Chapter 15 - Snape the second
Okay, this isn't a brilliant chapter, but it explains what is going on a bit.
Thank you for reading.
:)
**********
As Michael sat down at a wooden chair in Snape's office, he hunched his shoulders and stared at his hands, as if he had done something wrong. Dumbledore sat down at the teacher's chair as Michael let one of his hands reach up to his face, and wince. He sat up, grimacing, and placed his hands respectfully on the desk.
"Thank you sir, I think you read my mind." Replied Michael.
"I understand that a young man with a parent like Professor Snape would feel very uncomfortable revealing mis-doings in front of him, so I will let you tell me what happened. But only on the condition that you tell me the truth."
"Thank you sir, " Michael whispered.
"Now, as I was saying, will you please explain how you got here?"
"Professor, I really didn't do anything wrong. I promise. " Said Michael, "I'm not a troublemaker. You see sir, I don't know where to begin...."
"Begin with the bruises and work your way to this place." Said Dumbledore curtly.
"The bruises are Ron's, " Michael said shortly, "he gave them to me. We had an argument today at about lunchtime, but it really escalated when I came back for dinner. I'd left Ron on his own, he'd had a go at me about something, so I left him alone so I could calm down. So I come back in the evening and...He picks another fight. I don't get it, its not like I've done anything, but anyway, I end up with a few bruises, before more or less everyone in my dorm decide to throw me out...."
"In your dorm?" enquired Dumbledore.
"Yeah, Ron, Semus, Dean and Neville. " Michael confirmed, "Not that Harry did more than watch. They threw me out the bloo---window! Thank Merlin for wigarduim leveosa! So, after being thrown out I walked across the fields for a bit, to calm myself down, or I might've killed Ron." Michael hissed, "I walk down to Hangrid's hut, but just as I get their I saw something in the woods, not like a centaur or anything, something human, so I went to the edge of the forest just to check out what it was. I was stupid not to suspect! I said how they go into your mind, didn't I? Well, there used to be a girl I fancied, and, well....."
"Excuse me Michael, could you re-establish what you said about Ron, I'm assuming you're talking about Ron Weasley in Gryffindor. "
"Yeah, prefect and all. " added Michael, "I share a dorm with him, we used to be friends, but he's decided that he doesn't like me any more. I don't even know why he doesn't like me now. Maybe because he thinks he's too good for the likes of us." He spat bitterly.
"That doesn't sound like the Ron I know, if I may say."
"He probably isn't. " said Michael neutrally, "but to be fair, it's desperate times. At least I know he's going to betray me now, rather than later."
"Continue."
Michael went a bright red. "There was a girl I liked, um, and I was stupid enough to think that she might have sneaked back onto the grounds, even though she'd been sent to The Academy." Michael shivered. He said The Academy like most people said 'on trial for Azkaban.' "She called out to me, and I followed her voice. She stood far away from me, so I couldn't quiet see her. But I knew it was her. It was her voice, her eyes that called out to me. She lured me into the wood, I couldn't stop myself, I had to follow her, find out if everything was all right. She didn't lead me far into the woods, just far enough not to bee seen if anyone came past. I called out to her, and she came up to me, and asked me how I'd been. I suppose I should have suspected something, she wore a robe so I could see nothing but her face, but as I thought she'd sneaked out she was just trying to make sure no one recognised her. I said I was fine, and asked her how she'd been, but she avoided the questions, telling me she was fine and that she'd missed me a lot. She'd wondered why I hadn't gone myself, you see, it's weird. She was a quaterblood, like me, just a quarter Psyxen, but they'd sent her away, but not me. I didn't know why either, but it a few minutes before I suspected something. Amber, the one I'd known, always talked with her hands, but this Amber barely moved hers, in fact, they were hidden under the cloak. But she kept looking at her watch, as if waiting for something. So I carefully place an arm around her shoulder, and slipped the cloak off.
"It was then I realised what she was, but it was too late. It'd taken me by the arms and then threw me to what I thought was the ground, but it was more like falling into a hole. I kept falling into Darkness, unable to see what was around me, but it was like falling inside a huge clock. All I could hear around me was the sound of clocks ticking, as I fell through nothingness, almost as if every clock in the world was being wound backwards. I opened my eyes, and I saw myself falling through my past. It was weird, seeing myself at thirteen, then ten, then eight. As I fell through....the last thing I saw was my mother being killed." Michael stopped for breath, as if merely saying the last sentence has forced his to summon all his strength.
Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. He gave Michael a look, allowing him to skip the details of this event, and to carry on. "And the next thing I know is that I've landed in the forbidden forest with three of 'them' on my tail, covered in mud and dirt. I managed to get them away, but I wasn't too sure what had happened. I'm not too sure now, either. " And them, looking up at Dumbledore with large, confused, childish eyes he said, "Professor, do you know why I'm here?"
"I don't know." Replied Dumbledore, "But I am certain that you will find out. But do you mind if I question you further."
"Not at all."
"You say you are in Gryffindor...."
" Might have been a Slytherin if my blood had been pure enough, " replied Michael, with surprisingly little malice, "but I obviously wasn't intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, and my brave streak was too big for Hufflepuff."
"I see, and you know...."
"....My father was in Slytherin? Yes, I know. But being cunning isn't a bad thing. That's something that a lot of people forget. It's halfway between intelligence and perseverance. Slytherin isn't a primary colour; it's a mixture of two houses." Replied Michael, as if he was spilling out thoughts he'd kept to himself for a long time, "but I could never devote myself to either intelligence or perseverance. The hat obviously though Gryffindor was a good decision for me."
"I see." Finished Dumbledore lamely.
"Can I please ask you a question Sir?" asked Michael.
"Yes."
"Is their another me here? Because I'd like to find out if he's like me or not." Michael asked with a little hopeful enthusiasm.
"Your father did not get married here, " said Dumbledore, as if he were breaking news of a death to the boy, "I'm sorry, but your mother and your father never married and never had children, I'm afraid that you don't exist....."
"Oh." He said quietly, and his head slumped into his concave chest again. Then, as if brightening up he asked, "But if my mother is around....even if she's in St Mungos, anything, can I see her?"
Dumbledore suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Your mother isn't....isn't alive. She was killed during the Voldermort years. " He finished, as if deciding what to tell him, "I assume, as we never found the body. But I know someone found her dead."
"And my mothers parents?" he asked, as if he was desperately trying to find something, " My Mother's parents? Did they survive here? I mean, that's more than enough for me....."
"I don't know, I think that they were killed as well." Said Dumbledore, "but that is enough questions tonight. Your fate will be decided in the morning. In the meantime, would you mind staying in the dungeons until we decide what we are going to do with you."
"Is this one of those decisions which I have a choice in?"
Dumbledore gave him a tight-lipped smile and a small chuckle. "I'm afraid not, Michael."
**********
The atmosphere between the two Snape's was so cold that the air could have been ice, and so uncomfortable that both squirmed from time to time, refusing to look at each other. The atmosphere was so tense that you could have cut it with a knife. Sev tapped his fingers on the mantelpiece, staring into the fire. His expression was one of sombre pensiveness, while Snape, sitting in one of the leather chairs dug his nails into the stained red finish. Snape through him a hate filled glance, which caused Sev to slow down the regular tap of fingernails against wood. He quickly looked at his double, as if he was daring himself to, and then looked back at the fire. He wouldn't dare try and catch his other selves eyes.
Snape loosened his grip on the armchair, and placing one elbow onto his knee, rested his face in one hand, still managing to look angry. His hair, ungracefully tucked behind his ears, hung over his wrist, tickling it from time to time. There was no sound by the ticking of a solitary clock, and soft breathing from both of them. Finally, Snape realised, they had begun to get into silent competition in who could breathe the softest, most unheard. As he realised it was his double, he stretched his arms out into front of him, and crossing his legs, cupped his hands and put his head back in them. Then his double began the rhythmic tapping again. Snape was about to admonish him when the door to his office opened loudly, causing both of them to jump.
It opened to reveal both Dumbledore and Michael, who although a good inch taller than Dumbledore in height, still looked shorter, perhaps out of reverence for him. Dumbledore, a hand placed on the boys shoulder looked at both of them with his blue eyes and said, "Sev, I have a few things to discuss with you, " Snape got up, wanting to know what was going on, but Dumbledore raised his hand and said, "no Severus, I meant your double."
Sev pushed himself upright off the mantelpiece he had been leaning on, and walked past Snape, not even looking him in the eye. Before he even reached halfway across the room Dumbledore turned back to Snape and said, "Severus, could you please find a place for this boy to stay the night until His father and I decide on what should happen."
Michael turned around suddenly, his bruised face suddenly making him look pitiful as his eyes almost burst out of sockets. Dumbledore gave him a sly wink, and Michael seemed to relax. As Sev crossed the room he placed a hand on his son's shoulder, pinched it gently, and gave him a small smile. Michael returned it as Sev followed Dumbledore back into Snape's office. As the door shut Michael suddenly became aware of the silent anger in the room. Choosing not to say anything, he turned around and merely waited for Snape to say something.
Snape was seething with rage; it rippled under his skin like the giant squid in the lake, and could burst out at any moment. Why was this nuisance boy staring at him so dumbly? Shouldn't he be lording his achievement, like the Potter's before him had? Or maybe grinning like Young Malfoy did when he won over Potter, something that he hated, but hated less than seeing Potter being smug. Why didn't the boy at least say something to him? Or move. Or in fact do anything but stare at him?
Snape looked away, and mumbled angrily, "I suppose you'll want a bed or something...."
"Okay?" said Michael.
Snape marched over to a wardrobe and threw the doors open before grabbing a dusty green sleeping bag and throwing it at Michael. Michael almost dropped it, but managed to keep it in his arms.
"Sleep where you want, but keep out of the way of doors, my classroom, my office and most of all, out of my private rooms." He spat, at Michael stared on in amazement, "I'm sure you know what mealtimes are, and I expect you up and dressed at least half an hour before then. Do I make myself clear?"
"Undeniably. " replied Michael, standing as still as a statue.
"The headmaster has obviously left out some food for you, feel free to take it, but do not, under any circumstances, touch anything else in this room." He finished, "I am going to my room, any noise heard from you, and you will be sleeping in the corridor, understand."
"I don't touch anything, I don't go near any doors, I don't make any noise and I get up half an hour before you." He said, giving Snape the sneaking suspicious that he was being mocked, "I understand perfectly." And with that Michael walked up to the low table in the middle of the room, rolled out the threadbare sleeping bag and sat down on top of it.
Snape stood there, looking at the boy, who, taking off his shoes and socks, placing them neatly next to the end of the sleeping bag, showing no interest in the food on the table.
Snape wasn't sure why, but he snapped, "Aren't you going to eat anything?"
Michael looked up at him. "I thought I didn't have to. I'm not hungry."
"You should. You're as thin as a rake."
"So're you." He replied, as if forgetting that Snape was an object of fear.
Snape growled. He sat down in one of the leather chairs, and picking up a plate of pumpkin pasties roughly thrust them at Michael. "Here." He grunted disinterestedly.
Michael, still sitting on the floor, took one nervously, and broke it in two, offering half to Snape. Snape gave him one of his trademark- unimpressed stares, while Michael stared right back, his own expression inexplicably similar, yet worlds away. After a good few seconds, Michael simply put one half down on the plate, and took a small bite of the pastie, eyes not leave Snape. He stood up, and motioning towards the seat, as if asking if he could sit down. Snape gave him a cold hard stare. Michael stared back. Finally, Snape raised and eyebrow and nodded. Michael sat down on the seat, leather squeaking. He took a second bite out of the pastie while Snape decided he would ask some questions.
"Which house are you in?"
"Gryffindor." Michael answered, keeping his eyes on the floor as he took a seconds bite out of the pastie.
Snape, although shocked, kept it to himself, trying to seem as if he didn't care.
"I'm not a pureblood, " Michael explained, "So it was more or less a choice of the three other houses. My mother was a Gryffindor, which helped....."
"I know how the hat works!" lied Snape, angry at having her brought up.
Michael was silent, keeping his eyes to the floor. He ripped off a bit of the pastry and placed it in his mouth. Snape settled himself and forced out another question. "How did you get those bruises?"
"I got them in a fight. Some people have a problem with me. Dunno why." Answered Michael, finishing off his pasty. His tone made it very clear that he wished for no more on this question.
"People......used to have a problem with me when I was your age. " Muttered Snape, his head hanging as he played with his hands.
Michael gave him a fleeting superficial smile and said, "It's not much of a problem."
Snape fell silent. The room was filled with the sound of a clock on the mantelpiece and the faint, unintelligible whispers from Snape's office. Snape choked out, "so what's your life like, with my.....your father."
"Fine. " Michael answered curtly, "no worse than any other life. My dad, well, he's okay. Like most dads, but.....He makes up for mum, being dead, but he doesn't need to. " Michael placed his hand over his scar, as if it ached for just a second, but covered it up with his long hair.
Snape cursed inwardly. He wanted to find some sort of disagreement between them, maybe some sort of rift he could use to his own advantage. But, at least on the surface there was nothing. Absolutely nothing he could use. But he had to find out more, he told himself, not because he was interested to know what fate he hadn't been dealt, but to use to his advantage against them.
"So how is your school?"
"Fine. I'm doing well, my potions teacher is a bit evi-" Snape looked up, as if daring him to finish off the sentence. Michael didn't risk it. "He doesn't like me, but school's okay." He mumbled.
**********
Notes -
1/ There is actually a story to go with those bruises, which will be revealed later, but all we need to know is that Ron gave them to him.
2/Ah ha! Michael's description reeks of Greek tragic writing! It strikes again!
3/ My own thoughts on Slytherin come out in this. Oh, and why I felt that Gryffindor was the only logical choice for him.
4/ Okay, desperation to find out about the mother's side suggests, at least to me, that Sev's been hiding a few facts...Oh, and It's kind of typical Michael when he asks, 'is this one of those choice which I have a choice in.'
5/ Snape, of course being angry. So what does he do? He makes life a bit more difficult for the boy. I mean, why not? But yeah, more on that later. As well as Michael being sort of cheeky, but in an underhand way.
6/But again, Snape reveals he does care, in his own way. I promise we'll get a few, better moments like that later! Also my theory - no one is really sure how the hat works...
7/ Sorry, It was a horrible joke on the last line, but I hade to put it in. Why? Because I'm a writer...sort of.
Thank you for reading, and feel free to review!
Okay, this isn't a brilliant chapter, but it explains what is going on a bit.
Thank you for reading.
:)
**********
As Michael sat down at a wooden chair in Snape's office, he hunched his shoulders and stared at his hands, as if he had done something wrong. Dumbledore sat down at the teacher's chair as Michael let one of his hands reach up to his face, and wince. He sat up, grimacing, and placed his hands respectfully on the desk.
"Thank you sir, I think you read my mind." Replied Michael.
"I understand that a young man with a parent like Professor Snape would feel very uncomfortable revealing mis-doings in front of him, so I will let you tell me what happened. But only on the condition that you tell me the truth."
"Thank you sir, " Michael whispered.
"Now, as I was saying, will you please explain how you got here?"
"Professor, I really didn't do anything wrong. I promise. " Said Michael, "I'm not a troublemaker. You see sir, I don't know where to begin...."
"Begin with the bruises and work your way to this place." Said Dumbledore curtly.
"The bruises are Ron's, " Michael said shortly, "he gave them to me. We had an argument today at about lunchtime, but it really escalated when I came back for dinner. I'd left Ron on his own, he'd had a go at me about something, so I left him alone so I could calm down. So I come back in the evening and...He picks another fight. I don't get it, its not like I've done anything, but anyway, I end up with a few bruises, before more or less everyone in my dorm decide to throw me out...."
"In your dorm?" enquired Dumbledore.
"Yeah, Ron, Semus, Dean and Neville. " Michael confirmed, "Not that Harry did more than watch. They threw me out the bloo---window! Thank Merlin for wigarduim leveosa! So, after being thrown out I walked across the fields for a bit, to calm myself down, or I might've killed Ron." Michael hissed, "I walk down to Hangrid's hut, but just as I get their I saw something in the woods, not like a centaur or anything, something human, so I went to the edge of the forest just to check out what it was. I was stupid not to suspect! I said how they go into your mind, didn't I? Well, there used to be a girl I fancied, and, well....."
"Excuse me Michael, could you re-establish what you said about Ron, I'm assuming you're talking about Ron Weasley in Gryffindor. "
"Yeah, prefect and all. " added Michael, "I share a dorm with him, we used to be friends, but he's decided that he doesn't like me any more. I don't even know why he doesn't like me now. Maybe because he thinks he's too good for the likes of us." He spat bitterly.
"That doesn't sound like the Ron I know, if I may say."
"He probably isn't. " said Michael neutrally, "but to be fair, it's desperate times. At least I know he's going to betray me now, rather than later."
"Continue."
Michael went a bright red. "There was a girl I liked, um, and I was stupid enough to think that she might have sneaked back onto the grounds, even though she'd been sent to The Academy." Michael shivered. He said The Academy like most people said 'on trial for Azkaban.' "She called out to me, and I followed her voice. She stood far away from me, so I couldn't quiet see her. But I knew it was her. It was her voice, her eyes that called out to me. She lured me into the wood, I couldn't stop myself, I had to follow her, find out if everything was all right. She didn't lead me far into the woods, just far enough not to bee seen if anyone came past. I called out to her, and she came up to me, and asked me how I'd been. I suppose I should have suspected something, she wore a robe so I could see nothing but her face, but as I thought she'd sneaked out she was just trying to make sure no one recognised her. I said I was fine, and asked her how she'd been, but she avoided the questions, telling me she was fine and that she'd missed me a lot. She'd wondered why I hadn't gone myself, you see, it's weird. She was a quaterblood, like me, just a quarter Psyxen, but they'd sent her away, but not me. I didn't know why either, but it a few minutes before I suspected something. Amber, the one I'd known, always talked with her hands, but this Amber barely moved hers, in fact, they were hidden under the cloak. But she kept looking at her watch, as if waiting for something. So I carefully place an arm around her shoulder, and slipped the cloak off.
"It was then I realised what she was, but it was too late. It'd taken me by the arms and then threw me to what I thought was the ground, but it was more like falling into a hole. I kept falling into Darkness, unable to see what was around me, but it was like falling inside a huge clock. All I could hear around me was the sound of clocks ticking, as I fell through nothingness, almost as if every clock in the world was being wound backwards. I opened my eyes, and I saw myself falling through my past. It was weird, seeing myself at thirteen, then ten, then eight. As I fell through....the last thing I saw was my mother being killed." Michael stopped for breath, as if merely saying the last sentence has forced his to summon all his strength.
Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. He gave Michael a look, allowing him to skip the details of this event, and to carry on. "And the next thing I know is that I've landed in the forbidden forest with three of 'them' on my tail, covered in mud and dirt. I managed to get them away, but I wasn't too sure what had happened. I'm not too sure now, either. " And them, looking up at Dumbledore with large, confused, childish eyes he said, "Professor, do you know why I'm here?"
"I don't know." Replied Dumbledore, "But I am certain that you will find out. But do you mind if I question you further."
"Not at all."
"You say you are in Gryffindor...."
" Might have been a Slytherin if my blood had been pure enough, " replied Michael, with surprisingly little malice, "but I obviously wasn't intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, and my brave streak was too big for Hufflepuff."
"I see, and you know...."
"....My father was in Slytherin? Yes, I know. But being cunning isn't a bad thing. That's something that a lot of people forget. It's halfway between intelligence and perseverance. Slytherin isn't a primary colour; it's a mixture of two houses." Replied Michael, as if he was spilling out thoughts he'd kept to himself for a long time, "but I could never devote myself to either intelligence or perseverance. The hat obviously though Gryffindor was a good decision for me."
"I see." Finished Dumbledore lamely.
"Can I please ask you a question Sir?" asked Michael.
"Yes."
"Is their another me here? Because I'd like to find out if he's like me or not." Michael asked with a little hopeful enthusiasm.
"Your father did not get married here, " said Dumbledore, as if he were breaking news of a death to the boy, "I'm sorry, but your mother and your father never married and never had children, I'm afraid that you don't exist....."
"Oh." He said quietly, and his head slumped into his concave chest again. Then, as if brightening up he asked, "But if my mother is around....even if she's in St Mungos, anything, can I see her?"
Dumbledore suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Your mother isn't....isn't alive. She was killed during the Voldermort years. " He finished, as if deciding what to tell him, "I assume, as we never found the body. But I know someone found her dead."
"And my mothers parents?" he asked, as if he was desperately trying to find something, " My Mother's parents? Did they survive here? I mean, that's more than enough for me....."
"I don't know, I think that they were killed as well." Said Dumbledore, "but that is enough questions tonight. Your fate will be decided in the morning. In the meantime, would you mind staying in the dungeons until we decide what we are going to do with you."
"Is this one of those decisions which I have a choice in?"
Dumbledore gave him a tight-lipped smile and a small chuckle. "I'm afraid not, Michael."
**********
The atmosphere between the two Snape's was so cold that the air could have been ice, and so uncomfortable that both squirmed from time to time, refusing to look at each other. The atmosphere was so tense that you could have cut it with a knife. Sev tapped his fingers on the mantelpiece, staring into the fire. His expression was one of sombre pensiveness, while Snape, sitting in one of the leather chairs dug his nails into the stained red finish. Snape through him a hate filled glance, which caused Sev to slow down the regular tap of fingernails against wood. He quickly looked at his double, as if he was daring himself to, and then looked back at the fire. He wouldn't dare try and catch his other selves eyes.
Snape loosened his grip on the armchair, and placing one elbow onto his knee, rested his face in one hand, still managing to look angry. His hair, ungracefully tucked behind his ears, hung over his wrist, tickling it from time to time. There was no sound by the ticking of a solitary clock, and soft breathing from both of them. Finally, Snape realised, they had begun to get into silent competition in who could breathe the softest, most unheard. As he realised it was his double, he stretched his arms out into front of him, and crossing his legs, cupped his hands and put his head back in them. Then his double began the rhythmic tapping again. Snape was about to admonish him when the door to his office opened loudly, causing both of them to jump.
It opened to reveal both Dumbledore and Michael, who although a good inch taller than Dumbledore in height, still looked shorter, perhaps out of reverence for him. Dumbledore, a hand placed on the boys shoulder looked at both of them with his blue eyes and said, "Sev, I have a few things to discuss with you, " Snape got up, wanting to know what was going on, but Dumbledore raised his hand and said, "no Severus, I meant your double."
Sev pushed himself upright off the mantelpiece he had been leaning on, and walked past Snape, not even looking him in the eye. Before he even reached halfway across the room Dumbledore turned back to Snape and said, "Severus, could you please find a place for this boy to stay the night until His father and I decide on what should happen."
Michael turned around suddenly, his bruised face suddenly making him look pitiful as his eyes almost burst out of sockets. Dumbledore gave him a sly wink, and Michael seemed to relax. As Sev crossed the room he placed a hand on his son's shoulder, pinched it gently, and gave him a small smile. Michael returned it as Sev followed Dumbledore back into Snape's office. As the door shut Michael suddenly became aware of the silent anger in the room. Choosing not to say anything, he turned around and merely waited for Snape to say something.
Snape was seething with rage; it rippled under his skin like the giant squid in the lake, and could burst out at any moment. Why was this nuisance boy staring at him so dumbly? Shouldn't he be lording his achievement, like the Potter's before him had? Or maybe grinning like Young Malfoy did when he won over Potter, something that he hated, but hated less than seeing Potter being smug. Why didn't the boy at least say something to him? Or move. Or in fact do anything but stare at him?
Snape looked away, and mumbled angrily, "I suppose you'll want a bed or something...."
"Okay?" said Michael.
Snape marched over to a wardrobe and threw the doors open before grabbing a dusty green sleeping bag and throwing it at Michael. Michael almost dropped it, but managed to keep it in his arms.
"Sleep where you want, but keep out of the way of doors, my classroom, my office and most of all, out of my private rooms." He spat, at Michael stared on in amazement, "I'm sure you know what mealtimes are, and I expect you up and dressed at least half an hour before then. Do I make myself clear?"
"Undeniably. " replied Michael, standing as still as a statue.
"The headmaster has obviously left out some food for you, feel free to take it, but do not, under any circumstances, touch anything else in this room." He finished, "I am going to my room, any noise heard from you, and you will be sleeping in the corridor, understand."
"I don't touch anything, I don't go near any doors, I don't make any noise and I get up half an hour before you." He said, giving Snape the sneaking suspicious that he was being mocked, "I understand perfectly." And with that Michael walked up to the low table in the middle of the room, rolled out the threadbare sleeping bag and sat down on top of it.
Snape stood there, looking at the boy, who, taking off his shoes and socks, placing them neatly next to the end of the sleeping bag, showing no interest in the food on the table.
Snape wasn't sure why, but he snapped, "Aren't you going to eat anything?"
Michael looked up at him. "I thought I didn't have to. I'm not hungry."
"You should. You're as thin as a rake."
"So're you." He replied, as if forgetting that Snape was an object of fear.
Snape growled. He sat down in one of the leather chairs, and picking up a plate of pumpkin pasties roughly thrust them at Michael. "Here." He grunted disinterestedly.
Michael, still sitting on the floor, took one nervously, and broke it in two, offering half to Snape. Snape gave him one of his trademark- unimpressed stares, while Michael stared right back, his own expression inexplicably similar, yet worlds away. After a good few seconds, Michael simply put one half down on the plate, and took a small bite of the pastie, eyes not leave Snape. He stood up, and motioning towards the seat, as if asking if he could sit down. Snape gave him a cold hard stare. Michael stared back. Finally, Snape raised and eyebrow and nodded. Michael sat down on the seat, leather squeaking. He took a second bite out of the pastie while Snape decided he would ask some questions.
"Which house are you in?"
"Gryffindor." Michael answered, keeping his eyes on the floor as he took a seconds bite out of the pastie.
Snape, although shocked, kept it to himself, trying to seem as if he didn't care.
"I'm not a pureblood, " Michael explained, "So it was more or less a choice of the three other houses. My mother was a Gryffindor, which helped....."
"I know how the hat works!" lied Snape, angry at having her brought up.
Michael was silent, keeping his eyes to the floor. He ripped off a bit of the pastry and placed it in his mouth. Snape settled himself and forced out another question. "How did you get those bruises?"
"I got them in a fight. Some people have a problem with me. Dunno why." Answered Michael, finishing off his pasty. His tone made it very clear that he wished for no more on this question.
"People......used to have a problem with me when I was your age. " Muttered Snape, his head hanging as he played with his hands.
Michael gave him a fleeting superficial smile and said, "It's not much of a problem."
Snape fell silent. The room was filled with the sound of a clock on the mantelpiece and the faint, unintelligible whispers from Snape's office. Snape choked out, "so what's your life like, with my.....your father."
"Fine. " Michael answered curtly, "no worse than any other life. My dad, well, he's okay. Like most dads, but.....He makes up for mum, being dead, but he doesn't need to. " Michael placed his hand over his scar, as if it ached for just a second, but covered it up with his long hair.
Snape cursed inwardly. He wanted to find some sort of disagreement between them, maybe some sort of rift he could use to his own advantage. But, at least on the surface there was nothing. Absolutely nothing he could use. But he had to find out more, he told himself, not because he was interested to know what fate he hadn't been dealt, but to use to his advantage against them.
"So how is your school?"
"Fine. I'm doing well, my potions teacher is a bit evi-" Snape looked up, as if daring him to finish off the sentence. Michael didn't risk it. "He doesn't like me, but school's okay." He mumbled.
**********
Notes -
1/ There is actually a story to go with those bruises, which will be revealed later, but all we need to know is that Ron gave them to him.
2/Ah ha! Michael's description reeks of Greek tragic writing! It strikes again!
3/ My own thoughts on Slytherin come out in this. Oh, and why I felt that Gryffindor was the only logical choice for him.
4/ Okay, desperation to find out about the mother's side suggests, at least to me, that Sev's been hiding a few facts...Oh, and It's kind of typical Michael when he asks, 'is this one of those choice which I have a choice in.'
5/ Snape, of course being angry. So what does he do? He makes life a bit more difficult for the boy. I mean, why not? But yeah, more on that later. As well as Michael being sort of cheeky, but in an underhand way.
6/But again, Snape reveals he does care, in his own way. I promise we'll get a few, better moments like that later! Also my theory - no one is really sure how the hat works...
7/ Sorry, It was a horrible joke on the last line, but I hade to put it in. Why? Because I'm a writer...sort of.
Thank you for reading, and feel free to review!