Chapter 34
Thanks for all reviews!
. . .go see Ambrosius' new fic and poem, and then go and see Naomi's Valentine's efforts too. . . . Alysun
Rot in Hell.
The weather was behaving most inappropriately, Snape decided, when they reached Dumbledore's bright, sunlit office. The grey, rainy clouds had disappeared, and the sun was shining, albeit weakly, in the winter's sky. Dumbledore sat down in his chair, and invited the two men to join him. Snape sat, and leaned back into the straight backed chair, giving him the air of one who knows what he's doing. Fudge sat down uneasily in the other chair, leaning as far away from Snape as he could. It was Fudge who began the conversation. "So. Dumbledore. You still think it fit to do as you please in this school?" "I assure you Cornelius, it is not at all like that," answered Dumbledore calmly. Fudge snorted. "Certainly looks that way to me! I had to come here today anyway, even with out the newspaper scandals. You know what Narcissa has been saying?" "No. I was told only that she had finally agreed to be questioned," Dumbledore said, appearing only to be mildly interested. Snape watched Fudge like a hawk. What had Narcissa said? It would be damning, whatever it was. . . Fudge seemed shifty; even more so than usual. He was moving his position in the chair all the time, not sitting still, as though sitting on an ants' nest. At Dumbledore's self-acclaimed ignorance, Fudge sat up straight, a triumphant look on his face. He leaned in confidentially towards Dumbledore, as though trying to block Snape out. "She's saying that she saw Snape there! That night, she saw Snape! In the Manor! Late at night, without invitation or excuse as to why he was there!"
Fudge leant back, taking in the effect of his revelation. It was somewhat disappointing. Instead of being amazed and shocked, as expected, he merely nodded and asked Snape, "Were you up at the Manor that night, Severus?" "No, Headmaster," he answered. The bare-faced audacity of the woman! It would be her word against his. . . Ah. So that was why she chose to say that. No-one would believe him when he denied his presence at the Manor. . .no-one save Dumbledore. And Draco, but that was hardly reassuring in the circumstances. "Can you recall what you were doing that night, Severus?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly. Snape fought to stop himself from glowering. "After lessons ended, I did marking, for about an three hours or so. . .and then started planning the next day's lessons. That took me until about nine o'clock. At nine, I put the ingredients needed for the next day ready, and read until. . .quarter to eleven? I'm not sure. . .anyway, I was disturbed by someone knocking on my door. I opened it to see one of the house-elves, with a letter. I took the letter and dismissed the elf. The letter was concerning Lucius' death; from Narcissa. It was quite simple. It said something along the lines of; Dear Professor Snape, I am sorry to inform you that my dear husband, Lucius Malfoy, has been found to be sadly deceased. It appears to have been murder.
It was signed by Narcissa, and written in her handwriting. About ten minutes after receiving the letter, Draco Malfoy came to me, in considerable distress; he had also been notified of the tragedy." Snape stopped. He really, really didn't want to go on. Dumbledore asked, although he already knew, "Do you still have Narcissa's letter?" "No. It had a self destruction spell on it; much like that attached to Howlers, though this hadn't the sound effects," sighed Snape, realising how weak this sounded. He had no proof. He had no alibi. Fudge looked cynical. "Why would she do that?" Snape shrugged again, an eloquent gesture of ignorance. Fudge stared at him, calculatingly. "I'm afraid that you can't stay here after the newspaper article," he said.
Before Snape could even think to answer, Dumbledore intervened. "Innocent till proven guilty, Minister! There is no reason why he shouldn't stay. Besides, if he leaves, the rumours will only get worse!" "Nonsense, Albus! You know as well as I do, no smoke without fire! I refuse to believe that this man has done nothing, and yet proved a rumour such as this!" "Don't be ridiculous! I can't believe you honestly think that Severus is a murderer. . ."
Not a murderer? He knew he had the perfect background history for murder. . .Death Eaters are generally murderers. . . Snape was thinking frantically. What should he do? Should he admit to his 'relationship' with Draco? Or should he deny it with Lucius's murder? What about his relationship with Lucius? That was bound to come out now. . .tell them. . .he would have to tell them everything. Snape shuddered in cold realisation. No sanctuary was offered, no place of hiding where he could sit and think. He was dimly aware of Dumbledore reasoning with Fudge's rash, yet hideously accurate statements. Why was he even bothering? He would have to leave in the end anyway. . . He thought of the letter of resignation he had written, laying in its dark sanctum in the bottom drawer of his desk . . . he had decided against giving it in then, but now it didn't matter. Any pride or dignity that it would have saved then was now redundant. He was not going to get out of this. Narcissa was sending him down. . .Draco at her side, helping her on his downfall. He realised that the conversation had stopped, and both men were looking at him, as though expecting an answer to a question. "Sorry. . .?" "I asked if one day was enough to tie up any loose ends. Cornelius here thinks it best if you were gone by tomorrow," Dumbledore's voice disguised his resentment to this request, though his eyes did not. "That will be quite sufficient, Headmaster," he said quietly. Sufficient? More than sufficient. . . He had very little to organise. "Good," said Fudge briskly. "May I ask where I am to be taken?" asked Snape in the same restrained tone. It may have been his imagination, but Fudge seemed uncomfortable. "Well, to Azkaban. . .though only until the trial," he said, starting slowly, rushing the end. Snape nodded, staring distantly into the grain of the wooden table. "The trial will be when?" "In a few weeks, not to far away, I assure you. . ."said Fudge, standing to leave. Snape nodded again, still not looking at Fudge, not liking to think of what he would see in the big, red, blundering face. "Yes. Well. Must be off. . .the guards will fetch you at eight. Goodbye Dumbledore," Fudge said, hurriedly, anxious to leave, to get out. "Good bye, Cornelius," said Dumbledore gravely, and watched him take his hat from the stand, throw his cloak over his shoulders, and leave, slamming the door behind him.
He wasn't angry. He would have liked to have been, for Severus's sake, but. . .angry wasn't an easy emotion for someone as amiable as he. Instead he felt heavy resentment towards Fudge, and deep sorrow for Severus. If Severus deserved anything, it wasn't this. Severus was still staring at the desk, the dark thoughts in his mind showing on his face. "I'm sorry," said Dumbledore. It was all he could think of, in the given situation. Severus sighed, and tore his eyes from the desk, and looked at Dumbledore. His eyes showed a twisted kind of melancholy, dark and deep. "There was nothing you could have done. Though I thank you for trying, of course," he said. Dumbledore nodded. "You'd better go and sort things out. I'll alert your classes that you won't be teaching again today. I'll tell them you are leaving tomorrow." Severus nodded. He stood to leave. "Thank you," he said again, his usually sharp tone lost. "Of course," said Dumbledore, and stood also. Snape turned, and left, shutting the door with a quiet click, in comparison to Fudge's crash. Dumbledore stood and looked at the door, his mind drifting. His head hurt. It was all so fast. The trial in a couple of weeks? There would be a lot to be organised. . . Damn this, where was his Pensieve? He would just have to make sure that no-one looked at it again. . . He retrieved it from the black cabinet, and set it on his desk. Settling himself behind it, he prepared for a long session. Everyone, he decided afterwards, should have a Pensieve.
Snape was in his office. Everything was sorted. Even his desk was in some kind of order, compared to its usual squalor. He was looking at three things that were set on the desk; his wand, a small vial of Veritaserum, and three leaves from a hemlock plant. His wand. . .so many times he had used it for the Unforgivable Curses, and then Memory Charms. . . Veritaserum, the truth serum so strong, three drops would cause the consumer to speak the truth in answer to any question. Hemlock leaves. Poisonous. Very poisonous in fact. To eat those three leaves would mean to be paralysed, then given a slow death. His wand would be taken from him in the morning before anything else happened. It would not be snapped, which was a small comfort, at any rate. Would they think to use Veritaserum him or Narcissa? If only they would on Narcissa. . . Hemlock, Lucius's favourite poison. Why Snape had put it out, he could not fathom, but he had, as a whim. He could easily take it, the easy road out, the road that Draco had tried to take. No-one would stop him. No-one, save himself. He pushed the leaves away, accepting his fate, acknowledging his doom. Nothing left. He may as well rot. Rot in hell. He deserved it after all; after all the Mudblood killings, the Muggle chases, the torture he had put innocent people through. . . To rot in hell. . . he deserved it. Rot in hell.
Thanks for all reviews!
. . .go see Ambrosius' new fic and poem, and then go and see Naomi's Valentine's efforts too. . . . Alysun
Rot in Hell.
The weather was behaving most inappropriately, Snape decided, when they reached Dumbledore's bright, sunlit office. The grey, rainy clouds had disappeared, and the sun was shining, albeit weakly, in the winter's sky. Dumbledore sat down in his chair, and invited the two men to join him. Snape sat, and leaned back into the straight backed chair, giving him the air of one who knows what he's doing. Fudge sat down uneasily in the other chair, leaning as far away from Snape as he could. It was Fudge who began the conversation. "So. Dumbledore. You still think it fit to do as you please in this school?" "I assure you Cornelius, it is not at all like that," answered Dumbledore calmly. Fudge snorted. "Certainly looks that way to me! I had to come here today anyway, even with out the newspaper scandals. You know what Narcissa has been saying?" "No. I was told only that she had finally agreed to be questioned," Dumbledore said, appearing only to be mildly interested. Snape watched Fudge like a hawk. What had Narcissa said? It would be damning, whatever it was. . . Fudge seemed shifty; even more so than usual. He was moving his position in the chair all the time, not sitting still, as though sitting on an ants' nest. At Dumbledore's self-acclaimed ignorance, Fudge sat up straight, a triumphant look on his face. He leaned in confidentially towards Dumbledore, as though trying to block Snape out. "She's saying that she saw Snape there! That night, she saw Snape! In the Manor! Late at night, without invitation or excuse as to why he was there!"
Fudge leant back, taking in the effect of his revelation. It was somewhat disappointing. Instead of being amazed and shocked, as expected, he merely nodded and asked Snape, "Were you up at the Manor that night, Severus?" "No, Headmaster," he answered. The bare-faced audacity of the woman! It would be her word against his. . . Ah. So that was why she chose to say that. No-one would believe him when he denied his presence at the Manor. . .no-one save Dumbledore. And Draco, but that was hardly reassuring in the circumstances. "Can you recall what you were doing that night, Severus?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly. Snape fought to stop himself from glowering. "After lessons ended, I did marking, for about an three hours or so. . .and then started planning the next day's lessons. That took me until about nine o'clock. At nine, I put the ingredients needed for the next day ready, and read until. . .quarter to eleven? I'm not sure. . .anyway, I was disturbed by someone knocking on my door. I opened it to see one of the house-elves, with a letter. I took the letter and dismissed the elf. The letter was concerning Lucius' death; from Narcissa. It was quite simple. It said something along the lines of; Dear Professor Snape, I am sorry to inform you that my dear husband, Lucius Malfoy, has been found to be sadly deceased. It appears to have been murder.
It was signed by Narcissa, and written in her handwriting. About ten minutes after receiving the letter, Draco Malfoy came to me, in considerable distress; he had also been notified of the tragedy." Snape stopped. He really, really didn't want to go on. Dumbledore asked, although he already knew, "Do you still have Narcissa's letter?" "No. It had a self destruction spell on it; much like that attached to Howlers, though this hadn't the sound effects," sighed Snape, realising how weak this sounded. He had no proof. He had no alibi. Fudge looked cynical. "Why would she do that?" Snape shrugged again, an eloquent gesture of ignorance. Fudge stared at him, calculatingly. "I'm afraid that you can't stay here after the newspaper article," he said.
Before Snape could even think to answer, Dumbledore intervened. "Innocent till proven guilty, Minister! There is no reason why he shouldn't stay. Besides, if he leaves, the rumours will only get worse!" "Nonsense, Albus! You know as well as I do, no smoke without fire! I refuse to believe that this man has done nothing, and yet proved a rumour such as this!" "Don't be ridiculous! I can't believe you honestly think that Severus is a murderer. . ."
Not a murderer? He knew he had the perfect background history for murder. . .Death Eaters are generally murderers. . . Snape was thinking frantically. What should he do? Should he admit to his 'relationship' with Draco? Or should he deny it with Lucius's murder? What about his relationship with Lucius? That was bound to come out now. . .tell them. . .he would have to tell them everything. Snape shuddered in cold realisation. No sanctuary was offered, no place of hiding where he could sit and think. He was dimly aware of Dumbledore reasoning with Fudge's rash, yet hideously accurate statements. Why was he even bothering? He would have to leave in the end anyway. . . He thought of the letter of resignation he had written, laying in its dark sanctum in the bottom drawer of his desk . . . he had decided against giving it in then, but now it didn't matter. Any pride or dignity that it would have saved then was now redundant. He was not going to get out of this. Narcissa was sending him down. . .Draco at her side, helping her on his downfall. He realised that the conversation had stopped, and both men were looking at him, as though expecting an answer to a question. "Sorry. . .?" "I asked if one day was enough to tie up any loose ends. Cornelius here thinks it best if you were gone by tomorrow," Dumbledore's voice disguised his resentment to this request, though his eyes did not. "That will be quite sufficient, Headmaster," he said quietly. Sufficient? More than sufficient. . . He had very little to organise. "Good," said Fudge briskly. "May I ask where I am to be taken?" asked Snape in the same restrained tone. It may have been his imagination, but Fudge seemed uncomfortable. "Well, to Azkaban. . .though only until the trial," he said, starting slowly, rushing the end. Snape nodded, staring distantly into the grain of the wooden table. "The trial will be when?" "In a few weeks, not to far away, I assure you. . ."said Fudge, standing to leave. Snape nodded again, still not looking at Fudge, not liking to think of what he would see in the big, red, blundering face. "Yes. Well. Must be off. . .the guards will fetch you at eight. Goodbye Dumbledore," Fudge said, hurriedly, anxious to leave, to get out. "Good bye, Cornelius," said Dumbledore gravely, and watched him take his hat from the stand, throw his cloak over his shoulders, and leave, slamming the door behind him.
He wasn't angry. He would have liked to have been, for Severus's sake, but. . .angry wasn't an easy emotion for someone as amiable as he. Instead he felt heavy resentment towards Fudge, and deep sorrow for Severus. If Severus deserved anything, it wasn't this. Severus was still staring at the desk, the dark thoughts in his mind showing on his face. "I'm sorry," said Dumbledore. It was all he could think of, in the given situation. Severus sighed, and tore his eyes from the desk, and looked at Dumbledore. His eyes showed a twisted kind of melancholy, dark and deep. "There was nothing you could have done. Though I thank you for trying, of course," he said. Dumbledore nodded. "You'd better go and sort things out. I'll alert your classes that you won't be teaching again today. I'll tell them you are leaving tomorrow." Severus nodded. He stood to leave. "Thank you," he said again, his usually sharp tone lost. "Of course," said Dumbledore, and stood also. Snape turned, and left, shutting the door with a quiet click, in comparison to Fudge's crash. Dumbledore stood and looked at the door, his mind drifting. His head hurt. It was all so fast. The trial in a couple of weeks? There would be a lot to be organised. . . Damn this, where was his Pensieve? He would just have to make sure that no-one looked at it again. . . He retrieved it from the black cabinet, and set it on his desk. Settling himself behind it, he prepared for a long session. Everyone, he decided afterwards, should have a Pensieve.
Snape was in his office. Everything was sorted. Even his desk was in some kind of order, compared to its usual squalor. He was looking at three things that were set on the desk; his wand, a small vial of Veritaserum, and three leaves from a hemlock plant. His wand. . .so many times he had used it for the Unforgivable Curses, and then Memory Charms. . . Veritaserum, the truth serum so strong, three drops would cause the consumer to speak the truth in answer to any question. Hemlock leaves. Poisonous. Very poisonous in fact. To eat those three leaves would mean to be paralysed, then given a slow death. His wand would be taken from him in the morning before anything else happened. It would not be snapped, which was a small comfort, at any rate. Would they think to use Veritaserum him or Narcissa? If only they would on Narcissa. . . Hemlock, Lucius's favourite poison. Why Snape had put it out, he could not fathom, but he had, as a whim. He could easily take it, the easy road out, the road that Draco had tried to take. No-one would stop him. No-one, save himself. He pushed the leaves away, accepting his fate, acknowledging his doom. Nothing left. He may as well rot. Rot in hell. He deserved it after all; after all the Mudblood killings, the Muggle chases, the torture he had put innocent people through. . . To rot in hell. . . he deserved it. Rot in hell.