Seventh Interlude: The Business Partner

Slytherins are a special breed of British wizardfolk; the Snakes are the self-sufficient, self-serving lot of Hogwarts, the ones who burn with enough ambition to be cutthroat about it, who always ask the question 'how does that benefit me?'.

There's no such thing as trust among the Snakes, not the way the Lions, Badgers and Eagles think of it. Trust is for the gullible.

Allegiance, though, that's another matter. Allegiance doesn't rely on trust, it relies on evidence, on proof of past deeds. And allegiance, in any case, is only ever a temporary thing, as malleable as a snake is wiggly.

The malleability and adaptability to circumstance is what makes the Snakes so successful in life – Slytherins are the most represented of the Houses in the top circles of business and politics, where being cunning and ruthless are the name of the game. If that makes the Snakes be looked down on by the other seventy-five percent, well then, that's to the detriment of the masses; it's just another advantage for us to exploit.

I think of this as I sit in the library, at the table that Severus and I have staked for our own, and watch the stream of students come and go. I think of allegiance, and bonds, and loyalty, and trust, and I poke and prod at myself, to determine where the boundaries are, where one of those stops and the other begins. Because it's certainly easy to lose track of those, and just now is not the best time to be inattentive.

I remember, that first night after our sorting, the seven of us jostling and jockeying for the beds in our dorm, feeling each other out, hissing and rattling and nipping at each other like little snakelets to determine the pecking order. I remember Cain Mulciber being the largest of us, even then, and how Terence Avery had seemingly followed his lead for a solid number two in a den of childish eleven-year-olds. I remember Felix Jones being the outcast from the moment the Sorting Hat left his head.

But I don't remember Severus Snape, and I've wondered at that for a while now. I suppose we do all of us have a weakness or two, and clearly this was mine, that it took me so long to come to appreciate him as a fellow Slytherin. Then again, I'm not the only one who's changed in this last year, am I. We've all shown that we're more than we seemed.

I remember the terror of having four bodies on the ground before my feet, insensate, and four more standing around me, all of us in the same deep shite thanks to one weasely little arsehole. It's not that Avery screwed us over that makes me want to hex him to the end of the world and back; it's that he did it on purpose, fully knowing that he'd be protected from the blowback, even though his beef was with Mulciber alone. He stood there and watched us all squirm and he enjoyed himself with glee.

I remember Severus' terror-fuelled frustration, the way he walked on that fine line between fury and fear, the way he connected all the disparate dots even before I did – me, the Prefect of our year, who managed to miss the presence of his direct superior until after Severus knocked him out – to illuminate the true manipulation behind the event. I remember also the way he bamboozled the other three into doing what he wanted them to do, by lying to them about all that nonsense of 'magical signatures', and how they were too stupid or unlearned to recognise his words for what they were.

Severus holds half the cunning of our year in his oily-haired head, and that everyone's missed it is what's fascinated me for the last year. I wonder at what held him back in making his mark on our House until this school year, and I've settled on it having to be his Mudblood friend, the ever-popular Gryffindor Princess, Lily Evans. The change in his attitude came directly after their friendship dissolved, and she's certainly been displeased with him since, to go by our Potions class.

This change that's come over him, though, it's bigger than just leaving the shadows we Pure-bloods cast in our dorm. Used to be, he'd brag and show off with his inventions, let the other Snakes steal them left, right and centre; now he's sparse about it, careful – exceedingly so. He keeps things close, and he makes certain he doesn't lose advantage. Like with that new charm of his to prevent eavesdropping. He's taught it to a few of us, and so now it's spreading through the Slytherin House and has leaked to the rest of the school. But I've caught him cancelling it at least once to eavesdrop without the users suspecting, so I know there's another countercharm to it beyond the one he's given away, one that lets him break through.

So, casting my lot with his? That's been overall an easy decision; he's earned my allegiance not just by saving me and Philes from Avery's trap, but by being the true child of Salazar Slytherin. So much of our House has grown into overly ambitious idiots like Mulciber, spitefully untrustworthy backstabbers like Avery, or abused wallflowers like Jones; I wonder at this, at whether these are truly the kinds of witches and wizards that Salazar Slytherin would've wanted to groom and educate. Then I catch sight of someone I think would make the old king cobra proud, and I know why I feel at home in my House. There's always at least one per generation; whether the others know or not, Severus is ours.

Trust, though? That's another story entirely.

"Another contraceptive potion," comments Severus when the current client leaves and he removes the Muffliato. "I now brew five cauldrons of this per week."

"Would you want to ask Madam Pomfrey for it?"

"And risk her infamous health lecture? Of course not. I've got something for you."

I look at the paper he passes across the table to me; lineage-tracing magic. "Easy enough to find in the library; why has this come to us?"

"The girl doesn't know who her father is. Apparently, everything she's found in the library so far is only useful if there is someone for comparison."

"Ah."

"Thought that might be up your alley."

Another client sits and Severus raises the Muffliato back, leaving me to wonder whether it'll be the girl who is paying me my share for the work, or Severus himself.

The thing about trust? It makes people blind. It's why faking trust is the best way of getting others to slip up and make mistakes.

The other thing about trust, though? It's something of a slippery slope, too; hard to kick once one's picked up the habit, and fighting it too hard ends up leading to paranoia.

I ponder this as I sit and watch Severus conduct secretive business with another teenager, and another, and another. His 'clinic hour'. This whole business he's got going, it's a very good way to line his pockets, certainly, and it's an even better way to put his name out there, establish a reputation early. But it's more than that. He may share the work and the pay with me, but he doesn't trust me to know what he's saying or what he's hearing, which means there's something he is keeping from me. And granted, we're Snakes, it's how we operate. But I can't help but wonder at it, too; what sort of information is he collecting? What sort of connections is he establishing? And does that change anything for me personally?

Until his birthday, I would've easily believed that this whole scheme was one he cooked up to get an audience with the Dark Lord. My surprise was therefore quite considerable when word came through the grapevine that he botched his chance. Severus himself has been silent as Death himself on what transpired; he's doubled down on his work, he's had meetings with Kennard Wilkes, and he's put anyone who dares ask him in their place, but it's clear things have shifted, to go by Avery's behaviour.

For one, the little shite's attempted to recruit me to his own side, several times. What utter imbecile. It certainly doesn't speak well to his intelligence that he seems to fundamentally misunderstand not only my problem with him, but also my lack of problem with Severus. If my goal was to get into the Dark Lord's inner circle first and foremost, then yes, Avery would be the safe bet. But I play a longer game.

My family is an old one, certainly, but we're not in the same league as the Blacks and Malfoys, as the Averys and Rosiers. For all that this might bring scorn on us from that quarter, though, we're also blessed by it. We do not stand out, we do not attract attention, we are not impeded in our movements or our dealings by our reputation. The Dark Lord is certainly a way to hedge our bets, but when playing on the level that my family does, a couple of steps below the big league, priorities are different.

Unlike the Dark Lord's lot at Hogwarts, I do not aim to be a blind follower, joyfully extollinig the virtues of one man, a politician like all the rest, even if his vision for Wizarding Britain is head and shoulders above that of all the others. I shall be happy to be on the periphery of his circle, where I can gain the information I need to keep my family safe and comfortable, as is expected of me. Modest ambitions are a cheap price to pay for safety and comfort; if only more of my housemates understood this, perhaps we Snakes would be running the world by now. Alas.

Indulging in my disgust of Avery is cheap for the price, too, when I can gain what I'm aiming for through Severus. And though that may have become somewhat harder after his botched mission, I am certainly in no rush. Severus has a rapport with both Rosier and Wilkes, not to mention that he's become friendly enough with the wider Death Eater group here at Hogwarts, as well. Where he goes, I go, and so I've already gained what Avery would've sold me for a far higher price – they know who I am, they know what I want. Should Severus never take the Dark Mark, I shall still obtain what I need in order to achieve my goals, and should his road stop earlier than even that, I can always leave him behind. That's what allegiance is, after all – transitory.

The thing about trust? It can be like weeds, sprouting out of perfectly cleaned soil, unnoticed and untended, and if it stays that way, once it's established itself, even pulling it by the roots wouldn't kill it.

I tap my quill feather against my chin as I make notes on a magical ritual that might suffice for the task I've been given, and I dislike how much I, in fact, do not mind that Severus is playing a game I do not know the rules of. For all I know, he may be planning any number of things that would backfire on people who associate with him, and yet I am not in any rush to dig up his secrets. He's built a rapport with Michael Stone and is dating Stacie Monroe, and yet I do not feel any particular curiosity about his purposes for those connections.

So does that constitute trust?

I do not know; I certainly ponder it often enough. I trust my parents, and I trust my cousin, who is the Thistletwaithe heir, for what little truly relevant meaning that word carries. I wouldn't trust my housemates from here to the library entrance. Have I extended my trust unwittingly to Severus Snape as well of all people?

There is a strange case of old-fashioned honourability to Severus, a rare thing in today's world. This used to be far more highly valued among even us Snakes before the onset of this century; not quite so surprising, when today's Slytherins value ambition above cunning, brute power above connections. In a world where one only ever watches one's back whilst holding a hidden dagger ready in one's sleeve for an exposed back to plant it into, it is no wonder that a concept such as honour has lost its favour.

And while I have no doubts that Severus would be quite as ready as the next Snake to plant a dagger into the backs of those he does not consider worth his respect, I am not so certain that he would do the same should it come to those whom he considers more than simple allies, more than means to his own ends. Could it be that this is why I am so swayed to his side? He could have discarded me for Avery at any time throughout this school year; given Avery's establishment among the Death Eater group and Severus' ambitions, it would have paid itself better, certainly, for him to take Avery's side over mine, as Philes has done. And yet, he has not. His dislike of Avery is great, of course, but Severus is the type who is capable of working even with those whom he dislikes, should the need arise, that would not have stopped him.

The more important question, of course – what to do about it? He will use me, just as I will use him. This is the nature of us Snakes, writhing in our den, looking out for number one first. But trust is a finger on the scale, it changes perceptions. Worse still, how is one to go back on it, to un-trust, as it were? I am no less vigilant with Severus than I was before this school year; I poke and I prod and I do not let him hold the upper ground where I feel it important that I assert myself. (He takes it in good humour, too – another difference to the other Snakes, who hardly tolerate such actions from those they consider inferior.) For all that, though, I do make allowances for him that I would not make for others of my acquaintance.

But then, Severus has never given me a cause to believe him disloyal by nature, either, not without just cause. He is not fickle. He is fair in his treatment of our clients, he is flexible when the need arises, and he does stand by his word, such as he gives it. It is a steadfastness that might be newly grown, but I suspect has always been there, buried under the mediocrity of our House and our treatment of Half-bloods, from whom such things are never expected. That is a character trait one can rely on, in dealing with people. So long as I do not threaten him or betray him first, Severus will likely keep his behaviour towards me constant, which is much more than can be said for most.

And as for aid or services rendered? Well, nothing is free in this world, not even for those closest to us. But as our work partnership attests, we are birds of a feather in this, he and I. We value knowledge as the most powerful of currencies, and we hold respect for our respective skills. Severus may jealously guard his research and inventions, but he also knows how to value those who hold more knowledge than he does in a given area. He does not condescend and he does not undervalue the hard work and ingenuity of others. Even with Lily Evans, for all that their animosity provides endless entertainment for the rest of us, he minds her contributions on the work itself – they shall far outstrip any of us when it comes to the quality of their assigned yearly Potions Class task, and no doubt continue to do so next year as well.

Perhaps there isn't much to be done about it; what Severus has earned himself from me, that is being repaid whether I protest or no. He seems poised to continue in such a manner, too, and I hardly have cause to begrudge him this, beyond the secrecy he maintains before me. Perhaps we cannot truly kill the trust that's grown within us, perhaps only those to whom we've given it can do that for us. But if that is the case, then I am still not without recourse.

The thing about trust? It only blinds if one is foolish enough to let it. I may trust Severus, but I am no fool. For a chance that this trust may one day be betrayed, it is on me to put contingencies into place, to give myself safe exits from any potential unpleasant situation. Severus will understand, should he learn of these, their existence will not harm my standing with him; in fact, it is even better if he does not see my trust in him for what it is.

No one says trust has to be divulged, after all; it would be a poor Snake, he who thinks this so.

A/N: Expect the next chapter in a week's time, given the shortness of the Interlude.