Obviously a huge amount of thanks goes to Liz for Eleanor's snappy come back (you will understand by the end of the chapter!) Please review and spread the word!
Chapter 14
It had taken a lot to get Snape out of bed that morning. To be precise it had taken three cups of coffee with shots of whisky in.
He knew what was happening was bad, he did not need telling. Drinking to make yourself get up is never good. He also knew the dream was bad, it had been disconcertingly similar to the 'vision' on the stairs. Odd really, the word vision usually had pleasant connotations. Everything was bad.
But he couldn't give a fuck. As he dressed he wondered if people going mad were usually aware of the process. He wondered if madness would be a relief.
In the bathroom he rubbed soothing, mint healing cream into his cut hands. His toes clenched on the green tiles as the magic healed the scratches. The skin knitting together so quickly hurt, but he couldn't deal with potions with cut hands. How the hell had he done that?
He risked glancing in the mirror and groaned. He really did look appalling. Drained, with dark purple shadows almost like bruises under his eyes. His lips were pale and cracked, and there was a crooked scratch down his cheek from God knows where. He had little red veins breaking in his eyes.
Something had to give, had to change. But there didn't seem to be anything that would help. Months of high strain, combined with near total inactivity, were making his brain bleed.
He could feel the change, the storm approaching. He could sense with whatever stupid, precognitive Snape sense he had that something was going to happen.
As he stepped out of his rooms he wondered if he'd survive it. He wondered if he cared.
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The first morning lessons were terrible. He couldn't stand the stupid, stinking, imbecilic brats, who couldn't get this, or anything right. Every single little sound they made sliced through his mind.
They were all first years and sickeningly innocent. He supposed he should feel sorry for them really, considering the world they would probably inherit. His eyes flicked over the muggle borns in the room, they were all dead for a start. It was too easy to picture the blonde hair matted with blood, the dark skin with bruises blossoming over it. The pretty ones would probably live slightly longer, although that was not a good thing. And it only counted if you considered life to be happening as you were tied up in some Death Eater's dungeon with blood and spunk running down your legs.
Unless they could stop it. It was almost laughable. He rubbed his eyes to clear the images, and had to gulp down the bile in his throat as he saw Tempest burning again. He hadn't even been able to stop that in a dream.
He opened his eyes and looked down at the students. Portia Malfoy glanced away from him and back to her cauldron. She was one of the very few Malfoys left, a cousin of the main branch currently Headed by Lucius. Most of the family had been culled in the nineteenth and twentieth century wars. It was the same with all the Eight Families, but the Malfoys had suffered more than most. It was no wonder they were so bitter really.
Portia was a child who already had the potential to grow up to be terrifying. She worried him already and he'd only known her a few days. Her coal black eyes were hard and watchful, like she'd spent her life waiting for the next blow. Obviously the Professors watched children like that very closely, but with no real evidence how can you tell for certain if someone is being abused or not?
Dead. All dead.
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Snape moved quickly through the hall at break to reach the staff room. He hoped Faith would be there because he had set her a test last night. When the files had been divided up he had given her one of his. It wasn't that important but he wanted to see how she would react. Ignore it and timidly take the extra work, give it back to him politely, yell at him…
It was just a little test to try and discover a bit more about her personality.
The weather was horrible now. The sky was streaked with grey, sludgy clouds, but the heat was as unbearable as ever. It was heavy and seemed to cling to everything. The lake stank. Even the Brats seemed subdued.
"Professor?"
He turned and saw Eleanor De Sade approaching him. Another girl too old too young. He had thought she was a potential Death Eater candidate, but her family had been killed in a Death Eater raid that Summer. They hadn't even been the targets, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Death Eaters were so damn brainlessness at times. No sense of looking to the future at all.
"Eleanor."
"Did you have a good Summer Sir?"
"Wonderful of course."
Her lips twisted up at the blatant lie.
"May I request something Sir?"
"Yes."
"I intend to apply for an apprenticeship with one of the Interrogators next year."
"They very rarely give them. You would find it far easier to go into the Auror training scheme and then specialise."
"Aurors are cannon fodder."
He looked down into her ice cold blue eyes. She would make a very good interrogator.
"True."
"I thought that if you, perhaps, gave me some extra lessons in Truth potions." He raised an eyebrow and looked at her harshly and impatiently. She didn't flinch though and carried on, "Then maybe, if I was good enough, you could give me a personal reference. And then they may feel that I would be better off with them."
She trailed off, but kept her face steady. He sighed, she would be very good, and she would be in his debt. There are some people it is far better to have owing you than the other way round. And additionally just because she was probably bitterly against Voldemort now, assuming they could defeat him, there would always be other power seekers. Making sure Eleanor was in a career where she could advance quickly and have ample opportunity to use her power was probably no bad thing at all.
"I know Maston Wilkes, his daughter was in my year. He hasn't had an apprentice in some time." Although what he would say to taking on someone whose ancestor had lent their name to the word Sadism he wasn't sure.
Her eyes gleamed for a second, not with pleasure though, it was too cruel for that.
"I can guarantee nothing."
"I know."
"It will help that you are a Prefect, and starting this in your sixth year, that marks you as enthusiastic."
"I thought as much."
"If you don't perform well though I won't recommend you. What I say about people is respected. I will not change that."
"Of course. Thank you."
She turned to walk away, and then another, oily voice, cut through the air.
"Sorry to hear about your family De Sade."
Snape watched Eleanor turn towards Draco Malfoy. She moved very slowly, like the snake just as it notices the rodent.
"Indeed Malfoy. But this is hardly the setting I will choose to hear you choke out your apology."
There was a pause and then she walked away.
"Did you have a good Summer Sir?"
One of the many complexities he could really do without was Draco Malfoy.
Of course the boy, well he wasn't really a boy any more, knew he was a Death Eater traitor. And of course he, Snape, knew that Draco was almost certainly going to follow in his father's footsteps.
And they both knew the other knew.
So they were excruciatingly polite to each other and tried to avoid conversation around controversial topics. He really regretted making Draco a prefect, it made him impossible to avoid.
"How is your cousin settling in?"
"Fine, I think. Obviously it's a huge change for her, but she likes her dorm mates."
"That's good…"
The conversation drifted into the kind of House business that Snape could go through on autopilot.
He looked up as he saw Faith Llewllyn walking towards them. She wore a pale green robe that floated out behind her as she walked. Children scuttled desperately out of her way as she strode down the stairs.
He smiled at the file she was carrying. It looked like she'd passed.
When she reached them Draco inclined his head quickly and said,
"Hello Faith."
"Hello Draco."
"How are you settling in?"
"Fine thank you."
Snape watched them through narrowed eyes, how the hell did they know each other? Obviously all the Eight Families knew each other, but the Llewllyn Rebels had been persona non gratis since Faith's grandfather had broken with the family. It was very strange that that the future Malfoy Head would be on first name terms with one of them.
"It's several years since you visited." Draco was smiling far too ingratiatingly for Snape's taste, God he could be a little creep at times.
"Yes. Send my regards to your parents." Faith's face was as blank and inexpressive as ever. "Do you think you could excuse us Draco? I have something I need to discuss with Professor Snape."
"Of course." There was a flash of, something, possibly bitterness at being dismissed, in his eyes, but he smiled very nicely and nodded his head towards Snape before walking away.
"He looks so like his Father."
"How do you know the Malfoys?" Snape asked as they moved away, trying to keep the curiosity out of his voice.
"Do you remember when Lucius used to hold his "I was never a Death Eater, reeeally" style parties and invite various Ministry minions along?"
"Yes."
"He used to invite my Father. When I was sixteen he obviously started bringing me."
Snape glanced at her, it wasn't really obvious why at all.
They had reached the staff room, she stopped and turned to him.
"Anyway, I wanted to see you to give you this. It got mixed up with my papers last night."
She held the file out towards him. He looked up at her mocking eyes. Her lips quirked into a small smile as he stared at her, she seemed to know or sense it had been deliberate.
He took the file and felt a slight pressure as she held it for a few seconds before she let go.
He looked down quickly. Meeting her eyes was too hard, it brought back to many feelings of when she had been here before, but that had been so long ago. He had been so different then. He hoped.
She swallowed and ducked quickly into the room.
Snape stood outside for a second. It was stupid, he was being stupid. One night, years ago, when two lonely broken people had run into each other and… And nothing. Exchanged words.
Oh sod it. He slammed the door shut so hard the hinges rattled.
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Faith had curled up in a corner of the room. Fucking, smug, smirking Snape. She closed her eyes. She wasn't that lonely, screwed up little girl anymore, but being around him made her feel like she was.
Bastard.