Chapter 20: A wise man hears no evil, sees no evil, speaks no evil…and has no fun.
Climbing the last stairs to the Entrance Hall, Rowena was a picture of footsore. Heels may well improve a lady's figure, she thought, but they never say that it was at the expense of her feet.
She was almost to the entrance of the dungeons when the voice she hadn't wanted to hear called after her: Albus Dumbledore. "Professor Snape? A word with you, if you please?"
"I'm tired, old man," she whispered without turning around or stopping. "In the morning."
She could feel the Headmaster reaching out a hand to touch her sleeve, to get her to turn around. Instincts on edge made her whip around, a breath later her wand at his throat. All weariness had left her wide-open eyes, eyes that were as deep and fathomless as her brother's.
"Don't," she whispered, arm steady.
"What have--"
She snorted, suddenly disgusted with the older man, and disappeared down the dungeon stairs, leaving the Headmaster in the Entrance hall. The old wizard knew better than to go down in the dungeons tonight.
Rowena did a wonderful job at hiding the next day, although, Dumbledore mused halfway down a darkening corridor, she would have called it avoiding, not hiding. He thought he had caught a glimpse of her in the afternoon rush, but with her slightly-less than average height and dress habits, he wasn't completely sure.
She had avoided his fire calls, and the elves had instructions from her not to be disturbed unless for an emergency. The Headmaster could have overrode this command, as he had the ability to do, but long experience told him that if a Snape was trying to avoid company, said Snape would not open up their problems under a forced summons. He had learned that the hard way with Severus over the past 15 years. The Potions Master would not be disturbed if there was something personal eating away at his mind, and no amount of open support, of a leant ear, would be appreciated until the man had come to some type of conclusion himself.
All his knowledge aside, Dumbledore needed to talk with the younger Snape before the Minister for Magic arrived after dinner. The topic: the death of a Death Eater. The Daily Prophet had had a field day with the story, with speculation running from a natural death to poisoning from Voldemort to assassination by a mistress to goblins to… Dumbledore had a pretty shrewd idea who was responsible for the man's death, but the reasons behind it were a little foggy.
The staff at breakfast were, of course, gossiping away about it. Adults they may be, but a good murder mystery was something that few would pass up.
"Headmaster," a voice said, coming up behind him. "We do need to have a little talk together, I think."
"Cornelius," he greeted as he turned around, "I was just thinking about you."
Severus was awake when Rowena eased into the Hospital Wing. A small tray of picked-at food lay on the table at the end of his bed, looking neglected.
"Hiding from someone?" he asked, as she looked back out of the ward before closing the door.
"Not eating much, yet, are you? You need to eat, catch up on your missed meals." Her heart wasn't in it, though, as she didn't look again at the meal, but rather wandered over to the bed beside his and began to play with one of the pillows. "Remember Jacobius?" she asked, changing topics.
Severus frowned slightly. "Too well. Why?"
Rowena shrugged, eyes only for the pillow. "I saw him the other day down Knockturn Alley."
A faint smirk made an appearance. "When's the funeral?"
"Now, now, Sevi, I can't just knock off those I don't fancy anymore." She laughed a bit, looking up. "Otherwise Potter would never have been born. Don't get any ideas," she added.
Severus gave her one of his few 'innocent' looks. "And don't," she continued, "give me that look you always gave to mother whenever our father's potion's ingredients went missing."
Rowena wandered over to the window, staring out onto the dark grounds. "Although," she admitted, "it must make pleasant day dreams for you."
"And not for you, sister?" His voice filled with fake shock, he said, "My little sister doesn't have a few individuals whom she would love to snuff out of existence?"
"It was a beautiful day outside today."
"Admit it, sister."
"Oh, fine. I am, however, much too lady-like to give in to such displays in public."
He sneered at her, but his heart wasn't in it. "What did you do?"
"Noth-thing!"
"Why do I find myself not believing that, sister?"
Rowena settled down on the chair next to his bed, legs tucked under her. She leaned forward and began to straighten the collar of his nightshirt. "You need to keep this lose for better-"
Irritably, he grabbed her hands and pulled them away from his collar. Locking gazes with her, he asked again, "What did you do?"
She stayed silent and met his gaze square-on. Try as he might, Severus had never been able to get past his sister's blocks; her mind remained a closed tomb to him for over two decades.
A knock at the front entrance of the hospital wing interrupted the staring contest. Rowena broke both Severus's gaze and his grip on her hands. Turning, she saw that Draco had come finally, and was waiting expectantly to be ushered in. "Come in, Draco."
As Draco strode into the ward, Severus leaned back into his pillows, a faint frown that deepened when his sister said, "I wanted to continue our discussion from before Christmas. I didn't feet as if we left it at quite the right spot."
Harry had been on his way to Gryffindor Tower via the long way (Ron and Hermione were in the middle of one of their rows, and he didn't want to be anywhere near them at the moment) when he caught a few words drifting out of the Hospital Wing. He stopped, listening despite himself as he heard 'servant', 'Lord' and 'Death Eaters'. Inching forward, he was just in time to hear Draco say, "But you're both Death Eaters! That's what--"
Rowena overrode Draco. "Your father knows nothing, Draco, save how to line the pockets of those who can best serve him and his causes, no matter their position in life."
Severus placed a hand on her arm, cutting off the old rant of the Malfoy's wealth before it got started. She calmed down a bit, nodded her thanks at him, and continued. "I will say it only once more, Draco. I am not a Death Eater. I have not, will not and shall not bend knee nor spine to that half dead leech."
"--to that half dead leech."
Harry nearly choked when he heard her say those words, especially with the amount of scorn that was verily dripping off them. The merely image of her crawling forward on her hands and knees was ludicrous, but…
Other voices brought his attention jarringly back to reality and scrabbling for cover of any sort. Cornelius Fudge and the Headmaster were making their own way down the corridor to the Hospital Wing, arguing quietly. So intent were they that neither noticed Harry tucked away in the corner, barely hidden.
Fudge, it seemed, had gotten the last word in, as he threw the large Hospital doors wide open and stalked inside, the Headmaster in his wake. As neither had thought to close the door behind them, Harry sunk back to the edge of the door, hoping to hear more of the discussion.
"You are something else entirely, aren't you, Miss Snape," Fudge said, right after her pronouncement.
A very subtle change overcame her, one that Fudge didn't see, but one Severus was quite aware of. She was sitting up straight in her seat, eyes fixed on the Minister, but that could have been simply her attentiveness to an important speaker. Severus knew that she was ready to either run from or attack the pompous man.
"What do you mean, Minister?" Her voice was very soft and very smooth, no threat to anyone.
"You're not special enough to be a part of You-Know-Who's circle. Just common riff-raff."
Severus had moved his hand back to her arm during this insult of sorts, and was glad he had; it seemed that his hand was the only thing keeping her in her seat and not drawing her wand. Her muscles under his grip were extremely tense as she said, "What are you saying, Minister? That is, of course, assuming that there is a point to all this?"
Fudge didn't register the drop in her tone, thought Severus, because the man continued in the same accusatory voice. "What do you know of Adam Dailev's murder?"
Rowena raised an eyebrow, the most her expression had changed since he'd entered. "Nothing outside of what the Prophet has coughed up. Why, should I?"
Fudge drew himself up, chest thrown so far out a few buttons looked in favor of popping out of his jacket. "You should. You, Miss Snape, were the cause of it."
Author's Note:
Hehe…I enjoy a good cliff now and then, there hasn't been that many. One last chapter and an epilogue and we are done, folks! Dances a bit
Um, I don't know when the next will be up, it lost a page one day, and it was the real ending of it, so I might be a while, I don't remember it all that well. Shrugs. Thanks anyway for your patience!