Warning: This story contains slash. Slash means a relationship between two
persons of the same sex; in this case, men. If that bothers you, then
please don't read! I'm sure there are plenty of lovely stories with a het
pairing.
Otherwise, enjoy!
Note that this chapter is PG, but the story will turn R-rated later.
*Feel the vibe, feel the terror, feel the pain It's driving me insane I can't fake For God's sake why am I driving in the wrong lane Trouble is my middle name But in the end I'm not too bad Can someone tell me if it's wrong to be so mad about you Mad about you Are you the fishy wine that will give me a headache in the morning Or just a dark blue landmine that'll explode without a decent warning Give me all your true hate and I'll translate it in our bed Into never seen passion, never seen passion That is why I am so mad about you Mad about you Trouble is your middle name But in the end you're not too bad Can someone tell me if it's wrong to be so mad about you Mad about you* - Mad About You, Hooverphonic
Severus Snape impatiently tapped his fingers on the table. He wished McGonagall would hurry up, and cut her speech short. He shouldn't have to listen to it in the first place. If there was anybody who knew just how dangerous the Dark Lord was, surely it was him. So, really, there was no reason for him to be attending this staff meeting.
As the Head of Gryffindor house droned on about safety precautions, and the threat they were now all under, Snape noted that all the colour had drained for Sprout's otherwise flushed cheeks, that Flitwick looked as though he were about to faint, and that Hooch, of all people, was nervously fidgeting. He smirked inwardly. Cowardly fools! He prided himself that, next to Dumbledore, he was doubtless the most composed person in the room.
With an air of barely suppressed superiority, he continued to observe the other teachers around him, not even bothering to listen; he already knew all of it, anyway - unlike all those ignorants around him. He glared at McGonagall for a moment, hoping it would incite her to finish as quickly as possible. No such luck. She simply ignored him, and launched into a more detailed explanation of the additional wards that had been placed around Hogwarts. Snape clenched his teeth. He did not like to be ignored.
He turned his mind to more pleasant facts. Like the detention he had given Potter a few hours ago. Cleaning the ceiling of the Potions classroom, by hand. *Lets see just how well you can handle that broom of yours, Mr. Potter*, he thought, not aware of the small grin tugging at his lips. With a bit of luck, he might fall off. Of course, even then, Pomfrey would have him up and about in a matter of days, if not hours, but Snape hoped it would hurt. A lot.
It did not help his mood that Potter *was*, after all, one of the main reasons Hogwarts had to be guarded so meticulously. The Dark Lord was indeed looking forward to getting his hands on the damned brat once again. And he had no intention of letting him escape this time. As a matter of fact, he was positively seething, and Snape had no doubt the boy would experience an extremely violent and painful death should he be captured.
He allowed himself to muse on how exactly Potter would meet his horrible demise, but pushed the thought away after a while. It was not going to happen. Though he much enjoyed picturing this particular scene - in full colour and sound - he would never allow this fantasy to become reality; not if he could help it. Dumbledore would, after all, pay a high price for Potter's safety. This also irritated the hell out of Snape - he did not think twice about sending Snape of to spy again, knowing very well the Dark Lord at the very least had strong suspicions concerning the Potions master, whilst he would do anything to protect precious Potter. But Snape was no fool. He knew the boy could prove to be a valuable asset in vanquishing He Who Must Not Be Named.
And maybe his conscience would bother him if he wouldn't do his best to protect the aggravating boy. Well, just a little bit.
However, as another half hour passed, Snape fervently wished he had made the damned boy scrape the ceiling in the Great Hall, instead of the much smaller Potions class. Just as a lovely picture of a much worn out Harry Potter, precariously poised on his broom and cleaning the immense ceiling with nothing but his fingernails, formed in his mind, his eye caught Lupin's.
The DADA teacher innocently shifted his gaze to Sinistra, who was sitting right next to Snape, and then on to Hooch, who was now absent-mindedly ripping the feathers off her quill. The Potions Master suspiciously narrowed his eyes, trying to read the werewolf's expression. He looked entirely innocuous, his stare sliding smoothly from one teacher to another. Snape wondered if he was seeing things. He seemed to catch Lupin staring at him rather often these last few weeks. But it could of course just be a coincidence.
Trouble was, he didn't trust the werewolf. Not one little bit. Nor did he much believe in chance. His anger was mounting still at the very thought of having to sit in the same room with that despicable creature. Again. He silently cursed the Dark Lord for having murdered the previous DADA teacher. Which said something about his dislike of Lupin, considering Professor Summers had been a complete nitwit. Only Longbottom could probably have topped her in stupidity and sheer incompetence. And that was not taking into account the fact that Longbottom was a mere sixth year student, and not a qualified teacher.
And so Lupin had come back, much to the dismay of a number of concerned parents. Only Dumbledore's reassurance that all possible precautions were being taken with regards to the safety of the children had stopped the departure of several students. Well, that, and the fact that compared to the threat of the Dark Lord, a werewolf seemed to be the lesser evil. Everybody knew Hogwarts was just about the safest place in the world.
Snape was not so sure. He continued observing Lupin for a while, and after a few minutes, the werewolf's eyes shifted discreetly from McGonagall back to him. The moment he met Snape's scrutinising dark gaze, his eyes widened in surprise - and, doubtless, guilt - while Lupin abruptly turned his head away. His stare fixed pointedly on McGonagall, and he seemed suddenly very interested in the ongoing flood of words. It might have been credible, were it not that less than a moment after he looked away, a deep red colour crept into his cheeks, spreading out quickly.
If Snape had been distrusting before, now he was certain his suspicions were justified. *Something* was up, and he would be damned if he didn't find out quickly what it was. He just knew it had been a bad idea to let the werewolf back into Hogwarts. And that was beside the fact that he felt like strangling the darned beast every time he laid eyes on him.
By the time McGonagall finished her discourse another half hour later, and Dumbledore thanked them all for their attention, imprinting upon them the necessity to abide by all the new rules, Snape was boiling on the inside. Lupin hadn't removed his eyes from McGonagall once, which in itself was more than suspect. Considering exactly *how* mind-numbing her speech had been.
Dumbledore's final words amounted to "constant vigilance", a reminder of Mad-Eye Moody Snape really didn't need; his mood turned even fouler.
Lupin seemed eager to leave the staff room, and was one of the firsts through the door. Snape swiftly followed him, not even acknowledging McGonagall's attempt at starting a conversation with him. By the time he'd caught up with the werewolf, they were both far ahead of the other staff members, and the hall around them was deserted.
"Lupin!", Snape snarled. The man in question took a few more steps before slowly stopping in his tracks, and turning around in an uncharacteristically hesitant manner. He merely stared.
"What's going on?", Snape queried in his most threatening bark.
Lupin seemed to waver for a moment, and then apparently pulled himself together, for he calmly looked Snape in the eye. His voice was perfectly composed as he echoed: "Going on? What should there be going on?"
"You know damn well what I am talking about! You're up to something, now just admit it." Eyebrows were questioningly raised in perfect innocence. "You keep looking at me! Didn't you think I'd notice? Do not measure me by your own stupidity!" He let that sink in for a second. "I'm warning you, you play one single trick on me, you make one single move, and you are out." His voice had dropped to dangerous, silky tones. "Because if you antagonise me in any - and I mean any - way, you can find yourself a new provider for the Wolfsbane Potion - which is the only thing keeping you here."
The werewolf seemed completely unmoved by his speech.
Bugger.
Angry that his intimidation apparently had no effect, he decided to take it a little further. He took a step towards the werewolf, their noses inches apart, and stared menacingly into the expressionless face. "And with that, I wish you very much luck." He spat the words, and he was sure some of his spittle had hit Lupin in the face.
Now that was a satisfying thought.
Lupin remained perfectly placid throughout the entire tirade, though Snape could have sworn his cheeks had tinged a faint pink at the start of it. Now, however, he did not even blink. Light brown eyes looked innocently into his own. He had the nerve to fold his face into a puzzled expression.
In a tone that conveyed wonder, he stated: "Severus, I have no idea what you are talking about."
As he spoke the last words, McGonagall and Dumbledore rounded the corner, and Snape was forced to back down. Which didn't keep him from glaring furiously.
"Ah, Remus, could I have a word with you, please?"
"Certainly, Headmaster."
Snape practically growled in frustration as he watched Lupin get away, walking alongside Dumbledore. He very near foamed at the mouth when he heard the old man laugh softly and easily at something Lupin must have said. McGonagall shot him a wary glance, and her features mirrored disapproval as she caught the look of pure loathing and hatred. However, she knew better than to comment on it, which really was lucky for her.
As McGonagall proceeded after the two men, Snape quickly stalked in the other direction, heading for the dungeons. For once, he slammed the door behind him as he entered his private rooms. He stopped just short of banging his head against the cold stone wall, hoping for some inspiration. What was Lupin planning? He knew it *would* be hard to find someone else to brew the Wolfsbane Potion, or at least that gaining it from another source would cost Lupin a lot of money - money he couldn't spare.
Unfortunately, Snape also knew that he couldn't ignore a direct order from Dumbledore. And considering that even almost killing him hadn't got Lupin expelled, Snape strongly doubted anything would. As long as the werewolf would be here, Dumbledore would make Snape brew the potion. Not to mention that Snape himself would *not* be happy, having a wild werewolf running around the grounds, or perhaps even the school itself. He'd run into one once, and didn't care to repeat the experience, thank you very much.
He didn't doubt that Lupin knew enough to understand that Snape could never make his threat stand. Which got him back to where he'd started from. He had to find out what was going to happen, preferably before it actually took place. He wondered if perhaps something was already going on. That would certainly explain why Lupin kept staring at him. Something about his appearance. But that didn't make any sense. None of the other teachers had looked at him as though anything was wrong or even out of the ordinary. Nor had his students remarked on anything - which, Snape was certain, they wouldn't refrain from doing if there was any cause for it.
Another thought struck him. What if Lupin was cursing him - which would require eye contact? But Snape didn't feel any different. No, he decided, whatever "joke" the werewolf had in mind, it had yet to be executed. It worried him. Werewolves were extremely untrustworthy creatures, and he had no doubt that what Lupin had concocted would be cruel and devious.
Perhaps the werewolf was not happy about the Wolfsbane Potion, and was really hungering for blood? Snape's blood, perhaps.? Though that would effectively cut off his supply of Wolfsbane, Snape did not put it passed him. It *would* probably get Lupin expelled, and perhaps even get him landed in Azkaban. But who knew how a werewolf's mind worked, and how far he would go to get what he wanted?
Note that this chapter is PG, but the story will turn R-rated later.
*Feel the vibe, feel the terror, feel the pain It's driving me insane I can't fake For God's sake why am I driving in the wrong lane Trouble is my middle name But in the end I'm not too bad Can someone tell me if it's wrong to be so mad about you Mad about you Are you the fishy wine that will give me a headache in the morning Or just a dark blue landmine that'll explode without a decent warning Give me all your true hate and I'll translate it in our bed Into never seen passion, never seen passion That is why I am so mad about you Mad about you Trouble is your middle name But in the end you're not too bad Can someone tell me if it's wrong to be so mad about you Mad about you* - Mad About You, Hooverphonic
Severus Snape impatiently tapped his fingers on the table. He wished McGonagall would hurry up, and cut her speech short. He shouldn't have to listen to it in the first place. If there was anybody who knew just how dangerous the Dark Lord was, surely it was him. So, really, there was no reason for him to be attending this staff meeting.
As the Head of Gryffindor house droned on about safety precautions, and the threat they were now all under, Snape noted that all the colour had drained for Sprout's otherwise flushed cheeks, that Flitwick looked as though he were about to faint, and that Hooch, of all people, was nervously fidgeting. He smirked inwardly. Cowardly fools! He prided himself that, next to Dumbledore, he was doubtless the most composed person in the room.
With an air of barely suppressed superiority, he continued to observe the other teachers around him, not even bothering to listen; he already knew all of it, anyway - unlike all those ignorants around him. He glared at McGonagall for a moment, hoping it would incite her to finish as quickly as possible. No such luck. She simply ignored him, and launched into a more detailed explanation of the additional wards that had been placed around Hogwarts. Snape clenched his teeth. He did not like to be ignored.
He turned his mind to more pleasant facts. Like the detention he had given Potter a few hours ago. Cleaning the ceiling of the Potions classroom, by hand. *Lets see just how well you can handle that broom of yours, Mr. Potter*, he thought, not aware of the small grin tugging at his lips. With a bit of luck, he might fall off. Of course, even then, Pomfrey would have him up and about in a matter of days, if not hours, but Snape hoped it would hurt. A lot.
It did not help his mood that Potter *was*, after all, one of the main reasons Hogwarts had to be guarded so meticulously. The Dark Lord was indeed looking forward to getting his hands on the damned brat once again. And he had no intention of letting him escape this time. As a matter of fact, he was positively seething, and Snape had no doubt the boy would experience an extremely violent and painful death should he be captured.
He allowed himself to muse on how exactly Potter would meet his horrible demise, but pushed the thought away after a while. It was not going to happen. Though he much enjoyed picturing this particular scene - in full colour and sound - he would never allow this fantasy to become reality; not if he could help it. Dumbledore would, after all, pay a high price for Potter's safety. This also irritated the hell out of Snape - he did not think twice about sending Snape of to spy again, knowing very well the Dark Lord at the very least had strong suspicions concerning the Potions master, whilst he would do anything to protect precious Potter. But Snape was no fool. He knew the boy could prove to be a valuable asset in vanquishing He Who Must Not Be Named.
And maybe his conscience would bother him if he wouldn't do his best to protect the aggravating boy. Well, just a little bit.
However, as another half hour passed, Snape fervently wished he had made the damned boy scrape the ceiling in the Great Hall, instead of the much smaller Potions class. Just as a lovely picture of a much worn out Harry Potter, precariously poised on his broom and cleaning the immense ceiling with nothing but his fingernails, formed in his mind, his eye caught Lupin's.
The DADA teacher innocently shifted his gaze to Sinistra, who was sitting right next to Snape, and then on to Hooch, who was now absent-mindedly ripping the feathers off her quill. The Potions Master suspiciously narrowed his eyes, trying to read the werewolf's expression. He looked entirely innocuous, his stare sliding smoothly from one teacher to another. Snape wondered if he was seeing things. He seemed to catch Lupin staring at him rather often these last few weeks. But it could of course just be a coincidence.
Trouble was, he didn't trust the werewolf. Not one little bit. Nor did he much believe in chance. His anger was mounting still at the very thought of having to sit in the same room with that despicable creature. Again. He silently cursed the Dark Lord for having murdered the previous DADA teacher. Which said something about his dislike of Lupin, considering Professor Summers had been a complete nitwit. Only Longbottom could probably have topped her in stupidity and sheer incompetence. And that was not taking into account the fact that Longbottom was a mere sixth year student, and not a qualified teacher.
And so Lupin had come back, much to the dismay of a number of concerned parents. Only Dumbledore's reassurance that all possible precautions were being taken with regards to the safety of the children had stopped the departure of several students. Well, that, and the fact that compared to the threat of the Dark Lord, a werewolf seemed to be the lesser evil. Everybody knew Hogwarts was just about the safest place in the world.
Snape was not so sure. He continued observing Lupin for a while, and after a few minutes, the werewolf's eyes shifted discreetly from McGonagall back to him. The moment he met Snape's scrutinising dark gaze, his eyes widened in surprise - and, doubtless, guilt - while Lupin abruptly turned his head away. His stare fixed pointedly on McGonagall, and he seemed suddenly very interested in the ongoing flood of words. It might have been credible, were it not that less than a moment after he looked away, a deep red colour crept into his cheeks, spreading out quickly.
If Snape had been distrusting before, now he was certain his suspicions were justified. *Something* was up, and he would be damned if he didn't find out quickly what it was. He just knew it had been a bad idea to let the werewolf back into Hogwarts. And that was beside the fact that he felt like strangling the darned beast every time he laid eyes on him.
By the time McGonagall finished her discourse another half hour later, and Dumbledore thanked them all for their attention, imprinting upon them the necessity to abide by all the new rules, Snape was boiling on the inside. Lupin hadn't removed his eyes from McGonagall once, which in itself was more than suspect. Considering exactly *how* mind-numbing her speech had been.
Dumbledore's final words amounted to "constant vigilance", a reminder of Mad-Eye Moody Snape really didn't need; his mood turned even fouler.
Lupin seemed eager to leave the staff room, and was one of the firsts through the door. Snape swiftly followed him, not even acknowledging McGonagall's attempt at starting a conversation with him. By the time he'd caught up with the werewolf, they were both far ahead of the other staff members, and the hall around them was deserted.
"Lupin!", Snape snarled. The man in question took a few more steps before slowly stopping in his tracks, and turning around in an uncharacteristically hesitant manner. He merely stared.
"What's going on?", Snape queried in his most threatening bark.
Lupin seemed to waver for a moment, and then apparently pulled himself together, for he calmly looked Snape in the eye. His voice was perfectly composed as he echoed: "Going on? What should there be going on?"
"You know damn well what I am talking about! You're up to something, now just admit it." Eyebrows were questioningly raised in perfect innocence. "You keep looking at me! Didn't you think I'd notice? Do not measure me by your own stupidity!" He let that sink in for a second. "I'm warning you, you play one single trick on me, you make one single move, and you are out." His voice had dropped to dangerous, silky tones. "Because if you antagonise me in any - and I mean any - way, you can find yourself a new provider for the Wolfsbane Potion - which is the only thing keeping you here."
The werewolf seemed completely unmoved by his speech.
Bugger.
Angry that his intimidation apparently had no effect, he decided to take it a little further. He took a step towards the werewolf, their noses inches apart, and stared menacingly into the expressionless face. "And with that, I wish you very much luck." He spat the words, and he was sure some of his spittle had hit Lupin in the face.
Now that was a satisfying thought.
Lupin remained perfectly placid throughout the entire tirade, though Snape could have sworn his cheeks had tinged a faint pink at the start of it. Now, however, he did not even blink. Light brown eyes looked innocently into his own. He had the nerve to fold his face into a puzzled expression.
In a tone that conveyed wonder, he stated: "Severus, I have no idea what you are talking about."
As he spoke the last words, McGonagall and Dumbledore rounded the corner, and Snape was forced to back down. Which didn't keep him from glaring furiously.
"Ah, Remus, could I have a word with you, please?"
"Certainly, Headmaster."
Snape practically growled in frustration as he watched Lupin get away, walking alongside Dumbledore. He very near foamed at the mouth when he heard the old man laugh softly and easily at something Lupin must have said. McGonagall shot him a wary glance, and her features mirrored disapproval as she caught the look of pure loathing and hatred. However, she knew better than to comment on it, which really was lucky for her.
As McGonagall proceeded after the two men, Snape quickly stalked in the other direction, heading for the dungeons. For once, he slammed the door behind him as he entered his private rooms. He stopped just short of banging his head against the cold stone wall, hoping for some inspiration. What was Lupin planning? He knew it *would* be hard to find someone else to brew the Wolfsbane Potion, or at least that gaining it from another source would cost Lupin a lot of money - money he couldn't spare.
Unfortunately, Snape also knew that he couldn't ignore a direct order from Dumbledore. And considering that even almost killing him hadn't got Lupin expelled, Snape strongly doubted anything would. As long as the werewolf would be here, Dumbledore would make Snape brew the potion. Not to mention that Snape himself would *not* be happy, having a wild werewolf running around the grounds, or perhaps even the school itself. He'd run into one once, and didn't care to repeat the experience, thank you very much.
He didn't doubt that Lupin knew enough to understand that Snape could never make his threat stand. Which got him back to where he'd started from. He had to find out what was going to happen, preferably before it actually took place. He wondered if perhaps something was already going on. That would certainly explain why Lupin kept staring at him. Something about his appearance. But that didn't make any sense. None of the other teachers had looked at him as though anything was wrong or even out of the ordinary. Nor had his students remarked on anything - which, Snape was certain, they wouldn't refrain from doing if there was any cause for it.
Another thought struck him. What if Lupin was cursing him - which would require eye contact? But Snape didn't feel any different. No, he decided, whatever "joke" the werewolf had in mind, it had yet to be executed. It worried him. Werewolves were extremely untrustworthy creatures, and he had no doubt that what Lupin had concocted would be cruel and devious.
Perhaps the werewolf was not happy about the Wolfsbane Potion, and was really hungering for blood? Snape's blood, perhaps.? Though that would effectively cut off his supply of Wolfsbane, Snape did not put it passed him. It *would* probably get Lupin expelled, and perhaps even get him landed in Azkaban. But who knew how a werewolf's mind worked, and how far he would go to get what he wanted?
