Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story (more's the pity--they could help pay my student loans) except for Eve Berger. Nor did I come up with the plot of PoA, and the scenes and dialogue included in that fab book, which I humbly reproduce at certain points herein. All that belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury, Raincoast, Scholastic...the list goes on!
A/N: A huge pile of papers sits in the middle of an empty floor. Upon closer inspection it seems to be made up of essays, assignments, reports and handouts. Suddenly, the pile shifts, papers sliding as something inside the pile moves. With much shuffling, something begins to emerge from the pile: a few fingers, a hand, and finally, an arm. The hand and arm are covered in paper cuts, fingers grasping a few pieces of paper. With an "oof!" noise which comes from somewhere under the pile, some of the pages are tossed into a box with "Snapefic Liberation Front" written on it, the rest into the box labelled "Fanfiction.net". A brief white glow from each of the boxes and the papers fanish into the ether. The hand recedes back into the pile, the only sound from the mountain of papers a muffled whisper: "Two weeks till vacation, two weeks till vacation..."
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Chapter 15: A Forced Confidence
No! I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!
For a moment Eve sat there, hardly breathing, while a thousand conflicting thoughts tumbled through her brain. She read the statement over again and the testimony that followed, Dumbledore's explanation that Snape had been a Death Eater but had turned, had spied for the good side. But no matter how many times she read the testimony she still could not believe it, could not comprehend it.
No, it can't be true...but it must be...but if it is, then why is he here at Hogwarts, instead of in Azkaban? Why does Dumbledore trust him?
She both could and could not see Snape as a Death Eater. Certainly of all the teachers he seemed the most likely to be, well, evil. But if what Dumbledore had said was true, Snape wasn't evil--or not now. But what on earth could have made Snape join the Death Eaters then turn his back on them? How could he have committed the kind of acts that she had read about, and only later repented--if he had at all? How much had he participated? And what was it that had made Dumbledore believe that Snape was on his side?
Somewhat surprisingly she found herself hoping that Snape really had repented. While she didn't like him one bit, it was hard for her to think of any of her teachers as being capable of that sort of cruelty--even Snape, who seemed to make cruelty his stock-in-trade. Besides, if he hadn't changed his ways then that meant that Dumbledore had been played for a fool, though she couldn't imagine that as a possibility. Dumbledore seemed too...omniscient for that. But then, he was human like anyone else... Still, she couldn't believe that Dumbledore could have been mistaken in this, or more accurately, she did not want to believe it.
She seized the index, flipping through it until she found the section, scanning the names for any entries under Snape, Severus. There were none. His name wasn't even in the list. Turning back, she looked up all the entries under Dumbledore, Albus, but there was not even a brief mention of the trial of a Death-Eater-turned-spy. The fact that there was no record of a trial did nothing to calm her turbulent emotions; there hadn't been an entry for Black, Sirius, but everyone knew that he had been You-Know-Who's second-in-command.
The warning bell for the end of lunch sounded and Eve packed up the books, only half paying attention as she put them back. With a sudden lurch of her stomach she remembered that she had her tutorial with Professor Snape right after lunch. How on earth was she going to be able to look at him with these suspicions floating around her head?
Dreading her time with Snape, she slowly packed up her things and dropped them off in her room before making the long walk down to the dungeons.
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The instant that Eve Berger walked in the door of the Potions classroom Snape knew something was up. Her brow had a constant furrow and she was avoiding his gaze. More accurately, she was avoiding looking at him entirely. He didn't need to have even Trelawney's powers of divination to tell that there was something on Berger's mind. However, what it was was none of his business and as long as it did not interfere with her tutorial he frankly did not want to know. Except when it came to his Slytherins, he had no interest in involving himself in his students' lives.
The problem was that it did interfere. He happened to look up at her from the essays he was marking just as she was about to add an ingredient to her potion, and the sight of the phial in her hand--or more particularly, the contents of that phial--made him blanch. In an instant he had jumped out of his chair and crossed to her, catching her by the wrist and pulling the hand holding the phial away from her cauldron. As he grabbed her, he could see her give a slight jump in surprise, like someone who had just been wakened from sleep. She hadn't been paying attention!
With the disaster averted Snape could allow his rage full rein, and now that Berger was actually looking at him he glared straight at her. This was beyond careless, beyond stupid...
You stupid girl, I said to use powdered unicorn hair, not powdered unicorn horn! You could have seriously injured yourself due to your lack of attention! he barked, feeling the blood pounding in his temples.
He'd been expecting some defiance in response, but instead Berger lowered her head and whispered, I'm sorry sir...I had something on my mind.
Her explanation did nothing to calm him and his next words were cutting. You have detention all next week, and I'll make it two if you don't tell me what was so engrossing that you nearly made a disastrous mistake.
Snape saw her bite her lip as an expression of fear flitted across her features. I'm waiting, Miss Berger...
She took a deep breath, as if to steady her nerves, and she finally looked up at him once again. But the expression he saw there was not the one he was expecting. He had expected the fear on her face, but not the small look of hope that was in her eyes.
Is it true that you were a Death Eater? she asked in a shaky voice.
Snape took a step back in surprise, feeling as though a cold hand had seized his throat. Of all the things he could possibly have imagined her saying, that had to be the absolute last one he was expecting. Usually so calm and controlled, he could hardly spare a thought to relax his features, appear unaffected by her question. A single thought swirled through his brain: How can she know?
Who told you? he gasped, not realizing until after he said it that he'd as good as answered in the affirmative. Her expression became earnest and he suddenly felt naked under her gaze.
M-my essay for History of Magic, it's partly about the Death Eater trials and one of the accused named you as a Death Eater. So...so it's true that you spied for Dumbledore?
Snape snapped back to reality, realizing that he'd already said far too much. He had to go on the offensive, protect what ground he'd lost. He couldn't give her a straight answer of course. If he denied it she would continue to wonder exactly whose side he was on, particularly as she had read Dumbledore's testimony. It was more dangerous to have her questioning the answers than to think she knew them. However, he would never clearly admit to his past in front of a student; it was far too personal. A non-answer seemed the best way--no doubt she would consider it a and hopefully would drop the issue.
Of course there was always one more option left to him...an Obliviate spell. That was out of the question, however. He hadn't cast one in years and while he had no doubt of his ability to do it, it was doing it to the proper degree that worried him. If her memory was damaged, people would notice, would ask questions. Dumbledore would ask questions and he was the one person Snape could never lie to.
Stepping in closer to her, making sure that he was invading her personal space, he pointed a finger in her face and said in a low, cold voice, If you tell anyone about this...
I won't! she said, sounding slightly annoyed. Good, better for her to be angry at him and to put the whole thing aside. I can't tell anyone or I break a wizard's contract; I wasn't even going to tell you.
Good. Now as you've nearly killed yourself once today, you'll tip that out, he said, pointing to her cauldron, and do it again in detention tomorrow--yes, after the Quidditch match--at which time you will also hand in a twelve-inch paper on what effect the addition of unicorn horn would have had on that potion, as well as any way to counteract it. Get on with it! Turning on his heel, he swept back up to his desk and busily shuffled papers around while she cleaned up. He couldn't help but notice that she was tidying her things faster than usual. No doubt she wanted to get out of the dungeon as fast as possible.
Once the door slammed behind her he set the wards around the room, then gathered the papers he'd been marking and hurried into his office. Dropping the papers on his desk, he plopped into the armchair by the fire. A headache was rapidly building behind his temples and he leaned back, trying to get his bearings.
Bloody hell, he thought, of all the people... Only Potter would be more of a pain in the arse if he were to find out. Fourteen years of being on Dumbledore's side and I still can't put that one immeasurably stupid mistake behind me. His single comfort was the fact that the impeding detention would hopefully spoil her Saturday, dampening some of the high spirits doubtless stirred up by the final Quidditch match of the season. The winner of the Quidditch Cup would be decided the next day with the big match between Slytherin and Gryffindor. He would certainly love to see her downcast expression in detention should Gryffindor lose, even if it meant he would have to miss some of the Slytherin celebrations.
Snape paid little attention to the time, not noticing anything around him until there was a sudden jump in the flames and he heard a voice speaking from the direction of his fireplace.
Snape looked up in surprise to see Dumbledore's head hovering in the flames. May I join you for a moment?
Snape nodded and Dumbledore's face disappeared before the headmaster himself stepped through the fireplace into the room, brushing soot off his robes.
I trust you had something happen during this afternoon's tutorial, he said with his usual unflappable calm.
How did you know?
The expression on Miss Berger's face and your absence at dinner was enough to tell me. What exactly was the problem?
The problem, headmaster, Snape said, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his tone, is that thanks to Berger's research, she now knows that I was a Death Eater. Would you mind telling me exactly how that happened?
It wasn't often that Snape got to see Dumbledore appear at all surprised by anything, and this wasn't much of an exception. The headmaster's snowy eyebrows lifted slightly, but other than that he gave no outward sign of shock.
I cannot be sure myself, Severus--
I thought my trial was supposed to be closed, that all records of it were to be buried, erased. As though it never happened!
And to my knowledge they were but nothing can remain buried forever, Severus. She certainly could not have read the records of your trial, or those of most of the other Death Eaters that mentioned you, but there must be some evidence... Dumbledore's face changed, as though he was only just remembering something.
he said slowly, staring pensively into the fire. Karkaroff was released because he named others that were involved with Voldemort. He named you and his trial was not public, but nor was it entirely secret. The trial stenographer would have recorded it and the text not censored. The records were only censored to protect the innocent--
Snape let out a snort. And I'm hardly innocent. If she tells anyone...
Miss Berger will not tell anyone of this. I would not have let her have access to the records if I did not have complete trust in her not to tell another living soul about what she finds there, as with any other student with access to restricted materials. She will tell no one.
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As Eve and the rest of the students herded out of the Gryffindor common room the next morning, a few students handed out scarlet rosettes and flags. Eve grabbed one that had LIONS FOR THE CUP! written on it and pulled her house scarf a little tighter. The air was still a little chill for April, but most of the students would have worn their house scarves anyway, simply to show their team colours. Even with detention looming, she couldn't help but feel excited about the upcoming match. After watching almost all the school games, she had gained an appreciation for the sport, and besides this was the match to end all. Gryffindor and Slytherin, to decide the winner of the Quidditch Cup--and Gryffindor with such a deficit of points going into it! The stakes were decidedly higher, and it was much more interesting seeing the two best teams in the school play the final match.
The students hurried into the stands with some jockeying for seats, though considering how high the players flew, the view wasn't much of an issue. Across the field Eve could see a sea of green and grey; the Slytherin students had come with similar enthusiasm for their team. She thought she could even see Professor Snape sitting with his house, a Slytherin scarf over his usual black robes. Looking away, she concentrated on the door to the dressing rooms. She wouldn't let the thought of detention ruin her mood.
As the Gryffindor players swept onto the field, Lee Jordan announcing their names, the Slytherin heckling was drowned out by the chant of Go, go Gryffindor! Go, go Gryffindor! The chants switched as the Slytherins rocketed from their dressing room, the Slytherins chanting Get them Slytherin! Get them Slytherin! as the other houses booed loudly.
The crowd noise died as Madam Hooch walked onto the pitch, the tension infecting every one of the spectators. The balls were released and with the shrill chirp of Hooch's whistle, the match began.
From the outset it was obvious that neither team was about to stick to the rules; anything they could get away with was fair game. Players deliberately rammed each other, each team's Beaters hitting the bludgers with as much force as they could. It was hard to keep an eye on the action, members of both teams zipping from one end of the pitch to the other, flying in and around each other with alarming speed and amazing dexterity. Eve's stomach clenched with every attempt to score at either pitch, heart leaping when Gryffindor consistently racked up points, heart falling when Slytherin got one by the Gryffindor Keeper. It was common knowledge that Gryffindor needed a score of over two hundred points to win the Cup. If they could only get thirty more points and the Snitch before Slytherin did...
Alicia Spinnet scored another goal with a penalty shot, making it forty to ten for Gryffindor. Katie Bell scored, then Angelina Johnson; all they needed now was for Potter to catch the Snitch. Everyone's eyes lifted to watch him, Gryffindor cheers rising as they saw him dive for the Snitch, changing to boos when Draco Malfoy caught Harry by his robes, slowing him down. Madam Hooch ordered another penalty shot, but Alicia missed. Most of the Gryffindors were too angry with Malfoy to care. Besides, they had the needed ten extra points, and soon after, twenty. If only Potter could get the Snitch!
The game went on, Potter foiling an attempt to block Spinnet, but a streak of green robes was heading for the pitch--Malfoy had spotted the Snitch!
There was a near-unanimous gasp from the Gryffindors as Potter dove, far behind Malfoy. Eve joined the whispered chant that went through the stands: Come on Harry, come on, Harry... as though by sheer force of will they could make him catch up.
Potter was gaining on Malfoy by inches. Five feet..four...three...two...one...Potter was coming up alongside Malfoy...they were level...Malfoy was reaching for the Snitch...
There was a flurry of arms and Potter soared back up into the air, fist clenched, his expression triumphant.
Potter had the Snitch! Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup!
Gryffindor house leapt to its feet and screamed at the top of its lungs, instantly joined by Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Students ran to the stairs, then clattered down to the pitch, cheering all the way. The field was a sea of gold and crimson as the Gryffindor students swarmed their team before hoisting them onto their shoulders and carrying them toward the end of the pitch where Professor Dumbledore waited with the Cup, Professor McGonagall sobbing with joy at his side.
Eve joined her housemates in one last cheer as Oliver Wood hoisted the Cup above his head.
Go, go Gryffindor! Go, go Gryffindor!
Snape watched the match with growing anticipation, his inner turmoil growing as Slytherin kept missing goals and Gryffindor kept making them. He found it hard to keep control of himself, letting his students doing the screaming for him. Slytherin's twenty points did give some hope, but points didn't matter as long as Slytherin got the Snitch first.
As Malfoy dove for the Snitch, Snape leaned forward slightly. Malfoy was no great shakes as a Seeker, but Potter hadn't spotted it, that Gryffindor chivalry preoccupying him. That is, until he began to dive as well.
Malfoy was reaching for the Snitch, Potter alongside... Grab it, Malfoy! Snape thought, hearing his students giving voice to the same the same prayer beside him.
From where he stood he could see Potter knock Malfoy's arm out of the way and grab the Snitch. The taste of victory turned bitter in his mouth as the Gryffindors went wild and the Slytherin students sagged, dejected, to their seats or exploded in anger.
Snape turned to his students and ordered them to wait, knowing he'd rather die than slink away, beaten, the victors' cheer ringing in his ears, and expecting the same of his students. Thank God Minerva was too busy bawling like a child to look his way. One look of triumph from her and he may have ignored his pride. It was bad enough that he would have to deal with her gloating for the next few weeks. Gryffindors really could be insufferable winners, for all their noble ideals.
Few Slytherins watched the Cup being presented to the Gryffindor team, turning to talk to their housemates. Snape watched the children, ready to nip any truly awful behaviour in the bud. Besides, he didn't want to see Potter's triumphant grin any more than he already had.
The Cup presented, the students began filing back to the school, Snape making at least some attempt to keep the Slytherins away from the Gryffindors, though he didn't try very hard. Most of the Gryffindors were in too good a mood to leave the pitch for a few minutes yet, anyway.
Falling back in the crowd, however, he saw Eve Berger making her way back with a few other Gryffindors. She was grinning from ear-to-ear, though she had to have remembered her detention as she was leaving before most of the rest of her house.
The sight irked him, and he barked, Berger--detention in five minutes! He saw her smile dampen before he quickly strode down to his dungeons.
Casting aside the wards, he threw open the door to his supply cabinet, grabbing two large jars of Malaysian Dung Beetles. Berger hated insects, and these beetles were particularly disgusting, especially when crushed by hand. Thumping the jars on one of the desks along with a smallish mortar and pestle, he grabbed an empty jar and cheesecloth-lined funnel. Straining dung beetle juice seemed like a good punishment after she had successfully completed her potion from the day before.
Snape had just seated himself at his desk and bent his head over a pile of papers when Berger crept in, carrying her cauldron and a roll of parchment.
Complete your potion from yesterday accurately, then crush and strain those, he said coldly and pointed to the jars, You won't leave until you've completed both to my standards.
He allowed himself the satisfaction of seeing her turn green as she looked at the beetles, then bent over his marking again.
Somewhat to his surprise she was silent during the tutorial, not even making the usual little unconscious noises she usually did. No thinking aloud as she completed her spoiled potion, no quiet expressions of disgust as she crushed the beetles into a foul-smelling brown pulp. Her potion was completed to the letter this time, and only once did he have to tell her to crush the beetles finer. Her face was as expressive as ever and she made no attempt to hide her revulsion. But at least she was quiet, obviously discomfited by her findings as not once did she even glance at him. That was fine with him. Obviously she was uncomfortable in his presence, and he was glad for it. Intimidation was a fine tool to make others wary of you, and to obey.
When she was finished Snape looked at her potion and the now-full jar or beetle extract from where he was.
I suppose that will do. Bottle that potion and clean up, then leave your parchment with me. Dismissed, he said shortly. She cleaned up quickly, sliding the parchment on his desk without looking at him, then hurried out.
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From then on, every tutorial was completed in similar silence, with as little communication as possible. As the days, then weeks passed and there were no whispers among the students or teachers, Snape could allow himself to relax. She had not told anyone as she'd promised. Apparently Dumbledore was right--at least in that instance. Snape still couldn't stand the fact that he had been forced into trusting her, but begrudgingly allowed her that attribute. It was one of the very few likeable things he found in her.
With Easter holidays over, the time seemed to speed up like a train going down a grade: all downhill toward exams and the end of the year. Eve worked feverishly to finish all her assignments and essays in-between her extra tutorials, staying up later and later as due dates approached ever faster. As June approached, the warm spring air seemed to be trying to lure her outside the castle, and she got in the habit of working in a dark corner of the library or leaving her drapes closed so that she couldn't stare out the window. Erik was sulking both from her inattention to him and his discomfort from the warm weather, and spent most of his time sleeping under her bed where it was cooler.
Finally her assignments were handed in, exam week arrived, and the castle settled under an eerie hush. The common room was silent in the evenings, save the low buzz of students murmuring to themselves as they studied, or the moans of those that were certain they'd failed. Eve had exams all week, both the usual first-year exams as well as extras, sometimes performing the same tasks as the second-years. In most of her classes her tutorials should have allowed her to finish the second-year curriculum, and depending on whether she passed, she should be able to join some of the third-year classes the next September. She was planning on taking Care of Magical Creatures and though she had been tempted to take Muggle Studies, Professor McGonagall had given her a stern look when she'd simply joked about it, and Eve had decided on Ancient Runes instead.
By the time Thursday of exam week rolled around, her second-last day, she was exhausted. After her afternoon exam in Herbology, she raced back to her room, then flopped on her bed, her brain still trying to confirm whether she'd answered the questions on the written exam correctly. She was reasonably certain she'd passed the second-year exams for Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Herbology, dead certain she would pass History of Magic the next afternoon. Potions, Transfiguration and Astronomy, however... Perhaps she'd squeaked by in Transfiguration (literally, she'd been asked to change a rat into a shoe), but she was dreading her results for the other two.
She could almost hear her mother saying, "Well, at least they're almost over, nothing you can do now about those you've finished," as she had for every exam week, but as usual the thought didn't stop Eve from worrying. It did, however, remind her that she'd not owled her parents in a week and after changing out of her uniform to more comfortable clothes, she sat down to write a letter. She had to hurry; it was nearly dinnertime, and she couldn't be outside Gryffindor Tower afterwards. The curfew imposed after Black had broken in for the second time still hadn't been lifted and she didn't want to get in trouble this soon before the end of the year. Besides, she still needed to study for History of Magic.
She finished her letter, sealed it, then ran it to the owlery and dispatched it with barely enough time to get to dinner. The Great Hall was much noisier, now that exams were almost over. Most of the students were finished, only a few upper year students still silent and pensive.
After dinner the houses marched back up to their dormitories, those that were finished ready to finally relax and have some fun.
No one noticed that Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger did not return to Gryffindor Tower with the rest of their housemates.