Chapter Five
There was something amiss with Bella. Hermione could tell from the way the girl was watching her then. Gone was the benign, impartial glance from earlier; that had been a significant sign for the Gryffindor. It had meant that the Slytherin hadn't taken any great notice of her, that she was safe from a snake bite. Now, however . . . it seemed that the mind was fixed on her for some reason. Does she know that I saw, that I noticed her secret, when she thought no one was looking? Hermione's heart was pounding in her chest as she took a seat across from Bella, watching the girl with well hidden caution. Years of dealing with Draco Malfoy had told her that, for all their prattle, most Slytherins were just a lot of hot air. Something about Bella told her that this wasn't the case here. It was the same feeling she got about Snape at times, when he seemed to be watching everyone for any sign of . . . something.
"I hope I'm not running too late." Hermione stated out loud, letting her eyes fall to the scroll of notes on the table.
"No, not really too late at all. Though, another few minutes would have seen you so." Cinder's tone was cool, silky - harsh and cutting beneath the surface. Has to be a house trait. Bella's hand came into Hermione's line of sight. Small, thin white fingers pointed to certain words on the scroll. "We end there. The rest below it is text from a book I'm reading on the subject potion's entire classification."
"Then, where do we begin?" Hermione asked, hitching an eyebrow.
"At the beginning. Where else?"
"Ah." Giving no more than that bit of bitter humor at the remark, Hermione's head bent over her own blank scrolls as she put her quill to use. As she began to write, Bella began to give her details that were left out of the notes – in a form, recreating the class. She knows how to comfort another scholar then. As she went, Hermione noticed that most of them were in a form of shorthand. She codes her work. Good thing she's telling me about it as I copy, some of these are confusing. I'll have to cross reference later.
The impromptu lesson carried on for only a bit longer, and it gave no other hint of trouble save for the mistrust that laced the air.
*
Once more in his own rooms, Severus began to reflect upon the day. On his shoulder was Nevermore – again feasting on scone crumbs while leaving serrations on his master's flesh. A sigh from the man caused the bird to squeeze even harder, protesting that his perch stay still while he fed.
"I'd watch those talons if I were you. Don't want them filed off during our sleep, now do we?" Severus questioned his familiar. The bird gave a caw in reply, left the man's shoulder and went to his home perch across the room. "Much better."
Free from the presence of his fine feathered friend, Severus allowed himself to go once more into his contemplation of all he'd tried to set in place that day. He remembered the way that Miss Cinder had glowed red when he'd called her and Miss Granger to his desk. It was unsettling, very unsettling. Especially since it was in the presence of that little know it all Gryffindor. Perhaps he'd been wrong to pair them up like that? Could he trust the Granger girl not to tell her little friends of his . . . admirer? If she did, there would be no rest for either himself or Miss Cinder.
"Even in the midst of a coming war, there is always room for rumors and scandals – isn't there?" He questioned out loud to the air.
"Always." A haunting voice replied. Snape wasn't startled by this unexpected reply. In fact, he was hoping for it. A moment later, the Bloody Baron made his presence further known by showing his metaphysical form. The house ghost of Slytherin settled himself just above the cushions of the only other chair in Snape's little sitting room. "So tell me, what causes this unrest in you, young Snape? You could cause poor Peeves to explode in malice, all the worried energy you're sending off."
"Don't be ridiculous. Poltergeists feed from the energy of young, not the old and used."
"We'll not begin on that state of affairs." The Bloody Baron muttered. Peeves was a constant annoyance to everyone in the season of school terms; whereas, in summer, the poltergeist was relatively none existent if one didn't know he haunted Hogwart's. "Now, do tell me what has you so troubled. It's not to do with that young upstart, Voldemort, is it?"
"No."
"I didn't think so. You barely survived your last meeting with him, as I remember. It would be uncouth to send you now. And stupid of him to send for you." The Bloody Baron gave him a once over, noting silently to himself that Snape had healed since the summer. He knew the young wizard was waiting to be called back to the underhanded use of that . . . upstart. He knew it troubled Snape to be around that Voldemort. He knew it was also dangerous for him. If Snape wasn't careful where that 'Dark Lord' was concerned, Hogwart's would soon have another resident ghost. It made the Baron happy that the living man beside him was free from that trouble for the time being. That could change at any moment though. At any moment, Severus Snape could be called to his death . . . and he would go, bravely – ready to stand up and take his final payment for the wrong he had caused. Ready to die for the cause of sanity in an insane world. And that world would never forgive him for his wrongs, even if he did die to aid it's own precious survival. The Bloody Baron knew the story all too well. He'd lived it himself once. A very long time ago.
"He is biding his time with my death, isn't he?" Snape gave a malicious laugh, knowing well what the Baron was thinking on.
"We shouldn't predict your future so, young Snape. You may live yet."
"If there is a miracle and Voldemort is defeated." He cast his eyes to the dying fire in the hearth. "Though, I have no true hope . . . or wish , for that matter . . . to die useless as an old man in my bed. It would be better to pay for what I have done, when I still have the memory of my crimes."
"You'll think different if ever you find yourself facing down that crawling green light. And it does crawl to you, you know. To those around you, it's just seconds until your death. To you, the curse seems to last for ages." He noticed the bluish tinge the silent man had taken to his skin. "Come now, let us change this subject. There is else that troubles you, and for that I came to give you counsel."
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Severus stated.
"Miss Cinder is it then?" The Baron laughed at Snape's expression. "Oh, don't worry. No one else has really noticed it. I just keep a care for anything to do with you, my boy."
"She's not to have anything to do with me, save for a student-teacher relationship."
"So you claim. But, in your heart?"
"I don't remember that I have one of those, my forefather."
"Perhaps it grows inside you as we speak." The Baron's words were clever and somewhat harsh. Then, he softened. "There is concern for this girl. That is obvious, and that comes from having a care for her."
"A care I have for all my students, but nothing more."
"So you say. So you say." And with that, the Baron vanished . . . leaving Severus even more tangled in his feelings than what he had been before his ghostly forefather had come to 'help'.
*
Bella found herself in the Slytherin common room not to long after her session with Hermione had drawn to an end. However, she turned her mind off from all those worries concerning that one for the moment. There were other things to have a hand in at the moment. Particularly, her studies. To do this, she chose her usual secluded corner, out of the general view of most of the others present – near to the roaring, warm fire that was currently in the gigantic, ornate fireplace. A bit across from her, two other students were playing a game of chess – five others seated around them watching and betting on who the winner would be and/or whom would try to cheat first. Neither player seemed phased by these remarks. It was common enough that one of them most likely would try to cheat the other. It was only a matter of time, really. In chairs placed directly in front of the fire sat Malfoy and some of his ever present female groupies, holding loud conversation over nothing too highly important or perfect - his 'prowess' at Quidditch. Crabbe and Goyle were at his back, almost as if they were standing guard. Most likely they were. Due to the fact that, in the corner opposite to Bella's, several others were holding silent conversation – glancing over from time to time at the pack Malfoy had drawn together with ill hidden malice.
House politics. . . never ending, always so stupid. Bella sighed with the thought of it all. There was, however, a bit of reprieve from the overt malevolence that always laced the air in that place. A few seats down from her, other students were studying in silence – every now and again looking around and most likely having the same thoughts she was. Most of those studying were in her own year, too busy with graduation and doing their families proud to have any notice with childish power struggles they commonly had a hand in. Yes, Bella thought to herself, this is the year when we find that childhood lasts but so long. This is the year when we make ourselves truly ready for whatever is out there. This is the year when we figure out how we shall survive, if we shall survive. Then, something else, though similar to her previous thoughts, took her mind as an owl entered the room and flew directly to a boy in her own year. His name was Alfred . . . Alfred . . . Alfred Something-or-Other. Not very popular, but he was clever just the same . . . and he was cruel as well. The owl carried with it a black envelope, with only Alfred's name written in silver ink tarnishing the true midnight color of the little parcel. Alfred took the envelope with shaky hands. Everyone knew what it contained. A summons . . . to the circle of the Dark Lord.
Though some feared it, most awaited their own with some impatience. No one spoke of it outside that room. No one spoke of it to their head of house. He wasn't a student, after all . . . and this was the business of the students of Slytherin House. No one else. It was unwritten law. And it was under fear of unwritten penalty of death that no one spoke.
As for Bella herself, she did not know if she'd get such an invitation. Her Father was in Azkaban for his public support of Lord Voldemort during and after His first 'reign of terror'. Her mother had not physically served the cause, as she was not exceptional . . . Her mother had escaped Azkaban due to Bella herself having no one else in the world to go to, and for that already mentioned fact that she had no real hand in the actions of the Death Eaters. She did not speak of her affiliation, though Bella knew what it was. Her Mother's affiliation was to herself and to her daughter. That was all. As for Bella herself, she did not mind Muggles, nor did she mind Muggle Borns. But in her society, she kept her mouth shut about that – either way. Like her Mother, she served only her own cause. If anything, she'd pull out her own Army of Followers. . . for what agenda, she didn't know – but it would not be the idiotic genocide of people who were not of pure wizarding blood. In her opinion, Voldemort was a hypocrite and a fool. That too, was also a silent belief. If she was called on to join though . . . she could not refuse without fear of retribution in the form of death.
Would she refuse? It would depend on the offer.
Everyone was offered something appealing. Everyone. And Voldemort was not known to fail in his promise to his new recruits. If she took it, she knew she would find herself climbing quickly up the inner circle's latter. And when there? Oh, that was natural . . . she'd over throw the fool. Something inside her told her she could do it. How? She didn't yet know, but she knew she could.
The prospects were looking better and better. Even if she had to be a hypocrite for a matter of time, at least she'd have her place to belong. . . something she denied to her heart that she wanted – but in reality she longed for with no end. And, her sense of self preservation would be satisfied. As long as she lived and lived with no imminent danger, all would be well with it.
But, she would cross that bridge when she came to it. It was not her time yet, if it ever would be by invitation. After all, she was sure that her name was not one much mentioned. Her Father, though a devote follower, was nothing special to Voldemort. That she knew. His freedom from Azkaban had not yet been secured, as she knew from whispers that others had been. He was not of the inner circle, and what could the daughter of a lesser minion hold that her sire did not?
No, she would not fall under notice due to lineage. She still had her time to bide and to decide on her path.
She commanded herself to change the subject as Alfred Something-or-Other got up and left his companions in the common room.
It was his turn to decide his path that evening. Not her's.
With that, her mind returned to her studies . . . and then floated with no problem to the matter of her Potion's Master. Master. Now there was a cause she'd gladly serve – her and her self preservation. If only the Granger girl keeps her mouth shut, if she knows anything.
Does she?
*A/N: More will be coming soon. Sorry these chapters took so long to post!