Chapter 33.
* sigh * I gotta finish this soon, its starting to depress me! YAY!!! Loads of people are reviewing me! LOL! Thanks to Ruby Rose Edwards, Blonde Ditz, Pervert Bitch, Crys, Dianne, . . . And the rest of you WHO READ AND DON'T REVIEW!!!! Lol! No stress. . .Alysun PS. Naomi, thank you thank you, would be lost without you. . .
A Day of Questions.
Snape felt remarkably calm as he walked down to the breakfast table the next morning. He hadn't taught his afternoon classes yesterday, understandably. He didn't like to think of the rumours that would have gone round the school now; he didn't like to think of the looks that the students had given as he passed them on his way down to the breakfast table. So he didn't. It had struck him late last night, just before he went to sleep, that it would probably reach the papers in the morning. He thought of this again now; it would be horrible. The student's rumours would be bad enough. . . but the rest of the wizarding population would hear about this also. . .including his parents. His blood ran cold and unknowingly he deepened his normally angry expression into an incensed frown. As he strode through the corridors on the way to the Great Hall, he watched from the corner of his eye as students turned aside and whispered, stared or moved as far away from him as possible. And the newspaper hasn't even arrived yet, he thought, grimly.
He reached the Hall, and took his place beside Minerva, who gave him a fleeting apprehensive look, caused by his offensive scowl. The first five, ten minutes of the meal passed amiably enough for him, looking as he was, only at his plate. Then came the post. The rushing of wings, and the gentle hoots of owls welcoming their owners filled the cavernous room, followed by the chattering of students and the rustle of paper. Many of the students had the Daily Prophet delivered to them, but until now, Snape had never realised exactly how many. Most of them. Quickly, he returned his gaze to his plate, ignoring the raise in chatter from the pupils. Oh, gods. . .he thought. Today was going to be sheer hell. . . A short tap on his shoulder brought him back to earth. It was Minerva. Wearing her most severe face, she handed him her copy of the days news. . .
Grudgingly, but without comment, he took it, and unfolded it to be welcomed with "LESSONS IN LUST! Hogwarts school teacher, Professor Severus Snape, was. . . "
Raising a disbelieving eyebrow, he skimmed the article, well aware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes that were now staring at him, waiting for a reaction. He caught the general gist of the article very quickly. They thought that he had done 'things' to Draco. Which, while he had, Draco hadn't exactly complained. . . Silently, he re-folded the paper and handed it back to Minerva, who was looking worried to say the least. He did nothing. He picked up his knife and fork and resumed eating, not meeting the eyes of his staring spectators. Inside he was dying. Oh, gods, this was The End of his teaching career. . .and his parents would now do something terrible, doubtlessly. . . he shuddered in the privacy of his mind. Could it get much worse? Don't tempt Fate. . . Slowly, like a panther staking its prey before chasing, catching and killing it, conversations started, mostly on the subject of the newspaper article. Little phrases leapt out at him as he sat. ". . . Is it true?" "Well, duh, yes. . ." ". . . Snape? And Malfoy?!. . . " ". . . Oh, that's sick. . .!" ". . .I'm definitely NOT going to Potions today!" ". . . How could he?!. . . " ". . . I mean, Snape's really ugly!. . ." Their words passed him in a flame of increasing anger. . .what business was it of theirs? His private life was his own. . . Minerva caught his attention again. "Severus, what is going on? Is this true?" she probed. Snape shrugged a reply. She stared. ". . .you're. . .?" He raised an eyebrow. "Human? Yes," he said dryly. She blushed, and moved on. " What's been going on between you and Draco, then?" she persisted. He raised his other eyebrow to join the first. "What makes you think anything happened in the first place?" he said, his tone drier than an autumn leaf. Minerva gave a derisive snort. She ticked a list off on her fingers. "One, the fact that you and Draco were dragged up in front of Albus. Two, that Draco tried to commit suicide. Three, that you stopped him. . ." Snape cut her off, "You would have me leave him to die?" he asked. Minerva pursed her lips in disapproval, one of her favourite mannerisms. "Alright, then, two, that all three of you have been so secretive. Three, all the little looks you and Draco keep on exchanging over the breakfast table. . ." It was Snape's turn to show disgust, though his own mannerism of curling his upper lip. "Really, Minerva, now you're reading between lines that don't even exist!" "Really?" she questioned, her cynicism showing clearly through her Scottish accent. "Really," Snape intoned. "I assure you, nothing has 'happened', as you say, between me and Malfoy." Minerva could say nothing to that, but pursed her lips more and made a slight noise of disbelief. She was missing out on something important and didn't like it one bit. Snape sighed inwardly, knowing that this was what the day held. . . a day of questions. He had forbidden himself to do a search of the Slytherin table for Draco, in fear of encouraging the already outrageous rumours that were sweeping through the room. Everywhere he looked, he could feel eyes from around the room follow his gaze; indeed, his talk with Minerva had been closely followed from many quarters. The teachers' table, Snape, noticed suddenly, was missing its head member; Dumbledore wasn't there. Snape wondered where he had got to. . .Dumbledore was not one to miss out on breakfast, whatever happened. Even as Snape watched, the door from the Entrance Hall was swinging open. But, instead of admitting Dumbledore, as he had expected, a small portly figure, plus vivid red face, entered. Fudge stood in the now silent, watching hall, and scanned the Head table, presumably for Dumbledore. Instead he found Snape. "You're still here?" he spluttered, his eyes bursting with disbelief at Snape's presence. Snape sat back in his chair. "Where should I be, Minister?" he asked, smoothly. There was a mutinous murmur of disagreement that ran through the Hall at this comment. To Snapes hidden surprise, Minerva stopped it with a scowl, and an agreement with Snape's remark. "Nothing has been proven of anything, after all, Minster," she said, prudish as ever. Fudge bristled. "The man has been accused of a Teacher-Pupil Relationship! And I find him here, in a Hall full of Students!" The capital letters dropped neatly into place. Snape was mildly impressed. There weren't many who could pronounce capital letters. "The operative word there, Minister, is accused," retorted Minerva. Snape, in his own twisted way, was beginning to enjoy this. Minerva and Fudge had never got on, especially not after the Dementor escapade two years back. . . The rally of comments was intense now, Fudges face becoming redder and redder with effort, as Minervas lips became thinner and thinner. Not one single insult was exchanged, not one criticism, making it some how worse, and in its own way, funnier. "Just a newspaper rumour," Minerva snapped at Fudge who replied, "There was a corridor full of witnesses to the incident!" "Who saw Draco, in considerable stress, pronounce his love for Severus, proving NOTHING! The boy has been going through a very hard time at the moment. . . " Snape noted how she didn't actually deny that anything had happened. She obviously thought something HAD happened in that case. . . "So turned to Snape, who took advantage of him!" menaced Fudge, now leaning forward in his rage, arms stuck to his sides, fists balled. Snape was careful not to flinch at the horribly accurate statement that Fudge had made. "Do I have a say in this?" he said, his voice more dangerous than a rattlesnake's rattle, his black eyes glinting darkly. Fudge diverted his attention to the direction of the Potions Master. "Hardly! You'll deny it!" The only show of anger Snape made was to flare his nostrils slightly, before replying, "Has it not occurred to you that Mr. Malfoy may have been under the influence of a spell, or drug at the time? Or maybe he has become mentally unhinged by the death of his father. I wouldn't know, not being that close to him," he hissed. Fudge froze. Apparently it had not. Snape's eyes flashed in anger. "Then maybe you should consider your next move more deeply," he said, his tone threatening, though quiet. The room was entirely silent. You could have heard a quill drop. As it was, you heard only Fudge's angry splutter, reaching new heights in anger. "How dare . . . how dare you. . . HOW DARE YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO?!" he almost screamed at Snape his rage making his face go a rather odd shade of plum. In stark contrast, Snape sat calmly by Minerva, and said, "Minister, I wouldn't dream of telling you what to do, on the contrary, I'd do absolutely anything you told me to. . ." he paused, waiting for Fudge grasp the secondary implications of this. When Fudge finally saw what he *could* have meant, he made a small whimpering sound in the back of his throat, and backed away slightly. Snape allowed himself a smirk. "NOT how you're thinking, however," he injected, trying desperately to get rid of the image of Fudge in a loin cloth. "It was merely a piece of befitting advice to your current situation." Fudge looked terrified, as though Snape was advancing on him with his wand drawn (a/n: damn . . . I can't seem to get these * damn * innuendos out of my fic. . . Well, you're not complaining, are you?). The silence that followed the end of Snape's speech was tense. The students were exchanging worried looks, while Fudge stared out at Snape from his corner. Snape sat, unable to prevent the smirk on his face, next to Minerva who sat bolt upright, radiating disapproval.
~
Harry, sitting on the Gryffindor table, could only note how much McGonagall and Snape looked like Morticia and Gomez from the Addams Family, the muggles' T.V. show. . .he'd only ever seen it once, while Dudley had been watching it on television.
~
With impeccable timing, Dumbledore burst through the far door, breaking the tension and silence at last. Snape considered that he had never been happier to see the man, but quickly dismissed the thought. Fudge's mask of terror relaxed back to his normal look of heated anger. "At last! Dumbledore! What DO you think you're doing?!" "Hmm?" inquired Dumbledore, innocently, although Snape thought he saw him flash an amused glance towards him. "Letting a. paedophile like THAT," at this, Fudge pointed a finger (quivering with rage, of course), at Snape, "into a Hall full of Students?!" Snape's expression darkened. That wasn't nice. I mean, thought Snape, Fudge is a blithering idiot, but I don't say anything. It wasn't nice at all. That was actually quite nasty.
His expression deepened into a glower reserved usually only for the likes of Potter.
Dumbledore frowned.
The school held its breath.
Minerva looked faint.
This was WAR.
The silence that had followed Snapes angry outburst before was a mere Nothing compared to this. . . You could have heard the spiders spinning their webs. As it was, you heard only Fudge's embarrassed, mumbled apology. ". . .a-ha.. . sorry. . ." That was enough. Snape stood up, a tall, domineering spectre of impending doom, and looked pointedly at Fudge. "I can think of better places to do this," he said, bitingly. Fudge looked even more uncomfortable.". . .well, I suppose so, yes," Dumbledore gave his famous, dreamy smile. "Shall we take it to my office, gentlemen?" Fudge looked as tough he was about to make some retort about Snape being no gentleman, but caught the look in Minerva's eye. Sensibly, he kept his mouth shut, and followed Dumbledore and Snape. ~ * ~
Minerva looked after them and sighed. Why was Severus totally incapable of keeping himself out of trouble? He needed a woman to look after him. . . pity he was gay, really.
~ * ~
Snape thought back to his previous pondering.
It was, indeed a day of questions.
* sigh * I gotta finish this soon, its starting to depress me! YAY!!! Loads of people are reviewing me! LOL! Thanks to Ruby Rose Edwards, Blonde Ditz, Pervert Bitch, Crys, Dianne, . . . And the rest of you WHO READ AND DON'T REVIEW!!!! Lol! No stress. . .Alysun PS. Naomi, thank you thank you, would be lost without you. . .
A Day of Questions.
Snape felt remarkably calm as he walked down to the breakfast table the next morning. He hadn't taught his afternoon classes yesterday, understandably. He didn't like to think of the rumours that would have gone round the school now; he didn't like to think of the looks that the students had given as he passed them on his way down to the breakfast table. So he didn't. It had struck him late last night, just before he went to sleep, that it would probably reach the papers in the morning. He thought of this again now; it would be horrible. The student's rumours would be bad enough. . . but the rest of the wizarding population would hear about this also. . .including his parents. His blood ran cold and unknowingly he deepened his normally angry expression into an incensed frown. As he strode through the corridors on the way to the Great Hall, he watched from the corner of his eye as students turned aside and whispered, stared or moved as far away from him as possible. And the newspaper hasn't even arrived yet, he thought, grimly.
He reached the Hall, and took his place beside Minerva, who gave him a fleeting apprehensive look, caused by his offensive scowl. The first five, ten minutes of the meal passed amiably enough for him, looking as he was, only at his plate. Then came the post. The rushing of wings, and the gentle hoots of owls welcoming their owners filled the cavernous room, followed by the chattering of students and the rustle of paper. Many of the students had the Daily Prophet delivered to them, but until now, Snape had never realised exactly how many. Most of them. Quickly, he returned his gaze to his plate, ignoring the raise in chatter from the pupils. Oh, gods. . .he thought. Today was going to be sheer hell. . . A short tap on his shoulder brought him back to earth. It was Minerva. Wearing her most severe face, she handed him her copy of the days news. . .
Grudgingly, but without comment, he took it, and unfolded it to be welcomed with "LESSONS IN LUST! Hogwarts school teacher, Professor Severus Snape, was. . . "
Raising a disbelieving eyebrow, he skimmed the article, well aware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes that were now staring at him, waiting for a reaction. He caught the general gist of the article very quickly. They thought that he had done 'things' to Draco. Which, while he had, Draco hadn't exactly complained. . . Silently, he re-folded the paper and handed it back to Minerva, who was looking worried to say the least. He did nothing. He picked up his knife and fork and resumed eating, not meeting the eyes of his staring spectators. Inside he was dying. Oh, gods, this was The End of his teaching career. . .and his parents would now do something terrible, doubtlessly. . . he shuddered in the privacy of his mind. Could it get much worse? Don't tempt Fate. . . Slowly, like a panther staking its prey before chasing, catching and killing it, conversations started, mostly on the subject of the newspaper article. Little phrases leapt out at him as he sat. ". . . Is it true?" "Well, duh, yes. . ." ". . . Snape? And Malfoy?!. . . " ". . . Oh, that's sick. . .!" ". . .I'm definitely NOT going to Potions today!" ". . . How could he?!. . . " ". . . I mean, Snape's really ugly!. . ." Their words passed him in a flame of increasing anger. . .what business was it of theirs? His private life was his own. . . Minerva caught his attention again. "Severus, what is going on? Is this true?" she probed. Snape shrugged a reply. She stared. ". . .you're. . .?" He raised an eyebrow. "Human? Yes," he said dryly. She blushed, and moved on. " What's been going on between you and Draco, then?" she persisted. He raised his other eyebrow to join the first. "What makes you think anything happened in the first place?" he said, his tone drier than an autumn leaf. Minerva gave a derisive snort. She ticked a list off on her fingers. "One, the fact that you and Draco were dragged up in front of Albus. Two, that Draco tried to commit suicide. Three, that you stopped him. . ." Snape cut her off, "You would have me leave him to die?" he asked. Minerva pursed her lips in disapproval, one of her favourite mannerisms. "Alright, then, two, that all three of you have been so secretive. Three, all the little looks you and Draco keep on exchanging over the breakfast table. . ." It was Snape's turn to show disgust, though his own mannerism of curling his upper lip. "Really, Minerva, now you're reading between lines that don't even exist!" "Really?" she questioned, her cynicism showing clearly through her Scottish accent. "Really," Snape intoned. "I assure you, nothing has 'happened', as you say, between me and Malfoy." Minerva could say nothing to that, but pursed her lips more and made a slight noise of disbelief. She was missing out on something important and didn't like it one bit. Snape sighed inwardly, knowing that this was what the day held. . . a day of questions. He had forbidden himself to do a search of the Slytherin table for Draco, in fear of encouraging the already outrageous rumours that were sweeping through the room. Everywhere he looked, he could feel eyes from around the room follow his gaze; indeed, his talk with Minerva had been closely followed from many quarters. The teachers' table, Snape, noticed suddenly, was missing its head member; Dumbledore wasn't there. Snape wondered where he had got to. . .Dumbledore was not one to miss out on breakfast, whatever happened. Even as Snape watched, the door from the Entrance Hall was swinging open. But, instead of admitting Dumbledore, as he had expected, a small portly figure, plus vivid red face, entered. Fudge stood in the now silent, watching hall, and scanned the Head table, presumably for Dumbledore. Instead he found Snape. "You're still here?" he spluttered, his eyes bursting with disbelief at Snape's presence. Snape sat back in his chair. "Where should I be, Minister?" he asked, smoothly. There was a mutinous murmur of disagreement that ran through the Hall at this comment. To Snapes hidden surprise, Minerva stopped it with a scowl, and an agreement with Snape's remark. "Nothing has been proven of anything, after all, Minster," she said, prudish as ever. Fudge bristled. "The man has been accused of a Teacher-Pupil Relationship! And I find him here, in a Hall full of Students!" The capital letters dropped neatly into place. Snape was mildly impressed. There weren't many who could pronounce capital letters. "The operative word there, Minister, is accused," retorted Minerva. Snape, in his own twisted way, was beginning to enjoy this. Minerva and Fudge had never got on, especially not after the Dementor escapade two years back. . . The rally of comments was intense now, Fudges face becoming redder and redder with effort, as Minervas lips became thinner and thinner. Not one single insult was exchanged, not one criticism, making it some how worse, and in its own way, funnier. "Just a newspaper rumour," Minerva snapped at Fudge who replied, "There was a corridor full of witnesses to the incident!" "Who saw Draco, in considerable stress, pronounce his love for Severus, proving NOTHING! The boy has been going through a very hard time at the moment. . . " Snape noted how she didn't actually deny that anything had happened. She obviously thought something HAD happened in that case. . . "So turned to Snape, who took advantage of him!" menaced Fudge, now leaning forward in his rage, arms stuck to his sides, fists balled. Snape was careful not to flinch at the horribly accurate statement that Fudge had made. "Do I have a say in this?" he said, his voice more dangerous than a rattlesnake's rattle, his black eyes glinting darkly. Fudge diverted his attention to the direction of the Potions Master. "Hardly! You'll deny it!" The only show of anger Snape made was to flare his nostrils slightly, before replying, "Has it not occurred to you that Mr. Malfoy may have been under the influence of a spell, or drug at the time? Or maybe he has become mentally unhinged by the death of his father. I wouldn't know, not being that close to him," he hissed. Fudge froze. Apparently it had not. Snape's eyes flashed in anger. "Then maybe you should consider your next move more deeply," he said, his tone threatening, though quiet. The room was entirely silent. You could have heard a quill drop. As it was, you heard only Fudge's angry splutter, reaching new heights in anger. "How dare . . . how dare you. . . HOW DARE YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO?!" he almost screamed at Snape his rage making his face go a rather odd shade of plum. In stark contrast, Snape sat calmly by Minerva, and said, "Minister, I wouldn't dream of telling you what to do, on the contrary, I'd do absolutely anything you told me to. . ." he paused, waiting for Fudge grasp the secondary implications of this. When Fudge finally saw what he *could* have meant, he made a small whimpering sound in the back of his throat, and backed away slightly. Snape allowed himself a smirk. "NOT how you're thinking, however," he injected, trying desperately to get rid of the image of Fudge in a loin cloth. "It was merely a piece of befitting advice to your current situation." Fudge looked terrified, as though Snape was advancing on him with his wand drawn (a/n: damn . . . I can't seem to get these * damn * innuendos out of my fic. . . Well, you're not complaining, are you?). The silence that followed the end of Snape's speech was tense. The students were exchanging worried looks, while Fudge stared out at Snape from his corner. Snape sat, unable to prevent the smirk on his face, next to Minerva who sat bolt upright, radiating disapproval.
~
Harry, sitting on the Gryffindor table, could only note how much McGonagall and Snape looked like Morticia and Gomez from the Addams Family, the muggles' T.V. show. . .he'd only ever seen it once, while Dudley had been watching it on television.
~
With impeccable timing, Dumbledore burst through the far door, breaking the tension and silence at last. Snape considered that he had never been happier to see the man, but quickly dismissed the thought. Fudge's mask of terror relaxed back to his normal look of heated anger. "At last! Dumbledore! What DO you think you're doing?!" "Hmm?" inquired Dumbledore, innocently, although Snape thought he saw him flash an amused glance towards him. "Letting a. paedophile like THAT," at this, Fudge pointed a finger (quivering with rage, of course), at Snape, "into a Hall full of Students?!" Snape's expression darkened. That wasn't nice. I mean, thought Snape, Fudge is a blithering idiot, but I don't say anything. It wasn't nice at all. That was actually quite nasty.
His expression deepened into a glower reserved usually only for the likes of Potter.
Dumbledore frowned.
The school held its breath.
Minerva looked faint.
This was WAR.
The silence that had followed Snapes angry outburst before was a mere Nothing compared to this. . . You could have heard the spiders spinning their webs. As it was, you heard only Fudge's embarrassed, mumbled apology. ". . .a-ha.. . sorry. . ." That was enough. Snape stood up, a tall, domineering spectre of impending doom, and looked pointedly at Fudge. "I can think of better places to do this," he said, bitingly. Fudge looked even more uncomfortable.". . .well, I suppose so, yes," Dumbledore gave his famous, dreamy smile. "Shall we take it to my office, gentlemen?" Fudge looked as tough he was about to make some retort about Snape being no gentleman, but caught the look in Minerva's eye. Sensibly, he kept his mouth shut, and followed Dumbledore and Snape. ~ * ~
Minerva looked after them and sighed. Why was Severus totally incapable of keeping himself out of trouble? He needed a woman to look after him. . . pity he was gay, really.
~ * ~
Snape thought back to his previous pondering.
It was, indeed a day of questions.