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Chapter 18 – The Dreaded Day

Julius strode leisurely up the hill towards the castle, his muscles aching and sore after a grueling three hours of Quidditch practice, his breath puffing fog-like clouds ahead of him as it was expelled from his lips. His fingers were nearly frozen, as were his toes. As he walked, it felt like he was lifting blocks of ice instead of his feet.

Bradley had been driving the team crazy over the past few weeks, calling emergency practices and barraging them with game patterns when they ran into him in the halls. It had gotten to the point that the team members had agreed on a warning signal if any of them saw the Quidditch captain approaching, giving them all ample time to duck down another hall or enter a classroom without being seen.

Julius was grateful for the rush of warmth as he entered the main hall, and quickly strode over towards the fireplace in the expansive foyer to warm his frozen digits, setting his broom on the left of the fire. His fingers stung as they slowly thawed, and he rubbed his hands briskly together, to quicken the process.

Footsteps approached him from behind, and Julius turned, surprised to see Draco Malfoy making his way towards him with an obvious bounce to his step. The blond Slytherin seemed to be in quite a good mood, actually smiling at him, though something in the gleam of his eyes suggested there was more to this newly acquired joviality than spied at first glance.

"Evening, DeVere," Malfoy began, stopping before the fire to warm his own hands, that knowing smirk lingering on his lips.

"Shouldn't you be in the second-floor boys room, scrubbing the loo?" Julius muttered, his swarthy eyes like daggers as they beheld the boy next to him.

Draco frowned momentarily at the remark, but quickly regained his sardonic grin. "Must be nice, being able to get away with murder because of your connections."

"I don't know what you mean. What connections?" Julius replied, his dark brows furrowed in confusion, getting the distinct feeling that Malfoy was up to something.

"Come on, DeVere, you don't think I am that stupid do you?" Malfoy countered, leaning against the side of the fireplace's façade. "Your father...."

Julius offered Draco a confounded glance, having no idea what the boy was talking about. "My father? My father is dead, Malfoy. He died shortly after I was born. So you see, there are no 'connections,'" he responded, forming quotation marks with his fingers as he emphasized the last word.

But the sarcasm was lost upon Draco Malfoy as the towhead came to a realisation, his grey eyes brightening. "You really don't know, do you?"

The Ravenclaw blinked, at a complete loss, worry settling into the pit of his stomach. "Know what?" he replied hesitantly.

"Your father," Draco drawled, pausing for a moment for dramatic effect, enjoying the silent torturous sliver of time, "isn't dead."

The effect this statement had on Julius's face was priceless, and Draco savored it completely.

Julius opened his mouth to say something and found it suddenly too dry to speak, and quickly closed it again, his shady eyes widening slightly. His voice trembled slightly as he asked, "What do you mean?"

"He works close by, you know," Malfoy continued, that infernal grin spreading further with each second, "in this very school in fact." Eyes as dark as night narrowed as Julius's fists clenched at his sides, coming to the conclusion that Malfoy was only playing with his emotions, trying to make him believe something that wasn't true, trying to make him look a fool. "Shut your mouth, Malfoy. I've had enough of your lies," he muttered, grasping his broom and turning to leave the foyer.

"Ask Professor Snape who your father is!" Malfoy called to the dark-haired boy as the Ravenclaw strode in the direction of the tower. This was better than he had ever hoped, as if Christmas had come twice in a year.

"Professor Snape has told me about my father, Malfoy!" Julius shouted back as he continued towards the hall. His temper was rising, and he just wanted to get away from the boy.

"Did he tell you his name?" Malfoy inquired silkily, a smug grin playing on his lips as he crossed his arms before him, still leaning against the wall.

Julius stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to look at Malfoy, his eyes burning in his skull. His whole frame was trembling with anger, and the glare he gave to the Slytherin student was like black ice. But even under the annoyance, something was twisting the Ravenclaw's innards, making him sick to his stomach.

"He didn't, did he?" Malfoy assumed triumphantly, and chuckled to himself as he straightened, turning away from the silent statuesque form of Julius and stepped from the foyer to the hall opposite, disappearing from view.

I never asked his name, Julius thought quietly, his heart pounding in his chest at this realisation, and Snape never told me. He remained there for several minutes, unable to move, as if the slab of stone he stood upon was the only stable thing left in his life, and if he stepped off, who knew where he would fall. He felt nauseous, his breathing short and shallow as his mind reeled.

"Hey Julius," Hermione smiled as she approached, taking a detour from her course to the library. "How was practice?"

Julius did not answer, however, and merely gazed right through her, too involved in his own problems to pay the girl the attention she deserved.

"What's wrong?" she inquired, concern settling upon her features, her brown eyes lifting to his fathomless pools. She grasped one of his hands lightly in her own as her other reached up to tenderly touch his face.

Slowly, Julius reached his own hand to gently remove her hand from his cheek, drawing it down towards her other and squeezed them both softly. His gaze dropped to his feet as he whispered, "Not now, Hermione. I'm sorry, but I just can't talk right now. I'll see you later."

"Julius..." she replied as he let go of her hands and turned to walk down the hall, leaving her standing alone in the fire-lit foyer, but he did not answer, and soon was out of sight.

Julius made his way up to Ravenclaw Tower, where he shrugged off several greetings from his housemates, and brushed by Bradley before the captain could get out a single word, alighting the stairs as quickly as he could into his dorm room. He sat upon the bed, desperately trying to piece everything together, his long fingers combing through the glossy black threads of his hair as he closed his eyes.

His father was alive (if Malfoy was telling the truth), working for this very school, and Professor Snape knew who he was and never told him. Professor Snape... could it be?

All of the stories they tell of him, of how horrible he is, has he ever been so terrible to you? Why not, Julius? Why has he always spent extra time, showing you potions you would not learn for years to come...

And the broom, "You have earned this..." it would be just like him to say something like that. He stared at the broomstick lying beside him on the bed, and suddenly his temper flared once more. Why did he send him the broom? Guilt over leaving... abandoning both he and his mother, leaving him without a father, and his mother with a broken heart. Was I not good enough for him? Didn't we love him enough?

He was trembling now, his breath coming in gasps as angry tears formed behind his eyelids, his fists clenching tightly with white knuckles, trying so hard to contain the cry of anguish that so desperately wanted to escape his lips. He wanted to scream, to yell as loud as he could, to curse this man who had left them so long ago, the father who hadn't loved them enough to stay.

His anger solidifying his resolve, he stood, picking up his broom once more and headed back out, passing by his friends once more with a determined expression on his face. I have to know. I have to know why.

Several minutes later, the door to Snape's office swung open, banging against the opposite wall. The potions master, who had been sitting at his desk, nursing a horrendous headache, was suddenly standing at his full height, wand drawn, the tip pointing in the direction of the intruder, ready to cast. When his dark eyes came to rest upon their twin set in the form of Julius DeVere, he lowered the wand slightly, but his furious countenance did not change.

"Detention, Mr. DeVere!" Snape bellowed, making his way around the desk and advancing on the boy at the threshold. "How dare you burst into this office!" His head was pounding after a long night working for Dumbledore, and he was in no mood to play games.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Julius shouted in the face of the man who still towered over him by several inches. His eyes were smouldering just as fiercely as the professor's, his voice bearing many of the same menacing qualities.

"Tell you what, Mr. DeVere?" Snape returned, advancing on the boy, forcing the Ravenclaw to retreat with his back against the wall.

"Mr. Snape, you mean, surely," Julius grated lowly, his swarthy eyes holding fast to his father's. He was shaking, his chest puffing, but he stood his ground.

Severus Snape's heart nearly stopped as he found himself faced with a situation that he could not escape. He stepped back, and almost appeared to shrink in stature, no longer the tall foreboding professor, but just a man who's son realised he was his father. The shock of the moment hit Snape hard, and he stood there, still as stone, his own heart racing. He was trapped.

As the professor turned, he raked his hands through his inky black hair, retreating back to his desk, and sinking heavily into the chair. Propping his elbows upon its paper-littered surface, he let his head fall into his hands, his voice a tremulous whisper, "Sit down, Julius."

A/N: beams! not as bad a cliff-hanger as I could have left you with. I might not be able to post again until Monday, as I am going away for the weekend. But who knows, I will try my best and will at least be taking notes for the next chapter.

Thank you to all who reviewed. Glad you are enjoying the story!

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