Chapter 13

Oh, evil number, evil chapter . .Mwauhahahahahahah. . . . . I'm gonna have fun, but the rest of you won't like me! Thanks, Silverfox! I didn't realise. Schools in Britain (Or at least my school!) Start at nine, which is why I was so confused!! Sorry!

Alright, alright! I'll up the damned rating. . .* goes off and sobs in a corner somewhere *.

Anyway, this should be quite a long chapter to compensate for the shortness of the last one. .  ^_~!!

And PLEASE r/r. . .I'm would start getting depressed if it wasn't for Ambrosius. . .Lol! Alysun

Shouldn't Ever have Happened.

Snape sat in his office, his hands covering his face in despair. Later that day, all the students would be back after Christmas, all of them including Draco. He had had to leave so abruptly last time they met! Damn the Head Master and his bad timing!

On the desk in front of him lay three things. The two books that Lucius had given him; Dillemand of Atlantis, and The Notes of Mindrel Clarkes (Moste Potente Potions was on one of his expansive books shelves), and beside them lay a letter, addressed to Severus in a small, slanted handwriting.

Snape had found it in Dillemand of Atlantis. He had read Dillemand, in hope of finding dome clue to why Lucius had left it to him. He had found two. One, was the letter that was hidden within the pages, and the second was the plot itself.  Clarkes Notes didn't make any sense, however. Lucius must have had a reason though surely? But still, surely?

Draco was coming back. Part of him wanted to see Draco again, badly, to touch him, to feel him . . .the rest of him screamed sense. He was his teacher! He couldn't go round with a student, even if he was in the upper school! What if they were found? It had been dangerous enough when it had been Lucius, but at least he had been. . . well, an adult.

 If they were found, then Severus would be blamed, certainty fired, likely to be outcast, and may even have to pay a visit to Azakaban. Not what he wanted. But what could he tell Draco? Draco would rationalise. Say that if they were careful, they would be alright, if they were found, that he would speak in Snape's defence. . . A cold hard, cynical part of his mind told him that he wanted to stop it because of Lucius, and then followed up by saying that he DID look like his Father, and even act like him, in some ways. . . so many ways, in fact. . .

Snape slammed his fist down on to the desk in frustration. He stood up and, ignoring the many sheets of parchment that were now serenely floating to the floor from his desk, stormed out the office.

He was ANGRY. Angry at himself for felling like this, angry with Draco for making him feel like this, angry at Lucius for being murdered and making the whole situation arise.

He strode furiously through the halls, he footsteps echoing hollowly in the empty corridors. Up the stairs out of the dungeons, slamming doors with such force that they hit the wall and sprang back again.  He reached the Great Hall, his long gait eating up the distance. Through the hall, out of the castle onto the frosty grounds.  The cold air and brisk wind sapped his anger slightly, as he walked around the grounds in a state of pensiveness. 

He still didn't really know what Draco thought. He was, however, pretty sure that Draco would want to carry on the 'relationship'.  Snape knew they couldn't, mainly, he told himself, because they would be caught or found out. He ignored the fact that the real reason was in case he called Draco Lucius, or something equally embarrassing and awkward to explain. . .  And there was yet another thing! Did he, Severus, feels attracted to Draco because he reminded him so much like his Father, or did he genuinely 'like' the boy?

Severus's walk had brought him round a circuit of the lake, and he was now in front of the castle entrance again. He felt considerably calmer now, though nothing had been resolved, and went back into the warmth of the castle, deep in thought.  So deep in fact, he almost collided with the Head Master.

"Severus, do watch where you're going!" Dumbledore reprimanded, after stepping to one side to save himself from being trampled on by the preoccupied Potions Master. 

Snape looked up.

"Sorry, Head Master, my mind was. . . wandering," he said in way of apology and explanation. He made to move on.

"Don't worry. Actually, I was coming to find you anyway; I was wondering if you could help me?"

"Certainty, if I can, I will," said Snape, sighing mentally. This would probably take up the rest of his free time now.

"Good. Then if you'd like to come up to my office in half an hour or so? I'll talk to you then, I have letters to write before hand, though. . ." Dumbledore smiled at Severus and walked off up the staircase to his office.

"Half an hour," murmured Snape, wondering what was going to happen.

"Oh, do move along, Severus, you're managing to block the whole corridor standing there!" Minerva's sharp voice snapped him out of his reflective mood. He moved to one side, and she swept past, clutching a mountain of slowly slipping books.

Half an hour? Not long enough to start anything, too long to do nothing. Damn. For lack of anything better to do he went back to his office.

He opened the door almost reluctantly; he had spent the last week in this room, marking and thinking. He picked up the shafts of parchment that had fallen to the ground in his previous rampage, and dumped them on his desk. HHHnkgjklerjerhdfhklHHe would sort them out later. Half an hour. Not long enough to start anything. He sat down behind his desk. Half an hour. Too long to do nothing. Damn.

He looked back at Lucius's things; they lay innocently on the desk where he had left them. He picked up the letter, and turned it over in his hands. . .Lucius had written this. . .his Lucius. . .he didn't take the letter out of the envelope; he didn't want to turn up to Dumbledore's office in a preoccupied state. He had to stay alert with that man. Sharp as a knife and twice as dangerous, Snape had long since decided.

He sighed and looked around the room. It was dark, always. Well, it would be. It was down in the dungeons, underground, no windows. On the left wall, there was a bookshelf, wall to floor, that held just about every worthwhile potion there was. On the right was a huge cabinet that held ingredients from Boomslang skin to butterfly wings, shredded or crumbled.

The desk at which he sat was overcrowded with papers, piles of students work, most marked, some not. Behind him was the door to his bedroom; with the bed he hadn't slept in for about two months now. On the walls were collections of strange pickled things, in which Snape took a delight in hanging. Admittedly, it was mainly to terrify the first years, though it worked tremendously well on the older years as well.

The fire in the grate had burnt down. Snape checked his watch. Ten minutes left. He may as well go up to Dumbledore's office, and walk very slowly.

He stood and left the room, walking at a meditative pace up, through the dungeons for the second time, and made for the tower which held Dumbledore's office. He reached the gargoyle and checked his watch again. Three minutes to go. He gave the password and stepped onto the winding staircase which led to Dumbledore's room. On reaching the top, he knocked on the door and entered, after hearing Dumbledore's invitation of,  "Come in!"

He sat on the appointed chair, ill at ease. He found himself wondering whether Dumbledore knew about what had happened between him and Draco. Dumbledore started speaking.

"Severus, I know this must be a hard time for you; you where very good friends with the late Lucius Malfoy, I know. But the funeral was well over a fortnight ago! You're not one to dwell on things such as these. What is going on? Why are you so down all of a sudden?" Dumbledore spoke gently, adopting a fatherly tone.

Snape's mind froze up. What could he say? The only answer he could come up with was the truth, which would NOT go down well at all. Instead, he just shrugged feebly, feeling about twelve years old underneath Dumbledore's laser stare.

"I know I've asked you this before, but has Draco spoken to you at all about this? I'm worried for the boy," said Dumbledore.

Snape shrugged again.

"Like I said, only that time after class," he said, emotionlessly.

"Not at the funeral?"

"Only very briefly. "

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. He leant back in his chair and stared distantly out of the window. Snape sat staring down at the floor, not moving.

Dumbledore sighed, and said, "Severus, I'll be frank with you." He sounded old. Severus fought with himself to remain calm. "I think that there is something else, something bigger, on his mind. I want to know what it is."

Snape thought furiously. What would he do if Dumbledore had been talking about anyone else? Keeping his face carefully neutral, he looked up at him and said coolly, "I'm sorry sir, but I'm not sure what you mean. What else could be on his mind?"

Dumbledore subjected Severus to a penetrating stare, which Severus returned, blankly. Dumbledore leaned forward on his desk.

"Severus, you know something. I don't know what it is, but it is important. Lucius Malfoy was suspected of being one of Voldemort's biggest followers. Why was it never proven?"

So, thought Snape angrily, he's accusing me. He let his anger bubble up.

"Are you accusing me, Head Master?" he asked sharply.

"Yes. I think you had something to do with it. But I will let that go. This time. But if I find that you do the same again, for Draco, for instance. . ." The threat hung in the air.

"Indeed. I told you back then, and I will tell you again, now. I had no idea whether Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater or not.  As for his son, I know even less, other than what I teach him," Snape lied, unblushingly.

The winter's air would have seemed tropical compared to that in the room. After another short staring contest, Dumbledore gave in and sighed. "I am sorry, Severus. I believe you. I was wrong to make groundless accusations. But there are things that you are not telling me. You have never told me everything, not even when you turned spy for me. I let it go then, I thought that there might have been some one else involved. . .but now, Severus, now Voldemort's shadow lies on the land again, and everything is important! We have kept him at bay this long, but for how much longer can we withhold? We need everything we can get. Please tell me, Severus," Dumbledore pleaded.

Severus felt a rare wave of guilt sweep over him. He must say nothing.

"There is nothing I can tell, Head Master. I'm sorry," he murmured. He looked away as he said it, unable to meet his superior's gaze.

"Severus, lives depend on it," Dumbledore pressured.

Snape shook his head, but shifted uncomfortably. This little talk was bringing back memories that he had hoped were long forgotten.

"There is nothing, Head Master," he repeated again, his voice low. Dumbledore sighed.

"There is something. I know there is. But you won't tell me and I can't make you, so you may leave."

Grateful, though still suffering from guilt, Snape stood to leave. There was only one question left.

"Headmaster. . ." he started.

"Yes?"

"What did you mean, when you said that you thought there might have been someone else involved?" He was worried about his and Lucius's secret.

"Well, I thought maybe. . .a woman . .?" answered Dumbledore, a smile playing around his face.

Snape felt him self blush slightly. "No, there was nothing like that," he answered and fled the room.  He stepped onto the staircase that took him back down to the gargoyle.

Well, at least he doesn't know I'm gay, thought Snape, and went back to his lonely abode down in the dungeons.

~*~

He was sitting at the head table, looking down the Slytherin table in hope of seeing Draco. Part of him laughed at himself for this foolish action, but didn't stop him from doing so.

There. . .he had spotted him, talking to Pansy Parkinson, who seemed to be enjoying herself a bit too much, for Snape's liking.  Draco must have felt his eyes on him, as he looked up at Severus, who looked away quickly. 

He knew that Dumbledore was watching him now, wanting to know everything that Snape hadn't told him, then and now.

What Dumbledore didn't realise was that some things should never be told. In his gory past, there were some things that should never even be thought about. Some things that should never have happened.  Shouldn't ever have happened.