Chapter 6
Safe From the Memories?
Snape watched Draco leave the room, and watched him disappear through his office. He stood there long after he left, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom watching, but not paying attention. He wore the glazed expression of one thinking of other things. And he was.
"Severus, we mustn't. . ." slurred Lucius, giggling madly. Severus was giggling to. It didn't matter! Nothing mattered, they were by themselves, in his bedroom, his sound-proof bedroom, with several bottles of miscellaneous drink still unopened. They had everything they would ever need! "Come on!" He hissed, grinning like a madman. Lucius started giggling again, but followed him, clutching at the neck of the half empty champagne bottle. As the door swung shut behind them, the staggered out into the corridor, stifling their laughter. They made their drunken way to the dungeons where Snape taught and went in. . .
'Stop it. Stop it NOW,' Severus told himself sharply and turned from the door and looked at the dishevelled bed. He forced himself to think of shrinking potions, and nothing but shrinking potions as he pulled the sheets into some sort of order. Thoughts of Lucius that tried to flit through, were flattened, stomped on, like a daisy beneath a steamroller. Thoughts of Draco were just ignored. To keep his mind occupied, he left the room, went into his office, and sat down. He picked up his timetable and looked through his classes for the next day. . . First Year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, Third Year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, Sixth Year Slytherin and Gryffindors. . . Draco! Snape swore out loud. He glared at the timetable, willing it to be wrong. It didn't quail under his stare, unlike most unfortunate things that were subjected to it. He gave up. Slamming the piece of paper down onto the desk with such force that one of the precariously balanced piles of paper slid from view and fall to the floor, Snape swore again, more violently. Glaring at the world in general, he collected up the papers, and managed to create a space on the paper mountain that was his desk. Dumping them in the space, Snape went and sat back down in his chair and thought. What was he going to do? Draco was obviously unsure what to think, and if he was honest, so was Snape. Just forget about it, forget about it, forget it, forget it. . .It became Snape's mantra. He knew he won't be able to get back to sleep, so he worked, marking papers, planning classes. Anything else that tried to invade his train of thought was banished by his mantra and ignored. He worked for three hours solid like this, determined not to think of anything but the paperwork. Gradually, the determination crumbled, and he looked up at the wall clock. Quarter past eight, and cold. He rose from his seat and ventured back into the room, that lay silent, almost threateningly so. Keeping his mind carefully clear, he dressed, shaved and prepared to go down for breakfast. As he made to leave, something on the floor caught his eye. He stooped to pick it up. The letter he had given to Draco. Damn. He slipped it into his pocket and strode not to think of it. It required much force of mind, but he managed it, just as he managed most things. He left the dungeons, and arrived slightly earlier than usual at the Great Hall but not early enough to cause comment from the Head master, which, reflected Severus, was a blessing. Breakfast passed. The first two lessons passed. Third period rolled around, and Snape was Prepared. He was sitting behind his desk as the class piled in, noisy as ever. Snape watched, like a hawk. He observed Potter and Wesley stroll in near the end, and strained to hear what Granger was saying; by the looks of things, she had only just joined them. ". . .found by his wife this morning, LOOK!" She was saying, urgently, thrusting a copy of the morning's newspaper into Potter's hands. He and Weasley started to read it as they made their way to their places. He saw their exchange of glances and urgent whispering with Granger, who looked slightly taken back. "Harry, no!" He heard her gasp. She had the kind of voice that could penetrate a Quidditch crowd. There was a brief argument that she seemed to win, but she didn't, however, see the meaningful looks that Weasley and Potter gave each other. He had been right. They weren't going to let it pass unheeded. Snape felt his blood start to boil in slow anger. Not in this class! His eyes narrowed as the class feel silent. When he had their full attention (which didn't take long. The class could feel the anger that Snape was radiating right then), he started the lesson. Time moved on, and started his patrol, weaving in and out of the benches, criticising, commenting, scorning, and, in Neville's case especially, sneering. Lack of sleep and anger at Potter's little crew had put him in a bad mood. Silently he moved behind the three, who were mid-discussion. "Harry, you don't like it when he laughs at your family!" Granger, of course. "Yeah, but that's exactly the point! Make him see how I feel, for a change!" Potter, ever arrogant Potter. "Oh, come on, Hermione! You can't say you like him, can you?" Weasley, coarse and crass. "No, but he is human! He has feelings too!" This girl has too many morals, thought Snape. And for once in my life, I'm glad of them. Leaning onto the bench behind, he drew himself back to the conversation. "He's an evil, malicious, self centred git! He calls you a Mudblood! The only person he's got feelings for is himself!" Weasley glanced at Potter, for support. "Hermione, I've had six years of this! He deserves it!" Potter insisted, unaware of the silence that had taken over the classroom. Everyone was listening, watching the entertainment. Snape resisted a glance in Draco's direction. "Harry, it's not right!" she pleaded. "Sometimes I think your not either," growled Weasley, " Not right in the head." Granger coloured and looked offended, Potter looked at this discarded potion in his cauldron, and Snape chuckled richly. The three froze, only now were they aware of the silent dungeon, and their malevolent teacher behind them, arms crossed, detentions fore-planned. Slowly they turned round. Snape let his anger run lose in their direction. "Weasley, that's probably the only intelligent thing you've said so far. Probably so far in your life, what's more," he said, with a voice of velvet. Velvet that sheathed a very, very sharp dagger. Weasley flushed. Potter glowered up Snape defiantly. Snape glared back. He knew he was good at glaring. He had had a life times experience of it. Potter looked away. "Praise, must, of course, be given to the good Miss Granger, all proper and correct, equal rights, peace and good will to all men, " he sneered, causing her to colour even more. "And then Potter," he continued. " So self pitying when it comes to his own unfortunate family affairs, but not so when it comes to others, hmmm?" He was being cruel now, he knew. He also knew that he didn't care. "You and Weasley will be attending a detention with me tomorrow. You will stay behind after class, and we will arrange it then," he finished smoothly. Potter hung his head. The silence had fallen again, like a thick blanket, although not so comforting. "Well?" He questioned, glaring around at his class, the Slytherins grinning, the Gryffindors glowering mutinously. "Get on with your potions, we haven't got all day!" He went back to his desk, walking with slow, deliberate strides that echoed around the near silent chamber. The next half an hour past amiably enough, the bell rang, and the class ended. "Potter, Weasley, stay behind. And you, Mr. Malfoy," he called out, as they made to leave. The three made their way up to his desk, Draco looking surprised, and maybe a little worried. "Mr. Malfoy, if you'll wait over there a minute, there is something I wish to discuss with you. we won't be a minute here." Draco relaxed slightly and moved away. The detentions were given out, and the two offenders slunk away to the hovering figure of Granger, behind the door. Snape turned his attention to Draco. Before he had a change to speak, Draco started, "Sir, you didn't have to do that, it." Snape cut him off. "Yes I did. If you were going to say it doesn't matter, your wrong, it does." Draco hung his head. The silence returned, but was ended quickly by Snape. "Did you read the paper this morning?" he asked. Draco nodded. "Good," said Snape briskly, and moved on. "I presume your Mother will have sent you a letter, demanding your return to the Manor?" Draco nodded again. "She wants me back tonight. And Dumbledore wants to talk to me after lunch." He looked up, as though struck by a sudden thought. "Sir, was the letter that you gave me in your bedro. . .office this morning?" "Ah, yes, I'd almost forgotten about it," Snape said, and pulled it out of his pocket. He handed it over to the boy, who pocketed it gratefully . "Thanks a lot," he said. "You'd better go, if Dumbledore wants to talk to you. Oh, and by the way, you couldn't owl me with the dates of the funeral could you? I would like to be there. " Draco nodded and left. Severus was left with his head spinning. The rest of the day passed. The day finished. Snape walked from his office where he had been marking, slowly into his bedroom. He hadn't been in there since the morning. It was quiet and still. He stared at the bed. The house elves had been in and re-made it. Everything was neat and tidy, even the stale smell of sex had been removed. Severus left the room, and closed the door on all the memories. He dragged the chair from behind the desk, and set it by the fire. He settled down in it. He would sleep here tonight. Safe from the memories. . .or at least, he bloody well hoped so. He didn't need thoughts of Lucius and Draco rampaging through his mind. He hoped so.
Safe From the Memories?
Snape watched Draco leave the room, and watched him disappear through his office. He stood there long after he left, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom watching, but not paying attention. He wore the glazed expression of one thinking of other things. And he was.
"Severus, we mustn't. . ." slurred Lucius, giggling madly. Severus was giggling to. It didn't matter! Nothing mattered, they were by themselves, in his bedroom, his sound-proof bedroom, with several bottles of miscellaneous drink still unopened. They had everything they would ever need! "Come on!" He hissed, grinning like a madman. Lucius started giggling again, but followed him, clutching at the neck of the half empty champagne bottle. As the door swung shut behind them, the staggered out into the corridor, stifling their laughter. They made their drunken way to the dungeons where Snape taught and went in. . .
'Stop it. Stop it NOW,' Severus told himself sharply and turned from the door and looked at the dishevelled bed. He forced himself to think of shrinking potions, and nothing but shrinking potions as he pulled the sheets into some sort of order. Thoughts of Lucius that tried to flit through, were flattened, stomped on, like a daisy beneath a steamroller. Thoughts of Draco were just ignored. To keep his mind occupied, he left the room, went into his office, and sat down. He picked up his timetable and looked through his classes for the next day. . . First Year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, Third Year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, Sixth Year Slytherin and Gryffindors. . . Draco! Snape swore out loud. He glared at the timetable, willing it to be wrong. It didn't quail under his stare, unlike most unfortunate things that were subjected to it. He gave up. Slamming the piece of paper down onto the desk with such force that one of the precariously balanced piles of paper slid from view and fall to the floor, Snape swore again, more violently. Glaring at the world in general, he collected up the papers, and managed to create a space on the paper mountain that was his desk. Dumping them in the space, Snape went and sat back down in his chair and thought. What was he going to do? Draco was obviously unsure what to think, and if he was honest, so was Snape. Just forget about it, forget about it, forget it, forget it. . .It became Snape's mantra. He knew he won't be able to get back to sleep, so he worked, marking papers, planning classes. Anything else that tried to invade his train of thought was banished by his mantra and ignored. He worked for three hours solid like this, determined not to think of anything but the paperwork. Gradually, the determination crumbled, and he looked up at the wall clock. Quarter past eight, and cold. He rose from his seat and ventured back into the room, that lay silent, almost threateningly so. Keeping his mind carefully clear, he dressed, shaved and prepared to go down for breakfast. As he made to leave, something on the floor caught his eye. He stooped to pick it up. The letter he had given to Draco. Damn. He slipped it into his pocket and strode not to think of it. It required much force of mind, but he managed it, just as he managed most things. He left the dungeons, and arrived slightly earlier than usual at the Great Hall but not early enough to cause comment from the Head master, which, reflected Severus, was a blessing. Breakfast passed. The first two lessons passed. Third period rolled around, and Snape was Prepared. He was sitting behind his desk as the class piled in, noisy as ever. Snape watched, like a hawk. He observed Potter and Wesley stroll in near the end, and strained to hear what Granger was saying; by the looks of things, she had only just joined them. ". . .found by his wife this morning, LOOK!" She was saying, urgently, thrusting a copy of the morning's newspaper into Potter's hands. He and Weasley started to read it as they made their way to their places. He saw their exchange of glances and urgent whispering with Granger, who looked slightly taken back. "Harry, no!" He heard her gasp. She had the kind of voice that could penetrate a Quidditch crowd. There was a brief argument that she seemed to win, but she didn't, however, see the meaningful looks that Weasley and Potter gave each other. He had been right. They weren't going to let it pass unheeded. Snape felt his blood start to boil in slow anger. Not in this class! His eyes narrowed as the class feel silent. When he had their full attention (which didn't take long. The class could feel the anger that Snape was radiating right then), he started the lesson. Time moved on, and started his patrol, weaving in and out of the benches, criticising, commenting, scorning, and, in Neville's case especially, sneering. Lack of sleep and anger at Potter's little crew had put him in a bad mood. Silently he moved behind the three, who were mid-discussion. "Harry, you don't like it when he laughs at your family!" Granger, of course. "Yeah, but that's exactly the point! Make him see how I feel, for a change!" Potter, ever arrogant Potter. "Oh, come on, Hermione! You can't say you like him, can you?" Weasley, coarse and crass. "No, but he is human! He has feelings too!" This girl has too many morals, thought Snape. And for once in my life, I'm glad of them. Leaning onto the bench behind, he drew himself back to the conversation. "He's an evil, malicious, self centred git! He calls you a Mudblood! The only person he's got feelings for is himself!" Weasley glanced at Potter, for support. "Hermione, I've had six years of this! He deserves it!" Potter insisted, unaware of the silence that had taken over the classroom. Everyone was listening, watching the entertainment. Snape resisted a glance in Draco's direction. "Harry, it's not right!" she pleaded. "Sometimes I think your not either," growled Weasley, " Not right in the head." Granger coloured and looked offended, Potter looked at this discarded potion in his cauldron, and Snape chuckled richly. The three froze, only now were they aware of the silent dungeon, and their malevolent teacher behind them, arms crossed, detentions fore-planned. Slowly they turned round. Snape let his anger run lose in their direction. "Weasley, that's probably the only intelligent thing you've said so far. Probably so far in your life, what's more," he said, with a voice of velvet. Velvet that sheathed a very, very sharp dagger. Weasley flushed. Potter glowered up Snape defiantly. Snape glared back. He knew he was good at glaring. He had had a life times experience of it. Potter looked away. "Praise, must, of course, be given to the good Miss Granger, all proper and correct, equal rights, peace and good will to all men, " he sneered, causing her to colour even more. "And then Potter," he continued. " So self pitying when it comes to his own unfortunate family affairs, but not so when it comes to others, hmmm?" He was being cruel now, he knew. He also knew that he didn't care. "You and Weasley will be attending a detention with me tomorrow. You will stay behind after class, and we will arrange it then," he finished smoothly. Potter hung his head. The silence had fallen again, like a thick blanket, although not so comforting. "Well?" He questioned, glaring around at his class, the Slytherins grinning, the Gryffindors glowering mutinously. "Get on with your potions, we haven't got all day!" He went back to his desk, walking with slow, deliberate strides that echoed around the near silent chamber. The next half an hour past amiably enough, the bell rang, and the class ended. "Potter, Weasley, stay behind. And you, Mr. Malfoy," he called out, as they made to leave. The three made their way up to his desk, Draco looking surprised, and maybe a little worried. "Mr. Malfoy, if you'll wait over there a minute, there is something I wish to discuss with you. we won't be a minute here." Draco relaxed slightly and moved away. The detentions were given out, and the two offenders slunk away to the hovering figure of Granger, behind the door. Snape turned his attention to Draco. Before he had a change to speak, Draco started, "Sir, you didn't have to do that, it." Snape cut him off. "Yes I did. If you were going to say it doesn't matter, your wrong, it does." Draco hung his head. The silence returned, but was ended quickly by Snape. "Did you read the paper this morning?" he asked. Draco nodded. "Good," said Snape briskly, and moved on. "I presume your Mother will have sent you a letter, demanding your return to the Manor?" Draco nodded again. "She wants me back tonight. And Dumbledore wants to talk to me after lunch." He looked up, as though struck by a sudden thought. "Sir, was the letter that you gave me in your bedro. . .office this morning?" "Ah, yes, I'd almost forgotten about it," Snape said, and pulled it out of his pocket. He handed it over to the boy, who pocketed it gratefully . "Thanks a lot," he said. "You'd better go, if Dumbledore wants to talk to you. Oh, and by the way, you couldn't owl me with the dates of the funeral could you? I would like to be there. " Draco nodded and left. Severus was left with his head spinning. The rest of the day passed. The day finished. Snape walked from his office where he had been marking, slowly into his bedroom. He hadn't been in there since the morning. It was quiet and still. He stared at the bed. The house elves had been in and re-made it. Everything was neat and tidy, even the stale smell of sex had been removed. Severus left the room, and closed the door on all the memories. He dragged the chair from behind the desk, and set it by the fire. He settled down in it. He would sleep here tonight. Safe from the memories. . .or at least, he bloody well hoped so. He didn't need thoughts of Lucius and Draco rampaging through his mind. He hoped so.