II. Sonata (To Sleep, Perchance To Dream)
"And by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to . . . 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wished."
-William Shakespeare, Hamlet
Though almost no one knew it, Severus Snape hated the summer break more than anything else. Out of his haven at Hogwarts, Severus had no clue what to do with himself and he had no wish to remain at the school with the rest of the staff. So he sat in the darkest corner of the Leaky Cauldron every night, keeping a watchful his students. It was inevitable that at least one of them would be there, hiding from relatives or meeting a friend.
Severus had a flair for the dramatic that wouldn't have been wasted in the acting business. However, it was just as useful in teaching--and he certainly did put it to use. Snape was a great teacher, of the type you only read about. He knew how to treat each student to motivate them to learn. What did it matter if some of his techniques caused the classes to abhor him? He wasn't there to be liked, only to teach. It was all he had left.
Severus smiled as he thought of his favorite class: Double Potions with the Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years. He knew that Slytherins such as Draco Malfoy flourished best if pampered, and students like Neville Longbottom remembered the class only if he tortured the information into them. Harry Potter needed a teacher to challenge him, and Severus certainly achieved that, by raining insults upon him and unfairly taking house points. And Ron Weasley needed to work alone. The presence of others distracted him. Miss Perfect Hermione Granger didn't have a problem with the potions, but she'd be forever hated if her head stayed that inflated. Hmm, a rhyme. Maybe he should have taught Muggle English classes.
This summer, however, there was something else on Severus's mind. With the return of the Dark Lord, he was once again Detective Severus Snape, Private Eye. He didn't mind doing Dumbledore's dirty work, but he often found his mind wandering like this. He wanted the term to start already. Only thirthy-eight days . . . .
"Are you even listening, Snape?!" snapped Lucius Malfoy in annoyance. Severus blinked.
"I'm sorry, but you don't happen to be the most fascinating of people, Lucius." he replied silkily.
The Death Eater frowned. "This is important, you know. The plans have been made for this year's attack on Potter."
Severus held back a snort. Voldemort claimed to be above everyone else, yet he was still seeking revenge like a first-year. "And?"
"They will be announced tonight, and m'Lord wishes to see you before the rest arrive, at seven o'clock."
"Very well." said Snape, swishing his cloak most dramatically and Disapparating behind it, to report the news to Dumbledore. His loyalty was to be tested to-night then.
Severus wasn't worried, he'd held up his evil facade even to Malfoy and his son, and the Dark Lord was only one step up. His only concern lay in the safety of his students, and the fact that they might not all finish their Potions exams. Or, heaven forbid they be cancelled, as they had two years ago! He almost cried at the very thought.
***
Arriving in Hogsmeade, Severus made his way to The Three Broomsticks. He swept inside to see the place almost deserted, which wasn't a surprise, seeing it was barely noon.
"Severus!" called Madame Rosmerta from behind the bar. "Comment ca va?"
Cringing at the woman's terrible French accent, Severus replied, "I'm alright. How are you, Rosmerta?"
"Oh, just dandy." Rosmerta replied. "Business is just booming, you know?"
Looking around, Severus couldn't say he did.
"Would you like the usual, dear?" the older woman smiled.
"No thanks." he answered, already moving over to the empty fireplace. "Have to Floo back up to Hogwarts and talk to Dumbledore. Hogwarts Staff Room!"
"See you later, then!" Rosmerta called, but he was already gone.
***
The staff room was cozy and comforting, though the heat from the stone fireplace was somewhat stifling.The walls were covered in warm cherry wood and still adorned with last year's Christmas decorations; according to Flitwick they had been too good to take down. Several large upholtstered sofas sat atop an expensive Persian rug. A small Victorian coffee table was the room's centerpiece, and several other side tables were hidden by stacks of schoolwork. Muggle lamps had been refitted with enchanted candles that lit only when the room was occupied. More candles were fitted into ornate brass holders on the walls. The only window looked out across the lake, framed by purple curtains. Up until several years ago, the walls had been host to several paintings, but their incessant chatter had finally gotten to the teachers and they had been removed and replaced with Muggle paintings which were far quieter (and some would argue, more expressive). Two long hallways lead to the teacher's bedrooms, completing the picture.
Severus had been standing there for several minutes when a quiet voice interrupted his musings.
"Are you just going to stand there all day, Severus?" Minerva McGonagall teased. Severus turned to glare at his colleague, who was seated with a copy of Mark Helprin's A Winter's Tale.
"I was just going to see Albus." he said loftily.
Minerva's face turned serious. "Ah," she said, "about that?"
Severus nodded.
"He's in his bedroom," she nodded down the left corridor, "but make sure to knock. I've walked in on some pretty . . . interesting things."
He grinned uneasily. Knowing Dumbledore, "interesting" was more along the lines of painting his toenails pink than a torrid love affair.
Severus went down to the end of the hall to Dumbledore's door, which was a deep gold color, and made sure to knock.
"Severus! Do come in." Albus smiled, opening it. Severus blinked at the old man's robes, which were a very bright yellow in color, and stepped into the bedroom.
The old man's room was as interesting as his robes. Against one wall was a bed with small dancing leprechauns, the Irish National Team's mascot, embroidered crudely on. Off to the side was a black locked door that lead to the school records and Merlin knew what else. Posters of dead Muggle actors covered the ceiling. Most unusual, however, were the five black cast-iron bathtubs lined up along the far wall. One was filled with a dark brown liquid, the second with live cuttlefish, the third with rubber ducks, the fourth with linguine and the last with bright pink bubbles and a Muggle bubble wand.
Seeing where Severus was staring, Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah yes, my bathtubs." Gesturing towards each one, he explained, "That's a new potion I'm testing out, this one was a gift from my brother Albert, the ducks are for Jenna Sprout, the pasta is for my dinner and that's my private bath."
"I see." The potions master said skeptically. Albus smiled thinly.
"So, what news of Voldemort?"
"He will be testing me tonight."
Albus tensed up. "Will you be able to handle it?"
"Of course." Severus nodded. "I have dealt with him before."
The old man stared gratefully at him. "Thank you, Severus. I really do appreciate this, you know."
"It's no problem, sir." Severus replied smoothly, giving a little bow before making an impromptu exit.
Back in the staff room, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder.
"Off so soon?" Minerva raised an eyebrow.
"I'm afraid so." Severus said apologetically, running a hand through his greasy black hair and making it greasier. "Diagon Alley!"
Minutes later, finding himself once again in the Leaky Cauldron, Severus Snape settled into his corner and proceeded to observe Colin and Dennis Creevey fighting over a Chocolate Frog trading card. He was not surprised to see Harry Potter on the front.
***
Tonight I dreamt I died. I watched the Death Eaters burn my body. I could feel the flames.
***