Chapter 11

DISCLAIMER: Miss Rowling owns it all * sob * !Except the plot, and the peculiar people who are insisting on wandering around, stealing silver spoons. . . they are mine! ALL MINE! Like that's something to be proud of. . .

Oh, yes, thanks go again to Ambrosius, for giving me the word melancholy to replace sorrowful! Thank you!

Alysun

The Funeral- Part II

Snape stood behind the screen patiently as the herd of scavengers, as he saw them, streamed out. He heard the door being closed, but still didn't move. After assuring that the room was clear, he strode out after them, and slipped into the big room next door.

The room was busy; mostly with people squabbling over seats at the front. As unobtrusively as possible, he made his way quietly to the back, and sat at the end of the row, by himself. Draco was at the other end, but Snape ignored him. There was no need to bring attention to themselves, especially a  time like this. He was worried about Draco; he seemed distant somehow. They would have to talk some time soon, Snape thought. It couldn't carry on this way.

Finally, after the group had sorted themselves out, (the losers slinking away towards the back), the man at the front stood up on his little stand. The mumbling undertone of whispers stopped, and he started talking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce myself as Mr. Cleveland, the late Mr. Malfoy's lawyer."

He paused momentarily, for effect, and Narcissa took  the opportunity to sniff, loudly in a tortured manner. Snape felt a stab of irritation. If she thought she felt bad. . .! The lawyer continued.

"He wrote his last Will and Testament on the 13th of December, last year. It is fairly short and straight forward.  It hearby states the following. . .A-hem," He paused and shuffled his notes.

"I, Lucius Malfoy, sound of both body and mind declare this to be my Last Will and Testament. All instructions heard from here onward MUST be followed, to ensure my peace of mind.

Draco Malfoy, my eldest and only son is to receive responsibilities of Malfoy Manor and it's grounds from the reading of this will. He will inherit half the contents of Gringrotts cell 729, when he has reached the age of 20. . ."

The man droned so, thought Snape lazily. He wasn't interested in the will, but the rest of the congregation, excluding one or two, we listening hungrily, waiting for their names to be mentioned, doubtlessly hoping for a long number to accompany it. A few names that Snape had heard Lucius mention in passing were given certain items, and others looked more and more dejected as the list carried on. Snape was shocked when he heard his name mentioned.

". . .to Professor Severus Snape of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I leave the following three books. . .Moste Potente Potions,  Dillemand of Atlantis, and the Notes of Mindrel Clarkes. Under no circumstances should he be refused these books, on my insistence.  The rest will be left to my dear wife, Narcissa Petunia Malfoy. "

He finished and looked up.

No one was listening. They were staring at Snape, who was staring at the ceiling in dismay. Of all the people to be mentioned, his name had created the biggest stir. . .the family resented him because he had something they had, and the friends resented it because he hadn't been seen to be as  close to Lucius as he actually was. . .

Why had Lucius left him these things? Moste Potente Potions, he could understand. Lucius had always said he would give it to him one day, as the school library's copy was so battered now. But Dillemand of Atlantis? It was a romance story, wasn't it? He couldn't remember, he had never been a patron of the classics. The Notes of Mindrel Clarkes was ancient, a book of alchemy, quite out of date.

Still, Lucius must have had some kind of a reason. . .He realised that an old lady with an umbrella was talking at him.

". . .why should you be left things and me not? I'm his mother! I've never even heard of you, you. . ."

"Grandmother! Father, must have had his reasons, surely? All we can do is trust him. They aren't particularly valuable books, are they? And I can't say you would want them, after all," Draco broke in, coming to Snape's rescue.  The old lady stared at him defiantly, before dropping her gaze and said,

"I suppose not, but really! Not giving anything to his old mother! I slaved for that boy! I worked, I. . ." she turned round and went off mumbling to herself. Snape was cynical that she had ever done anything more than tug a bell pull for work. But still.

The staring assembly also started to talk by themselves, giving Snape many mutinous glares, which he returned, coolly. Slowly, the group drifted in twos and threes back into the Living Room.

Snape stayed, deep in thought, in the room, unaware that he and Draco were the only ones left. Dillemand of Atlantis? He knew that it had been banned at one point, for obscenity (probably why Lucius had a copy), but couldn't recall the plot.

"Sir?" Draco asked.

Snape snapped back into reality.

"Mmmm?" he said, in way of a reply.

"Er... Mr. Cleveland said that I was to give you the books now. Shall we go up to the Library?" He asked, hesitantly. 

"Yes, thank you, Draco," he said, and got to his feet.  Draco moved in front of him, opening doors, leading the way to the Library.

 He didn't know that Snape and Lucius had spent a lot of time in the Library. . .not always reading, admittedly, but usually. Anyway. Snape knew the way, remembering every step like it was a sweet one. They had had many arguments in the Library. 

They reached, after many corridors and staircases; the Library was on the fourth floor.  Draco pushed the oak door open, and led the way into the darkened room. With the wave of his wand, Snape lit the torches on the wall. Draco looked round in surprise.

"I used to come up here with your Father, "he explained, his voice. . .wistful? He hoped not.

Draco nodded in understanding, but didn't say anything about it. Snape was grateful for that, at least.

"Which books do you need, again?"

Need? thought Snape. Need?!

"Hm... Moste Potente Potions, Dillemand of Atlantis, and The Notes of Mindrel Clarkes, I believe," he said.

"Okay. . .I think Dillemand will be in the Classics section, won't it?"

Snape spread his hands, in an expression of ignorance.

"I have no idea. I am not overly familiar with the book. But, yes, I imagine that that is where it will be."

Draco nodded, and they walked through the labyrinth of books shelves. They reached an extensive collection labelled 'Classics' and started searching. It was Draco who found it, at the end of the bottom row. He pulled it out, and handed the well thumbed copy to Snape.

"I've heard of that," he said. "But I can't think why father would have wanted you to have it, from what I've been told."

"To be honest, nor do I, but never mind. Your father was fond of cryptic jokes. . ." he stopped suddenly.  Draco nodded sympathetically. He knew the feeling when you were talking about something totally unimportant to do with the man, and then realise that he was dead. . .

"The other two should be close together, in the Potions section. Alchemy is near there, anyway," he said softly. He didn't want this! He didn't want Lucius to be dead. . .he didn't want to be here, he didn't want any of it! He felt sick at heart, and nauseous in general.

Draco nodded silently again, and they made their way to the back of the room where the Potions books were kept. They were stored next to a huge fireplace, which was in turn, was settled with two heart chairs, a table and a drinks cabinet. Snape made a point of avoiding looking at the scene, and concentrated on the books. They soon found it, and shortly after that, Clarkes notes, nearby.

They paused. Now that Snape had the three books, and their presence in the room, together, was rendered invalid. It was Draco who spoke first.

"You said we needed to talk?"

Snape gave the smallest of mental sighs. He didn't want to, but it was clear that they had to. There were so many questions to be answered. He looked at his watch, which read twenty past six. Damn! He said that he would be back for half past. . .

"Yes. Unfortunately, not now. The Head Master is expecting me back at half six. Believe me, we will talk when you get back to Hogwarts. When are you actually coming back?" he asked. It may have been a trick of the light, but he thought Draco looked downcast momentarily. If he did, it was hidden immediately.

"Mother said next term, since there's only a week left of this one."

Snape nodded.

They walked down from the library, not talking, but conversing pleasantly, conversation drifting randomly from subject to subject. They reached the front door. 

"I'd better go. Thank you for your help," said Snape politely. The funeral guests were still in the drawing room.

"Yes, sir. Until after Christmas, then," smiled Draco.

Snape nodded curtly in reply. "Until then."

He turned his back and walked away down the drive, where he would disapperate.  He felt Draco's eyes following him all the way, but he forced himself not to look back. He checked his watch again. He still had to walk up to Hogwarts from outside the gates. He would be late.