November 25, 1975 - Hogwarts

Severus was greatly familiar with the contents of his bookbag. The dark, crip leather - Lucius' money, of course - was not only valuable to him on its own, but it contained some of his most favourite possessions - all of which he strove to take great care of. It followed, then, that a small, folded piece of parchment should not be so garishly stuffed against his tomes.

Someone had slipped him a note.

Severus observed it carefully from some distance away, well-conditioned by the Gryffindors' need to see him humiliated on an almost daily basis. If this was a prank, he swore -

His cursory revealing spell gave nothing away, and Severus allowed himself to open the note.

Severus Snape -

We invite you to a meeting of the Slytherin Duelling Club on the twenty-seventh of this month, at seven in the evening. We are situated in the behind the portrait of Lady Desdemona Black. The password is Caeli. We look forward to seeing you.

- Lysandra Yaxley

Severus frowned, more than a little sceptical. He had half a mind to throw the paper away, and forget about it all, but there was just something…

The portrait discussed in the letter was located in the depths of the dungeons. He'd stumbled upon it a few times as a first-year, when he's still had trouble navigating across the dark catacombs, but as far as he was aware, no-one from outside his house would even be aware of its existence. Not to mention, he didn't think the Gryffindors courageous enough to even brave Slytherin territory all on their own…

Sighing, Severus realised he'd already made up his mind. If this ended badly, well - Cassiopeia'd know where he was.

"You came."

Her voice echoed off the sides of the walls, immediately making it clear that this - whatever it was - was not simply an unused classroom. The ceiling of the hall was high overhead, supported by thick wooden arches, all of which came together into a point at the centre of the room, directly overhead a large, raised duelling platform.

Scattered across it, forming a loose semi-circle, were Slytherins - around twelve of them, Severus estimated with a glance. They were older than him, that much was clear, and their gazes as they observed him were interested and intense.

Severus lowered his wand slowly, seeing no threats, but he did not yet dare to put it away. The girl spoke again.

"I'm Lysandra Yaxley," she stated, looking him over with her clear, brown eyes. Her hair was tied back in a thick braid, and her robes were loosely cut in a traditional combat style. "Crouch over there is saying you'll be a good fit," she added, her tone unreservedly sceptical.

Severus shrugged carefully, his mind whirling with the implications. "I don't know much about this whole… club… so I'm afraid I won't be able to tell you myself."

Yaxley scoffed slightly. "Watch what we do, then, and join in when you can. We'll see if you're worth it, or if this is yet another of Bartemius' delusions."

She glared at one of the observers, before stepping back onto the platform, addressing the group. "Alright, we're practicing cutting spells today. I only have a couple vials of Blood-Replenisher, though, so don't go overboard."

Immediately, it was made clear to him just what had been the motive - or at least one of them - for Crouch to sponsor his place. The boy, though quick with his curses, was not nearly as skilled as his noticeably older opponent, and soon enough was lying on the floor, blood welling from various cuts across his arms.

Severus looked on in interest as he was healed, Yaxley's binding spell knitting his wounds closed, but leaving behind puckered lines. The Blood-Replenisher, too, brought some colour back into his face, but it was clear from Crouch's swaying that it had not completely cleared away his light-headedness.

He held up better against his second opponent, though, more evenly matched with a sixth-year girl whom Severus did not recognise. The duels were quite well-organised, Severus noted with approval, though as he considered the various spells flying around, he knew that he himself could not possibly match the skills of anyone in this room.

Those curses were dark. Few of them were outright recognisable to him as so, but the others held a distinct taint of dark magic that was clear to discern. Severing spells - electric green- were present as well, but the damage they caused was almost negligible in comparison to the others, and they were mainly used as distractions, and to overwhelm.

Severus imagined himself standing there, in the middle of the flurry of lights, and felt adrenaline flush his body, leaving him thrumming with tension.

He knew he'd be incapacitated in a second, but - Merlin, he hoped he'd ever be as good as they were.

"Ready, Snape?" Yaxley startled him from his thoughts, eyes shimmering with a quiet glee. Severus mentally growled, not looking forward to seeing her expression as he - undoubtedly - failed. Nevertheless, he did not hesitate in allowing himself to be led onto the platform, and a partner to be chosen for him.

Atria Shafiq. She introduced herself quickly, before assuming a duelling stance - 'standard position one', as described in the books he'd read in order to prepare for the meeting. Severus only gave her a cursory glance as well before taking a stance himself. His heart pounded against his chest, but he knew his face looked calm.

"Diffindo."

Shafiq's attack started the exchange, and Merlin she was fast. While none of her spells could actually strike his body, Severus was greatly limited in his ability to retaliate - having to keep up a shield at most times in order to avoid the barrage of lights. Fuck, this wasn't going well.

Severus hissed as a spell cut across his cheek, droplets of blood spattering across his face. Snarling, he took advantage of Shafiq's momentary distraction, and attacked -

"Sectumsempra."

Anger and pain brought the spell to the forefront of his mind, his lips mindlessly slipping over the syllables before he could barely register what was coming out of his mouth. Panicked, he watched as if in slow-motion as the lurid, green light soared towards Shafiq, whose shield had been dissolved so that she could curse him again.

At the very last second he averted the spell, slashing his wand upwards so the arc of light struck the cavernous wall behind them.

Time returned to normal, and the sounds of duelling around him flooded his ears like a tidal wave of noise.

He should have known Shafiq wouldn't spare him any time - seconds later he found himself smacked against the floor, leg stinging with a sharp, burning pain.

He grit his teeth against the sensation, allowing his partner to kneel next to him, and stitch the wound back closed. She checked his pulse, and seemed content enough not to dose him.

"Why didn't you hit me?" she asked when the skin had knit together, an expression on her face which clearly conveyed her thoughts on his intelligence.

"I don't know the counterspell," Severus replied, then bit his tongue. Idiot. The pain was making his mouth loose.

"And… why is that?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. When he refused to answer, she added, "You don't seem the type to just… leave yourself in the dark."

"Perhaps I decided to." She was already suspicious - he wouldn't give her anything more. "Besides, aren't we supposed to be training?"

"No more potions," she sighed, annoyed. Indeed, Severus checked, all of the bottles were empty. "If I had it my way, we'd still be able to practice. Yaxley - "

"Is there something you want to say, Shafiq?" The girl interrupted them, her eyebrows raised mockingly.

"Only that our training is suffering because you can't brew," she shot back, and Severus raised his brows at her daring. There was something dangerous about Yaxley - about all of them, really - and he, at least, would not have the nerve.

"And you can?" the older girl scoffed, before turning to him. She eyed him speculatively, seemingly weighing his worth. "Alright. Snape you're good at potions, right?"

Severus nodded, already resigned to the reality.

"Then the problem's solved. You brew us the potions every other week, and in return we'll welcome you in."

"And I won't be able to join otherwise?"

She pursed her lips. "You're better than most of the ones in your year, but you're still, what - fifteen? That's a bit young for my tastes."

But you'll let me in if it benefits you? he thought, but didn't dare voice it aloud. "Fine, then, just let me know what you'll need." And if I ever want to get out, nothing's stopping me.

"Sure, we'll arrange something. Just don't let anybody know."

"Of course."

That had been close, Severus scolded himself back in his room, changing into his nightclothes. He couldn't allow such slip-ups to expose what he knew, but besides...

It was just a prototype - he'd only been working on it for the past two months, and it was nowhere near done. In its current form it was uncontrollable - causing massive wounds within a matter of seconds, leaving them unable to be healed.

He'd never thought, actually, that such a spell would be his creation - maybe he fit in better with the members of the duelling club than he though he would.

Still, the whole affair didn't exactly sit right with him.

December 10, 1975 - Malfoy Manor

It had not taken much encouragement for Cassie to convince Severus to travel along with her to the Malfoys for Winter Break. While communication with Eileen was rare, to say the least, it had been made quite obvious that the situation in Manchester was… not ideal. Clearly, Severus would enjoy the holidays out in Wiltshire much more than he would at home or even in the castle, and Narcissa and Lucius welcomed him with open arms.

Well, perhaps it'd be more accurate only to mention the Lady. Lucius was busy this year, working long hours to manage his father's estate, and in the days since they'd arrived, had only seen them a scant few times.

Still, Narcissa was glad to have the company, often asking them to come down for tea, and to discuss whatever was on their minds.

It was a few days before she was finally able to arrange a private meeting with him, but Lucius cut out some time on a Saturday evening, and called her to his room.

He looked… haggard, was her first observation as she stepped through the door, finally properly laying her eyes on him.

Seeming older than he ever had been, he was resting on his decorative armchair, a delicate glass of alcohol held between his hands. He raised his eyes to her, giving her an exhausted smile.

"Sit, Cassie," he invited, pulling up a chair. "Why did you want to meet with me?"

She frowned, eyes roaming over his face. Back at Hogwarts, she thought she'd scream at him; cry, maybe; ask whether the Dark Lord's accusations were true. Now, however, seeing him in this pitiful state - she was only able to attempt the latter.

"Were you the one who destroyed my house?" she asked tiredly, after a moment had passed.

Lucius' grip on his glass tightened, though his face didn't so much as twitch. "What makes you ask that?"

She had her answer, then. "Lucius - that was my home, the only place I had."

"We'll arrange something with Narcissa, then," he answered quietly. "I was already planning on asking you to accompany us to Gringotts to sort it all out."

She shook her head. "You know that's not what I mean," she said, reaching over and cautiously taking his hand. His fingers curled around hers in a tight grip, but she didn't draw hers away.. "Lucius… that house meant a lot to me," she said, and he closed his eyes briefly as if in pain. "Please, just tell me why you did it. I'm - I'm not angry."

It was a ludicrous scene - her, this young girl, reassuring one of the most powerful men in Wizarding Britain. Still, her words must have had some effect, for Lucius sighed deeply, replacing his glass on the desk.

"Cassiopeia, you know why I was there," he said resignedly, his gaze falling to their intertwined hands. "Your suffering - it was written all over the walls. Last summer, when we found you, I thought I'd kill him," he paused, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. "And then I saw his face again - felt echoes of your magic all throughout the house - I… could not control myself."

He stood suddenly, pulling his hand from hers, and turning his back to her. He stood stiffly, quietly, and it seemed like hours before he spoke again - his eyes never straying from the sun's last rays. "I… do regret it."

Hearing his words, she stood as well, softly padding up to him, and encircling his waist with her hands. She placed her head to his chest, and his anxious heartbeat seemed to fill the entire room. "That's all I ask for."

"Thank you."

•••

Thank you for reading, and to SilentMayhem, and Stephanie MRV for their help. I hope you all have a lovely day.