Chapter 7 – House Rivalries

Whispers filled the Great Hall during dinner. Most of them concerning the afternoon's DADA instruction, others with general gossip.

Save a growing number of students whispering frantically and looking up at the head table, in the direction of Professors Snape and Vox who were seated together.

Finally, a lull fell over the majority of the students' conversations, and young Neville Longbottom accidentally blurted out, "What's a 'necrophile' and why is Professor Snape one?"

A hush descended upon the gathered body, all heads turning toward Severus Snape, including Dumbledore's and McGonagall's. Lockhart smirked good- naturally. Severus' fingers went to twirling the ends of his hair as he stared intently back at the loudmouth.

Slytherins glared at Neville, who immediately slid down in his seat.

Britomartis admired the class with which Severus remarked: "It is not nice to start rumors."

She chuckled. "Have you looked in a mirror lately, Snips? Most people would assume - "

"Shut up, Spirals."

Dumbledore returned to his meal as if nothing had occurred, while Professor McGonagall tapped her glass. "Go on; back to dinner, students."

Conversations resumed. Severus glowered. Britomartis kept her eye on the room in general. Down among the tables, Draco nodded to his goons Crabbe and Goyle and all three got up from their dinner, leaving the Great Hall.

* * *

Screams tore through the late evening silence.

Britomartis pulled on a spiral-printed cloak over her nightgown, running out of her room and down the halls of Slytherin dorms, out to the common room. She met Professor Snape on the stairs leaving the tower, himself clad in a long gray nightshirt and his hair a complete mess.

"What is it?" she gasped as she caught up with him.

"I don't know," he replied. "But it's coming from the Quidditch field."

Both dashed down the stairs and outside into the chill night air, their breaths streaming out in thick clouds. Racing across the stone walkways and down the dying green grasses to the field, both saw a bonfire burning brightly just outside the Gryffindor stands.

"Oh, Great Mother!" Britomartis breathed.

Both made out figures as they approached - Neville Longbottom from Gryffindor gagged and tied to a spit and being turned over the bonfire by Crabbe and Goyle. Nearby, Draco Malfoy grinned in malicious glee.

"What is the MEANING of this?!?!" Severus Snape roared.

Crabbe and Goyle paused in turning the Gryffindor student, terrified by their House master's rage.

Draco turned, completely uncowed by the Potions Master. "Shouldn't you be thanking me, Professor?" His grin turned cold. "I'm avenging the libel against you, isn't this enough?"

"No!" Snape picked Draco up by the front of his robe and tie. "I did not permit you to avenge anything in my favor or name! Release that or I'll - "

"You'll what?" Draco asked, all arrogance coming to the fore. "Suspend me from the Quidditch match tomorrow? Wouldn't my father object to that?"

Severus trembled in anger, putting the boy down.

Britomartis stepped forward. "Fifty points from Slytherin for roasting a student."

"What?" Draco exclaimed.

"Each," she added firmly. "An additional ten points off each for being out after curfew. And detention."

Crabbe and Goyle shot nasty looks at Draco's back as they untied and ungagged Neville, shoving him to the ground beside the bonfire. Both moved to leave, but she drew her wand out. "Put out the fire. You, too, Mr. Malfoy."

A wounded expression crossed Draco's face. "Work?"

"Now," she stated without a crack of hesitation.

"Know any fire killing spells?" he asked his goons.

Both shook their heads as the three boys began to kick and shovel dirt over the bonfire.

It took nearly a half hour to kill the flames, Britomartis and Severus watching over them while Neville shivered in his teddy-bear-print pajamas.

Britomartis pulled her cloak off and wrapped it around the shivering boy; Draco paused long enough to admire her amethyst purple gown as she rubbed her shoulders.

"I'm taking Mr. Longbottom back to Gryffindor," she told the House Master. "Just take those three miserable gits back to their dorm rooms when they finish."

Severus nodded. "Shall I give them their detentions?"

"I will," she assured them. "I'm not letting that little Nazi threaten you with Lucy's connections."

Despite his anger, Severus managed a smile at Lucius Malfoy's informal nickname given by Martis back during her time at Hogwarts.

An hour later, after explaining what had occurred on the Quidditch field, Minerva McGonagall accepted the shivering Neville back into her dorms.

"We didn't hear any screams," the older woman commented.

Britomartis raised an eyebrow. "But Professor Snape and I did."

"From what you described, Mr. Longbottom's screams would have woken up everyone in the school." McGonagall scratched the side of her thin nose. "I suspect Mr. Malfoy may be testing his immunity with you and Professor Snape."

"Why?"

"Who's to know? I suggest you get back to the dorms and get some sleep. And please watch out for the attacker."

Britomartis nodded. "Of course." She got up from the couch in McGonagall's private rooms. "Minerva?"

"Yes?"

"Is Harry Potter the heir of Master Slytherin?"

The grandmotherly woman smiled nervously. "We do not believe he is behind the attacks." She paused, searching for the right words. "And Professor Dumbledore does not believe Mr. Potter is the heir, even with the knowledge of Parsel-tongue."

"And what do you believe?"

"I am remaining neutral on that matter until undeniable proof is brought forward. However ... I must admit my uneasiness."

"I understand."

"Please don't treat him any differently."

"I won't ... Snookie-poo likes him. Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

Severus Snape sat quietly in the common room, trying to cool his temper down and control the shaking he had felt since finding the bonfire.

Damned children.

The door opened and he looked up to see Britomartis enter, her spiral cloak draped over a shoulder. "That Longbottom child taken care of?"

"Yes," she answered quietly as she settled on the couch next to him. "Had a talk with Minerva about it, all is well on that end. Did Draco give you any lip when you got back here?"

"No." He reached across and clutched her hand in his. "I thought ... I thought I had let that go."

"What?" she asked.

"My Sixth-Year. The Marauders did the same damn thing to me - tied me up and threatened to roast me. Miss Price was the one who broke it up."

"Oh, Great Mother, I'm so sorry I wasn't here - "

He shrugged coldly. "It wasn't as bad as the Lake Incident."

"Lake Incident?"

He told her - the day after she left, the Marauders had humiliated him in front of the whole school by flipping him over and exposing him to the entire student body. He told her of how he ran into the Forbidden forest, hoping to be killed by one of the dark beasts in the woods. Of how Dumbledore had led a search party to find him, of his own demand of death, of the old Headmaster listening to him for once and accepting him as his own son. And his father's beating when he found out, followed by Sirius Black's physical and verbal abuse in the halls, breaking his nose in the end.

All the while, he watched as tears streamed down her cheeks from under her sunglasses.

"Where is Black?" she seethed, her hands clutching the edges of her cloak and making strangling motions. "Potter can't answer for it, but where's Black?"

"In Azkaban," he replied quietly.

"Damn," she breathed. "I was hoping to strangle him with his damned floppy ears myself."

Severus heard the genuine rage and pain in her voice - rage for his pain. The thought that someone would care like that filled him with warmth and tears.

"It was long ago, Martis," he reminded her. Hesitantly, he slid his arms around her, laying his head on her shoulder. "You know ... all the time we've been together, I never hugged you. It's ... calming."

Her own arms encircled him. "All you had to do was ask." She kissed his forehead. "We better stop this before a student comes through here."

Severus raised his head, kissing Britomartis again, this time more softly.

Neither wanted it to end, but eventually they pulled away, going back to their own rooms.

And there was quiet the rest of the night.

* * *