Cursed Escape
CH 6: The Things I Had to Do
(Flashback Chapter - you can see these as Sev thinking about the last few days in between the adults talking to him)
Voldemort World, in the days leading up to jumping in the lake, following onward in time from CH 4 flashback...
Knowing that there was a long night ahead, Sev looked around the Slytherin table for Scorpius, and not seeing him decided not to linger at dinner. He intended to grab something and go, but that was always rather harder in practice than theory.
"Oy, Sev. Did you get the answer to the Arithmancy yet?"
He looked up from where he was cutting a roll. "Yes, why?"
"Did you have 8 rows and a positive correlation?"
Pausing with his knife, he turned to the other boy and frowned, almost imperceptibly shaking his head. What? That doesn't even make sense.
"I should say yes so that you learn it on your bloody own, but no." He lowered his eyes back to his task, which was his clear refusal of any 'help' beyond saying the answer was wrong. He'd learned within the first two months of schooling that help most often did not mean help, and he found he inherited his father's patience, or lack thereof, for idiots. Especially lazy idiots.
"Did you see the 6th year one yet, Snape?" An older blond boy asked.
"Yes, and no I didn't solve it, though I probably could. I already learned that you lot rifle through my things looking for it, and I'm very tired of explaining cursed journals and injuries because my housemates can't keep their hands to themselves."
"Yeah, then we all end up disemboweling slimy things and writing lines for Professor Snape."
Sev paused from chugging a glass of juice and said, "Exactly, and you lot can escape him. I can't."
"Are you running tomorrow morning?" It came from the same older blond.
"6am, every morning. You going to vow to get up and then sleep in yet again?" He asked, quirking a dark brow. "You Keepers are lazy."
He picked up his makeshift sandwich and gave them all a nod a he turned to leave, catching the last bit of conversation as he walked back down the hall.
"What're we going to do if Malfoy is still buggered by the next practice? We'd need a seeker."
The walk down to the dungeon was long enough to both finish eating and get stopped by Ada Turner, 5th year Ravenclaw, who was either flirting with him or trying to figure out if he knew who Scorpius was asking to the ball. At his age, girls made little sense, and with his more academic nature girls did not hold the greatest allure to inspire him to try to make sense of them either.
They did not often ask him about or talk about anything he had much interest in, and he was well-aware that anyone he got close to by any measure was instantly potential collateral damage to his own situation. It was not particularly savory, so whether or not he liked his alone time, he had learned to know how to like it out of necessity.
"You're earlier than I expected," his father said to him as he walked into the private lab.
"Sir?" He had already taken off his robe and was holding his gloves in confusion.
"Did you skip dinner?" It was asked in a way that insinuated such a thing happened more than it likely should. He had already confessed that he didn't eat earlier before Dark Arts class.
"No, sir. I ate quickly. You said not to mess about and be prompt."
Up went his father's eyebrow.
"Well you did, Dad." He raised his own eyebrow, as if wondering if he was going to get told off about his eating habits.
"Well, don't mess about then, and get to work setting up while I finish gathering the ingredients," was the response. A small smile followed once the boy turned his back to do as he asked.
Placing a final jar on the work table ten minutes later, after keeping his eye on his son's movements, he paused to touch that far less pale face. "You are not as clammy anymore. I trust you're feeling better."
"Just a bit worn, but I'm fine. I'm not nauseated anymore. I did eat." He paused to widen his eyes and jut his chin forward with seriousness as if he was not in the mood to be doubted, "Real food, sir." His father's hand moved down to linger on his shoulder.
"And the shaking?"
"Stopped, I think." He looked hopeful, always more expressive with his father that beyond that private sphere.
"You think?" His father asked, closing his eyes and then opening them, not having much patience for the 'I think so' phrases to begin with. "I do hope you think, frequently."
The boy sighed with exasperation as his father's constant critique of his choice of words and said, "Dad, you need my help. I can help. I'm okay, really. Steady hands. No excuses, right?" He wiggled his fingers in the air to illustrate.
"That's not precisely applicable in this circumstance."
"Because it's okay if you don't sleep? Hardly ever?" Concern went both ways.
The world of Hogwarts proper might believe Professor Snape just as much the unbearable git as ever, but the man was the only real aspect of the world to his son, so he rather was the world to one just more than five foot tall, lion-maned teenager. A boy who thought to lecture him after his own health tit for tat.
The professor raised both brows as the boy crossed his arms at him, like his mother. How utterly annoying. "Difficult though it may be to believe, you are more important than my sleeping patterns, boy," he groused.
Truth be told, he was a rather protective father in his own way. There was a time and a place for lessons about powering through any circumstance; frankly, he was hardly worried about the boy's endurance. That had already been plenty tested, but to do the quantity of Veritaserum the Potions master needed to do, he did need the other set of hands.
Sev stuck out his chin again, not realizing it did not make his point or stature any more impressive. It did not do for Hermione either. Although when the boy held up a rather large knife as a statement of being ready to begin, the comically menacing nature of it did made the professor chuckle, unintentional though it was on the boy's part.
It did have the consequence of ending the deliberations of whether he could brew steadily enough, though.
The quiet and focus of working with his father was always somewhat calming. There was nothing unpredictable about it, and the precision of it kept his mind occupied. They could just do what they were doing, with nothing else to think about. There were no what ifs. You knew exactly what was going to happen and when. That was all too rare a thing.
And it was some five hours later before thoughts of the younger Severus' steadiness came back around. The professor went from worrying that the boy's chopping or measuring might not be exacting enough to wondering if he really could do it with his eyes half-closed.
"Take a break for half an hour and rest your eyes," he said to the boy, in a voice that brokered no arguing.
Truth be told, he knew the second his son sat down behind the desk and put his head on it, he'd be out. This way, though, there would be less argument about going to sleep before this stage was complete.
He continued on until a lull in the process allowed him to magic the boy into bed before finishing out the first night of the process and leaving it to cool. By that time it was only an hour or so before sunrise. He cleaned his hands and splashed some water on his face.
He could finish and clean up himself, but then he'd have to deal with a barely contained teenaged glower the rest of the week.
Nevertheless, he watched his son sleep for a few minutes, nightmare free, with a few dark wavy locks shaking in the wake of his breathing against the pillow. The rest was still braided thick as a rope. Though his son accused him of not sleeping much, he knew the boy did not sleep very well either and, predictably, had memories that haunted his sleep much of the time.
He closed his own eyes tiredly as he sat down on the bed and listened to that soft, peaceful breathing. A few minutes later, he gently shook the boy's shoulder, then put his hand in the middle of his back and shook again.
"Sev, wake up."
"Hmmwhat?" Sleepy lifted his head. "Dawhyoulemmesleep."
He wasn't even fully awake yet and he was glowering and grousing about sleeping.
"That's why, because you needed to," he replied, then added in his head, thanks to that dolt Carrow. Patiently, he watched his son finger the grit from his eyes and yawn, propping himself on an elbow. "It's cooling. There's tea and toast on the table. Finish it up and get everything cleaned and put away," he instructed.
"Yesssir," came the half asleep reply.
"If you hurry, you should still be able to go for your run before classes start." He knew his son liked the quiet and solitude of it. Plus, quidditch training was reason enough for running to the boy who didn't know how to do anything without intensity. He certainly didn't begrudge his son the only fun available. He did make a deceptively wicked, though almost comically small, beater.
He thought mentioning the run might help with the waking. It didn't. The boy rolled toward the edge of the bed to get up and then stopped, edging more back to sleep than out of the bed, it seemed.
"Sev."
"Mmm up."
With a sigh, he reached over and whapped the boy in the back of the head with just enough force to jolt him. It worked.
"What time is it, Dad?" He asked sitting on the edge and then finally standing up and then cracking a shoulder.
"4:30 or so." Only an hour before his son usually got up for his runs, but at least it would make his son feel less guilty about falling asleep on brewing the night before. Even if it was a silly notion to begin with. He got that from Hermione.
After getting a few hours of sleep, the professor wandered into the lab rather needlessly. He knew everything would be put away correctly. He ran his eyes over the Veritaserum that had been set up to mature in glass to the side until the next phase.
"And the NEWT students whine about my expectations when my thirteen year old can perform better," he muttered to himself, thinking about the Living Death that was an utter disaster. Not one viable potion from an entire class, and he already had his speech planned for tomorrow for that particular group of students.
The hallways were full of students heading toward their next classes. Sev was trying to avoid a Ravenclaw girl who seemed to find his conversation far more interesting than he found hers.
"Mr. Snape," a no more welcoming female voice sounded out to him.
Sev cringed as his face was away from her but schooled it as he turned around to face her. "Good afternoon, Headmistress."
She was like a pink poison that smelled like cherries but burned like Fiendfyre.
Her eyes turned him up and down, with her constant saccharine smile. "You are always perfectly dressed to standard." She gave him a pat on the chest with a chubby-fingered hand. "Never with your shirt-tails out, your tie like a necklace, or without your robes during proper hours."
The pat did not give him any sense of warmth. He was silent for a moment, unsure precisely what was required of him. It seemed she wanted a reply. She stared at him expectantly.
"Yes, Headmistress." Then he added for a touch of appropriate gusto, "My father would not tolerate me being sloppy or setting a poor example of the rules, it would undermine his authority."
That was true and convenient. And his father rather approved of the proper dress and decorum part of things.
"You are a good boy, so respectful."
Gag. Now he was certain she wished something from him, but he said, "Thank you, ma'am."
"Do you have class this next period, Severus?"
She had pulled out his first name and said it as if she had just said sugar. "No, ma'am."
"Join me for tea, will you?"
That sounds positively revolting. "Of course." As it was ever intelligent to be on Umbridge's, well, thing that resembled a good side, he added, "Would you like me to carry that, Headmistress?" He nodded to the book and clipboard she carried. He wouldn't turn down a chance to get a glance at it.
"Such a proper example of good wizarding blood," she veritably cooed at him.
Ah, yes, technically speaking I have 3 Muggle grandparents and my mum is a big Mudblood traitor. Very good example of pure wizarding blood. It was something of an amusement for him when he was commended for either his intelligence or his magical ability, because they had no idea who his real mother was, so did not realize how empty the compliments were.
He took her things happily, holding them in front of him in a way where he could surreptitiously look down now and again and attempt to read it. Seemed to just be notes on points, but there were some notes on students in there too.
"You did not participate in the activities in the dungeons?"
"I had to help my father brew Veritaserum and Wolfsbane. I've been busy seeing to that when I'm not doing my classwork." He had no desire to participate in torturing Muggles, Mudbloods, and blood traitors stuck to the dungeon walls, but he could not very well say that. At least this time he had a verifiable excuse for his avoidance.
"Pity you missed out, although a good service for our Lord. Few can claim to be any useful at your age, even if it's just assisting your father."
"I exist to serve," he replied, as if he may have truly meant it. If he truly meant it in any way, he meant that he would do anything to help his father.
"I have not heard of any of your spells lately, Severus..."
What is she getting at...He felt as if he was walking, or talking, his way into something potentially dangerous.
"I have not had much time to work on anything, Headmistress." He was in no great hurry to share anything he researched on his own or with his father's help. Every now and again he might come up with something of mild interest to the gag-tastic woman just to keep off her radar, but by and large what interested him personally had very little application to either controlling or hurting people.
They took the revolving stairway up to her office. Tea was already being set out by an Elf. He was on his guard even though she probably figured the son of any Potions master was going to be at best immune to Veritaserum and at worst wary of it being used. Not to mention any Veritaserum she had was made by his father.
"You did not try anything on Scorpius Malfoy, did you, Severus? Or perhaps he on you? That might have rebounded?"
"No, ma'am, I have not seen Scorpius in a few days. I heard a few fifth years say he was acting odd though." Why would I do anything to Scorpius...not on purpose at least.
"You're sure you didn't, Mr. Snape? I will not be angry and will punish you very little. I just want the boy back to rights. He shall make us all look bad if this continues..."
"I'm sure, Headmistress. I'm sorry." He took up the tea. The fact that she had asked him all that before he had sipped it likely meant she truly did intend to have tea and her version of a pleasant interrogation. "You know my father would not tolerate me treating advanced magic like a toy to be played about without respect." Never was a more true statement from him uttered to Umbridge. His father was as strict as could possibly get on that issue, hence his foolish wand-waving introduction to Potions.
Sev put on a even more grim look, for appearance sake, and added, "My father does not tolerate repeating himself either." He tried to attach that statement to a meaningful look that suggested he would not ever be risking a beating by playing around with magic on Scorpius.
"No, I suppose not. Your father is quite the task-master." She paused for a sip of tea, "No quidditch accidents at practice? You've not hit a bludger to him?"
He tried very hard not to laugh, but he couldn't help a slight curl of his lips. She truly was baffled and bizarrely concerned about Scorpius. "No, Headmistress." His beater skills were quite strong, but they had not had practice the last few days either. Nor had Scorpius gone running with him the last few mornings or done any training at all. "The objective would be to protect the Seeker, Professor, not injure your own…" He held in his smarmy grin but had to blink about twice as much for nearly thirty seconds.
"Oh well. Had anyone been mad at the boy lately?"
"Scorpius?" Almost the whole school is either afraid of him or hates him...what a ridiculous question.
"Yes, of course." She said it impatiently, snapping at him and then putting her happy smile back in place.
"I do not think so, Headmistress. All I've heard is girls agonizing over if he is going to ask them to the Ball, but I don't think hexing him would improve any of those chances." He raised an eyebrow and took another sip. Giving her useless information was almost a hobby, but she leeched onto it and thought he was genuine. "It doesn't sound like the proper sort of odd behavior, but unless one of them tried to get him with a bad Love Potion, I have no idea."
Honestly, it sounded like Scorpius was sliding himself slowly into dangerous ground with Umbridge. While Scorpius had become nearly the opposite of Sev, they had known each other their entire lives; Scorpius had grown progressively more like the rest of them especially since his mother had died. That did not mean he didn't care, if only for the ever more occasional moments where Scorpius was as he was before Hogwarts.
"Hmm." She considered this over a dainty sip.
An idea popped into his mind. "Or maybe one of the others that's asked Polly Chapman that she's said no to because she's waiting for Scorpius tried something." There was a particular Ravenclaw 5th year who terrorized the younger students that had asked Polly too, and if he could get that kid taken out of commission for a few weeks, it would be good for the ickles and Mudbloods. "Forsythe, and I do not think he and Scorpius get on."
"Yes, and Forsythe is vindictive enough."
He smiled innocuously. Play the devils against each other and let them take themselves out. "It might be worth talking to him." A talk with Umbridge was not a talk.
"Has Scorpius been asking you about Harry Potter?" She changed direction.
Up went his eyebrow. "Harry? Harry Potter?" He was utterly perplexed. "Scorpius asking about...Harry Potter?" He blinked.
"I know, shocking! It is most odd. If such word gets out! Students speaking about Harry Potter. Your best friend speaking about Harry Potter...Not good for any of us."
"That is very unlike Scorpius, Headmistress, but like I said, I haven't seen him in a few days, so he's not asked me about anything." Is she insinuating something? He was unsure if it was beyond the typical 'your character is judged by those you keep company with.' Was she expecting him to do something about it?
She was oblivious to his deliberations, "Yes, yes, brewing, I recall. Nasty business, Potions. Very dirty and smelly."
Although he found that sentiment rather insulting, he tried to give a benign smile. He almost expected her to say it was better for boys to do Potions because it wasn't proper for girls to get dirty or smelly.
"Is there anything you require, ma'am? I'd be happy to make it for you." He would make sure it tasted and smelled extra revolting if he could. Poisoning was out of the question. He'd asked his father, numerous times.
"You are a delightful young man. I shall let you know." She gave her little laugh.
I could vomit...
"Can I count on you to let me know if you hear anything of Scorpius or what's happened to him?" She asked, almost sweetly.
"Of course, Headmistress," he replied, earnestly.
"Perhaps you might...ask a few others."
Does she not realize the Veritaserum I mentioned brewing takes a lunar cycle... "If you wish, I will ask around." He raised an eyebrow at the word 'ask,' enjoying the ridiculousness of making it seem like what they were talking about was a little secret.
The forced amiability of tea truly was revolting, but if he could get points for dosing people with fake Veritaserum and then reporting he found absolutely nothing, he was surely going to.
"Very good, my dear, very good. I shall be loathed if only one of the two of you is a prefect next year, I truly would prefer the pair. Scorpius just is not right; as his best friend, I trust you will do your best to help him and to help me help him."
"Yes, Headmistress, of course." If she only knew how bloody little I want to be a prefect...
Prefects were expected to dole out punishments. Unfortunately, mucking up his progression of being on the proper side of things was probably just as unsavory as having to curse fellow students as punishment. It was always choosing between the lesser of two evils. At least he would not be looking to see just how sadistic he could be if it happened. Scorpius played that side of the coin, and it was difficult to watch what his friend had turned into.
He finished his tea. "If there's nothing else, ma'am, I have a lot of Arithmancy to do before dinner."
"No, that is all," she said, still with that plastered on smile.
He stood and picked up his bag.
She gave her little sugary cough and then said, "Actually. You are going back to the dungeons, of course. Take care of that last Mudblood, won't you, Severus? You did miss the sport of it, I think." Meaning the fun was rather spent out of torturing the poor soul. "And I'll send Mr. Filch down to clean it all up. There may be more tomorrow; perhaps that will cheer Scorpius. A fresh start."
Yes, unfortunately, Scorpius did like his targets fresh...Without missing a beat, he said, "Yes, Headmistress, I'll take care of it."
After all the agonized screaming all day, he would happily dole out the mercy part of it. He put on a look as if it was an extra privilege. On his way back down from her office, he took in a breath through his nose, letting it out slow and feeling his heart beat relax some out of Queen Toad's presence.
Giving someone a quick death was sometimes one of few good things he could do.
Next up: What Kingsley tells all the adults and what they decide to do ;)
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