Pardon the lack of event in this chapter, I was focussing more on developing characters than their relationships . . . oh well . . . Next one will be better!!
Also, happy April 20th to all the potheads out there, smoke a fat one for me my friends!
Another big thanks to Rowling, of course, for inventing such wonderful stories. Also thanks to Sublime, for writing such great music for me to write this story to.
And one and all, raise your glasses to a victory for the Toronto Maple Leafs last night against the Islanders. . . Enough of my incessant jabbering, already! On with twisting the life of our favourite Potions Master.
Chapter 4
The beauty of the Saturday afternoon was completely wasted on Severus Snape. He had been summoned to another rally in the ungodly hours of the morning, and had only just been allowed to leave the heinous scene. Since it was rather unorthodox to be getting drunk at four in the morning, he had no protection whatsoever from the mood swings of the Dark Lord.
He stormed down the corridors, taking points from nearly every student he passed. He wanted to scream so badly he could feel his throat ache for release. The anguish, terror, and distress was balled up in his chest so that it was causing him actual physical agony, so bad he almost wanted to die.
Dumbledore was waiting for him in his office, ready with a soothing cup of tea, with a hint of something stronger mixed in. The door slammed back on it's hinges, and the overwrought form of Severus stood framed there, his eyed wide and his chest heaving with exertion.
The sight of Dumbledore, familiar, solid and real, stabilised the Potions Master enough to calm him down slightly. Dumbledore gestured toward a comfortable looking chair, and Snape sunk into it gratefully, easing his weight apprehensively off his feet. He saw the steaming cup of tea and gulped it down in one swallow, ignoring the searing heat it spread down his throat.
Dumbledore was nearly floored by the intense wave of pity that washed over him as he watched Severus, pale and shaking, sitting before him. His shoulders were hunched as if he was trying to hide inside himself, like the frightened child that the old man had taken nearly twenty-five years ago from a broken home.
"Severus, this cannot continue." Dumbledore sighed, easing himself into a chair behind his large ornate desk.
"What?" Severus looked up from his cup, frowning.
"The information you provide us with is invaluable, but you're killing yourself." he explained, conjuring more tea for him.
Severus thirstily drank it down, gripping the cup so hard his knuckles went numb.
"I just need a bit of time afterwards . . . to pull myself together." Snape insisted, forcing himself to relax his grip on the fine china cup.
Dumbledore raised a disbelieving eyebrow, obviously still worried. The silence compelled Severus to elaborate his reasoning.
"Besides, I'm the only spy you have." he said, as if this settled the matter.
"I don't care." Dumbledore said firmly. "Your safety is in question, and that is unacceptable."
"My safety isn't important." Severus stood suddenly, an unreadable expression splashing momentarily across his face. His rapid movement startled the Headmaster, who stood quickly to face him.
"It is to me." Dumbledore reasoned.
"I'm touched." he sneered, but sat back down, and Dumbledore relaxed in relief. He began to pace.
"Was it bad, today?" he asked, concern still showing in his voice.
"Awful."
"Cruciatus?"
"No."
Dumbledore did not ask him to expand his description. Whatever it was, he knew Severus would not tell him.
He sat back down behind his desk, taking a quill and parchment out of a drawer and holding them ready. "What have you learned?" he asked gently, in a business like tone.
"Not much," Snape admitted. "They are preparing for something huge, though there are no details as of yet, it will be terrible."
The headmaster scribbled something down on the paper. "Continue," he asked politely.
"It will be a revolution, like the last, only worse. There are much more followers now, a larger army." He toyed with the empty cup in his lap idly, carefully planning his next words.
"Damn." the old man cursed under his breath.
"You knew it was coming." Snape shrugged, not looking up.
"We are hardly prepared. . . . we could do with the support of the ministry, but they continue to turn a blind eye. They will not give support in any way." he shook his head. "Fudge is a fool." he mumbled.
"Fudge is dead." Severus stated blatantly.
"What?" Dumbledore gaped at him, praying he had heard incorrectly.
"Fudge was murdered in his home this morning, during the rally." then he added quickly, "I was not present at the scene of the kill." he sighed, then raised a confused eyebrow at the older man. "I thought you would have known by now."
'I wasn't informed." he confessed. Snape looked away, nervously biting his lower lip. Dumbledore looked momentarily lost. It was so strange to Snape, having to tell his mentor something he didn't already know.
'Was anyone else hurt?" Dumbledore asked finally.
"I don't know. I told you I wasn't there. I was at the demon's feet the whole time." he said these last words bitterly, looking murderous.
"Was is bad? Do you need to see madam Pomfrey?" The old man asked, abruptly concerned.
"I'm fine." he stated. Dumbledore saw through the lie in an instant, but decided against commenting. He knew that Severus had retreated far from the conversation by now, hiding within his thoughts until he could cope with what he had seen, or even done. Dumbledore had noticed this recessions periodically in the boy's childhood, when he simply could no longer handle in pressure.
"Go get some sleep," he said to him, squeezing his shoulder gently. Severus got up and exited the office, his robes strangely unmoving as he walked. Dumbledore sank back into his chair, deep in thought. Fudge was dead. It was hard to believe. He had never really been a great Minister, and his political stance held no threat to the Dark Lord and his revolutionists. So why kill him?
While the headmaster was plagued with these thoughts, Severus was lost in his mind, unwilling to face himself and everyone else until he had gotten some sleep. The safely of his subconscious was polluted, however, with horrific images. Fudge's home was burnt to the ground, the short man lay dead on the lawn, black and charred from the fire. the house elves, who had fled in panic, were killed one by one as they encountered the Death Eaters crouched some distance away, laughing and jeering.
Severus had not joined them, he sat by Voldemort's chair, the hideous snake Nagini circling around him ominously. Wormtail was there as well, on his Master's other side. Along with the several others in the room, they watched the proceedings in a holographic replica, hovering in the air in front of them.
Voldemort's head lolled sideways momentarily, to look at Snape, who kept his eyes rigidly forward. One of the demon's long, white fingers entwined in a lock of Snape's hair, and pulled gently on it, inclining his head towards his master. He braced himself for pain, in case Voldemort decided to tear it from his scalp. The piercing gaze left a moment later, his hair was left alone, and he began to breath again, unsure of when he had stopped in the first place.
He rounded a corner in the dungeons, intent on his comfortable destination, when someone spoke to him.
Viola had just finished her bath in the head Girl's gigantic bathroom, and was in much better spirits She had forced herself to believe that Brandon hadn't hurt her on purpose, and that their kiss in the hallway was really wonderful. She spotted Snape ahead of her in the hall, walking with his head down slightly.
"Hello Professor." a quiet, shy voice piped up from behind him. He wheeled around on the speaker, and Viola started at his quick movement. She shot him a smile and was about to continue on her way past him, when he noticed that her lip was swollen.
His sense of responsibility kicked in and he forgot all about sleep. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, and it annoyed him immensely.
"What happened to your face?" he asked her coldly and bluntly, and she smiled again, but this time it was more like a grimace.
"An accident, sir." She insisted.
He did not return her smile. He noticed that her hair was dripping wet, bedraggled and hanging over her eyes. In the damp air of the dungeons, the smell of lavender wafted from her, caressing his senses. For a moment he forgot what he was doing, and just looked at her.
Viola waited politely for him so say something, but his words seemed caught in his throat. She glanced briefly at his eyes, then stared into them intently. She saw such sadness there, so much desperation in their brutal, sable depths. Her fantasy sprung unbidden to her mind again, and despite her futile attempt to kill the feeling, the heat returned and caused her to blush.
Her eyes clouded, and he opened his mouth to speak again, but instead regarded the soft skin on her neck, lightly bruised from some passionate encounter. Though Snape was not one to ever become attracted to a student, at that moment he would have loved to bury his face in the gentle curve of her throat, to kiss her lips and touch her hair.
He shook his head slightly and backed a step away from her, out of the radius of her intoxicating scent. She looked distinctly uncomfortable, and edged away, as if to leave, but he halted her with a hand on her shoulder.
"Viola, if something is wrong - " he began, at last finding his voice.
"Nothing is wrong, professor." she murmured, becoming familiar with the callouses on his palm, which she could easily feel through the material of her shirt.
"Well, since you are new to Slytherin House, you should know that I am responsible for all my students - "
"Really it was an accident." she interrupted again, looking slightly worried now. She kept trying to inch away from him. His closeness was causing her to lose all rational thought. But he continued, trying to make everything clear.
"My door is open to all of my students, should you ever feel the need to tell me anything." she had a feeling that he didn't really like saying that sort of thing, as it was somewhat damaging to his intimidating persona. But he had always treated Slytherins differently, she reminded herself. As much as she hated it when he showed favouritism, she appreciated his show of concern.
Their brief conversation seemed to have died out now, and he continued on his way to his rooms, where he toppled onto his bed and tried to fall asleep.
He pummelled his brain, asking himself what the hell he had been thinking. For gods sake, she's a student! He shut his eyes tight, but he could still see her, so beautiful with her hair wet, out of her school uniform.
He tried to convince himself that he was craving company, as an aftereffect of his morning with Voldemort, which was always a traumatizing experience. He was feeling miserable and afraid of what was coming to him, and it was only natural to desire some companionship, even in it's rawest form.
That's what he kept telling himself, but every time he thought it, it felt less true. There was still that look he was almost positive he had seen in her eyes. It was behind the sadness, carefully tucked away behind the look of polite appreciation. He could have sworn that he had seen his own sudden lust, mirrored in her intelligent brown eyes.
***************************
Viola touched her lip and leaned back against the wall, watching him go, wondering what the hell was wrong with her. She thought, with a wry smile, that she must be going crazy. Normal people don't fantasise about someone like Snape.
A sudden idea struck her, and she ran outside as fast as she could, heading to the greenhouses where her friends were most likely situated.
Sure enough, Gwendolen and Brianna were stretched out on the grass, enjoying the sun before dinner. Gwen had her notebook out in front of her, open to a half finished drawing of the castle. Brianna was being her studious self and doing homework. There was an unusual absence of marijuana, but it could be explained by the even more unusual absence of Randy, which Viola called to attention.
"Where's Randy?"
Gwendolen looked up and smiled. "Hey Vi, how was your day with Brandon?" She smirked. "Randy's still in Hogsmeade with some Ravenclaws."
Viola sat down with them, peering appreciatively at Gwen's drawing. Brianna looked up from her homework, a half finished star chart for divination.
"Do you guys know anything about this planetary alignment thing?" she asked, flipping through some papers looking for a reference to said alignment.
"Not really," Viola shook her head. Astronomy was never her greatest strength. "What's my horoscope for today Bri?" she asked, beaming at her friend. Brianna looked at her chart, noting the position of Capricorn and looking through her book again. After a few minutes, in which Viola watched the clouds drift and Gwendolen signed her drawing with a flourish, Brianna started to laugh.
"Capricorn is confused today." she said slowly, her brow furrowed in concentration as she calculated the exact horoscope. "Capricorn is also lusting today. . . more specifically, someone is lusting for Capricorn. Who gave you those love-bites honey?" She pointed at the little hickeys and giggled. Gwendolen held in her amusement, but her innocent curiosity showed through.
"Brandon, right?" she shook her head, frowning slightly. "You guys hardly know each other!"
"Don't lecture me Gwenny." Viola sighed at her friend. "I'm a big girl." She wondered if she should tell them about her rampant imagination regarding Snape, but she had really only planned on telling Randy that. Not that she didn't love and trust the two girls, but Randy was easier to talk to about that sort of thing, probably because he never offered advice. He merely listened, and by hearing herself explain the problem she could figure it out for herself.
Brianna discarded the horoscopes, peering closely at Viola. "You bang your face Doll?" She asked, a slight frown hovering on her sunburned features.
She touched her lip again, rolling her eyes slightly. "Yeah, it was pretty stupid." That answer didn't seem to satisfy her concerned friends, but they left it alone, turning back to their respective practices.
Randy turned the corner around the greenhouses and sat with them, treating them all to a devilish grin, a navy blue beret perched jauntily on his curls. The volume on his walkman was on high, and the headphones were around his neck so everyone could hear that he was listening to Sublime.
"Come for a walk with me Randy." Viola suggested.
"Sure Vi," and he immediately heaved himself back up and they walked away, leaving Gwen and Brianna to finish their work.
Randy put his arm playfully around her shoulders and hugged her briefly. "How's my favourite Slytherin?" he asked her, kissing her loudly on the temple.
Randy and Viola knew each other since they were born. Their birthdays were very close together, and they lived in the same apartment building in London their entire lives. Both raised as muggles, they attended school together, and even when they were young they knew that they loved each other to the ends of the Earth.
Not the kind of love in which two people sleep together, and eventually get married and grow old together, it was impossible for them to think of the other like that. They could never have a romantic relationship. But they were close enough, that when they were to kiss one another for support or affection, they wouldn't even notice it.
When they were both eleven, and got the strange lettres to Hogwarts, they had met in the hallway outside their apartments, both on the way to see the other first. Perhaps it was their closeness that allowed their magical talents to develop together.
Viola beamed at him and jokingly threw his arm off of her shoulder. "Randy, I need to ask you something . . ." She told him. His grin left and he tried to be serious.
"What is it? Are you alright?" he asked as they walked, towards the lake.
"Yeah, but . . ." she fought with her brain over how to word it simply, but vaguely so he had no idea who she was talking about. "Okay, have you ever felt something that you knew you weren't really feeling?" she asked, grimacing when he raised an sceptical eyebrow.
"Like what?" he asked.
"Like, um, physical attraction." she mumbled.
"Well, your either attracted to someone or your not. . ." he stated simply.
"But what if you know you can't possibly be attracted to this person, but for some reason you can't let go of this . . . fancy of them in your mind?" For a minute she thought she had stumped him with that one, because he didn't say anything until they reached the lake and took a seat on the grass.
"I don't think the issue is weather or not you are interested in this person, but weather or not you should be." he ventured.
"That too." She sighed.
"What feels right Viola?" He asked her seriously. "I'm assuming you're not talking about Brandon Carter . . . so do whatever feels right." He threw a pebble into the water, skipping it three times. "Just because Brandon bought you lunch today, it doesn't mean you have to be his girlfriend."
She smiled at him. "I love you sometimes Randy." she looked out across the lake, watching the squid propel itself idly across the glassy surface of the water.
"Just sometimes?" He laughed and punched her shoulder, knocking her on her side. "That hurts bad, Vi, I love you all the time."
While his assessment of her problem was a good one, it still left her confused. She didn't know what felt right. All she had to go by was a couple stray affections. She decided to just let things go their own way. She liked Brandon, and it was obvious that he liked her, so there should really be no problem. As for Snape, it would never work anyway. He was a teacher, she was a student, and plus, she told herself, he would never be interested in her.
They laughed and pushed each other around for the next twenty minutes, then met up with Gwendolen and Brianna on their way in for dinner. Viola sat with them at the Hufflepuff table to eat, seeing no real reason to be at the Slytherin table with people who hated her. Upon entering the Great Hall, she glanced around for Brandon, but he wasn't there. Unable to stop herself, her eyes raked the teachers' table, locking with Snape's for a split second.
His eyes gave her a chill, and she loved it.