CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Under Pressure
Ellie had no intentions of giving Snape the letter. It had been waxed with her mother's seal, so there was no way she could replicate it with a new envelope. And the last thing she wanted was Snape finding out she'd been snooping through his mail.
Dean and Seamus took turns drawing caricatures of him during the next Potions class, and she did her best to laugh along with them when Snape wasn't looking, but it wasn't easy. If Snape really was her uncle, could she really keep on making fun of him? Wasn't there some sort of family loyalty code of ethics she was supposed to follow? Already, a part of her was starting to pity him, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why.
By the end of class, she had talked herself out of confronting him and had every intention of leaving with her friends. But, to her surprise, he shouted, "Bretherworth! Come see me," and just like that, she was forced to stay.
"It is May, Miss Bretherworth," Snape sneered at her as the rest of the class funneled out, "and your grade has been steadily declining due to your lack of participation. Exams are coming up in a month, and I would suggest you kick the participation up a notch if you want any hope of passing."
She wasn't entirely sure why he had held her back for this lecture, rather than Dean and Seamus. She was pretty sure she was doing better in Potions than either of them, and probably Neville, too.
"Yes, sir," she said through clenched teeth. "Is that all?"
He didn't seem to like that question, but he gave her a short nod, all the same.
She had every intention of leaving; being in his presence still overwhelmed her with the same urge to run away that it had when she first met him. But then she thought of that letter, and of all her unanswered questions, and forced herself to be brave.
"Professor," she said. "Do you know my mother?"
He blinked. It was the first time she'd ever seen him look surprised, and it was a funny expression on him. It took him several seconds to form the careful question that he asked back to her: "What did she tell you?"
"Nothing," Ellie said quickly, biting her lip. "But I… sort of… put some things together. You look like her, you know."
"Put some things together," he repeated slowly, narrowing his eyebrows. "Why don't you come out and say what you mean to, Eleanor?"
It was the first time he had called her by her first name, and while she still preferred "Ellie," it was a start. "You're my uncle," she said, clearing her throat. "Aren't you?"
He remained silent for several more seconds at that. He looked pained—like he wasn't at all sure telling her the truth was the smart thing to do. But he also didn't quite seem able to stomach lying to a student, let alone his niece. "Yes," he finally said. "I am your mother's half-brother, by our mother, Eileen Snape… formerly Eileen Prince."
"She's older, then?"
His eyebrows narrowed further. "Younger. These are really things you should discuss with your mother, Eleanor."
"Believe me—I've tried." She cursed her voice for the emotional waver in it, but pressed on. "She tells me nothing. No one tells me anything. I want to know about my father, Snape. I know his name isn't really Bretherworth. It isn't even Andrew. Why is everyone so afraid of telling me the truth?"
A flash of sympathy crossed over Snape's cold, black eyes, but as soon as it was there, it was gone. "The truth is, Eleanor, your father is a traitor—a turncoat—a soulless murderer who killed twelve Muggles with a single spell. And if you were smart, you'd stop asking questions about him."
"Twelve Muggles with a single spell?" asked George that night when she sat in the corner of the common room with him and Fred, filling them in on everything. "Well, that sounds like Sirius Black."
"No way," said Fred immediately. "El can't be Sirius Black's daughter. He's, like, as evil as it gets."
Ellie bit her lip. She shouldn't want to hear more, but she did. "Do you know the whole story about him?"
Fred and George exchanged a look, then Fred took over. "I'd have to ask Mum and Dad for the details—obviously it was loads before our time, y'know, when You Know Who was at large. I just remember that a friend of his was involved—a friend who also died from the spell—and that he was a big supporter of You Know Who."
"Was he a Gryffindor?" Ellie asked, straightening in her seat. "Did he have a daughter?"
But Fred's apologetic expression spoke for itself; that was all he knew.
"You should really be focusing on your exams, El," said George. "I know you want answers, but it's not exactly time-sensitive; if your dad really did kill all those people, he's gonna be in Azkaban for a very long time."
"I have an idea," said Fred. "How about another concert? Something to get everyone's minds off all this stress and studying."
"It'd have to be impromptu," pointed out George. "No time to get an official one approved by McGonagall—which means no bassist."
Ellie didn't love the idea of having a concert without Ginny, but she liked it better than the thought of having no concert at all. "How about the music?" she asked. "Anyone written anything decent this term?"
"Nah," George admitted. "Anything I've written has been total rubbish."
"What about you, El?" asked Fred. "You've written some decent lyrics—I've seen them."
She had, on occasion, written a decent stanza here or there. But she wasn't quite sure she was ready to put together an entire song.
As the days passed, Hermione seemed to be spending every possible second studying, Harry and Ron seemed to be gathering every bit of information they could find on the obstacles below the trapdoor the three-headed dog was guarding, and Snape seemed to be pretending that his conversation with Ellie had never happened. She tried sending one last letter to her mother, imploring her to come out with the truth about her father, but was met with silence.
It was around mid-June that Ellie experienced her final straw. .She was with the twins, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The latter three were studying while she and the twins played a wizarding version of Hangman in which the drawing of the gallows was animated and lively. There were a few other students there, all looking panicked and like they were concentrating way too hard. Ellie spotted Snape walking in and ducked her head so he wouldn't see her.
"What are you doing?" Snape snapped at two second-year girls who were whispering, probably about him. On their desk was a board game.
"Playing Wandums, sir," squealed one of the girls.
Snape looked annoyed. "You should be studying, not playing games."
Sensing the commotion, Madam Pince bustled over to see what was going on. Ellie glanced up to watch as Pince said, "Oh, dear—girls, you really shouldn't be playing games here. Especially not with exams looming."
"But I thought—the sign said—"
"Blimey, Rush," said a third-year boy who was clearly a Slytherin. "Lord knows you could use the studying."
A few others sniggered at that, and Ellie saw from Fred and George's expressions that this was the Draco of their grade.
"That's enough, Adam," said Snape, who didn't sound particularly disgruntled by the boy's language. "Girls, he is right—you should be studying, not gaming. Fifteen points from Gryffindor, and get back to work before it's twenty."
Ellie had had enough. Being Snape's niece clearly hadn't earned her any favor in his book, but she still had to do something. She stood abruptly out of her chair and stormed over to him before the twins could stop her.
"I can't believe you did that," she said when she reached him.
For the second time ever, she saw surprise on his face. He guided her pointedly away from hearing range of the others before saying in a hushed voice, "If you think our previous conversation in any way means you can now speak to me—"
"This has nothing to do with our previous conversation," she snarled at him. "You took fifteen points away from my house because some girls were playing a game on their down time. What is the matter with you?"
"Ten more points from Gryffindor," he barked, glowering at her, "and there's plenty more where that came from if you don't get a hold of yourself. Acting just like your father, arrogant—"
"What do you have against our fathers, anyway?" asked Harry, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Ellie glanced up at him to see that he, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George were all coming over toward them.
"Only that they, like their offspring, were weak, arrogant, cocky, disrespectful—"
"Better that than you!" Ellie shouted. She knew she was going too far, but she couldn't help herself. "You're miserable, cruel, and deceptive! You favor Slytherins openly, you treat Gryffindors like we're the scum of the earth, and you barely even care about teaching!"
"Fifty points!" he bellowed.
"Is that all you've got?" she demanded, though several of the Gryffindors around them didn't look quite so nonchalant about it. "All you can punish me with is made-up numbers?"
As Snape gaped at her, she turned to the twins and nodded. It was clear what they had to do now. Ellie hadn't finished writing any original songs, but there was an existing song that was pretty spot-on for their situation: Under Pressure.
It was all too easy to summon their instruments; from there, Ellie casted Sonorus on Fred and nodded as Snape stood, furious, watching.
"Pressure," Fred sang, sounding startling like David Bowie, "pushing down on me, pushing down on you, no man ask for."
Ellie smiled as she strummed her guitar. Their performance may have come out of nowhere, but it was also the only thing that made sense amidst a world of chaos. It wasn't just what they needed; it was what the rest of the students needed, too.
"It's the terror of knowing what this world is about. Watching some good friends screaming, 'Let me out!'"
Everyone except Snape seemed to understand; the students even seemed to draw some degree of relief from it. Even the teachers who had bustled in upon hearing the noise looked sympathetic. Ellie knew they'd be in serious trouble when the song was over, but for now, she didn't care. Their music was doing exactly what they had always hoped it would: it was helping people.
I know this one was a bit cheesy, but I always loved these little impromptu covers in That Girl, and I couldn't bear to part with them for this one. Besides, if you could magically summon a guitar and sing your heart out to your teachers during exam week, wouldn't you? (Okay, maybe not...) We're nearing the end of book one, so make sure you don't miss a moment of it, and please keep your reviews coming to show your support. Thanks for reading!