March 7, 1976 - Hogwarts
Fear swirled through his body, a cloying feeling that stuck in his throat, and wrapped like chains around his chest, leaving his breath short and shallow. It was too soon.
He'd been invited in personally as he passed by, given no chance to gather his thoughts, or to prepare. A cup of tea which he couldn't drink had been his only respite, and now there was only thick, tense silence as he felt the Headmaster's stare settle on him like a physical weight, pinning him to the spot.
Severus met hard, blue eyes, unable to - despite years of practice - completely conceal his unrest. The wizard seemed to take notice, a spark of curiosity appearing in his gaze.
And then he was falling backward, falling into the darkness of his mind, slamming with physical force against his mind's shields, watching them shatter into a million pieces like glass. Dumbledore's presence was overwhelming, omnipresent, seeping into the deepest corners of his mind, leaving not a thought, not a memory untouched. There was no place to hide - his entire being laid out bare for examination. Everything was in sight, every painful, humiliating, wretched moment of his life. Dumbledore took them in - all of them, with an arrogant glow - but it was something else entirely that he truly sought.
Memories of days past flowed forward unbidden, the force of his mind inconsequential to the might of a man like Dumbledore, a man convinced he had just struck gold. The Headmaster searched through them, pulling each apart to examine them, as Severus watched helplessly from the side - each careful look into his mind a further violation.
Though it seemed to be an eternity as the wizard revelled in his findings, once he had finished his assault, he pulled away suddenly, breaking the connection between them. For a moment neither of them spoke, as Severus attempted to calm his racing heart, and the Headmaster make sense of what he'd seen.
"You have shields," he spoke finally, steepling his hands, and leaning forward. "Minerva taught you also?"
The Headmaster was no Slytherin. "Yes, sir."
"Not well enough," he murmured, just barely audible. For a moment he smiled in self-satisfaction, before a frown overtook his face. "I had hoped this little… arrangement of theirs would come to an end," he said, as if to himself. "I see now… I will have words with her."
The wizard blinked, his gaze sharpening, and settling on Severus. "Encourage the girl to continue writing and seeking knowledge. And do not attempt to conceal information from me again," he added, voice sharp as steel.
Severus nodded in acquiescence, even as his body went cold with dread.
"Obliviate," the Headmaster cast carelessly, guiding him out the door as Severus affected confusion and drowsiness, all the while attempting not to hiss in pain. It was a difficult part to play, but as the door closed behind him, one thought shone like a beacon of light through the darkness of suffering in his mind.
His second set of shields, designed over the last month with two similar men in mind, had held.
March 8, 2976 - Hogwarts
Cassiopeia bit her lip hard to suppress a gasp of delight.
"Sev, look," she whispered, nudging the boy at her side. Absorbed by the book on his desk, he hadn't noticed the sound of their classroom door opening, and the sight of a familiar face appearing in the frame.
At the sound of her voice Severus glanced up, a trace of irritation on his features before he too noticed what she had - what the entire class now had.
"Welcome, Governors," their professor greeted, standing from her desk. "Helen Sayre."
A tall, moustached man was the first to properly enter the room, introducing himself with a short bow. "I'm Calix Greengrass, and this is Lucius Malfoy. We are here only to briefly observe, so - " he surveyed the room, his gaze severe, " - pay us no mind."
Cassiopeia watched the two as they walked to the back of the room, the sound of Professor Sayre's lecture beginning barely more than buzzing in her ears, as a sense of disquiet began to slowly grip her. From afar, Lucius looked like he always had - dignified, almost stately - but as he passed her desk she noticed a certain tightness in his jaw, a stiffness to the way with which he carried himself.
More worryingly, almost concealed in the folds of his extravagant robes was a length of dark wood, which he gripped tightly in his hand. It made no noticeable sound as he rested it heavily in the ground, though it seemed to be supporting most of the weight of his left side.
"... demonstrate what you have learned. The exercise will last ten minutes, and I would ask you to be especially mindful of our guests. If there are no questions…?"
The professor flicked her wand, and their desks vanished from sight, a few seconds later followed by their chairs. The class arranged themselves into pairs - a well-practiced routine under Sayre - and spells soon began to fly, filling the darkened room with light. She herself did not begin to clash with Severus, however, only gesturing for him to approach her. With the Gryffindors engaged in an attempt to flaunt their combat skills, and the Slytherins looking to impress with their knowledge and form, she knew there would be little mind paid to a pair of students not truly engaged in their work.
"You noticed?" she asked Severus, making a subtle gesture to the back of the room. Greengrass had moved away to watch the students' performance, but Lucius remained in the same place, leaning heavily against the wall.
The wizard beside her nodded, his gaze fixated on Lucius. "Should I ask him what's wrong?"
"Go on," she said, watching for a moment as Severus weaved through the gathered students with ease, and came to stand next to the older man. She attempted to follow their conversation, but it was pointless - she could barely see them, much less hear a single word over the chaos of the room.
Severus returned not two minutes later, a deep frown marring his face. She attempted to get him to recount the conversation, but the boy remained tight-lipped, only mouthing, 'later,' before beginning to assail her with a barrage of spells.
In the end, she could do little but fight back, waiting with concern and apprehension for the end of the class.
Severus paced the room, his expression thoughtful but stormy. Cassiopeia and he had settled into the seventh-floor room, prepared to wait even the entire day to see if Lucius would show up.
"Did he say what time he'd be by at the latest?" Cassiopeia enquired, perhaps the fifth or sixth time she'd asked something of a similar vein in the hour.
He shot her an irritated look, though there wasn't much heat behind it. In typical circumstances, his friend was one of the more patient people ke knew; worried for Lucius' wellbeing, however, she was practically vibrating with agitation.
"No," he answered curtly, passing by her as he wore a path into the rug on the floor in his own show of restlessness. "And calm down, Cassiopeia, he said he didn't want to make any promises."
Just as he finished speaking, a decisive knock sounded on the door and Cassie shot up from the floor, giving him a small smile, before it was immediately replaced by a worried downturn of her lips.
She held out her wand just in case, but did not bother to verify the identity of their caller further, before opening the door for them.
"Lucius," she exclaimed quietly, her frown deepening only further as at last she saw him from up-close. "Come in; I'm glad you were able to make it," she added in a much gentler tone, bringing him inside.
Severus' mental plea to the room materialised an opulent chair. "You should sit, Lucius," he said quietly.
Though at first he seemed taken aback by its appearance, he soon did, pained even by the small movement.
For a second they did not speak, before Cassiopeia settled onto the floor at his feet, taking one of his large, pale hands into her own. "You're hurt," she murmured. "How? Why?"
The wizard sighed, shifting his robes to further conceal his leg. "I suppose it would have been too much to hope neither of you noticed," he said, his tone non-condemnatory. "It matters not. I will heal in due time."
"It does matter," Severus cut in forcefully, fixing the older man with a stare. "Why are you even here - should you not be resting at home?"
Lucius closed his eyes briefly. "I had little choice in the matter."
"Who -?" Cassie began to ask, before she cut herself off. "The Dark Lord?"
The wizard nodded with a resigned air, and she frowned. "You're being punished - why?" Her expression turned stormy as another thought seemed to cross her mind. "Was this a punishment as well?" she asked, lifting her hand to graze the air above his calf.
Lucius met his eyes, the two of them exchanging unspoken words.
"It was," he answered simply.
"I didn't know he hurt you," she said, her tone almost accusatory were it not for the desperate way she curled her fingers into his.
"He hasn't much, until recent times."
Cassiopeia froze, her face growing pale. "... How recently?" she asked carefully.
The wizard shook his head. "It is not what you think." At her frown, he continued, "It seemed to me he was only mildly angered by your letter; he ranted to me of your impertinence when he received it. No, it was when he returned from his trip abroad in a… bad state of mind that - this… occurred." After a brief pause he added, "He has been feeling better since."
With Cassiopeia lost in her thoughts, a frown on her face, Severus took his opportunity to enquire, "What spell was it?"
"I don't know exactly," the man answered. "The Healer said it caused nerve damage."
Severus pursed his lips, displeased by the information. To put aside his feelings on Lucius getting hurt in such a way, he had at least hoped to create something to ease his pain. Nerve damage, however, seemed much beyond his abilities - especially if it was so severe. That was not to say, of course, that he would not try.
"How much time do you have to speak?" Severus asked practically, noticing Lucius glance towards the door.
"I'm afraid I'll need to leave soon, if I don't wish to raise suspicion."
"Alright," Cassiopeia said quietly, returning to the conversation. "I'm glad we got to see you."
Lucius' countenance softened. "I am too."
March 10, 1976 - Hogwarts
Minerva sat stiffly in the Headmaster's office, feeling like a misbehaving child as she drummed her fingers on Albus' desk to fill the silence of the room.
The man himself had still not shown, though he'd asked her to visit him after she finished her nightly rounds, for a discussion. Though he had been vague about the specifics, she had a growing suspicion as to what had prompted this invitation.
"Ah, Minerva," Albus exclaimed, bustling inside five minutes late. His eyes twinkling damnably, and a wide smile on his face, he perched himself opposite her. "I'm glad you came."
"Albus," she acknowledged. They weren't on the best of terms at the moment, but she preferred to be civil. "Why did you ask me here?"
"My dear," he said, affecting affront. "Can I not ask my friend to tea?"
"I don't have the time, Albus," she responded firmly. "Say what it is you need to say."
"Alright, alright," he grumbled, pouring himself a cup. "Are you certain you don't want some?" he asked, but at her refusal continued, "Well, I just wanted to enquire as to how your apprenticeship with Miss Nazyalensky is going. It's been quite some time since any of us have taken one on, especially with a Slytherin."
Wrong thing to say, Albus. While she could admit to herself that house politics had blinded her judgment for a long time, she had worked hard to - over the course of several long years - undo at least some of her prejudice and biases.
"I fail to see how Miss Nazyalensky's house changes anything," she responded flatly.
"I didn't mean to imply anything of the sort," Albus said, noticing he was treading on thin ice. "I was simply surprised to see it."
"One of us had to set aside favouritism, at some point."
He pursed his lips. "Well, I can't say I've seen the behaviour to warrant it from other members of Slytherin, but I suppose I shall take you at your word. Tell me at least, is the girl a good student?"
"An outstanding one," she replied, a bit of pride sparking in her chest.
"Ah, that is good to hear. You've been expanding her studies further, then? Maybe including some less-typical topics?" he asked, an implication in his tone.
She frowned, unsure where this line of inquiry was going. "Perhaps some. Why do you ask?"
"I'm merely curious, my dear," he shrugged, his voice light. "I was going to suggest you may attempt to teach her some of the mind arts, if you had not already."
"Occlumency, you mean?" she asked carefully, hiding her shock. She was certain there was more reason behind his words.
Albus nodded. "It's a useful skill to have."
She thought to deny such a thing outright - it was the truth, after all, but something stopped her. "I… cannot disclose that information to you, Albus. You know the binds of the contract."
"I do, I do," he responded. "Well, keep it in mind. And has Mr. Snape ever joined in on your lessons? I know he and Miss Nazyalensky are close."
This - this was way beyond mere curiosity. "Again, Albus, I'd prefer not to divulge that."
"Alright, keep your secrets to yourself," he laughed, seeming satisfied with her non-answer. "That's all I wanted to ask; you can't blame me for my interest, can you?"
"No," she answered slowly. "...Anything else you'd like to say, Albus? I'm afraid I'm a bit tired today, and I'd like to go to bed."
"No, no - you're free to go," he smiled. "Good night!"
She frowned as she stood from the chair, bidding him goodnight as well. Something - she was certain - was wrong.
•••
Thanks for reading, and to SilentMayhem and Stephanie MRV for their help. Have a wonderful week.
