbledore. "I congratulate you."
"What about Mr. Snape here?" Madame Pomfrey asked, eyes narrowed, as she rather hovered over Selda. "I know he's friends with these hooligans. Did he attack you as well?"
Snape said nothing, but neither did he look at Selda. There was a long pause.
"No," she said, at last, quietly. "He was trying to help."
There was a silence in the room. Madame Pomfrey looked skeptical, Flitwick puzzled, and Dumbledore simply stood quietly, watching.
Snape stared at Selda. What was this? Not forgiveness. He wasn't that naïve.
"But Professor Dumbledore," Selda went on, her voice loud but quavering. "I have something else I need to tell you, to report." She swallowed. "About my father."
"Very well, Miss Yewmarsh," Dumbledore answered. "Would you like to discuss this now, or privately?"
"Now, please," she said. "If Madame Pomfrey and Professor Flitwick would stay as well…." She looked at Snape. "You can go, Severus," she said quietly.
Snape blinked, and took a step back. Madame Pomfrey looked like she was ready to object, but Dumbledore nodded. "I will want to see you in my office in the morning, Mr. Snape," he said, "to discuss the evening's events."
"Yes, sir." Snape took another step backwards. Selda did not look at him again. He clenched his hands into fists and walked down the long hall and out the heavy doors.
He made it down to the dungeons before he had to stop and lean against one of the classroom doors. The trap in his chest was still there, hard and cutting, but he felt he had nothing left for it to bite. This is what you get for wanting to help… sneered the nasty voice. He raised a hand to rub his forehead and noticed that it was trembling. Stop that, he ordered it harshly, clenching it into a fist and striking the heavy wooden door behind him.
It doesn't matter, none of it matters, he thought. He would build the walls again. She can take care of herself now, she's better off without me anyway. And so am I. Less than a month until N.E.W.T.s and then he would be gone, on to bigger things.
Better monster than prey, he told himself, coldly. And no more distractions.