A/N: it just occurred to me that I've been forgetting to put a disclaimer at the top of every chapter. Well, obviously I'm not JKR, and I'm obviously not making any money off of this, so obviously it follows that none of these characters are mine (except the ones you don't recognize). I guess that gets that out of the way! Enjoy the rest of the chapter!

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Buds of Animosity Blossoming

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Severus' head swam, stars blinking and tingling in front of is eyes. "Oh, I am so sorry, Snapey." Black leered down at him, his cohorts laughing supportively behind him. "I seem to have come down with a rather bad case of Sever-it is. Every time I see your disgusting face, I just can't—" he sent another lazy crippling curse his way. "—seem—" and another, "—to help—" and another, "—hating it." At the level Black was using them, the curses were having no worse an effect than merely making his whole body feel like one giant bruise. That's enough, isn't it? What more does he need to do? Why won't he just leave me in peace?

He felt completely and utterly humiliated, curled up on the floor at Black's feet. All he'd done was happen to have the misfortune of walking past Sirius in the hall when he was in a particularly bored mood, looking for trouble to start. It was the first time Black had started something outside of class, but Severus was already sick and tired of being picked on. None of the other pranks he'd been at the mercy of had so blatantly been directed at him, either. Oh, yes, everyone knew Sirius hated him, but Sirius hadn't yet actually addressed him, preferring instead to torment him from afar, avoiding blame. Now, though, there was no doubt who was responsible.

As Severus felt himself thrown back against the wall, he realized Sirius was still talking; probably insulting him, but he didn't really care. Through the pain and mortification, another emotion was starting to bubble and froth up. Maybe what Sirius was saying was registering somewhere, and it was really, really offensive. Maybe this was just one assault too many. Maybe he was being irrational. Whatever the reason, he was mad. He could feel it racing through him, lending him strength. He was a Slytherin, goddammit, and he did not have to put up with this!

Every little slight, every prank, every sense of loneliness and frustration born directly or indirectly from Sirius' tormenting welled up and seemed to blind him. He caught Black in the middle of an insult, whipping his wand out and cursing him in the blink of an eye.

In the instant before it hit, Black looked surprised, as if the thought of possible retaliation hadn't even crossed his mind. Then he was gasping for breath and probably in a good deal more pain than Severus was. His little gang started forward with a yell, wands raised.

"Dueling in the halls is strictly forbidden!" It was just his luck that at that exact moment Professor McGonagall came striding over. She looked furious. "Mr. Snape, such behavior is not permitted here at Hogwarts! Thirty points from Slytherin and detention with Pringle. You can be sure I'll be talking to Professor Skeandhu about this! Totally unacceptable…" Still huffing, she ordered Sirius off to the hospital wing and grabbed his shoulder, marching him off to heavens knew where.

Severus, losing more points from his House and with his first detention and facing more trouble from various Professors, felt wonderful. He'd finally stood up to Sirius Black, and he felt like he could fly.

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In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have reciprocated in cursing Black, as it only gave him definite reason to torment him even more. Before, Severus had always ignored Black, taking what was dealt him and dealing with it, and now Sirius knew he could get a rise out of Snape, and knew that his tormenting got to him. It seemed like he had made it his personal task to make life as miserable as possible for Severus.

But retaliating had felt so liberating, and he didn't stop now that Black had stepped up the pace a bit. As much trouble as he invariably got into (Black always seemed to miraculously avoid it), it was always worth it to see Black brought as low as he had been, or to see the grimace of rage that meant one of his own insults had particularly hurt. He was even managing to garnish a bit of respect from the Slytherins for his handiwork with Dark spells and particularly nasty hexes. His good grades and proficiency in the advanced courses had failed to prove to them exactly what his tenacity in the face of Black was making more and more apparent: he was accelerated because he was truly advanced, not because he was a geek.

More importantly, he was powerful, at least by schoolchild standards. That, more than anything else, made him a commodity. Unlike in the previous months, this sort of being unique was not detrimental to his social standing. Slowly but surely, more and more of the Slytherins were taking notice of him, and hating themselves for liking what they saw. The sixth years were disgusted with themselves for believing a mere first year to be as good as them. The younger years, who had no idea that Severus was in advanced classes or why Black tormented him so, disliked the respect they felt for him standing up to such and older student. And because here was obviously a source of strength and a particularly threatening enemy, they started to warm toward him, including him in more and more of their activities. Narcissa, by extension, was favored. It was well known that she hung out with him, and so would know the most about him. She was popular, and delighted at the outcome.

Severus saw it for what it was, and was pleased. He even realized the bitter sort of irony that Black had brought him what he had been most lacking: human companionship. But he did not forget that it was their mistrustfulness and looking out for number one that had brought them to him. Keep your friends close; keep your enemies even closer.

True acceptance into the Slytherin society didn't occur until after enough had passed between him and Black that the Head Boy had to get involved. Professor McGonagall had gone to him in an effort to intervene and "knock some sense into that boy." The Head Boy's subtle inquiries about him proved shocking, at least to him. It seemed the entire House was abuzz with tales of Severus Snape duking it out with Sirius Black, and how able of a magician he was. Lucius Malfoy was about as Slytherin as they came at Hogwarts, and knew exactly what to do. It would probably not have any effect on the incidents between Snape and Black; but then again, his family hadn't become rich and influential over generations by blindly doing as instructed, or ending inconsequential conflicts between children.

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"Relatio!"

"Serpensortia!"

He was particularly proud of that hex he'd developed, and thought the large black snake it conjured was a beauty. It had the desired effect of intimidating Black, and was just about ready to deliver a nasty mouthful of fangs to Black's flesh when a "Finite Incantatum!" made short work of it.

Severus scowled, but it was not his adversary who had dispatched his lovely creation, but the Head Boy. He was strolling up to the pair and the slight crowd they'd drawn, twirling his wand in his fingers idly.

"Tsk, tsk, magic in the halls? I think that'll be ten points from Gryffindor, won't it, Mr. Black?"

Black looked thunderstruck. "But that was his spell!" he protested, referring to Snape.

"Yes, yes," Malfoy looked bored, remarking, "but I do believe you started this little altercation, didn't you?"

Severus grinned savagely. He thought he could actually see Black's blood pressure rising. "But… but…" He was so aghast and surprised at the turn of events that he still had his wand raised from the scuffle.

"Really, Mr. Black, do I have to make that twenty points from Gryffindor? Everything seems to be in order to me. Unless you'd like to disagree with my evaluation of the situation, or debate the amount of points I could withdraw from Gryffindor…?" He left the threat hanging, but Black's few brain cells pulled themselves together and acted – for once – prudently.

"No, sir," he ground out, stiffly lowering his wand arm.

"Well, then, I'm sure you and your friends will manage to find your way back to your Common Room, won't you?" Lucius' cool gray gaze was challenging. His and Black's gazes locked for a moment, a nerve twitching in the younger boy's jaw. Then Black threw a couple glances at his posse and turned to go, throwing a short, "C'mon," at them and leaving with one last parting look of hate at Snape. He made sure to return it with a condescending smirk of his own, as if Lucius' stepping in on his behalf had been totally expected. It hadn't been, of course; but then again, Black had no need to know that.

As the obnoxious Gryffindors left the scene and their small audience dispersed, Severus turned to the Head Boy. It was he who addressed Severus first.

"I'm not quite familiar with that distinct curse. Where might someone so young as yourself have come across a spell like that?" His tone was light and casual; he could have been discussing the weather.

Honestly, Severus was startled by his choice of topic. He had been expecting an admonishment, either for dueling or for "having to be rescued," or even to be ignored. Casual conversation he had not expected, and came just above "kiss me" on the list of things Lucius Malfoy, Head Boy, might have done. Even though they shared two classes, the pale boy had never let on that he knew Severus existed other than to avoid running into him in the cramped confines of the Potions ingredients closet. He recovered quickly, though, answering in his own neutral tone.

"I invented it."

Was it just him, or did Lucius look surprised for a second? But the moment passed, and he was drawling, as composed as ever, "A perfect explanation, then, as to why I did not recognize it; and a first year, making up jinxes. What is Hogwarts coming to?"

With that parting shot he ambled off. Severus contemplated following him for an instant, but what he'd said hadn't really been an invitation, and his posture didn't seem to indicate the expectancy of company.

Further down the hall, he paused to deduct points from a couple of snogging Hufflepuffs, and Severus took that as a negative answer. Besides, if he wanted him, he'd just have to come to him. It may seem like a childish attitude, but he was no fool. Underneath the veiled insult and insinuation of inferiority due to his youth, Lucius had made a clear acknowledgement of Severus' accomplishment. That, combined with the fact that he was interacting with him, signaled an interest in him. He didn't know what would make the most senior Slytherin find him worthy of association with, but he would be a fool to ignore it.

Even as he was puzzling over that facet of the issue, another section of his head was already racing over the possibilities for manipulations to his benefit. He was sure that whatever the outcome, Lucius would only act in his own best interest, and that it would be an especially good idea to watch his back now that he was concerned with him.

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As the weeks passed, it seemed Severus had been correct: Lucius Malfoy had definitely taken an interest in him. It was probably undetectable to anyone from another House, but all of Slytherin was conscious of the careful dance the two wizards – one dark, one light; one older, one young – were entangled in.

Nothing definitive or straightforward was ever said, but sporadically enough to be regular there would be another little encounter between the two. A nod of acknowledgement between the two; an innocent enough request for an ingredient or supply; a seemingly random partnership in class; a casual reference of one to another in audience; they were slowly working a web of connections and contact, coming closer and closer to an official recognition of alliance.

As Lucius had predicted when asked to step in on behalf of the administration, there was not a noticeable decrease in the already almost legendary altercations between Black and Snape. There was, however, a marked dwindling of ruckus caused by their run-ins. Though the two's unmistakable animosity for each other was understood to be an entirely separate issue from his involvement with Lucius, he still got more attention because of it, and had to act accordingly. Being monitored by virtually the entire House meant he had to act perfectly, exactly to the letter of what a "true Slytherin" would do. Just as many brawly and duels erupted between them, but Severus was twice as cunning and thrice as sly. He would always make Black take the first step, ensuring the blame, and often disappearing just as a Professor or Prefect rounded the corner, again ensuring trouble for Black. He also turned the tables around, becoming just as untraceable and nasty as he had been victim to earlier in the year. Again, he was struck by the irony of the situation: in matters concerning just him and black, he was forced to act in ways Black would rather have him eschew for reasons that didn't concern Black at all.

It was paying off, too. Every Slytherin knew his name, and every Slytherin was learning to respect him. At meals many groups surrounded him, each seeming not to take any particular notice of him, but none of them guarding their conversations around him. In the halls, passing members from his own house, he would be given ample room to breathe, but they would all meet his eyes and admit him. He was recognized and accepted in all circles without a word. He was starting to feel as if the denizens of the depths of the castle knew more of him than even he did. Whenever the feeling got too strong and he felt his tongue or manner loosening, he had only to pull out the gobstones set and remind himself of who he was.

As much of a comfort as it had been when being tormented so badly by Black, it was just as much of one now under the constant stress of having to perform for an audience 24/7. Polishing and contemplating wasn't much of an exercise for a frustrated adolescent, so he would instead find an unused classroom and practice his forms. The more exhausted he was in the morning, the more refreshed and ready he felt to face a new day.

He was coming to love the night and all it stood for. During it, he was alone, away from the prying eyes and demanding roles. He could relax in the cool silence of the hours of darkness and let down his guard without fear. The moon was truly beautiful, and his fondness for the light it cast on grew. In the silvery illumination, everything was cast in a sharp relief of grayscale and took on an ethereal quality. Just him, his blade, and the argentine orb to watch over their exertions; these were his few moments of peace.

The return to his diurnal schedule always felt slightly disappointing, like the feeling in your stomach when a flight of stairs has one step less than expected. The mystic value that night leant was stripped away when the sun rose, and Severus felt himself "coming up short." As much as he acted and endeavored to be the epitome of Slytherin excellence and interacted carefully with Malfoy, he was trying to climb those few steps above the mundane routine of daily life; but he was always thwarted by the simple lack of means – he needed just a couple more stairs…

Those stairs never did arrive, but over the Easter break a stepladder of sorts was delivered to him. It was not the true solution to his problem, but it was a means to a middle that Severus equated with his goal. Its end, however, was something he never could have foreseen.

It came in the form of an official invitation to spend the school holiday at Malfoy Manor.