Brief British Cultural Notes:
Bum (British English) = butt (American English)
'Ta' (dark 'a', like 'car' or 'far') = thanks
'Tea' is the evening meal in some parts of the UK. It's seen as more posh/ correct to say dinner and more down to earth/ lower class to say tea, depending on the speaker/ listener.
Remember: pissed off = angry (pissed = drunk) (again, you don't need to memorise vocab, hope it's clear from 'he/ she looked pissed off' in the text!)
'I'm getting married in the morning!' is the first line of the chorus of the famous song 'Get Me to the Church on Time' from the British musical and film 'My Fair Lady'. Since it features in this chapter, you can listen, if you like, on Youtube, and Google the lyrics (maybe you'd like to know the tune, I don't know. It's simple, and catchy!) There are a few choice additions to the original lyrics from a certain canon character who likes to burst into song! (Do you think you know who?!)
Chapter Three
On Marriage and Masters,
Or,
Petty Points and Pain
"Get a bloody move on and pack your bloody things away. And get out of my classroom!"
Ginny started to gather her stuff up.
"Thanks for the heads up. And all the advice."
She looked... relieved? Determined?
"OW! What the bloody hell was that for?!"
"You don't look nearly upset enough! And ten points from Gryffindor for swearing!"
"But you just said-"
"Make that 20 for arguing back!"
"OWW! What's with the stinging hexes?!"
"So your eyes water."
"Professor!"
That Parkinson boy barging in again-
"10 points from Slytherin!"
"But Sir! We've got OWLs this year and-"
"Make that 15. To enter my classroom once without permission may be regarded as a misfortune. To do so twice looks like carelessness. Don't stand there gawping looking like a pickled lemming, boy! As you're here: tell the others to come in! As for you, Weasley: another 20 points from Gryffindor... for keeping my next class 10 minutes late!"
"But you asked me to stay!"
"30. Additional points-"
"That's so unfair!"
What the actual hell?!
"That's so unfair Sir. 70 points lost so far, and if you say another word, I'll make it a nice, round hundred!"
Good. She looked suitably pissed off. Livid.
She had veered between something like the terrified, devastated and (briefly) thankful, before.
Not exactly corresponding to the emotions normally arising from an argument over a routine 'detention'.
"My office. 6:30. You may bring a bag with your things packed."
He hoped to God that she would ask around and borrow any old dress robes going…
He hoped she understood. Come in uniform. Change into the dress. Or wear it beneath a coat or whatever. Just as long as she didn't turn up dressed up at his office and knock on the door, flaunting her finery (if she could find such a thing), with no after school socials or parties of any kind permitted this year. No excuse.
Oh God! Everyone will think I'm having some sort of sordid affair with a student, or something!
As if his life couldn't get any worse…
"Close the door on your way out, Weasley. As there is a decided draft."
Understanding that she was dismissed, Ginny hurried off. Careful not to let the door slam in case he took yet more points.
Hang on. Why the fuck do I care so much about points? Slytherin are going to win hands down this year anyway! Pretty much more than half the school that's still here's Slytherin!
But I guess I'll get a bollocking in the Common Room when people find out I'm the one who-
SEVENTY POINTS?! Fucking bastard of a greasy-haired git!
She had a free period. So headed for the library.
There wouldn't be anyone at the back near the restricted section-
That was an idea. She could go back again, and see. Have another look at some of the titles. Ask Slughorn for permission to take a closer look, take something out (he'll sign anything!) Offer to send anything that looked useful. To Harry. To Ron...
"Open your books. Turn to page two-hundred-and-twenty-eight."
Back in the Defence classroom, Severus's mark stung.
"Wands away. This is theory, not practical."
He gasped at the intensity of his mark burning yet again.
The sound was covered by the groans of students, thank God.
Lazy gits, the lot of them. As if their OWL wasn't comprised of a large essay writing component! The National Curriculum being as useless as it was, only 20% of Defence Against the Dark Arts was examined with a practical. As if an essay on the historical development and refinement of disarmament spells, 1258 to 1798, and such like, would ever save their lives when set upon-
He gripped his desk to steady himself. Resisting the urge to bend double.
His third and final warning.
"Read. Take notes. Returning shortly!"
Severus practically ran down the corridor to his rooms, panting.
There was a fireplace. He could Floo to-
He stopped.
"You're in my bedroom."
"So it would seem!"
Severus blinked.
"Oh, come on, Snivy! It's hardly the first time I've seen your bed! Although it seems like a while since I've seen you in it!"
His 'guest' cackled, gleefully.
Severus would not rise to the bate.
"I've got a class to teach."
"Did she say yes?"
"She did, yes."
"Fabulous! 'I'm getting married in the moooor-ning! Ding dong the bells are gonna chiiiime!' Where're the Havanas? Get some champagne! Ooh! I can add that to the song! 'Where're the Ha-va-nas?! Get some cham-pa-agne!' Damn. Doesn't scan, that."
"Just sing the original line. 'Pull out the stopper' quite literally means 'uncork the bottle'. Such as champagne."
"Why didn't I think of that?!"
"Why indeed?"
"Right, hang on, let's try that again:
'I'm getting married in the moooooorning!' Blah blah blah blah blah- 'Pull out the stop-per! Where're the Ha-va-nas?'"
"It doesn't even rhyme!" snapped Severus.
"It almost does! 'Stop-per, Van-na! Errr, aaaa!' Oh. You're right. Right, right, right: third time's the charm! 'I'm getting-'"
"You're not seriously contemplating marrying her, are you?"
Severus's tone was incredulous.
And deeply concerned.
Voldemort sighed
"You're no fun, you are. Why the worry? I'd have thought you'd be glad? Have me off your case at last, and all that!"
"I gave up hoping you'd leave me alone a very long time ago."
"Hmmmmm?"
The man's reply was absent minded. Disinterested.
He'd found the box.
"Marriage is tedious."
And began to unscrew a cigar tube.
"Why would I seriously contemplate tying myself down? No, I am simply in a jovial mood. At the prospect of things to come! I know what would be fun: what if I offer to make an honest woman of her?! Purely in jest, you understand. She might actually accept, imagine it!"
"Really, I-"
"And then I will have to cruelly deny her request! What do you reckon? I appear to have rendered you speechless, Severus! A rare thing indeed! She is Catholic."
"As if that should matter!"
"Oooh maybe you fancy her, too?!"
"I merely note that I do not take part in silly sectarian spats in Slytherin House! Or any other House, for that matter."
"Typical bloody Baptist, you are! Always ruining the fun for everyone else with your preaching!"
"If protecting my underage pupils amounts to being preachy, then it is a badge I wear with pride!"
"Oh do stop wittering on. You are a bore sometimes, do you know that? Now stop standing about like the lazy arse that you are and make yourself useful. You got a knife?"
"I've got a cutter."
Severus said nothing further on the subject of Ginevra Weasley.
Think, first. Plan. Then action-
"My cigars are always to be cut with a knife! Ahhh! Trusty 'Silver Blade' is at hand! Named for my favourite of the adventures of the great consulting detective himself, of course!"
"If you allude to Sherlock Holmes, then why not simply say it? And I thought it was about a horse? 'Silver Blaze'?"
"Ahhhh... But knives were rather central to the plot! Blades. A certain, special blade.
'Blades won't leave in the night! I've no fear- That they might- Desert me!'
Unlike my followers, who might defect at any time-
'Yes I need bloooood! Oh what gooood would blood do meeeee!'
Crap film, that. But good song!"
Severus was accustomed to 'the master' bursting into song at random.
The play on James Bond lyrics, however, was new.
Can he possibly be slipping deeper into insanity by the day?
"Blast! I've completely cocked it- Get me another! Another havana! Oh I'll do it, you never do cut straight, Sniv!"
"But you just-"
"And you a Potions Master! But hardly a Master Potioneer! Did you know: the Yanks think that a Master Potioneer and a schoolmaster, such as a Potions Master, are the same thing? They don't recognise a bog-standard word for a bog-standard teacher when they hear it! Can you believe that?!"
"It's only bog-standard if you were at school over 50 years ago."
"You calling me old, Severus?"
"Yes."
"Really I ought to punish you-"
"We celebrated your 70th, what? Two years ago?"
"Your point being?"
"…...Do I really have to spell it out to you?"
"72 years young. A veritable spring chicken, I am."
"Compared with whom?!"
"Flamel. I fail to see wherein lies the joke, Severus!"
This in response to the bark of laughter.
"Whilst I realise that I am renowned for my somewhat wicked wit and brilliant sense of humour-"
"That's another one of your rumours that you've been putting about, is it?!"
Lord Voldemort chomped down on the Churchill. A 'Romeo y Julieta'.
"Took your time cutting that, didn't you? If I had used the cutter it would have been much quicker-"
"We really ought to re-name these after me, you know?"
"Mmmmm-hmm."
Voldemort did not detect Severus's sarcasm. Nor his subsequent incredulity.
"Not even Castro named a cigar after himself!"
"Silly sod. Something of an oversight, no? Still. His loss!"
Severus rolled his eyes, mentally.
The Dark Lord stood still, expectant.
Severus raised an eyebrow, but condescended to light his wand with a wordless flick, making to hold the flame to the cigar.
"I have no intention of suffocating on that sulphurous flame you're so unfortunately in the habit of producing! Use the cedar!"
"I don't want bits floating around my rooms!"
"Rooms which I grant you use of. It's my castle! I'm far too lenient with you, I am- Hurry up, Severus, do something!"
"First you insist on doing everything for yourself, now you expect me- It would perhaps be quicker if you lit it yourself to your satisfaction!"
"Get on with it, man!"
Severus tutted in exasperation. Before:
"Accio box of long matches!"
He stuck one. They waited for the sulphur to burn away.
Severus held the match to the cigar.
Voldemort sucked and blew until it was alight.
"Ta."
"I supposed it would have been impolite of me to fail to assist-"
"You supposed correctly."
"-a man of your age. Perhaps already in the grip of rheumatism-"
"Bugger off! Bastard!"
Voldemort's tone was humorous.
"House Elf! HOUSE ELF! Why do they never answer me at once? Be a dear, Sniv. I really could do with some most excellent Hogwarts champagne-"
"I really haven't got time to sit around- Shit, what is the time?!"
Severus glanced at his wristwatch.
"Oh bollocks. We've been standing around exchanging pleasantries- I need to go back!"
"Your pupils can wait. I'm far more fun."
As are you. My fine specimen of a Servant-
"What if they trash my classroom?!"
"First divert my attention. Then dole out detentions."
"It's my Fifth Years, I've just remembered-"
Voldemort grabbed Severus by the head, embedding his fingers deeply into the long locks on either side, clinging on and pulling as if the hair was rope.
Severus did not cry out. His high pain tolerance, no doubt.
Red eyes stared deep into black.
Black eyes stared back.
Defiantly?
No.
Daringly?
Not even that.
No expression. No emotion.
Severus obligingly opened his mouth for his master.
Well.
Gasped, more like.
A muscular response. To his nose being squished.
Voldemort plunged his tongue deep into his servant's mouth, as close to the throat as anatomically possible, hands clenched tightly round the hair, which he fondled. He proceeded to sniff, deeply.
He quickly withdrew, biting down hard around the lips.
Severus winced, his cry, muffled, unable to mask his surprise. Or pain.
His Lord and master smirked. Admiring his handiwork.
"That should bruise nicely. My little play on what I believe the muggles call a 'love bite'."
The Dark Lord kissed the tips of his fingers, blowing a playful kiss in his servant's direction.
"Go and teach your damn class," he murmured.
Severus relaxed, visibly.
"Then go and have a nice bath."
A slight tensing was distinctly discernible in response.
Voldemort sniffed.
Nervous anticipation?
Arousal?
Fear?
Who could say?
Not Lord Voldemort, certainly.
Still. The prospect of any, or all of those... All turn-ons.
Still the Dark Lord looked on... Into those deep, black eyes...
Severus Snape's thoughts... Locked away…
Locked up tight as a virgin on her wedding night.
Keeping Mum as a nun at Vespers.
Are nuns silent at Vespers? Do they still even have vespers?
Inspiration, regardless.
For costumes!
"I'll be waiting. If you're not back inside of one hour-"
He smiled. Gesturing with his special silver veterinary surgical knife, with which he had cut the cigar.
Severus nodded. In understanding.
Not ascent.
"Good boy," Voldemort whispered.
He patted his bum.
Severus's heart leapt-
"My little Severusss."
The Dark Lord planted a kiss on his forehead.
"My most loyal servant," he breathed, in his ear.
Dear one even think-
my favourite.
"You have no idea how hard I am for you right now."
He took Severus by the arms, beneath the shoulders. Clutched at him.
Clung to him.
The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed, possessively, hungrily, as he drank in the sight of his servant before him.
"All your little glances."
Voldemort breathed heavily through his open mouth.
"Such a turn-on. I may not be able to read your thoughts right now," he murmured, "but… I know that involuntary shiver. That grimace. The disgust. Delightful," he whispered.
The Dark Lord clasped Severus's head in either hand, pulling the man towards him.
They gently brushed his lips...
Severus closed his eyes...
"If I had my way..." the master murmured. "I'd lock you away forever. And never let you go. You understand, I trust. That I do not speak in jest?"
"I know, my Lord," Severus whispered.
"But... Alasss... There is a war on."
Was that regret in his voice? The Dark Lord's sad, quiet voice?
"And those bastard youths won't recruit themselves, you know! Kill the vile, verminous muggles for our cause!"
A return to his usual chipper self, his rapid flow of rambling speech.
He doesn't usually use the Royal We. Can he possibly mean... Him and me?
"Do you want to get back to teach those damned kiddies, or not?"
Voldemort pushed Severus away.
"GO! Before I change my mind, and forbid it!"
Was that his attempt at humour, or- I'm not entirely sure of when he's joking anymore...
Might the man really have prevented Severus from teaching the rest of the class? Perhaps, from ever teaching a class again?
If not today then... When?
Severus closed his eyes as he prepared to enter his classroom.
Compose yourself! Some mundane thought.
He thought of what he'd have for tea. It was chicken tonight. That, or some kind of vegetable pasta muck. Only-
Only he was having 'dinner' with the Dark Lord now. Wasn't he?
"Sir! We-"
"Keep reading and taking notes!" he snapped, as the boy's noise invaded his brain.
"But Professor Snape, Sir-"
He did not take kindly to being interrupted, staring pointedly at a blank page in his notebook.
One of the few things he still had control over in his life. And now? Deprived even of the chance of declining a vegetarian meal for whatever equally disappointingly disgusting default option remained.
"Professor!"
The Dark Lord would insist on guinea fowl or veal or venison. Something pretentiously opulent for the sake of it. Still, given the continuously perilous state of his finances, Severus Snape could hardly sneer at the prospect of a free meal, stuck up, pretentious posh toff in tow or no-
"Professor Snape!"
"WHAT is it, Lawson?"
"We did this in Fourth Year. I thought you said today we're meant to be starting Chapter 26?"
Severus flicked through the notebook on his desk, looking for the right page.
"Turn to page four-hundred-and-thirty-six. When you have finished making revision notes from Chapter 11! Lawson!"
"Yes, Sir?"
"Thirty points from Slytherin!"
"Thirty?!"
"Make that forty. For being an insufferable know-it-all. And complaining. And disturbing my most valuable work. The rest of the lesson will be conducted in SILENCE!"
The prospect of staring into space while the children taught themselves was just about his only remaining diversion in life...
Well. There was that, and-
He went inside the potions cupboard.
And shut the door.
And sat on the floor.
Glancing around furtively (as if anyone can see! he admonished) he took a surreptitious swig. Then another. Then another.
He attempted to drain the last drop of whisky.
Returned the flask to its inside pocket.
Straightened his cloak.
And went back to his desk.
He took out and opened his Moleskine. His pocketbook.
And began to write...
A/N:
Why might Severus's lessons be so dull? I thought in the books he was supposed to explain how the Dark Arts are constantly evolving, and his lessons were so engaging? What can have happened? Perhaps there is a reason, there is method in his mannerisms...
Poor Severus. He is struggling so. But he's a tough old bird (bird was slang for a man in Voldemort's youth) and I have a sneaking suspicion that he's not going to be beaten easily, and will give back as good as he gets to Voldemort, and then some! We will see!
To continue with last chapter's song:
'As the Judge remarked the day that he acquitted my Aunt Hortense:
To be smut. It must be ut-. -Terly without redeeming social importance! [...]
Stories of tortures
Used by debauchers
Lurid, licentious and vile (2, 3)
Make me smile!' (Tom Lehrer)
For all that I like to think that you value my own unique spin on the genre, that you appreciate my interrogation techniques, the odd theatrical quote or song, and so forth... I have a sneaking suspicion as to why some (if not most/ all) of you are here. ;) But, in all seriousness, thanks for taking the time to read, it's great to see people following along and (I hope, therefore!) enjoying it x As ever, hit me with plot requests etc. for this or other stories of mine on the go :)
Now to redeem ourselves from the vulgar, the common, the weak and the licentious (bonus points for spotting the Disney reference), something erudite and elevating (hahaha, if that's what you can call anything by Oscar Wilde. Brilliant writer, but a very saucy private life, of course!)... some cultural notes, for those who like them!
Severus Snape sort of quotes Lady Bracknell of Oscar Wilde's 'The Importance of Being Earnest'. The character and play, a comedy, are both very famous and still popular today. (Really is laugh out loud funny if you ever get the chance to see a production). The original quote (from a snobbish new-moneyed aristocrat addressing an orphan who wishes to marry her daughter):
'To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune. To lose both looks like carelessness.'
Voldemort re-interprets the title song of the Bond film 'Diamonds are Forever'. ('They (diamonds) don't leave in the night, I've no fear that they might, desert me! I don't need love! for what good would love do me?...)
I checked a couple of points about the cigar business, to make sure I got them right, with a friend who knows more about cigars than me. The friend said you have to have different boxes of different cigars to say "where are the Havanas", it's a bit like saying "where's the Rolls" (Royce) if you own several cars. You wouldn't say "where's the Rolls" if you only had that one car, unless you were really vulgar and went round boasting "I have a Rolls Royce, don't you know!" So the friend said my character should know better and just say where're the cigars/ where's the box, like a normal cigar smoker, as he's only got one box, if that's what I'm after, normal behaviour by a knowledgeable but otherwise normal person. I explained my character is very vain and pompous and knows very little about cigars really but only pretends to and has little if any taste.
The friend said ahh perfect like one of those people who says "I live in a castle, did you know?!" rather than a proper aristocrat who lives in a castle and just says "would you like to come round mine?/ Come to my place!" Hence I decided Voldemort should also say "It's my castle!"
Also Churchill smoked a no. 12 Romeo y Julieta specifically I believe but Voldy doesn't know that and all his cigar terms correctly (by now you have perhaps picked up on the fact that most of the narration largely follows the characters thoughts and so is largely not neutral?)
Mentioning all that, just in case cigar-loving keen beans thought I got the cigars wrong in places: I did, but on purpose!
Also, I decided that Voldemort would want to faff about with his favourite knife rather than use a cigar cutter (Initially I said 'any guesses' and does anyone recognise the Sherlock Holmes reference? But decided it is probably far too obscure for most readers, and not worth waiting for a big slow reveal plot development, so I went back to add that in, about Silver Blaze (plus the Bond business, as that naturally followed on and seemed a good fit). You can have other gradual plot developments to look forward to, instead! He likes his knives, does Voldemort, and we'll explore the reason why together! You can of course read the Sherlock Holmes story if you like! But of course I don't expect that and will explain all!)
Same-ish time tomorrow!