Sev was trapped. He was surrounded by house Slytherin on all sides; it was to be Malfoy's finest hour, and there was no way by any reckoning he could possibly hope to leave. Not without calling the attention of the entire school down on him, and shattering forever any hope of gaining Malfoy's trust.
So he was forced to sit through the entire match, contemplating what might be going on that he could do nothing about.
Sev had always relied more on logic than imagination, but there was little comfort to be had there. Logic quite happily agreed that Avery and Lestrange were easily the most dangerous of Malfoy's followers. Both were intelligent, sharp, and took as much or more pleasure as he did in inflicting pain.
Sev was barely paying a flicker of attention to the match, running over in his head every place Josh and his tormentors might possibly be, and what he could do about it. His best chance was for James Potter to pull off his customary greatness, and grab the Snitch extremely early.
Of course, when it was so important, it didn't happen. James was ducking and diving as skilfully as ever, but the two Slytherin Beaters were hot on his tail all the time. Adam Caulstone might talk up how bad the Gryffindors were, but he wasn't entirely stupid.
It was a dark and dirty match. There were penalties every two or three minutes when somebody committed a foul, and Sirius Black nearly got himself sent off for deliberately clunking Malfoy's broom with his club. All of the scheming enraged the crowd, but it only delayed play even further.
Something icy settled in the centre of Sev's chest as Nick and Simon returned to the crowd. They jostled their housemates aside for a place, exchanging satisfied smirks. When Malfoy swooped nearby during a lull in the game, Avery caught his eye and nodded very slightly. Malfoy gave a flash of a grin, and turned a quick victory loop.
Sev reluctantly set aside all his churning plans. Whatever had happened, it was already done. There would be no Gryffindor-esque rushing to the rescue today.
He only hoped that whatever Malfoy's pet psychopaths had done was repairable after the fact.
The mood in the Slytherin camp was one of celebration. James had, predictably, grabbed the Golden Snitch, but he had done it at the exact same time Malfoy got the Quaffle through a hoop. The draw he had been playing for had turned into a ten-point victory for Slytherin.
If Severus wasn't dancing around the room with the rest of them, nobody was surprised. He returned to the common room only long enough to check Josh definitely wasn't there, then left again with his invisibility cloak. He had taken to carrying it around in his bookbag as a habit; shadowing your fellow students raised too many awkward questions.
For once, his powers of logic were slow to point him the right way. Perhaps it had just not occurred to him to check the library because his brain automatically tagged it a public place.
He had forgotten to take into account that when everybody was at the Quidditch pitch, nowhere else was 'public'. Since when did Severus Snape overlook something so obvious?
Since the icy dark feeling in his chest grew ever stronger, with the sick feeling that this was something he hadn't been able to fix, something he hadn't out-thought or out-schemed. He should have found a better way to keep an eye on Josh. He should have paid less attention to Malfoy and more attention to his followers. He should have-
Josh was in the library.
The lights were dimmed, and not even Mr. Litavori the librarian was there. After all, why would anybody want to in the library this late on the Saturday of the big match? A casual passer-by would probably have not even noticed the tousled blond head slumped over a desk towards the back.
A slightly-less casual passer-by might have seen, and smirked a little over the spectacle of a student fallen asleep at his books.
Sev was not in any danger of smirking.
Irritated at himself for doing it, and yet unable to curb the instinct, he approached the unmoving boy with a great deal of caution. There was a thick tension in the air, as if Josh might at any moment leap up and yell something. And strangely, the fact that Sev knew with absolute certainty that it wasn't going to happen didn't make the possibility seem any less real.
He moved closer, to stand over the slumped Josh. He really did look as though he had simply dozed off over his homework... one cheek was flattened against the desk, and his scruffy hair danced slightly in a tiny breeze spilling through the ancient window frame. From this distance, Sev could see each individual blond eyelash, every line on the palm that dangled limply over the edge of the desktop.
He felt as though he probably ought to be paralysed by guilt, or terror, or something. But even here and even now, that strange blankness at the core of him, that silent place that made him Sev, was still there. Even as in some part of him his stomach surged nervously, there was still a piece of him coolly and dispassionately observing. He wondered if that part of him would still be there the day he died, quietly taking notes as his pulse ran down and his breathing stopped.
While the part of him that still believed in superstitions didn't want to make a move, didn't want to make things final by forcing himself to know the truth, the cool side of him kept right on moving. Any hidden observer wouldn't have seen the tiniest fraction of hesitation as Sev reached out and lightly touched Josh's shoulder.
Josh's arm was warm under his hand, almost startlingly so. Even Sev's soft touch was enough to disturb the balance that kept him in place, and he rolled from the desktop and slumped onto the floor. There was a soft thunk as he hit the ground, but he made no automatic gulp of breath.
At a time when no ordinary boy could have stopped himself from crying out, that dispassionate half kept right on rolling. Sev's face was a blank mask as he felt for a pulse, shifted his hand when he found nothing, felt again.
He didn't even jump for joy when he felt the unnaturally slow pulse of a heartbeat beneath his fingertips. He simply lowered Josh's arm back to the ground, got up, and quietly went to look for a teacher.
Sev had already surmised that Josh's coma was no natural sleep. The teacher he found, Professor Parilia, sent quickly for Professor Ephemeria and Madame Florence. Nothing either of them tried could do anything to wake him.
Gentle little Professor Parilia was bouncing about near to tears, growing more and more distressed. The Potions teacher was calmer, at first, but she became steadily more frantic as none of her tried-and-tested cures produced any result.
Madame Florence managed to prod Parilia into magically floating Josh off to the infirmary. Professor Ephemeria quickly led Sev down to see Dumbledore.
"Are you alright, Severus?" she kept asking him nervously. His silence obviously bothered her; perhaps she thought he had been shocked so deeply he'd gone near catatonic. He wondered if she'd be more or less worried if she understood the cold way his thoughts just calmly kept on ticking.
The professor led the way to the gargoyle outside the headmaster's office. She cleared her throat a little nervously and said raggedly "Sugar puffs." Sev was careful not to look at where the secret door was until it had started to open. Few people knew where the headmaster's office was, and he had only found out by following Lily and James in his invisibility cloak last year.
This time he was there on his own - but he didn't have to worry about it drawing attention. All attention right now would be focused on Josh.
Professor Dumbledore looked up over his half-moon spectacles as they entered. Professor Ephemeria kept a hand on Sev's shoulders, as if he might suddenly take flight if she didn't - or perhaps it was to keep herself steady.
Dumbledore's steely blue eyes were sharp. "What is it, Janeida?" he asked gently.
That was something Malfoy and his kind would never notice about Dumbledore. He might appear to be playful and silly all the time - but he always knew exactly when to be serious and what tone to take.
"Professor, there's been a terrible attack on one of the students," Professor Ephemeria said shakily.
"Attack?" asked Dumbledore sharply. "Magical?"
She nodded, gulping slightly. "Some... some kind of sleeping curse. Nothing I've ever seen before. I couldn't lift it, and neither could Madame Florence."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, taking this news far more calmly than any of his subordinates. "Who?"
"I, uh, I don't know," she stuttered. "I wasn't-"
"Who was attacked?" he explained patiently.
"Oh, I, yes sir. Uh-"
"Josh Matthews," interjected Sev smoothly. Dumbledore transferred his attention to the boy.
"Joshua Matthews," he said, with a slow nod. Perhaps another headmaster might not have been able to place the name of a medium-average student like Josh, but Sev had little doubt that Dumbledore could do it. He had a strong suspicion that stored in the headmaster's name were the exact same kind of carefully gathered scraps of information as he put together in his own. Dumbledore missed nothing.
He narrowed his gaze at Snape, and said amiably "A friend of yours?"
"Not really," said Sev, holding his gaze. In the moments' silence that followed, he was certain that Dumbledore knew exactly how Sev chose to interact with those around him, and probably more of his motivations than anyone else bar Josh and Lily.
"And you found him?"
"He was in the library." His voice remained as toneless as ever. He could have injected distress or anxiety into it if he desired, but Dumbledore wouldn't be fooled.
"And can you tell me who might have done this?" the headmaster asked.
Sev was intrigued by his choice of words; very intrigued. As if he was asking not if Sev knew, but whether he would tell. As if he had a very clear idea of what was going on here...
"No, sir," he said, meeting the headmaster's gaze steadily. The bright blue eyes that looked back at him were as unreadable as his own.
The Slytherin common room was abuzz before Sev got back. In a castle full of ghosts and moving paintings, nothing stayed secret for very long.
The gossip that filled the room and the questions that were begged of Sev might have sounded wholly shocked and innocent. That was until you noticed the slight aura of guilt, the furtive glances at Malfoy and his allies. The other Slytherins were shocked that this had been done to Josh - but none of them were surprised.
A few minutes later, Professor Malachite came in to see them. He gave a big speech about how they shouldn't panic, and how this was a terrible, terrible thing but they should all pull together in this time of crisis. Malfoy made all the right noises and innocently shocked faces, but Sev could see the smile in his eyes throughout.
It had been Avery and Lestrange who had put the curse on Josh, he knew, but it hadn't been on their own initiative. This little slice of the Dark Arts had to be another present from Malfoy's mysterious 'friend'. Whoever he was, he clearly delighted in giving power to people who knew how to misuse it.
Perhaps Malachite noticed the way Jack Brisingamen and Stuart Flint were shuffling their feet and looking at the floor. If he did, he no doubt assumed it was a manifestation of their nervousness and distress.
At the end of his speech, he pulled Snape aside to speak with him privately. "Severus, do you have any idea who did this?" he asked, fixing him with an earnest gaze.
Carnus Malachite's stern but friendly visage might intimidate some students, but he was no Albus Dumbledore. "No sir," said Sev quietly, without a flicker of hesitation over the lie. He couldn't resist adding "Do you?" Nothing of the barb to the words made it into his voice, but it was there all the same.
Professor Malachite just frowned worriedly, then clapped him on the shoulder and left the Slytherin rooms. If his mind flew back to the day he'd seen Crabbe and Avery tormenting Josh, he obviously never made the connection.
That night, as they retired to the dorms, Stuart Flint made immediately for his bed and curled up under the covers, avoiding the kind of casual chat he usually made with his room-mates. Malfoy and Nick Avery, by contrast, were openly boisterous, crowing over the days victory, and occasionally exchanging little glances that made it plain they weren't really talking about the Quidditch match.
When the others had drifted off, Malfoy observed quietly "Terrible thing, about poor Joshua. Tragic, really."
Sev made a noncommittal noise.
"And then, well, to have one of his own housemates stumble over him like that... no wonder we're all so traumatised." It was dark, but Sev could picture the look in his eyes all too clearly. "Why, they must be scouring the school to try and find the perpetrators. I might suggest to them they take a look at that Sirius Black. He was so annoyed when we beat his team at Quidditch. Yes," he gave a breathy sort of chuckle. "Yes, I might just do that."
He rolled over under his blanket, going back to what for him were probably pleasant dreams.
Sev didn't wait around. Normally he let everybody get deep into their sleep patterns before he risked going out in his invisibility cloak, but today he hopped straight up and pulled it on. He headed straight for the infirmary.
As he'd suspected, Lewis was seated there, staring down at his comatose brother with a broken expression on his face. Sev stationed himself unobtrusively in a corner to watch over the younger boy.
Listening to Madame Florence and Professor Parilia talking softly, he caught the words "Parents... Lithuania... Thursday." He recalled something Josh had said once about his parents being research wizards in far-off parts. Clearly, the teachers were having trouble contacting them.
Lewis also appeared to be listening in on the adults' conversation. He tensed as their words sank in, and then got to his feet with a sudden sharp movement.
He moved over to his brother's bedside, and softly leaned down to kiss his cheek. He stood looking down at Josh for a moment with a tremble to his lower lip, and then he turned on his heel and headed out of the infirmary.
Sev silently followed him back to the painting of the Fat Lady, the guardian of the Gryffindor dorms. He didn't go in, but waited outside. Something in Lewis's gait had reminded him of James and Sirius. He saw them sneaking around occasionally, when he was on his invisible midnight patrols, moving through the corridors with a quiet determination.
That was what he had seen in Lewis Matthews; determination.
A few moments later, Lewis emerged from the hole behind the painting. There was a bulky bag slung over his shoulders, and Sev suspected it contained all his worldly possessions.
Lewis had taken enough of the treatment that had been handed out to him and his brother this past year. He was running away.
There was an odd mix of nervousness and surety on his face as Sev padded through the corridors after him. For the first time, Sev could see the spirit of the Gryffindor behind the nervous little boy he'd seen cower from Nott and Goyle.
Lewis Matthews' courage was not the fiery James Potter kind, or the fierce self-confidence you could see in Lily. He had the courage of conviction - the ability to go through with a plan that any other eleven-year-old might well have abandoned as too scary.
For, as Sev followed him out of the main building, he saw where Lewis had decided to run to; the Forbidden Forest.
In a way, it made sense. Nobody really had the first clue what was in the forest, not even Hagrid who seemed to like the place. Sev realised that Lewis was not just running but finding a place to hide out; somewhere he would be close enough to watch what was going on without the Slytherins knowing he was there.
However, though it was a brave plan it was not the wisest one he could have come up with. The Forbidden Forest was, as Professor Malachite had so loudly pointed out, Forbidden for a reason. In Hogwarts, keep out rules were never just because the teachers happened to say so. Sev resolved to follow him in and make sure he at least found somewhere relatively safe to hide.
As Lewis stumbled through the underbrush, Sev was able to follow him by the sound of his heavy breathing. Courage, after all, was not the same as fearlessness, and Lewis was plainly terrified.
It was harder to move through trees than corridors without making a sound. Sev was forced to pick his way slowly so as not to alert Lewis, and he fell gradually further behind.
Suddenly, he heard an ear-splitting shriek from up ahead. He heard the sound of Lewis' overloaded bag being thrown to the ground, and a moment later the crash of his panicked flight through the trees.
Trying to chase Lewis now would be worse than useless - the sound of Sev's pursuit would only terrify him further. Instead, Sev ducked a few branches and picked his way towards where he thought Lewis had been startled.
The gaps between the trees widened out into a mini-clearing; he could see a few stars peeking through the clouds far above. Hand on his wand, Sev looked around for some magical creature that might have put the younger boy to flight.
He was so busy looking around that he didn't look down. He tripped over something, and fell heavily. Inspecting his wand carefully to make sure he hadn't broken it, Sev said "Lumos!" and flicked the magical light over to the object he had caught his foot on.
It was a human skull.
