The Snake Pit
by orangepenguin
A/N: So many hits! I'm proud. This is the third part, of four, I think. Much love to my reviewers.
This morning I wake up, remembering last night. Oh, I screwed up, badly. I should have never approached that Narcissa. I should have never entangled myself with the Blacks…it could only bring the wrath of Malfoy and Lestrange down on me. I should have seen this coming. With a great forbidding dread settling on my heart, I get dressed and head down to the common room. Maybe they will have already gone to breakfast. If I can just get out of the dungeons safely…
No such luck. There they are, like maniacal bookends, flanking the fireplace, waiting on me. I come down the stairs slowly, determined to hold my head high. Everyone else is already at breakfast, I must have overslept. They are light and dark, opposite sides of the same cruel coin, and they have wanted to put me in my place for years.
I am so tempted to just run from the room, but I think better of it. Perhaps if I come willingly to my punishment, it will be less severe.
Malfoy smirks as I come to stand in front of them. "How good of you to meet us like this, Snape. My, even before going to get breakfast."
Lestrange's eyes light up. "It has come to our attention that over your time at Hogwarts, you have taken certain liberties with your class, and place within Slytherin House."
"Of course," continues Malfoy, "we hesitated in correcting you, because of the interests of some…involved parties. But when we see a breach in conduct so severe, we feel it is our job as…" he looked at Lestrange, who smoothly jumped in.
"As patriarchs of the house, if you will, to make sure such a breach does not happen again." He smiled, cruelly, and I steeled myself. "You are supposed to be cunning, greasy halfblood. You should know better. You will never," with that word, he drew his wand, "lay a hand on a Black sister ever," with that word I felt an intense pain on my right upper arm. I tried not to reach for it, "again."
Malfoy too stood, "Furthermore, you will remember your place," with that, my left upper arm also began to burn and sting. I could not keep the pain from my expression, "and you will keep to it." With those last words, and a flick of his wand, both of my new injuries begin to burn as though someone poured lemon juice onto them.
The two now walk off, smiling slightly, and leaving me to tend to my wounds. This is what I deserve, for forgetting, for thinking that in Slytherin you can ever follow your instincts without using your intellect. I should have been smarter. I lift up my robe's sleeve and gasp, seeing the deep red cuts, three on each side, slashing across my arm, makes them all the more painful. Sighing, I give up on breakfast, and go back up to the dorm room to look through my potions ingredients for something that will help.
After applying a quickly mixed no heat potion (containing mostly essence of myrtlap) to the vicious cuts on my arms, I realize that I will soon be late for my first class. Cringing, I gently let the sleeves of my robe fall down, and feel the stinging pain of contact, slightly less intense than earlier, but still deeply distracting.
At least my morning class is Potions. I don't even really have to concentrate in that class, most of the time. For me it has become like an academic exercise, attempting to be better than the textbook, and writing corrections in. Potions is a useful magic, deeply useful in everyday life, unlike Transfiguration or Astronomy, and I think that is why I am so drawn to it.
At any rate, I soon find myself seated at a worktable with none other than my usual partner, Bellatrix. This is bad. But there is no way to distance myself from her now without making her suspicious. I don't want anyone to know about what happened this morning. If anyone finds out, then I know I will face much more at the hands of Mssrs. Malfoy and Lestrange. But then, if Bellatrix thinks I am snubbing her, I will face pain at her hands…not something I have ever wished to incur.
I must just continue as if nothing had happened. Professor Slughorn is going on about how this potion will be judged on the OWL standard, and will probably give us an accurate idea of how we will do this spring on the Potions practical. I barely register this: I will get an Outstanding on my potions practical whether I make this particular draught or not. But I feel Bellatrix beside me perk up, and I resist the urge to ask her what she's planning.
As the lesson progresses, I become more involved in the potion making, and all my pain seems to subside. I truly love the intention, deliberation, everything that goes into it. This is my element.
Then, just as Slughorn calls five minutes, everything comes to a screeching halt, as I realize what Bellatrix has been planning. Sirius Black, who is sitting at a table diagonally in front of us, just leaned over to talk to that Potter, and now we are all coughing as his cauldron is emitting great puffs of an acrid smoke, and all hell is breaking loose.
"Calm down, calm down!" Slughorn calls out, his robes pulled over his face. The cauldron stops puffing smoke, and it seems as though everything is fine, there is a moment of absolute silence, before the potion explodes and Sirius is covered in green goo.
Bellatrix, beside me, has a perfectly clear face, not even the slightest hint of amusement is to be found. This convinces me, she threw something in there. I watch as Slughorn rounds in on Sirius.
"What did you do?"
Black's face in dark and angry. "I didn't do anything at all, someone threw something into my cauldron." His head whipped around to our table, and I knew instantly, what I would do, no matter what it might cost me later.
Black continued, "And I know exactly—"
I cut him off, "I did it, sir."
The room went silent. Slughorn, Sirius, and Bellatrix were all staring at me in utter astonishment.
"What?" Sirius asked blanking, looking as though he'd never seen me before. Slightly ironic, since I remember him hexing me just last week. Still, he knew that I wouldn't sabotage his potion. Firstly, I had more subtlety, and secondly, if I'd actually done it, I would have never admitted it in front of the whole class.
Slughorn turns to me. "Detention, Mr. Snape. My office at seven tonight."
"Yes, sir."
"Black, go clean yourself up."
"Yes, sir."
He leaves the room, still looking at me in a puzzled way. As soon as Slughorn turns away, and starts rambling about ill effects of mixing opposite ingredients, Bellatrix leans over and hisses in my ear, "Why the hell did you do that?"
I shrug, flinching away from her grip on my upper arm, of course, she has no idea how very painful a grip she is inflicting, and thus pulls me closer, holding tighter. I clench my jaw in pain.
"That was completely unnecessary. Sirius knows that I did it, and so does Slughorn, probably. Do you think I care about detention? I don't need a hero, Severus."
I am mildly surprised by the acidity of her tone, but I know that she hates the idea of asking for help. I manage to get out, regardless of my aching arm, "I'm not a Gryffindor, Bellatrix."
"Then why did you do that?" She asks intensely.
"Maybe I want you to owe me a favor."
A/N: Ooh…intrigue. The rather fascinating conclusion is up next, and then on to examining Hufflepuff, I believe. Please review!