One Young Heart
Chapter 20: Filch's Office
Filch's office was the darkest and ugliest in Hogwarts, with its chains hanging from the ceilings, and its decrepit smell of age. Severus saw no glimpse of the Kwikspell packets and e-z-magic books of previous years. The time for that had passed, and now the rooms showed only bleak acceptance.
The scene was far from foreign to Severus. They were old friends, the two of them. Severus remembered, when Dumbledore had just brought him back to Hogwarts, back to teach, to be trapped in the unending maze of magic and students and government officials, seeing a flash of broken teeth and a red eyed cat, watching as he took the keys from his predecessor, as he discovered the castle for the first time, looked down upon the splendor of Slytherin's secret dream for the first time.
The students said that Filch knew every secret passage in the school. Indeed, it was through a way no student knew that he came to Severus that first night, offering no hope and no comfort, only understanding, only the simple knowledge that such a life may be endured.
As they began, so they continued. Filch understood the mind behind Severus' sharp barbs and sneers, and accepted that this was simply the way the younger man was, had never asked for more information. It was common enough for the students to see their harsh, wretched caretaker in conversation with the cold, cruel potions master. Filch brought Snape his little pets and tales of rebellious students, and Snape- Snape knew there was one man, and one man alone at the school who knew who he truly was.
A year after coming back to the school, Severus' patience broke. As he flung the last piece of furniture through the window to its end, pain erased for a moment by the sheer, mindless act of destruction, he had spun to face the door, to face the ghoulish face of the caretaker, looking oddly satisfied. "Well, now, its nice to see you let off a temper, lad. I was beginning to think you hadn't one. Doesn't do well, to just.accept life's little punishments, does it? Good to have a temper."
"Well, you've damn well seen mine now!" He had roared, magic flowing through his veins, out his hands, a whirlwind of papers, quills, and ink laying waste to the room, out of his control, beyond his understanding. The well of rage, the desperate fury of a caged animal as it watches death close slowly in upon it, lashed out of his hands and spiraled on, to spend itself in a final mad dash against the unseeing stone.
As Severus stood, shocked at the strength of his own temper, Filch had nodded, quietly, the rare joy gone from his face. He had seen the professor's pain, and it was no laughing matter. "That's right, lad. Let it go. Can't do you any good, but what's the point of living in hell if you don't break the rules once in a while?"
Snape panted out the last of his rage and gasped, "What do you know of hell?" "Everything, lad." He replied, coolly leaning on a pillar and crossing his arms over his torn and ravened jacket. "You're nothing but a squib to Dumbledore. No matter how well you do the magic. The resistance, they're good, Voldermort's followers, they're bad. You, you're annoying, in the way, occasionally useful, but not a real person. Something to be pitied. An object. A squib." He grinned harshly, gave a single hopeless laugh. "I wouldn't fight it, if I were you. There's no going back. As for forward, I think we both know who'll win this war. And how he treats the squibs."
Severus returned to the present with a start, as Filch dropped a mug of beer down before him. "What did happen?" "Ah, that Weasly boy's gone and got himself caught by your lord." Filch always called Voldermort Snape's lord, for, knowing nothing of the reasons for Snape's punishment, he knew only that the man who hated his kind was hated by Snape. "...And now he's sent the Headmaster Potter's coat." He sucked his teeth speculatively. "Invisibility cloak. Explains a lot about how that boy gets round me, sometimes."
"Well. Now what am I supposed to do about this?" Snape asked the wall, annoyed. "Any answer is wrong, and in between is death and damnation. Can't save the boys cause I work for the lord, can't help the lord because I'm stuck with the boys. And if I don't." He stopped abruptly, self-censor closing his mouth again. Too late.
Filch's eyes glinted again, with the elfin joy that belied his pride in his powers of perception. "About Miss Granger, professor? Why, I'd bring her the Potter boy as a present. It'd be a shame to lose such a charming little backer." In response to Snape's sharp glance, he only parted his lips further over his wretched teeth, and leaned back into the filth and desolation of his chosen residence.
Chapter 20: Filch's Office
Filch's office was the darkest and ugliest in Hogwarts, with its chains hanging from the ceilings, and its decrepit smell of age. Severus saw no glimpse of the Kwikspell packets and e-z-magic books of previous years. The time for that had passed, and now the rooms showed only bleak acceptance.
The scene was far from foreign to Severus. They were old friends, the two of them. Severus remembered, when Dumbledore had just brought him back to Hogwarts, back to teach, to be trapped in the unending maze of magic and students and government officials, seeing a flash of broken teeth and a red eyed cat, watching as he took the keys from his predecessor, as he discovered the castle for the first time, looked down upon the splendor of Slytherin's secret dream for the first time.
The students said that Filch knew every secret passage in the school. Indeed, it was through a way no student knew that he came to Severus that first night, offering no hope and no comfort, only understanding, only the simple knowledge that such a life may be endured.
As they began, so they continued. Filch understood the mind behind Severus' sharp barbs and sneers, and accepted that this was simply the way the younger man was, had never asked for more information. It was common enough for the students to see their harsh, wretched caretaker in conversation with the cold, cruel potions master. Filch brought Snape his little pets and tales of rebellious students, and Snape- Snape knew there was one man, and one man alone at the school who knew who he truly was.
A year after coming back to the school, Severus' patience broke. As he flung the last piece of furniture through the window to its end, pain erased for a moment by the sheer, mindless act of destruction, he had spun to face the door, to face the ghoulish face of the caretaker, looking oddly satisfied. "Well, now, its nice to see you let off a temper, lad. I was beginning to think you hadn't one. Doesn't do well, to just.accept life's little punishments, does it? Good to have a temper."
"Well, you've damn well seen mine now!" He had roared, magic flowing through his veins, out his hands, a whirlwind of papers, quills, and ink laying waste to the room, out of his control, beyond his understanding. The well of rage, the desperate fury of a caged animal as it watches death close slowly in upon it, lashed out of his hands and spiraled on, to spend itself in a final mad dash against the unseeing stone.
As Severus stood, shocked at the strength of his own temper, Filch had nodded, quietly, the rare joy gone from his face. He had seen the professor's pain, and it was no laughing matter. "That's right, lad. Let it go. Can't do you any good, but what's the point of living in hell if you don't break the rules once in a while?"
Snape panted out the last of his rage and gasped, "What do you know of hell?" "Everything, lad." He replied, coolly leaning on a pillar and crossing his arms over his torn and ravened jacket. "You're nothing but a squib to Dumbledore. No matter how well you do the magic. The resistance, they're good, Voldermort's followers, they're bad. You, you're annoying, in the way, occasionally useful, but not a real person. Something to be pitied. An object. A squib." He grinned harshly, gave a single hopeless laugh. "I wouldn't fight it, if I were you. There's no going back. As for forward, I think we both know who'll win this war. And how he treats the squibs."
Severus returned to the present with a start, as Filch dropped a mug of beer down before him. "What did happen?" "Ah, that Weasly boy's gone and got himself caught by your lord." Filch always called Voldermort Snape's lord, for, knowing nothing of the reasons for Snape's punishment, he knew only that the man who hated his kind was hated by Snape. "...And now he's sent the Headmaster Potter's coat." He sucked his teeth speculatively. "Invisibility cloak. Explains a lot about how that boy gets round me, sometimes."
"Well. Now what am I supposed to do about this?" Snape asked the wall, annoyed. "Any answer is wrong, and in between is death and damnation. Can't save the boys cause I work for the lord, can't help the lord because I'm stuck with the boys. And if I don't." He stopped abruptly, self-censor closing his mouth again. Too late.
Filch's eyes glinted again, with the elfin joy that belied his pride in his powers of perception. "About Miss Granger, professor? Why, I'd bring her the Potter boy as a present. It'd be a shame to lose such a charming little backer." In response to Snape's sharp glance, he only parted his lips further over his wretched teeth, and leaned back into the filth and desolation of his chosen residence.