'Irresponsible bastard. Stupid idiot. Arrogant piece of scum.'
Lucius Malfoy sighed and decided to give up on Andromeda Black. She was just no match for a respectable pureblood wizard. He would have to look for another girl to accompany him to Hogsmeade this weekend. Did she not have one or two very desirable sisters? Lucius looked around the common room and discovered that it was deserted. Andromeda had stalked up to her dormitory, without looking back once, and now the big, gloomy room certainly looked like a prison cell, just as she had said.
'She is foolish and irrational,' he thought angrily, slamming his book ('How to Subjugate Letifolds and Other Useful Tricks') back on the table. 'And I am not interested in her at all.'
A loud bang coming from the boys' dormitories made him stop sulking for a moment and look up in mild interest. What were they up to now?
Being a Slytherin Prefect was not nearly as interesting as he had imagined it. First of all, you were the scapegoat for anything. Teachers tended to pick on Prefects even more than on normal students, even though they were supposed to provide them with help and support. Second, the Slytherins he had to supervise were either annoyingly obedient, meaning they would have stopped in front of a red traffic light at three in the night, or the extreme contrary, which was just as strenuous and very hard to control.
Lucius sighed and got up. If he was not mistaken, the sound that was now arising was coming from the room the first-years were situated in.
'Small wonder,' he thought. 'If I had to share my room with six other students, I suppose I'd be doing nothing but fighting. It is just too crowded in Slytherin these days.'
When he reached the doorstep the banging and shouting stopped. On the floor, in a very unorthodox heap on top of each other, a couple of first- and second-years were fighting and screaming, encouraged by the shouts of their assembled classmates around them, all of them looking excited and extremely entertained. Lucius rolled his eyes, trying to fight off a yawn.
'What is going on?' he asked, making it very clear that he was not really interested.
'Internal pecking order fight,' said one of the second-years called Roald, well aware that this was about the only excuse that would allow them to get away without detention. 'We're having a few problems concerning the social structure of the commons.'
'I am not having fights in the dormitories,' said Lucius in the same bored, almost appreciative voice. 'Who started it?'
Five or six people pointed at a boy whose name, Lucius recalled, was Timothy Nott.
'I didn't,' Timothy said gloomily. 'I was defending my own free opinion. Since when is that a crime?'
'Your free opinion being that we all suffocate because your boyfriend's mummy hasn't told him to shower once every couple of years,' snarled one of the boys who had accused him. 'I think he's being disgusting.'
'Yeah, on purpose,' nodded a third called Michael. 'I bet he knows exactly what he is doing to us.'
'You are a stupid arrogant git, Jugson,' snarled Timothy. 'You have no idea why he doesn't. Perhaps... perhaps he's allergic to water or something.'
At these words, half the people in the room burst into laughing again and even Lucius had to suppress a snigger.
'Who is it you're talking about?' he asked.
'Snape,' said Jugson in an even more derisive voice. 'The little scrawny one. The one who keeps crying all the time. I think he's homesick on a permanent basis.'
'Snape?' said Lucius suddenly quiet and very serious-looking. 'Severus Snape?'
'Yeah, that one,' said Jugson.
'Right,' said Lucius, remembering only too well what his father had told him after the Christmas feast. 'Let's see. Who was on Snape's side?'
The room went quiet.
'I was,' said Timothy slowly, 'but -'
'No more of this,' said Lucius. 'Jugson, Avery, Stebbins, you're in detention. You too, Roald Lestrange. You shouldn't even be here. And you -' He looked down at Timothy Nott, giving him an annoyingly appreciative smile. 'You'll be dorm prefect. Rosier doesn't seem to be able to get you all under control.'
'What?!' yelled the boy named Evan Rosier. 'But I -'
'You have failed to put an end to this, haven't you?' said Lucius coldly.
'It was a hierarchy fight,' growled Rosier, well aware that this game was not to be won. 'I seem to remember that those are quite in order for Slytherins worthy of the name.'
'I don't see much of a hierarchy fight in here,' replied Lucius. 'Now stop complaining, or I'll put you in detention as well.'
'What is all this about, Malfoy?' snarled Roald Lestrange, who seemed very offended by what Lucius had said. 'Since when don't you approve of fights any longer?'
Lucius stopped and considered for a second. He saw his face in the mirror on the opposite wall of the room and saw a mischievous grin appear on it.
'My father is going to roast me if something happens to Snape while he's here,' he said slowly and consciously, 'so I am going to roast anyone who gives him a hard time. And I will do so for the next three years if nothing severe happens to me. Does that seem a satisfactory explanation, Lestrange?'
'Yeah,' growled the second-year after a moment of consideration. 'Whatever.'
'Right then,' said Lucius, 'where is he now?'
'In the bathroom,' said Timothy. 'I don't think he wants to speak to anyone.'
'What is he doing in there?' asked Lucius, mildly surprised about the indifference he perceived in Timothy's voice. 'I thought the fight was all about him not going in there?'
'We made him,' growled Mike Jugson. 'We took his scrawny arse and put it in the shower so that he'd get the feeling of it. Suppose he's still there, feeling sorry for himself. Stupid little idiot.'
'You are going to scrub bedpans, my dear,' said Lucius softly. 'A three hours' detention during the Hogsmeade weekend after Valentine's Day. I'll see to that. Now let me through! Get to sleep or whatever. Just don't disturb me!'
And with this he marched straight through the rows of scowling first-years, straight towards their bathroom, which was quiet and dark, though the door was only ajar.
'Severus?' he said quietly, perceiving his dark voice reverberate from the vast, tiled stonewalls. 'Are you in here?' No sound penetrated his ear and he took out his wand.
'Lumos facis.'
Still the room remained silent. Lucius shoved away the large veil in front of the shower and backed away at the sight of a tiny wet lump, still dressed in black robes, lying in the furthest corner of the basin, silent, but shaking.
'Severus, are you alright?'
The lump exposed a head, and a pair of glittering black eyes was staring in Lucius's general direction. 'M-mother?'
'Just me, I'm afraid,' said Lucius coolly. 'Come on, Severus, let me get you out of here.'
The boy took a while to take in these words. But finally, reluctantly, he exposed a hand and allowed Lucius to take it. Glad that the boy was so surprisingly forthcoming Lucius waved his wand again and muttered the incantation that would dry Severus's dripping robes. The first-year did not respond. He was staring into nothingness, seemingly unaware of the presence of another human being in the room.
'Will do better,' he said suddenly, as if responding to a never posed question. 'I p-promise.'
'That's good to hear, Severus,' said Lucius quietly. 'Just - shower every now and then and they won't have a reason to pick on you. Alright?'
Severus nodded. Lucius seized his tiny hand again.
'You are shaking,' he said. 'I suggest you better go to bed, or you won't be fit tomorrow and father will kill me after all.'
Severus nodded again. He was clearly not listening. Lucius sighed. Half-dragging, half-carrying Severus to his dormitory he wondered for the second time this year whether he was doing the right thing helping Severus Snape out of a jam. And for the second time he realised that he hated it, although he knew that he did not really have a choice.