A/N: Whoops. Took a little more time off than intended! This is a bit of an in-between chapter before the action ramps up, but I think we all need a breather after the excitement of chapter twelve. Thanks for sticking around and I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Chapter Thirteen: Two Friends
The third and fourth years had commandeered all the best board games, leaving behind only a tattered copy of Monopoly, which at that moment wasn't a particularly appealing option for a Slytherin looking to unwind at the end of a long day. For the past two weeks the fifth years had dedicated themselves to a single game that had only just wrapped up the night before. The massive undergoing had taken up their evenings for the past two weeks, during which time no one was allowed to touch or even look at the board, which was carefully kept guard during the day by a vast number of anti-tampering charms.
By the time the end rolled around no one seemed to be having a very good time, and a grim determination to finish what they'd set out to do settled in amongst the fifth years. Some students expressed surprise that they kept the game going; sticking through to the end out of sheer stubbornness was a very Gryffindor thing to do, while the general consensus was Slytherins were far more practical than that. Of course, it all made sense once one learned the reasoning behind their insistence, whispered in hushed tones so that Professor Snape didn't know just how many Galleons were riding on the outcome of the game. That being said, even those parted with their money seemed more relieved than upset by the time it was finally over and Ellen Greybourne claimed her victory.
Tracey Davis considered the game for a moment, but only a moment, before wandering back to the cushions she and the other first year girls had spread not quite next to the fire (the sixth years had claimed that territory for themselves), but close enough to feel its warmth, and flopped down listlessly before glancing over at the boys, who were huddled together over a game of Hangman. Adrian Pucey had taught them how to charm the little figure on the parchment to sprout inked-on limbs by itself as each wrong answer was guessed (along with its gruesome end), but the boys didn't seem to be playing with the same vigor as they had just a week before.
"Something's wrong with them," she said, watching Harry cross his arms and shake his head bemusedly at something Blaise said.
"What isn't wrong with them?" Daphne replied, but she frowned too as she and the rest of the girls turned to look at the boys. "They're probably just sulking about having been caught."
"That's not like them." Pansy shook her head. "They're boys. They don't sulk. And it's been four whole days."
"Have you met Draco?" Daphne asked. "He sulked the whole first month here."
"Draco's a special case," Pansy argued, as Millicent cut in, "He's a mental case."
"Come off it, you fancy him," Pansy said, waving a hand as Millicent sputtered indignantly. "No one's judging you, Millie. He's cute, sort of."
Tracey didn't quite agree (she didn't quite have a crush on anyone, not yet), but she did smile at Millicent's increasingly horrified series of expressions before turning back to the boys.
"All right, there is something different about them," Daphne conceded. "Something more than just being in heaps of trouble with Professor Snape."
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Pansy asked, and the other three girls slowly nodded as they thought of the cloaked figure at the bottom of the stairs.
The question hung in the air the way it did every time the subject had come up over the past four days, but the girls were no closer to answering who the cloaked figure was as they were when it first appeared.
Tracey glanced away from the boys, and rolled over so she was lying on her back. "He's barely in been in the common room all week, you know."
She didn't have to say who. Everyone had noticed Professor Snape's absence. He hadn't entirely vanished, but he was noticeably distant since their ill-fated jaunt. Even when he'd joined the rest of the house in the common room after dinner the night prior it was clear he wasn't really there, his gaze distant as he studied the fire. He didn't even notice two third years stuffing their faces with sweets from a care package sent from home (which were normally to be rationed out in acceptable amounts), a deviation from his usually razor-sharp attention that caught the eye of everyone present and led to a flurry of minor misdeeds that went unnoticed until Lucian Bole pushed his luck a bit too far and was sent to bed early for charming the second year boys' shoes to pass wind each time they stepped down. Professor Snape had turned back to his usually snarly self then, but it was clear to all that he wasn't really giving his full attention to the utterly perfunctory bollocking.
"Who do you think the person under the cloak was?" Daphne asked after a long moment spent studying the empty spot on the sofa their housemaster usually claimed at night, followed by a glance at the solemn-faced first year boys. When no one answered, she added "Do you think Professor Snape knows?"
"I don't know," Tracey said, though a little voice inside her said he didn't. The thought made her stomach drop. Until now she'd thought Professor Snape knew everything.
Minerva McGonagall walked through the corridors of the castle at a leisurely pace. She enjoyed her evening strolls. The stresses of the day didn't matter quite so much after a cup of tea and a bit of good music on the wireless, and though she'd never admit it, she sometimes found herself singing a tune quietly to herself, so long as no one was around to hear it.
The door to the spiral staircase that led to the top of the Astronomy Tower was ajar. Minerva paused, halting her hushed rendition of A Dragon and Her Egg, and pulled it open. It was nearly curfew for the older students, and she intended to remind whichever miscreant had decided to loiter up there of this fact. As she climbed the staircase, a familiar smell hit her nostrils, and her nose twitched. She frowned and walked faster, gathering up her robes in both hands to avoid tripping and hoping she wasn't about to find a Gryffindor at the top of the tower. She'd take the points, but she wouldn't enjoy doing it.
Minerva emerged onto the landing, posture perfectly straight and expression at its most intimidating, then immediately relaxed upon seeing who it was. "For God's sake, Severus."
"May I help you?" Severus raised an eyebrow and shifted aside on the stone bench to make space for her.
"I know what you were doing." Minerva didn't sit, instead crossing her arms and fixing Severus with a cross look. "I thought you were a student. Don't try to deny it, it reeks up here."
Severus smirked slightly, and with a flick of his wand the cigarette he'd vanished just a moment before reappeared between his index and middle finger. "Where do you think I got it from? Don't tell me you don't have a stash of confiscated items from your upper years, Minerva."
"They wouldn't dare bring it into the castle in the first place," Minerva said primly, though she knew damn well that was a lie. She just chose to look the other way and not intervene unless things spiraled out of control, which they very rarely did.
"I'll choose not to argue with you on that point," Severus said. He pulled the slightly crumped pack of Embassy Filters from his pocket and offered her one, which she refused with a shake of her head, before returning them to his pocket. "To what do I owe your presence this evening?"
"I told you," she said, settling down next to him on the bench. "I thought you were a student. Now I'm catching my breath before dealing with those blasted stairs again."
"Language, Minerva," Severus said, his lips slightly twitching with what Minerva had grown to learn was his version of a smile. She simply rolled her eyes and inhaled deeply, doing her best to only take in the crisp November air and not any of the tobacco smoke around her. It partially worked, but not very well.
For a while they sat in silence. Minerva glanced at the man next to her, unable to shake the suspicion that something was wrong, and had been wrong for the past few days. Severus's expression was always a guarded one; he was a guarded man by nature. Even as a child he'd been remarkably dour, and Minerva had to admit there hadn't been any love lost for the boy from her end. She didn't dislike him, not exactly, but she found herself frequently irritated by his poor hygiene and lack of social skills. She didn't involve herself in the lives of her students the way Pomona and Filius did now (and Severus too, though she knew he'd object mightily to being lumped into the same category); she didn't consider it her place to insert herself in the life of a student that wasn't even in her house, nor did she consider it her business to intervene when, looking back, she really ought to have.
Minerva frowned. She'd known Severus and the Gryffindor boys of his year didn't get along. Of course she knew. Anyone with a brain could figure it out within five minutes, and even if they didn't it wouldn't take much longer. But petty squabbling and rivalries were what children did. It was the way it was when she went to school. And perhaps she'd had a soft spot for her Gryffindors, a soft spot that made her see things in a way that reduced their flaws and magnified Severus's, when in reality the boy was being bullied.
They'd bullied him, James Potter and his friends. She knew that now, and even if she'd refused to see it then she'd known deep down. She regretted not stepping in, not doing more- not doing her job. When she was young students were expected to sort out those sorts of problems themselves, and while she still believed in giving her students a great deal of personal autonomy, she did deeply regret the fact that she'd allowed herself to- well, if not dislike young Severus Snape, to have no patience for a young boy clearly craving guidance and care of some kind when no one else would give it to him.
She'd failed him, she knew that. It was easy to rationalize one's actions as they were occurring, by putting the onus on that useless lump Slughorn, by turning the other way with the excuse of needing to look after her own Gryffindors day-to-day. But, then again, it was her own Gryffindors who made so much of Severus Snape's life hell as a student.
Over the years Minerva had found plenty of time to think, and to this day she found herself guilty for her own inaction, and wistfully surprised by the peculiar friendship that had sprung up between herself and the man that neglected child had grown into. Not that it had sprung up straight away; when Severus began teaching at Hogwarts Minerva was horrified. "But he's a Death Eater," she argued to Albus over and over, unconvinced he'd truly changed. "It's only because You-Know-Who's gone that he's trying to claim he's not anymore. Albus, you can't truly be fooled, can you? You remember the crowd he ran with at school-"
"He defected long before the end of the war," Albus would reply, his tone always maddeningly patient. "Severus Snape is a confused man who's made his share of mistakes. I won't deny that, Minerva. But there's more to him than darkness, and I think you know that as well."
Minerva disagreed, and thought Albus must be going senile to place a twenty-one year old child in charge of Slytherin, a house that was thoroughly and horrifically out of control. They'd been running wild long before the end of the war, but with the death of You-Know-Who and the trials of many of their parents, the students fell into a sort of frenzy, determined to fight the battles of a war that had already ended. Duels in the hallways were commonplace, along with attacks with increasing ferocity; Minerva occasionally feared for her own safety. Not that she actually was at risk of being bested by a lot of pimply teenagers, but it was an eerie feeling to wonder if the students were going to suddenly turn on her without warning.
The first year Severus led Slytherin was a disaster. An utter disaster in which the lanky, soft-spoken young man failed to regain any sense of control over the long-feral house of Slytherin. Half the time he didn't even show up for meals, instead eating alone in his study, hidden away as his students ran wild. And then had come the breaking point- and the turning point.
Minerva still remembered where she was when she learned the Rowle siblings and Sebastian Bole had hexed one of her students half to death. Had Severus not found the girl crumpled into a heap at the bottom of the dungeon stairs, she might have actually died. It was a Saturday afternoon, and Minerva was on her way back from the library to her study, a leather-bound volume tucked comfortably under her arm, when she heard the murmuring from the portraits, and only when she looked up did she see the subjects dashing from frame to frame to deliver the sordid news.
Minerva never did find out what happened to that book. She dropped it at some point in her mad dash to the dungeons and never was able to recall where it had fallen. By the time she reached the bottom of the dungeon stairs, the location of a book whose title she now couldn't even remember was the last thing on her mind.
Abigail Trentley was in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, slack-jawed and convulsing. Severus knelt over her, frantically casting spell after spell, hands trembling. A crowd of Slytherins stood behind him, many clearly having just arrived on the scene just as recently as Minerva. Three stood closer to the commotion than any of the rest: Thomas Rowley, Elizabeth Rowley, and Sebastian Bole. The other Slytherins shifted back from the three as Minerva approached, everyone silent except for Severus as he cycled through counter-curse after counter-curse.
Minerva dropped to her knees beside Abigail, her own wand drawn and ready to join the effort, but it was unnecessary; the girl had gone still, and with a great, shuddering gasp her eyes fluttered open for the briefest of moments before shutting once more. She was breathing, though, and her pulse was steady. As Minerva released the girl's wrist, she saw Severus had been checking her other wrist at the exact same moment. He stared at Minerva, his eyes wide and terrified, and Minerva, who'd never had any patience for the poorly-groomed, horrifically awkward boy before her, and who very much wanted to blast him into oblivion for being such a failure as a housemaster to allow something like this to happen- well, she was gripped by another emotion as well, though she was never quite able to name it.
It lasted only a moment, and in that moment something in Severus's eyes changed. A look she'd never seen from him before settled in, and as he turned away she saw his hands were no longer shaking. Nor was his voice when he took a step forward and hissed at the students gathered before them, "Common room. Now." To Sarah Davis, who Minerva vaguely knew was a head prefect, he added, "Not you. Get Madame Pomfrey. Hurry." To the three perpetrators he drew himself to his full height, his face more menacing than Minerva knew the squirrely young man was capable of, and snarled, "This is your last day at Hogwarts. Pack your things. This instant."
"You can't do that," Thomas sputtered. Elizabeth had gone very white and Sebastian gaped with a face not unlike a particularly dehydrated fish. "You can't. Only Dumble-"
"Pack your things," Severus repeated in a growl. "We'll be visiting the headmaster before you leave, don't you worry."
The rest of the evening was a blur of fear and anger and harsh words from all sides, yet it all blended together into a terrible haze. Once the three Slytherins were gone, Minerva sat at Abigail's bedside the entire night. According to Madame Pomfrey if she'd been left just a few minutes longer she likely would have died. The thought left Minerva a muddled wreck. This wasn't the first vicious attack on a Muggle-born student, not by a long shot, but it did turn out to be the last. When Minerva stumbled into the Great Hall the next morning, both the Rowle siblings and Bole were gone, and the remaining Slytherins were, for the first time in years, silent and subdued. Severus sat at the head table, his mouth a thin line, watching his students like a hawk. After breakfast, they'd joined Albus in his study, and she let loose with an exhausted yet potent bout of fury, not at Severus, nor at Albus, but at the world in general at the state the school had been in for more than a decade.
"This can't go on," she concluded, dropping back into her chair, utterly exhausted. "It just can't go on."
"No, it can't," Severus agreed, speaking for the first time, his voice not quite as firm as it had been the night before, but far firmer than she was accustomed to. "And it won't."
And it didn't, though it didn't change overnight. For the last two months of the school year she watched from afar as Severus struggled with his house, but he didn't back down. The expulsion of three of their own placed a great deal of fear into Slytherin, but it wasn't until the next term began that it began to sink in that this new version of Severus Snape was here to stay. As time went on, Minerva watched as Severus slowly became the man he was at first emulating, his faux-confidence becoming true confidence, to the point that she was occasionally astonished by the transformation, and that the imposing, stern, intelligent, and surprisingly witty head of Slytherin was the same frightened boy she'd failed to show any empathy to in his younger years. Minerva suspected the Severus she knew now had been in there all along; there simply hadn't been anyone to help him become that man until he simply rose up and did it himself.
They didn't often talk about those days, nor the ones when Severus was a student. Neither of them particularly cared to dwell on the person they were then. Minerva wasn't sure when she and Severus became friends, not really, aside from it occurring slowly and with neither party particularly aware of it until each came to terms with the fact that they rather cared for the presence of the other and occasionally even went so far as to seek the other's company. Minerva she considered herself lucky to have earned that friendship. Not that the man didn't drive her up the wall sometimes- for someone who'd once been such a mouse, he was certainly extremely confident and opinionated now.
"You're staring at me," Severus said, smoke exhaling from his mouth. "Go on, say whatever it is. Something's on your mind and I'd rather not sit all night as you slowly drag it out."
"Don't be sarcastic. Something's wrong," Minerva said. "I'm not a fool, Severus. You almost never smoke, and when you do it's only because you're at your wits' end."
"Perhaps it's merely that you never catch me," Severus said dryly, his expression unchanging, but Minerva wasn't swayed.
"You've been distant and moody all week long. Don't try to deny it."
"Ah, yes, as opposed to my usually warm and bubbly demeanor."
Minerva swatted his hand. A bit of ash dropped onto Severus's robes; with a quick flick of his wand it was gone, though he raised an eyebrow at her in mock annoyance.
"It's nothing, Minerva. Nothing worth worrying over, at least," Severus conceded slightly. "Though I appreciate the concern."
"All right, then. If you're certain," Minerva said, letting the subject drop, albeit reluctantly. After a moment, she couldn't help but add, "It's not a weakness to confide in others. If you ever do feel the urge to..." She trailed off. She didn't know how to finish the sentence, but it was enough.
"I'll be at your doorstep with a pot of tea and some bonbons," Severus said with mock dutifulness. "Perhaps we'll sing songs and discuss our feelings the way Pomona does with her Hufflepuffs."
Minerva cringed, unable to help herself, and when Severus snorted at her reaction she couldn't help but smile herself. "You're exhausting to be around, you do know that."
"And yet you continue to spend time with me," Severus said smoothly, not missing a beat as he added, "And you're rather exhausting yourself, you know. Fluttering about me like a mother hen."
"And yet you continue to spend time with me," she shot back.
The two sat quietly as Severus finished his cigarette, which he proceeded to stub out and then vanish. After a moment, he said, "My entire first year crept out for a nighttime jaunt this weekend, if you bloody well have to know. It was an absolute nightmare."
Minerva snorted, unable to help herself. "Under your watchful gaze? I'm surprised. You barely let those poor children breathe without knowing exactly how many molecules of air they took in and out."
"I knew about it from the start," Severus said, the slightest hint of steeliness coming into his voice. "They're eleven. They're not exactly subtle."
"My word, Severus, is that what you've been mooning about?" Minerva laughed now, though she placed a hand to her lips at Severus's subsequent glare. "Oh, I'm sorry, but it's true, you are acting just like Pomona did last year. I never thought I'd see the day."
"And you won't see another if you keep it up," Severus shot back, though the edge in his gaze had already faded.
Minerva forced her face into something more solemn, though it was a struggle. Severus looked away, and she paused. "There's something more, isn't there?"
Severus sighed, and it was then that she knew there was. "You're rather lucky, you know, Minerva."
Lucky? Minerva didn't consider herself a particular lucky person, especially not after losing Elphinstone just six years before. But then again, she didn't consider herself unlucky either. "Out with it, then."
Severus studied her for a long time. Then, slowly, he said, "I have my theories. Some are worse than others. Albus is aware, but no one else. This never leaves this tower. Do you understand me?"
Minerva sat very still, suddenly aware that whatever it was that was bothering Severus was far more serious than she'd thought. "Of course, Severus. What's happened?"
"Someone working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was or is in the castle, and went after one of my students."
Minerva felt very much as though her insides had turned to ice. She stared at Severus, then burst out, "Was or is?"
"Albus ran a sweep of the castle. No one unusual was found, but-"
"Tell me everything," Minerva demanded sharply, and once Severus had finished she said, "Why on earth didn't you tell me the moment you knew? Why didn't Albus?"
"I can't speak for Albus, but I've been rather focused myself on putting together how this happened in the first place," Severus said, with such an infernal sense of calm that Minerva wanted to throttle him. "I've been planning on telling you, if that makes you feel better."
"When? Christmas? Boxing Day? When half my house is killed by someone with a grudge against their parents?" Minerva snapped. "You should have told-"
"-you immediately, yes, I know. My most sincere apologies for not immediately thinking of you when my students were attacked," Severus said, as though by rote, his heart not really in it. "But think it over, Minerva. My theory is it's Quirinus-"
"Well, who else would it be? He's obviously been compromised and Albus won't-"
"But, of course, we can't assume that's the only option," Severus said loudly, as though Minerva hadn't interrupted. "Let's assume it's the worst case scenario- an outsider entering the castle. Who would want to break in? And considering how fortified the castle is, how would they break in?"
Minerva sank back onto the bench. "They'd need help. Inside help."
"Yes," Severus said, and he didn't say anything further.
"Quirinus, then," Minerva said, and Severus nodded slowly.
"Yes. Most likely."
Minerva gazed at him, and then she understood what Severus was thinking but wouldn't say out loud. "Severus-"
"Don't give me those sympathetic eyes. You know they make me want to be sick."
"Severus."
"We're watching Quirinus," Severus said, waving a hand. "Intensely. Round the clock. But it's simply an alternate, unlikely possibility that's occurred to me. Don't make me regret confiding in you by overwhelming me with your sympathy. In fact, I'd much rather we never discuss this again."
Minerva opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, after a long moment's thought, she opened it once more. "They're not the students they once were. The Rowles are long gone, and Lucian Bole isn't his brother. You've changed that house. No matter what they learn from their parents, you've been there to guide them. I don't think a Slytherin would be involved in this."
"Neither do I," Severus said stiffly. "But one has to consider every possibility, don't they? When it comes down to it- truly down to it, Minerva- if it's me versus their parents, and both are giving them orders, who do you think they'll choose to obey?"
You, Minerva thought, but she hesitated at the look on Severus's face, and the more the silence grew, the more she knew she wasn't sure.
Perhaps she was lucky. This wasn't something she had to think about with her students.
"Thank you for telling me," she finally said. "I know it isn't easy for you. Especially when you haven't had a few shots beforehand."
Severus exhaled through his nose, a very faint snort. "What makes you think I haven't?"
Not enough to leave him visibly impaired in any way. Not enough to loosen his lips. Minerva thought of the twitchy, nervous boy she'd once been exasperated by and was silently grateful that at last he was able to confide in her, even if it was an incredibly rare and momentous occasion when he did.
"So," Severus said after a moment. "Are you ready to start planning?"
"Pass me your flask. I know you've got one," Minerva said, settling in for what she knew was to be a long night.
