Chapter 37: Deciphering Deception

Severus Snape doubted very much that he had ever been in a more foul mood. Not only had he slept at least half of his Sunday away, but when he had awoken, he had been alone, which had promptly filled him with terror. Seconds afterward, he had become incredibly irritated for having been terrified. The anger filled him, warm and familiar. Various levels of anger were a useful tool and had served him well over the years, and he was becoming increasingly concerned how quickly Lily and now Hermione had basically torn down what defenses he'd built over the years to shut everything out in only a weekend. It was like being dragged out of a deep, silent cave into the sunlight. The sensory experience was overwhelming.

He'd read the note she'd left him, going on about how she'd be right back as soon as she'd gotten a change of clothing and some vaguely defined "important items."

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The thing was, she might have written the note five seconds or five hours before. There was no real way of knowing. How would she be able to get back into his offices if she were to return? All he could think about was what would happen if she accidentally transformed. It wouldn't take much. There were a number of incredibly crude little bastards in Gryffindor, well to be honest, in the school in general. They were still teenagers, after all. And she was friends with that Weasley boy...AND Potter. Ugh. He didn't even want to think that he may have kissed the lips of someone who had kissed that troublemaking little shit.

But her lips had been so soft and-

He'd shaken his head. He couldn't let himself get caught up in sentimental musings. He had to find her before things got out of hand.

I need a reason to be there. Ah, yes, a book. It's always a book with Hermione. Not ideal, but it'll do.

He grabbed his personal copy of a book that he knew was also in the Restricted Section from his library and secured it in a deep pocket within his robes. He rubbed his eyes and then ran his fingers through his hair, which was growing greasy at the roots again, even though he'd showered only two days prior.

There's nothing for it. No time.

But why was he even thinking about how he looked? It had never been any concern to him before.

A very perturbed Severus Snape sped through his offices and out the door, slamming it behind him.

Her appearance was striking when she'd opened the portrait. He'd very nearly forgotten to say something sarcastic enough to sound like his customary self. It was incredibly difficult not to stare, and he cursed internally when he realized she'd noticed. Somehow, the muggle clothing she wore made her look older and somehow more sophisticated. Well, maybe it was her glare- he had to admit she was rather skilled in that department, but that made sense seeing whose shenanigans she put up with on a regular basis. He was uncomfortably aware of how many eyes were on him as the various portraits stared disdainfully in his direction, which had been quite a lot of motivation to retreat back to a less populated space. He'd expected her to keep up with him as he'd sped down the stairs, but had forgotten that he had a much longer stride than she did. There was nothing he could do, though. Slowing down would be a kindness and kindness was a weakness, especially when there were still so many eyes on him.

I want to touch her, oh how I want an excuse to-no, it'll look suspicious.

He'd grabbed her arm to make it look more convincing to potential passersby that he'd caught her at some mischief and was dragging her off to detention. That was the excuse he gave to himself, anyway. She'd looked murderous at his touch, which was partially amusing. And when she'd threatened to kiss him, well, he began to feel the hot prickle of desire rise inside of his stomach, and it took every ounce of his strength not to tell her that she'd better be prepared to make good on her threat.

Anger. Anger and disdain. And maybe a fierce, lip curling sneer to boot. Yes. Perfect.

Instinctively, he'd snarled at her and said the first biting thing he could think of, which was hard, considering that his mind was starting to go fuzzy at the edges the way it had when she'd kissed his scars. His private library and the things they had shared together felt a million miles away, like they'd happened to someone else.

And, of course, in his anger, he'd become sloppy. He'd almost divulged the secret he'd been trying to protect, and what was worse, Dumbledore had been within earshot, sneaking up on them like some sort of damnable gauche purple cat burglar. It was only by sheer luck that the old fool had interrupted him before he'd finished his tirade.

It had been surprisingly easy to take his desire and redirect it towards his anger, especially since his plans were so completely ruined by Dumbledore's steadfast refusal to allow him to continue on his way with the girl. If the Headmaster saw him going into his office with her too often, he would grow suspicious. Snape knew that he could not make any direct attempts to fetch Hermione without drawing more attention to himself, but he did make sure to make comments about how he would be extra careful to keep an eye out to catch her at mischief next time, which, all things considered, was the best he could do with Daddy Lion Dumbledore protecting his Gryffindor cubs like the hypocritical bastard he was.

The only thing he could do after that was to retreat quickly, hoping that he looked angry enough about having been thwarted in issuing detention and nothing more. He did not wish to dwell upon what would happen if the Headmaster's curiosity were aroused. Dumbledore had a way of asking questions that bordered on maddening, and he did not want to land on Albus's bad side yet again in less than a day.

On his way down to the dungeons, Snape had handed out no less than ten detentions, taken twenty-five points from Hufflepuff for disrespectful behavior, taken fifteen points from Ravenclaw for giggling at the Hufflepuff display of cheek, and twenty points from Gryffindor for being looked at in a way he didn't like by that blowhard McLaggen. He was still highly irritated, but the rage from earlier had quieted into more of a dull roar in his chest.

He entered the Slytherin common room quietly, surprising a small group of first years who had been studying their potions textbooks and finishing up some last minute homework in a corner. He nodded at them, which was generally the extent of his affection to the students of his house, and they nodded back respectfully. He caught one of the seventh year boys bullying a half-blood second year near the fireplace, and gave them both a lecture about how solidarity in their house was more important than blood at this juncture, especially seeing as Slytherin was still only barely in the lead with Ravenclaw closing in on them, and that if they both really wanted to put as much energy into their studies and beating out the other houses for the House Cup as they were putting into their petty blood disputes, Slytherin would have won the past six years instead of being soundly thrashed into oblivion by those godawful Gryffindors.

Good. Now I'm the bad guy. I can practically feel the two of them sneering at the back of my head, united against me. There's no way to stop bullying faster than making people form alliances against Horrible Professor Snape. Pity Slughorn made no effort to do similar when I was a student. He likes being comfortable and well-liked too-bloody-much.

He almost smiled, but caught himself- it would not do to appear weak or uncharacteristically happy in the presence of students. Happiness was weakness when you were the bad guy, even muggles knew that. It was so incredibly useful to play the part of the bad guy. When you were the enemy, you could unite even the most unlikely enemies. You could push others into action, motivated by their anger. Angry enemies who didn't understand how to control the fire of rage made mistakes, and mistakes were useful. Especially when you had as many scars as Severus Snape.

It was only once he had stepped through the concealing wall from the Slytherin common room that he dared to smile, which was short-lived as he immediately found himself almost running headlong into Dumbledore. His mind immediately lit up with curses and swear words that would have made a balrog blush, but he set his jaw and simply stared malevolently at the man so that he would not show how such a sudden appearance had unnerved him.

"Ah, Severus, I had hoped to catch up to you later," Albus was pushing his half-moon spectacles back up on his nose with a finger on his good hand, "I don't suppose you might be willing to take a walk with me to discuss it?"

"I am not a fool," Snape replied darkly, "I know that this is not a request, so I suppose that I shall have to follow you."

"Oh don't be such a sourpuss, Severus," Dumbledore chuckled, and began walking at a steady pace towards the entrance to the dungeons, "I was merely suggesting that a breath of fresh air might do you good before we take our evening meal in the Great Hall."

Snape rolled his eyes behind Dumbledore's back as he followed. He had no desire for fresh air or sunlight, but he knew that Albus was rather fond of chatting while walking through the light autumn chill, and today was no different. When they reached the outer stairs to the castle, the sun was still dipping slowly over the far hill, sending deep swaths of orange and scarlet into the sky.

"Red at night, sailor's delight," the Headmaster said suddenly, as he began walking a path around the outside of the school that most of the students avoided due to its proximity to the windows of the lowest level, which Peeves and Filch both regularly used for spying and ambushes, as well as its lack of privacy for romantic liaisons.

"I am fairly certain that you did not drag me out here to recite poetry," Snape said wryly, "So I would appreciate it greatly if you could actually speak to me about the matter you've been turning about in that great white skull of yours before I lose the last shreds of my patience and say things that should probably not be said in polite company."

"I am going to speak candidly then, so I hope you will forgive me," the Headmaster turned and looked Snape up and down as though appraising him, his tone changing to a darker, more serious growl, "I am concerned with your behavior towards what I like to call the Golden Trio. Your fixation on Harry, Ron and Hermione was generally easy for me to take a blind eye to in the past because you did sprinkle in some important information in the guise of being the prickly and surly professor that we all know and love."

Snape snorted, laughing derisively at the sentiment.

"But now things have changed," Albus continued, holding his withered hand within an inch of Snape's hooked nose as though it were a dead rat, "And our timetable for preparing our three students to play their integral parts in this conflict is growing shorter. Very soon, they very well may be completely on their own, and they will need the skills to survive in the dangers that they are sure to face. I can't have you dragging any of them into time intensive or dangerous detentions when they should be preparing for the final battle...among other things."

"You do know that it will be incredibly strange if I suddenly change my normal manner of behavior," Snape crossed his arms and tried to put on his best scowl.

"Do I detect a note of sentimentality in your voice, Severus?" Albus's eyes softened again in that infuriating sympathetic way that made Snape want to scream.

"No! I-I just-It isn't wise to simply change the way that I normally interact with them because who knows how much the Dark Lord can see due to his connection with Potter. Lord knows that his occlumency skills are a sight better than our little Boy Who Lived. And while we have no confirmed instances of his interference or attempts at possession since the Ministry debacle, are we really willing to bet that he is not going to use every avenue that can be explored to his advantage?"

At this, the Headmaster's face became thoughtful and he was silent for a long moment.

"As usual, Severus, you think of things in shades and subtleties that I, in all my big picture machinations overlook," Dumbledore said finally, "Very well, you may still be your usual charming self, but let's do our best not to overly burden our young friends with anything that will keep them from learning what they need for their...future adventures. Are we understood?"

Snape sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes, "Yes, Albus, I shall endeavor to do my best to adhere to your...specifications."

The sun had almost made its way completely behind the distant hills as they fell silent, and there was a chill in the air that had not been there earlier. Albus shivered slightly and Severus guessed that the purple and gold robes he was wearing were not nearly as thick and protective as his own inky black wool cloak.

"Shall we make our way back inside for the evening meal?" he said civilly as Albus used his good hand to cover the blackened one with his sleeve in preparation for making his evening appearance in the Great Hall.

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore's face had once again become impossible to read, "I do believe that the aches and pain of my age are no match for this chill. I hear that after tonight's main course, our talented kitchen staff will be serving lemon custard for dessert. I do so love the flavor of lemon, don't you?"

Snape made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat but said nothing further as he walked in step with the Headmaster up through the main gates of the castle.