Tigga
Honestly! You would think that in a place this large a person would be able to sneak about! It was getting dangerously close to curfew, not that she hadn't been out past curfew before. Still, she was having the most annoying problem in getting to the Slytherin dormitories. The problem, to her vexation, was that her dear papa had left the door to his office standing open, and she had to go past his office to get to the common room. He's waiting for me, I just know it.
The study session in the library had been wonderful, and blissfully father-free. It was hard to imagine that the petite, frizzy haired girl she had spent three relaxing hours with was the future Mrs. Snape. Hermione was destined to age gracefully. By the time Antigone would be born, the brown frizz would be wrestled into submission until it formed smooth, glowing curls, she would stop hiding the rounding figure that now embarrassed her underneath voluminous robes in favor of more flattering styles and her bookish intelligence would grow into a stunning wit. I don't see what he's so ticked off about. Most men would kill to have someone like Mum by their side, the ungrateful prat.
She wasn't being fair, but she really didn't give a damn. Right now, her biggest concern was avoiding her father altogether. So much for the Gryffindor courage. It was times like this that she wished her mother had given in when she had pleaded for an invisibility cloak like Uncle Harry's, but for some reason she couldn't fathom, her parents hadn't trusted her with one. They had seemed to think she'd be getting into trouble all the time. Hardly reasonable to expect her to seek out trouble when trouble usually found her. It just happened to be roaming the halls the same time she was. Of course, that was usually after curfew, but her mother was certainly in no position to throw stones about that.
Would you go to sleep already? She glared from her hiding place around the corner. Surely he was growing tired. Or he could go hunting for errant Gryffindors, or those two Hufflepuffs she had seen snogging in an alcove on the fifth floor. Hell, if he would just go searching for her elsewhere in the castle she might be able to manage it. Never had she met a more infuriating person than this younger version of her father. If she cared to be honest with herself (and she didn't, thank you very much) she would have to admit that her biggest problem was that this man wasn't firmly wrapped around her little finger. She was used to being the darling of his world, able to get her way in most things with just a smile. In her happy little world there were two versions of Severus Snape; the dreaded Potions Master whose acerbic wit could strip paint from the walls and the loving man who adored his wife and daughter with all his heart. Right now, however, she was stuck trying to figure out how to deal with the man who was not only the dreaded Potions Master but also a man who had to come to terms that he was destined to find himself bound in matrimony to a student who was still underage. And, worst of all, he certainly didn't adore Antigone Snape. A rather bruising blow to the pride, that.
A moving shadow from inside the lighted room caught her attention and she pulled back just enough that she could see him leave. He scowled at nothing in particular, then turned and moved away from her in the direction of the potions classroom. That's it. Keep moving. Keeeeep moving. He turned and vanished around the corner. Counting to five before daring to move herself, she rounded the corner and padded quickly on her sock feet, her shoes clutched in one hand so that they didn't echo on the stone floor. She stopped in front of the tapestry that marked the doorway to the Slytherin common room and took a breath before whispering "Conquest" and dashing in the moment the doorway was open. Once inside, she slipped her shoes back on and made her way into the main room, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Where have you been?" She sighed as Malfoy's annoying drawl reached her ears. She turned to see him watching her suspiciously.
"In the library." She didn't really see that it was any of his business, but she did try to keep her voice civil. "Did I miss something?"
"You left Potions with Granger. You ought to be careful who you spend your time with. She nothing more than a little mudblood, and a friend of Potter's as well." Did he just call her mother…? "Best to avoid the Gryffindors all together, just to be safe."
About them the other Slytherin students were nodding their agreement at this. They were like obedient little soldiers, falling in line behind his lead. With a swagger he cross the room and stood beside her, moving his arm to drape it about her shoulders. No small feat, since he was shorter than she. Whoever thought that those irritating Snape genes would come in handy? "Of course, we understand why you didn't know. You've only just arrived, and we all understand that the Yanks aren't always… proper, in their behavior. All you need is someone to show you the ropes, help you learn which are the right sort. I can help you there."
Of course, she had heard that line before. Uncle Harry and Ron had laughed over how this self same boy had said it on the train their first year. Ron still grinned from ear to ear as he recalled Harry's firm "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thank you." She could tell why they didn't like Malfoy. I never liked him much either. He always struck me as a dirty old man. She looked at his pale hand where it rested on her shoulder and wondered if she would have to burn this uniform now.
"You know," she began, grasping his wrist with her hand and removing it, "for someone who is little more than a sawed off little runt, your mouth certainly flaps a lot." She looked down at him as she brushed her shoulder. All about them she could hear the gasps and outraged mutterings of the other students, but her eyes stayed on him. His own narrowed in menace.
"And for someone whose circumstances of birth aren't quite clear, you certainly put on airs." He took a step back and raked his eyes over her as though he found her lacking in some respect. "I find it odd that your mother apparently never married your father. Could it be that she was just as greasy and homely as your uncle?"
The murmurs in the common room became tense. Some students were still sided with Malfoy. Others were ill at ease now the family of their head of house was being brought into question. Antigone let the strap of her book satchel slide down her shoulder, letting the burden fall to rest in a squashy chair nearby. "I'd be careful what I say if I were you, Malfoy. That's a teacher you're besmirching." Her voice was soft, but sadly lacking her father's silky purr. She wasn't half as good at intimidation as he was, but at this moment she really didn't care.
"Or maybe," a malevolent gleam shone in his blue-grey eyes, "maybe you've got every right to claim the Snape family name. Maybe you've got more right to it than anyone else." Her eyes narrowed as he grinned. "Antigone…" He rolled her name over his tongue like a fine wine, and she felt herself stiffen as she realized the avenue he was about to take. "Where does that name come from? Some play or something, wasn't it? A yes," he smiled broadly, "a Greek tragedy. She was the daughter of Oedipus, wasn't she? And of course we all know that his wife…"
He got no further, mainly because at that moment one of her fists connected with his nose. He fell to the ground, stunned, and she leapt atop him with a scream of rage. The common room erupted into shouts of both excitement and horror. It wasn't a fair match. She was taller and heavier than he, and at the moment she had the upper hand. In her rage, she didn't even understand her own words as she shouted ever obscenity she had ever heard at him as she hit him again, then grasped him by his pale hair and raised his head to slam it back down into the floor. Hands grabbed her, trying to pull her off. She threw them from her with a growl, and then gripped both of her hands together into a double fist. She started it downward towards Draco's shocked face, but the hands were back, tearing her upwards and pulling her away. Her arms were twisted behind her, leaving her to attempt to break free by kicking at her captors. Others were pulling Malfoy to his feet and getting him to the other side of the common room, away from her.
The door to the common room opened and something large, black and menacing swooped in. Antigone didn't care; she was still trying to break free, trying to get a Malfoy so she could finish the job. She was pretty sure she had broken his nose, and blood streamed down his face. He seemed disoriented that someone had actually struck him, let alone a girl. Pansy was cooing over him and shooting hate filled glares at her. Fine with her. She'd break that ugly little tart's nose, too!
"What is the meaning of this?" Everyone froze, but the ones holding her only allowed themselves a moment once they realized that she, apparently, wasn't affected by Snape's velvet-on-steel tone. She was barely aware that he looked at her before walking over to Malfoy and tilting his chin up to examine his face. "Take him to the infirmary." Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy began to gently escort him from the common room as he walked towards Antigone. His hand wrapped itself firmly around the upper part of her arm. She stopped struggling the instant Draco was no longer visible, and then lifted her face to look at her father. Even in the muted firelight of the room she could tell that he was furious. "Come with me."
She ignored the fact that everyone remaining in the common room stared after them. Ignored the fact that her father was as angry as she had ever seen him before. She focused only on the stinging sensation in her hand and remembering how satisfying it had felt when the cartilage in Malfoy's nose and crunched underneath her knuckles.
~***~
He didn't say a word to her during the trip from the common room to his own chambers. This was not going to be a discussion for his office. Students were too likely to sneak out and press their ears against the door, but none of them knew where his rooms were hidden. Nor were they likely to hear him when he started yelling. Antigone didn't seem to be all that concerned about what was coming. She was quiet and sullen during their walk, no doubt still fuming over whatever it was Malfoy had said to set her off.
They stopped at a painting of a medieval witch astride a great dragon. Severus muttered a quiet "draconis morte" and the painting swung open. Touching his hand to the heavy oak door now revealed, he allowed the charms there to recognize his presence so that it, too, swung open. "Inside." She entered, still not saying a word. He closed the door behind both of them and walked further into the sitting room that made up the first part of his suite. There were two comfortable chairs here, both seated in front of a fireplace with a small table and chessboard between them. "Sit." Still silent, she obeyed.
He took the chair opposite of her, allowing his elbows to rest on the arms. Tenting his fingers, he examined her over the point for a long, silent moment. "Explain."
"PMS?" She wasn't looking at him, but she didn't look exactly remorseful either. Her eyes were fixated on the chessboard.
"Somehow I doubt that. What did he say?"
"Actually, he didn't say anything. I'm just a bitch." Now she met his eyes, and he recognized the look in her own all too well. It was the same simmering, barely controlled rage he had suffered from himself at her age. But even he had required a spark to set off the flames.
"Antigone, I am in no mood for games. I have to determine how I am to correct the damage you have wrought this night. You are intelligent enough not to attack a fellow student without good cause."
"He was breathing. That's cause enough for a Malfoy."
"Be that as it may, I need to know what was said or done that you attacked him." She looked back at the chessboard, falling silent again. He allowed his eyes to move over her, studying her body language. Her hands had taken hold of the arms of her chair the moment she sat down and remained there now, the finger tips digging into the carved wooden ends until the blood was squeezed from them. She was in a fury still, a murderous one. If she were anything like he was at that age, and he was beginning to suspect that she was, she would likely attack Malfoy again unless he diffused her. "Antigone…" He let his voice trail off in an implied threat.
"He insulted me."
"That much I have surmised, but what was the nature of the insult?"
"He said my name… he implied that my name had meaning. He hinted that you and Aunt Veloria…" she trailed off this time, unable to voice the sentence. She swallowed, failing to continue, but it was enough that he gathered her meaning.
"Surprising. I wouldn't have thought that Mr. Malfoy was cultured enough to have read Sophecles."
She looked up, her mouth open. "Is that all you can say?" He arched a brow at her tone.
"Would you rather announce your mother's true identity? Somehow I suspect that you haven't enlightened her as to your relationship, or have you?" The reaction on her face confirmed this. "Of course, I'm not entirely sure which is the better scenario; incest or pedophilia." She gave an outraged yelp.
"That's ridiculous! She wasn't even a student! She was a teacher!"
"Oh, so I at least have the decency to wait until she's grown?" She rolled her eyes in response, but he noted that she had released the death grip on her chair. "I must admit, I always considered myself to have better taste than to choose a Gryffindor as a wife. They're entirely too foolhardy."
"Hey!" She stood up suddenly. "I'm a Gryffindor in case you've forgotten."
"Ah yes, and starting a brawl with the son of one of the more feared wizarding families in England isn't foolhardy at all."
She scowled, which made her look amazingly like his elder sister now that he considered it, and sat back down with a growl, crossing her arms. "He deserved it."
"I agree, and what's more so will his father. He may spoil Draco, but he still expects a certain degree of behavior. Insulting his Head of House is not likely to make Lucius very happy." He leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth turning upwards briefly. "Of course, there is the matter of your punishment to be seen to. How do I handle your… escapades in the future?"
She scowled further. "Large escapades or small ones?"
"There's a difference? Well, considering that you were provoked, I'd consider this a small one."
"Cataloging your store room."
"Really? That could take most of an evening. What do I do when you've had a… large escapade?"
She grimaced. "You assign me to helping Filch." From the look on her face, she apparently considered this a fate worse than death.
"Interesting. I am not going to ask, however, just how much trouble you get into that I have set punishments for you. I'm not entirely sure I want to know the answer. Doubtless your 'Uncle Harry' has been a bad influence on you." Her only reaction was a petulant frown. He looked at the clock on the wall and pondered silently. "There are no classes tomorrow, and it would not be safe for you to return to your dormitory tonight." Pulling his wand from his sleeve, he pointed it at an ottoman a few feet away. Muttering a spell, the piece of furniture shifted and expanded until it was a comfortable bed complete with linens. His daughter frowned at it, and then looked at him questioningly.
"Slytherins, especially the ones in this day and age, make an art form of vengeance. However, teenagers are short tempered and violent, they lack subtlety. For this evening, at least, you will stay here. Unless, of course, you wish to take your chances in hopes that you won't have your throat cut in your sleep." She shook her head quickly and muttered a soft 'thank you.' "I do appreciate your ire at Malfoy, Antigone, I assure you. However, believe me when I tell you that your temper will lead you down a troubled and darkened path. I know this from experience, and you would do well to learn from my mistakes."
She sighed, and he got the feeling that this was an old and worn lecture between them. "I know, Papa. I try; I really do, but in my defense allow me to point out that Draco Malfoy grows up to be a lecherous man without a decent bone in his body. This isn't the first time that I've had to avoid his advances, although he's at least my age this time."
The same dark rage he had just warned her against bubbled up inside him, but he shoved it back down with practiced force. "Well, that is certainly something I shall have to remember for the future. Don't worry, I wouldn't let him near you now and I won't stomach him to be near you in the future." And if I catch him trying I'll geld the bastard.
She smiled, her anger having faded and weariness set it. He muttered another spell and her uniform transfigured into a classically Victorian night gown and night robe. She looked down at her new garments and blushed, suddenly seeming much smaller than she was. Sitting down on her temporary bed, she shrugged off the robe and draped it over the chair she had been sitting in. "He's going to be very angry with me, isn't he? Mr. Malfoy, I mean."
"He'll be disappointed, but as I said, he will be angrier at Draco for his lack of tact. However, now that you've proven yourself to be rather unladylike, I doubt he'll be as interested in making you part of his family." He noted with some amusement that she wrinkled her nose in obvious distaste. "I will take care of Lucius Malfoy. Don't worry yourself over it." He motioned for the sconces on the wall to dim as she pulled the coverlet over her, laying her head down on a thick pillow. The dungeons were chilly at best, but with the heart still lit she would remain reasonably warm. "Now sleep, Antigone." He turned and walked towards the door leading to his bed chamber. He was almost there when…
"Tigga."
"What?" He turned about and looked at the form silhouetted in the firelight, unable to make out her face in the shadows.
"At home… in my time… you call me 'Tigga'."
His smile was slight, but there. "Good night, Tigga." And then, he was gone.