AN: I wrote this chapter three times (horrible luck with floppy disks). I hope you enjoy it. Don't forget to review! I'm looking for a beta, by the way.
I don't have an avenger complex; I don't want attention (after five years at Hogwarts, most people still don't have any idea who Lucy Cole is, and I'm rather proud of that.) I don't have a personal vendetta against the Marauders, nor do I particularly like Snape, so I don't know why I did it.
It's not my fault. James Potter started the whole thing with his oh-so-amusing new spell. If he'd have just pulled his head out of his rectum for a few moments, I could have remained in happy anonymity.
I can blame it on Lily Evans, too. If she's going to start a 'look at me, I am the angel of justice and righteousness' campaign against her beleaguered charge's wishes, the least she could do is follow through with it. But no, Her Evanescence had to protect her pride, just like Snape had to defend his.
"What is it with her?" Potter asked conceitedly as Evans pranced off.
"Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate," Sirius Black said. I suppressed a snort.
"Right," Potter said furiously, "right—"
A flash of light later, Snape was upside down again.
"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"
I forced all of the very dirty thought out of mind and waited for my opportunity. Potter took a step towards Snape and…fell flat on his face. That was my doing, although I hoped nobody saw me.
Snape fell, too, but he was a lot quicker Potter. He was on his feet, had his wand, and had disarmed Potter and Black before James managed to pull his deadweight off the lawn.
He stood up slowly, looking very comical. His eyes were crossed to look at the tip of Snape's wand, pointed at his nose, and his fall had smudged the blood on his cheek. Then he smirked superciliously, which did nothing to improve his looks, as he was still cross-eyed.
Standing in the front doorway of the school was Professor Atwater. I don't like to talk bad about my professors, but Atwater is the slimiest, evilest, most favorite-playing, most arrogant, most unbelievably and undeniably awful teacher in Hogwarts ever. He plays favorites with the Gryffindors, of which he is head, makes unfair calls at Quidditch, and takes any and all opportunities to take points from Slytherin. Besides which, he's stoop-shouldered and walks like an ape.
"Snape!"
Snape turned, not lowering his wand or taking his eyes off Potter.
"What are you doing, Snape?" Atwater asked coldly.
"I'm trying to decide what curse to use on Potter, sir," Snape said very evenly.
"Put that wand away at once," Atwater said. "Ten points from Slytherin, and detention."
Snape just stood there a moment longer, his wand pointing at Potter.
"I said, put that away! All of you disperse. Potter, you come with me to the infirmary," Atwater said, taking Potter gently by the arm.
Potter shrugged him off and limped into the castle heroically, as his walking abilities are somehow connected to his cheek.
That night at dinner, Semele Nott felt the urge to exert her authority in the seating arrangements. For almost every meal in the last five years, I have sat in my seat. It's a very good seat, about halfway down the table, facing the rest of the room, and she only took it to prove she could. Unluckily, the only seat left was the one opposite Snape. I sat down and pretended to be very interested in my potatoes.
"Interesting how Potter tripped, isn't it?" Snape asked suddenly.
"Er, I suppose so," I said, wishing a thousand misfortunes on Semele. "Maybe he's only graceful in the air," I added lamely, because, as we all know, James Potter is a reverse Anateus.
Snape stared at me coldly for a moment, then went back to ignoring me.
I ate as quickly as I could and nearly ran out of the Great Hall. I had almost made it to the dungeons when I felt Snape's long, pale fingers curling around my arm. I was surprised at how fast he was, and how strong.
"What do you want?" he snarled.
"I beg your pardon, you have a hold of me," I said almost as angrily as he did.
"Do you get some perverted thrill from playing the hero? Do you like feeling important, Cole? Or am I really that pitiable, that you—"
"Are you listening to yourself?" I managed to twist my arm out of his grip. "If I got 'some perverted thrill from playing the hero,' don't you think my dramatic rescue would have been a tad more, I don't know…dramatic? I think a Tripping Hex falls a bit short of a one-on-one duel with the source of all evil, don't you? Maybe I hate the Marauders with a passion that burns with the fire of a thousand suns. Or maybe I think Slytherin is dishonored enough, what with Slughorn, and the Marauder's antics, if they can be called that, and the Gryffindor winning streak. Maybe I don't think we need a student being…exposed—"
"I had it under control," Snape said icily.
"Oh, yes, I'm sure you'd devised a brilliant plan to wow him with your—" I blushed and broke off. "You didn't have it under control."
He was staring at me oddly, and not just because of my comment about his plan. He seemed to make up his mind. "I owe you."
"What?"
"I owe you," he repeated very slowly, as if I were a particularly slow four-year-old.
"I heard you," I snapped. "You don't owe me anything. Anyone would have done it."
"They didn't."
"They would have. Besides, I didn't do it for you, I did it for Slytherin."
"Then I owe you on behalf of Slytherin house," he said, and strode off before I could refuse again.
"Fine!" I shouted after him. Have it your way, then, Snivellus. You owe me.
I stomped down into the dungeons, through several twists, to a very ordinary looking stretch of stone wall. "Ascendo tuum!" I shouted at it vehemently. I didn't stop to admire the common room. It's my favorite room in Hogwarts, with its high ceilings, misleadingly uncomfortable-looking chairs, and cool dampness. I didn't stop until I was in the fifth year girl's dormitory. As my luck would have it, Semele and her toadies, Eris and Themis, were waiting for me.
"What did Snape want?" Semele asked in her honey-sweet voice, which was good. If she already knew, her voice would have been 'sugary sweet.'
"To be my love slave," I said absently, changing into my pajamas.
Her eyes narrowed, as she is deficient of the laugh-it-off brain cell, along with most of the others. "What did you say?"
"I told him not tonight, but maybe next term."
Themis, the dimmest of the already dim trio, said, "That must have made him quite angry. Wasn't Evan mad at you for not going to his Quidditch match, Semele?"
"Evan and I are no longer together," Semele said stiffly. "I broke up with him."
"That's not what I heard," Eris said happily. "I heard that he broke up with you, and right after you invited him to your house for the summer."
"Well, whoever told you that was very mistaken."
I crawled into bed, trying to ignore the sound of their gossip, and wishing I had some one like them. Well, not like them, obviously, but someone who I could tease and talk to. A friend, as lame as that sounds.
I hate Wednesdays. In my five years at Hogwarts, I had never had a good Wednesday schedule. This year was no different: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Divination.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was horrible. Atwater lumbered heroically through his lecture on OWLs and Gryndilows, and something about oranges, shouting to be heard over the hum of conversation. He gave up and sat down when Evans started screaming at Potter.
Potions were worse. Slughorn kept the class under control for the most part. I had to sit between the Marauders and Snape. Potter was his usual obnoxious self, making very loud comments about yesterday's events. Black threw in an occasional comment, sending Pettigrew into peals of snickering, and Lupin managed to melt another cauldron.
Snape wasn't as…aggressive in his surliness, but he wasn't very polite when he asked to borrow my beetle eyes. He, of course, got what seemed like a half-hour laudation on the consistency of his potion, and Evans got another hour on the perfect hue of her own. I…well, I didn't get a derisive snort like Semele did.
Divination wasn't with the Gryffindors, thank Merlin. It went on forever, though. Between the incense burning in the fire and Madame Waller's noxious cigarette, I thought I would swoon.
After all of that, I decided to go back to the common room and read for a spell before talking to Dumbledore. Unfortunately, I got caught up in Thurmond's struggles for goblin rights and forgot about speaking to the Headmaster.
I nearly ran out of the common room, up three flights of stairs to the Main Hall and another two to Dumbledore's office on the second floor.
"Ice Mice!" I shouted at the gargoyle. It leaped aside and I dashed up the stairs, two at a time. As the staircase curves, I didn't see Dumbledore until I had nearly knocked him over.
"Ah, Miss Cole," Dumbledore said in his normal, creepy cheerful voice. "I dare say you're in a hurry. I am afraid I am, too."
"I'll only be a minute, Professor," I said between pants. I rarely took any exercise, and that took a lot out of me. I took a deep breath and clutched the stitch in my stomach. "I was wondering if I could stay at Hogwarts for the summer holidays."
"Awfully late to be asking," Dumbledore said.
"I won't be any trouble," I promised. "You won't know I'm even here."
"You stay at a Muggle orphanage during the summer, don't you?"
"Yes, sir." A pity trip couldn't hurt.
"I don't think it would be a problem."
"Thank you, sir. I promise you won't regret it."
He smiled sagely. "Indeed. Now, if you would care to accompany me to the Great Hall?"
I walked to the Great Hall with him, beaming (only internally, though, once we entered. He may have saved me from a summer at St. Dympna's Orphanage, but that doesn't mean I can stand him).
Not content with just winning the Quidditch Cup, Gryffindor won the House Cup. Yippee. I could hardly contain my excitement.
All the houses walked (in Gryffindors case, pranced; in Slytherins', sulked) back to their respective dormitories to finish packing. I went up to the fifth year dorms and pretended to pack, just so it wouldn't raise questions. I wouldn't have minded bragging to them about staying for the holidays, but I didn't want them to get the idea of joining me. Especially not Semele.
After I finished pretending to pack and listening to Semele and Eris compare their planned vacations, I went down to the common room. Almost everyone was there. Snape and Tavish Travers were sitting next to the fire, discussing something in hushed voice. Narcissa Black was at one of the tables writing a letter; Rosier, Moon, Wilkes, Avery, and Rastaban Lestrange were in the corner talking loudly about the upcoming World Cup. I sat down next to the window into the lake and watched them.
Snape and Traver's discussion grew more and more heated until she stormed off to talk to her sister. Narcissa smiled lovingly at her letter and occasionally read bits of another. Semele, Eris, and Themis came up the stairs to the common room and cast dirty looks at the laughing boys. I wished they'd all leave.