The Snake Pit, by orangepenguin

Chapter Two

I wake from a dream sharply, with an intense thirst. It must still be early, yes, my watch indicates just past midnight. I stand up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, head for the water jug, careful not to wake my classmates. I dip my cup in it, only to realize it's empty. Of course, it always seems that when I need water, the jug will be dry.

Sighing, I decide to go down to the common room. Surely the large jug there will have something wet in it—although in the Slytherin common room, you can never be sure exactly what. Try as I might, I can't recall the dream that woke me. Like most of mine, it was dark and full of pain, always some type of pain, but I can't remember what made me so urgently needing liquid.

As I descend the stone steps, always slippery with moss and beaded slime, I am surprised to hear voices in the common room, and even more taken aback to hear them raised in anger. Most Slytherins retire early, to be best prepared for the coming day. If they stay alert for more questionable activities, those do not occur in the heart of the snake pit itself.

Being a snake, true to form, I lurk in the shadows behind a statue of Salazar Slytherin's grandson. Slowly, I come to realize that the voices are those of Bellatrix and Andromeda. Carefully, I peer around the statue and into the room. Andromeda is seated firmly on the plush green velvet sofa, looking resolute.

Bellatrix, on the other hand, is angrily pacing in front of the fire. Typically, Narcissa is perched nervously on a nearby chair, saying nothing. I must watch, just for a moment. Bellatrix, clenching her jaw, says to Andromeda, who is a lovely golden brown in the firelight, "It's one thing to be sympathetic, but to side with him, against me, in public? Andy, I'm your sister."

Andromeda shakes her head, light brown hair quivering, and says, "That does not mean you're always right. Remus Lupin may be muggleborn, but he's a good student, and seems like a good influence on Sirius. You were out of line to even mention it, much less insult him and forbid them to associate."

"Since when do you use the term muggleborn when referring to filthy mudbloods?" Bellatrix spits out.

"Since I realized that it is not a term, sister, but a description of a state that cannot be helped. And I don't think that you are at liberty to talk about anyone having halfblood friends, Bella."

I sharply intake a breath, this is about me, I know it. How many halfbloods are there in Slytherin who would dare even speak to someone as pure and forbidding as Bellatrix?

"Well played, sister. But you will not disagree with me in the corridors again." It was alarming how imposing a small, dark, fifteen year old girl could make herself, but Andromeda just shakes her head.

"I won't, if you stop saying things that I disagree with in the corridors."

Bellatrix's eyes widen, "I know what this is about. It's that boy that you're always studying with, that Ted whatever."

Andromeda's cheeks redden, and my heart drops, "I love you, Bella, but that is none of your concern. Do not push me too far."

Bellatrix sneers, "You wouldn't hurt your own sister." I notice Narcissa trembling in the chair, looking so small, and realize that I am eavesdropping in on a conversation that could very well mean my life if discovered. Silently, I steal back upstairs, putting my thirst aside for a moment. So, I was correct in thinking there is dissention among the sisters, although I would never have guessed there is so much, and so much anger as well--in public they always seem like an impenetrable united front.

I have such mixed and confused feelings about what I just heard, that I don't know what to do with myself. It seemed as though Andromeda fell on the muggleborn side, my side, I remind myself, and start to smile. But then I realize that it is not only my side, it is also the side of that Ravenclaw seventh year, Ted Tonks. This makes me sink to my bed in disappointment, sleep failing me.

After an hour or so has passed, my thirst has grown exponentially and I decide to risk going back down to the common room. This time, luck seems to be on my side. I can't hear any voices, and the only light I see is the low glow of the fireplace embers. Quickly, I move toward the water jug. I've already taken my first sip, when I hear a noise behind me like an animal whimpering. I spin around to see Narcissa, the youngest Black sister, crumpled up in an armchair, quietly sobbing.

I freeze, perhaps she hasn't seen me and I can slip away from this scene, which is obviously not intended for an audience, at least, not for me, the skulking Slytherin halfblood. But no, in my split second of indecision, she looks up, and I am trapped.

I hate this sort of situation—if I was in her position I would be mortified, and I don't think anything would make me feel better, but I have to try and do something. This did not seem to be anything like the dramatically staged breakdowns that some Slytherin girls practiced often, if they felt the limelight leave their empty heads for a moment. Narcissa just sits there, face red, eyes streaming, long white-blonde hair disordered. She just sits and looks at me, waiting, I suppose, to see what I will do.

I take a tentative step forward, and she tilts her head to the side, still not speaking. "It's late," I say awkwardly.

She shakes her head, not in agreement or dissent, but rather as if she has just noticed me, and is acknowledging my presence, like a queen spying one of her lesser subjects somewhere she didn't expect them to be. "I hate it when they fight," she says simply, and it seems as though I've been accepted into the court, at least for now. Of course I know who she means. I slowly move to kneel by her side as she continues.

"They do it more and more often these days, where more and more people can see. When we were little, they never argued about anything, the three of us were like one big person." She chokes back a sob. "I just want everything to go back the way it was, for someone to be my big sister. To protect me."

Wonderful, a heartfelt confession. I have no idea what I should do, but I'll do anything to stop her from crying. I hate to see girls cry, it always reminds me of my mother, when I was young and she thought I wasn't paying attention. After a second, I put an arm around her shoulders, waiting for her to recoil, but she does not, just sniffs loudly.

I begin to relax, this could be worse. But then I hear a familiar drawl from behind me that makes my blood run cold. "Well, isn't this an unexpected sight?" I jump up and spin around, stepping quickly away from Narcissa. She looks mildly surprised, but not particularly perturbed. Why should she? She's pureblood and secure, there's nothing for her to fear.

I watch the icy Seventh Year, Lucius Malfoy, approach, along with his dark haired counterpart, Rodolphus Lestrange, and try to hide the terror that I know is growing behind my eyes.

Malfoy speaks again, "Perhaps you'd better return to your dorm room, Snape. We can assist Miss Black." I notice her body stiffen next to me, and I wonder what prompted it, though I have worse problems to deal with at the moment.

I nod, desperately wishing to leave. As I walk past, Rodolphus grabs my forearm so sharply that it is as if his fingers are clasped around bone itself. "We will speak to you tomorrow, Snape; this is not the end." When he releases me, I am ashamed to say that I scrambled up the stairs without looking back.

The last thing I heard, just before I entered my dorm room, was low rumbling laughter coming from the room below. My arms tingled in disgust and apprehension.

A/N: Glad everyone's reading this dark little story. Review and let me know what you think!