A/N: Usual disclaimer applies. This one, as did chapter 5, came totally out of the blue for me – I just felt like a Severus piece needed writing, so here it is.
And no, I won't tell you anything about what the hell the title refers to – you should guess for yourselves soon enough.
NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: I've been away for a while, no? No worries, people, just having a hectic Christmas with my family down here, and no time to write is forthcoming for a while yet. Hold on – I am!
NOTE
FROM FARTHER IN THE FUTURE: Wow! Can't believe I've finished
this. Hope you enjoy it – it's been about a month in the making. Oh, and potential warningy-sort-of-thing: joking reference(s) to sex. Severus is that kind of man, I suppose.
Chapter 7: Important Instruction
Severus tossed and turned in his – empty, don't forget that – bed, cursing himself. This always happened to him without fail after a – a liason.
No, he couldn't call it that.
An affair? An indiscretion? A wandering –
Don't be disgusting, Severus.
Bella hadn't said that last night, when he'd so foolhardily set his hand on the table in an awkward, clumsy gesture of approval of her perceived advances. Did that mean anything? Had she only used him to comfort herself for the loss of her irritatingly smart, mouthy brat, who was sleeping all too close by in the Slytherin dorms, perhaps being molested by the overly eager Pucey and Warrington, who had begged for his company that night?
Severus turned over with a wry chuckle. Bella would definitely skin him if anything of the sort happened – the whole idea was ludicrous, as that Adrian Pucey was still largely blind to the advances of – of Morwenna? Morwenna something, in his year, as well as the stupidly admiring stares he received from half the female students under thirteen in Slytherin, and Warrington was not much better. And besides, Bella would hunt him down and skin him – and perhaps tell him their arrangement was to cease…
…not that it had really begun, mind you.
Severus glared at the pillow he could barely see beneath him, the smell nauseating him. He'd forced himself not to hide last night, forced himself to be careless with his sadly thin, obviously ugly body, and not to even think of mentioning his hair, which had been – he winced slightly, in remembrance – in its usual state.
That was not to say that Bella had said a thing herself – she'd been thinner than he'd supposed. Rather a lot thinner, but her figure had still been somewhat attractive.
Fine, any specimen of the supposedly fairer sex would probably have looked attractive in dim lighting next to his aroused, painfully denied body. What of it?
If she says no, the answer to that is what you suspected. She was desperate, plain and simple, and you were the only male body she could trust within reach, to be discreet –
Severus sat up, knuckling wearily at his eyes. He couldn't afford to dwell on this now, to dwell on the absolute stupidity of leaving behind that note, couldn't afford to feel desperately like Flooing back to Spinner's End even more than was usual at the start of term. Could certainly not afford to let himself wonder if she'd be at home, waiting in that thing that she pretended was some sort of nightgown, black hair down over her shoulders, flexing slightly scarred feet in his slippers as she sipped tea and gave him that look she'd given him in the kitchen in those shockingly heated moments of tension. It would only mean that he wouldn't be able to sleep, really –
"Blast it all!"
He summoned the well-used bottle of sleeping potion beside his bed and shakily allotted himself the usual portion, grimly knocking back the tasteless Dreamless Sleep potion and settling himself back onto the covers without any ado.
He could not afford not to sleep, just because the bed didn't feel warm enough.
Severus cursed brokenly as he tottered out of bed, still woozy from the overdose he must have given himself the night before in his haste to drive all thoughts of Bella and her older, out-of-bounds body between his covers. Thankfully he'd been spared dreams –
Merlin, I'm late –
He pressed his face into his hands in an agony of muzzy frustration, then loped rapidly for the toilet. A blindingly fast shower helped to take off a bit of the edge of the drowsy feeling, but he fumbled increasingly with his buttons as he tried to get into his irritatingly obstinate robes and underclothes. Slurring furious curses at the offending trousers – twenty FUCKING BUTTONS, why why why – and shirt, he ransacked his plain wardrobe, seizing gratefully at a more traditional tunic, with no buttons. Throwing that on in addition to some loose trousers, he ventured a look at himself in the mirror and muttered a hasty cleansing spell in the direction of his still-greasy hair, inwardly promising he'd take care of it before he saw Bella next, not that he was really hoping to or anything.
Really.
Breakfast turned out to be a washout – no one and nothing seemed to be in the usually marginally full Great Hall, which was odd. There were gold plates on the small round table in the Hall that usually replaced the larger house tables during the summer, and it really seemed as if no one had been there. Feeling puzzled, angry and sleepy all at once, Severus summoned a house elf, only to find out:
"Please, sir, Professor Snape, we is not finishing the breakfast yet, sir – Snort is being needed in the kitchen! It is so early to be calling, sir – Snort trusts there is no problem?" At the disgusted Professor's groan of self-reproach (and rage against his incorrect clock), Snort became very distressed, and very nearly cried when Severus practically shouted the foolish creature away from him.
"No, no, NO – I DO NOT HAVE LIVER-ROT, YOU FOOLISH CREATURE! GET AWAY – AWAY – "
Whereupon the rather surprised-looking countenance of Albus Dumbledore appeared behind him, looking rather disapproving (and also rather sleepy).
"Why, good morning, Severus – is anything the matter?" Severus slumped into his chair, groaning slightly.
"Headmaster – do forgive me, I had an unsettled night. This is nothing but the fruit of the paranoid struggles of a man awake far too early. I assure you," he swiped gracelessly at his eyes, " that everything is in order. Are you here for breakfast?"
"No, no – just decided to find out what was causing the racket. Are you staying?" Severus nodded slowly, feeling resigned. Goodness knows what couldn't bloody wait one or two hours of well-deserved slee – "I trust that the train journey from London was satisfactory?"
"Pardon me, Albus," Severus got out, through gritted teeth, "but I would greatly appreciate it if you could skip the formalities this morning. If you wish to know whether young Mr. Black shall now be following in the portentous footsteps of his murdering uncle, please ask me directly." The Headmaster merely gave him a calm look and sat down beside him slowly, almost as if he'd not heard the rude outburst. Severus cursed himself for twitching in that slight fear that had never really gone away as those blue eyes turned on him once more, the customary twinkle entirely gone.
"Ollivander contacted me," Albus said slowly, his voice low enough that no other enterprising professor could possibly listen in from the cover the just ajar doors of the Great Hall could provide them. "I asked him to do so, should a wand with a certain core be sold, and, not three days before young Mr. Black's apprenticeship tests – "
" – Mr. Ollivander contacted you to inform you that the dratted wand was sold to young Mr. Lupin. Honestly, Headmaster, if there is nothing else – " Severus began to rise shakily to his feet, but was prevented from doing so by a hard look from the Headmaster, at which he slumped back into the chair, knuckling at his eyes.
But Albus Dumbledore just kept on looking at him, as if he expected him to draw some foolish conclusion – surely whatever special little wand Ollivander the Moony-Eyed had produced had gone to that dozy Neville Lupin, and not –
Ah. Severus' brow creased disgustedly – still, it was such a long shot that it was foolish. Antares had not been the only person to purchase a wand that day, and yet, the look in Albus' eyes seemed to say, think again.
"Albus," Severus began, slowly, "I really do not understand what the Black boy's wand could have to do with the situation – "
"Then you are wrong, Severus. That wand is imbued with the second feather – you know of which one I speak," Albus cut in, voice going stern. Severus stiffened with recognition and – and yes, fear, shrinking slightly back into his chair. The one of which he spoke, that had to be – "Why it went to him, I do not know – "
"Could you even consider," Severus hissed back, an old anger bubbling under his skin to join the fear and worry, "that he was worthy of the wand? Of the feather? But of course not – he is a Black, and likely to be a Slytherin, and not the Boy Who Lived, so of course he cannot have such a prized feather in his – "
"Think, Severus," Albus ordered, sitting straight in his chair, "think, but for a moment, what could happen to the boy if the secret of the wands is discovered. Do you think him beyond temptation, at such a young age? He is poor, unloved, unliked by his peers – "
"He hasn't even been Sorted yet, Albus!" Just because Dumbledore would probably be right didn't mean Severus had to agree with him out loud. And Antares had easily befriended Pucey and Warrington, the second a notoriously difficult boy to fascinate or impress. Surely, that must be a sign –
"Nevertheless, he is a thief, and poor, and his blood is most certainly impure," Albus put forth firmly, eyes boring into Severus' worried black ones. "Do you think Slytherin would welcome and revere him? He'll have a hard year ahead of him, if my suppositions are correct, you know that. If he should be tempted – "
"He would never ally himself with those who hurt his mother, Albus – "
"And if Tom promises him Bellatrix will be kept safe? Unhurt?"
Severus' teeth seemed to grit of their own accord – if only because of the wrongness of the thought of seeing that Mark on that boy's arm, older or not, seeing the dark confidence on his face, knowing Bella would be completely at the Dark Lord's mercy –
Guilt surged through him momentarily as he realised he was speaking already, that that had jerked him into reacting to that awful statement –
"The boy knows what happened to his mother when she left the Dark Lord's service against her will, Albus," he said urgently, eyes locking on to that of the Headmaster even as his mind hissed at him that he was a selfish, deprived and ultimately useless shell of a wizard, "Your points have merit, but if he is – "
"He will be a Slytherin, Severus. He will learn that sacrifices must be made, that one must trade one bad result for a worse one – if he does not know that already," Albus returned, settling back into his chair, blue eyes implacable. "Such a situation would be easily dealt with, if it merely depended on logic."
"Albus – but why are you raising these points, and now? You know I will do my best to – "
"Doing your best may not be enough, Severus," Albus cut in sharply, eyes narrowing at him. "The boy's origins, his life so far – it was already unlikely that he was found by Bellatrix, and is even more so that he received that wand. If he goes down the wrong path, and Voldemort is present to usher him further along it, well…"
"He is dead," Severus whispered fiercely, ignoring the cruel, traitorous thoughts that whispered of ugly rumours and that mark that had not quite faded away – "The Dark Lord is dead. Rest assured, Headmaster, that if Antares Black tries to take his place, you will be the first to know." And, with that, he was up and out of the chair, ignoring the first few stragglers that had entered the Great Hall in his quest to get away.
He could have breakfast in his bloody room, for crying out loud – no need to sit around listening to a batty old fool permanently on his fucking guard –
An oddly quiet sort of scream stopped him in his tracks for a moment, causing him to pause before continuing on his way through the dungeons, wondering what on earth could have –
"Let me go – " Someone young was sobbing – something scuffled just before him –
"You liar – " The Bloody Baron –
Severus sped up, wand in hand, wondering what on earth had disturbed the irritating ghost now, and came upon a scene that seemed to somehow drive home the essential point of all Albus' wrangling mere moments before. There was a shivering lump of black robes on the floor, wretched enough to belong to only one student he could think of that was currently inside the castle. Above and around the lump was the debilitating, angry and extremely large, silvery presence of the Baron, who, judging by his side and almost solid appearance, must be in a towering fury.
"The chastisement of students is not your responsibility, Baron. Stand down immediately," Severus ordered, his tone loud and cold, wand languidly at his side as he slowed his steps towards the shivering lump that was Antares Black.
"He is a liar," the Bloody Baron snarled, turning his gaunt, silvery face Severus' way, eyes narrowed, but – a good sign – already beginning to shrink. "He dares to besmirch the name of Black once again – only a half-blood – absolutely preposterous – "
"Stand down, Baron," Severus ordered again, raising his wand just enough to let the parsimonious ghost know who exactly was in charge here. Antares was not moving an inch now, and Severus could see his pale hands were curled into shaking fists. "Stand down, now."
"I will not have him in this house, Severus!" the Baron said now, sounding slightly hysterical. "He is not worthy of Slytherin – "
"You can either stand down or be made to do so, Baron," Severus forced out, through gritted teeth, heart sinking. Was this what the Hat would say? What the boy's yearmates would think? "I am not in the habit of repeating myself, you foul thing, and especially not to the undead! For the last time – "
"A curse upon you!" the Bloody Baron screeched back, even as all the splattered silvery blood on the walls seemed to slither back onto him – some over Antares, poor little fool – and his quivering insubstantial form diminished back to its proper size.
Severus said nothing, but kept his wand trained on the cursing, throatily wheezing ghost as it drifted by, angrily darting through a wall just inches away from his face. As soon as the last tendrils of the Bloody Baron's cloak disappeared, however, his so far inactive wand was up and casting a warming charm in the shivering boy's direction, and his legs were carrying him quickly to Antares' side.
"What on earth did you do, you stupid child?" were the first words that found their way out of his mouth despite the somewhat uncomfortable, sharp shards of compassion twisting within his heart. Antares shivered a little harder – perhaps meaning to shake his head in response, but failing heartily in the execution – and mumbled something that sounded utterly pathetic. "I do hope this is not how you wish to pass your breakfast every morning here at future – would become very, very annoying if it con- oh, stop snivelling – " Severus flicked out a starched handkerchief and set it resolutely in the boy's shaking hands, determined not to demean himself further by actually embracing the little fool, who was now struggling to his feet. "Were you even on your way to breakfast?" Severus further inquired, steering the shaking boy in the direction of his office, quite far away from the deranged Baron, who would certainly be unfit company for him for rather a long time.
"I was," Antares replied doggedly, through teeth that had to be gritted from fear, not anger. "And then that – that thing came through the wall, and – "
"Don't even think of telling me you've never met a ghost before, boy, because – "
"I'm not saying I haven't!" came the indignant, slightly sniffly cry in return. Severus rolled his eyes, feeling his heart rate slow down just a touch. If Antares was being indignant already, then surely he couldn't have taken as big a fright as he looked to have just a moment before. "I'm not…" A look down to his side assured Severus that the boy had taken as big a fright as he'd originally thought. The sniffling, near-hysterical claim just then didn't help matters, either.
"This way – for goodness' sake, follow me – "
"But the Great Hall's the other way," Antares insisted vehemently, eyes darting around them as if a thousand Bloody Barons lurked in the corridors that the Potions Professor knew to be haunted only by a few rats. "You said I should go to breakfast, and – "
"You are quite mistaken," Severus said, stopping abruptly, voice a little rougher, perhaps, than it should have been. "I only warned you against the consequences of your spending your breakfast in this ridiculous manner in the future, and wondered aloud if you even set out to eat in the first place. I never intimated that we would be going to breakfast at all – oh, Merlin – "
Severus' rather angry little speech was cut short by the way the boy beside him seemed to wilt for a moment, the fright, oddly incongruous with the vaguely familiar lines of that face, coinciding neatly with the appearance of a rather sleepy-looking (but obviously not sleepy-looking enough) Peeves, who, delighted at his seemingly captive audience, proceeded to let out a series of ear-splitting shrieks that did entirely no good at all.
That is to say, Antares' robes began to glow a sickly green with suppressed magic, and Severus could not remember ejecting Peeves from anywhere faster.
Once the new and somewhat alarming trial was past, Severus thought to ask Antares just one more thing.
"Where on earth are the other two? Warrington and – and Pucey, I think? I believe – "
"Didn't want to wake them," Antares volunteered shakily, looking a little more sullen than before. "Didn't know there were lunatic ghosts all over the place – "
"And I didn't know you'd go shooting your wide little mouth off to such an easily offended ghost as the Bloody Baron about your supposed heritage – "
"It wasn't like that! He just said he recognised me, and I sort of said my last name was Black, and he just went loony on me – "
"Oh all right – " Severus sallied forth, seizing the irritatingly contrite boy by the arm and tugging him after him through familiar turns in the dungeons. "I have plenty to say to you, nevertheless, and it might as well be said now, where no one – " He opened the door to the nearest classroom, as he simply did not have the time or energy to go on wandering the dungeons, brat in tow, and gave Antares a none-too-gentle push – " – can overhear us. Sit down."
Antares sat down, oddly obedient, in the indicated chair, which was directly opposite the large desk at the head of the classroom. The sixth years' classroom, Severus mused, for a moment, if I remember correctly…
"You know, of course, that you cannot reveal the true history of your name," he began abruptly, leaning carelessly back against the large desk, intentionally looming over Antares as much as was possible as he did so. The boy rolled his eyes, gamely trying to hide a sniffle, but Severus kept on – this was important, whether he knew it or not – "So have you decided on an appropriate background? Before you answer, think it over. Is it verifiable when placed beside your real history as a Black? If not – "
"Look," the boy cut in rudely, "everyone's going to assume I'm some relation to Sirius Black. It's easy to get around – I'll just be vague, and say no if I have to, 'cos when it comes down to it, he was cast out of the family and I'm not related to him in that sense. And about my parents – I'll just say I'm adopted, and my adoptive mum's a witch, and she raised me by herself. No idea who my real parents are, lived in an orphanage for a while, la di dah, la di dah. Checks out, doesn't it?"
Severus glared at him, but felt forced to nod his head in assent. It was a simple cover, and a solid one, to be honest, but it was just so galling to be interrupted when –
"Is there anything else?" the impertinent young voice sniffed as its bleary-eyed owner twitched in his seat. "I'm a bit hungry, so – "
"If you want to eat alone with the Headmaster, you may go immediately," Severus cut in, letting a vicious little smile rise to his lips. Antares blanched noticeably – aha, not quite gotten rid of that fear yet – and he was content. "Well then. I was speaking of your vague descent – what will you do when people require stories of your life, or other such nonsense?"
"Tell them the truth glossed over," Antares said, through gritted teeth. "Really, do you think I'm – "
"Just making sure," Severus said viciously, mind racing. The hardest thing about the dire conversation he'd just had with Albus was knowing what to do, apart from making sure the boy didn't fall into the wrong company, or – but really, what was there to guard against? If such an unsavoury ghost as the Bloody Baron took an immediate (and admittedly rather spurious) dislike towards him, there surely must be some promise.
Ah, and in that case –
"Next time, if anyone, ghost or not, should give you trouble, your efforts would be better served in standing up to them, and not quivering on the ground, waiting for rescue. In short, attack first, ask questions later." Antares' eyes narrowed – good – and he, for a brief moment, stayed entirely silent when Severus began to teach him a simple spell for warding off ghosts. Then, as he'd hoped, the boy's natural curiosity spurred him on to grudgingly wave his wand in the loops required, and even repeat the spell to himself quietly as Severus regained his seat.
Of course, as with any headstrong little fool, such a state of things did not last, and after an inquisitive question about wand patterns in general, Antares seemed to remember that the man before him had just implied he was a coward, and he promptly shut his mouth.
Ignoring, the glare Antares was giving him now, Severus scrutinised the boy's worn appearance once again. The new Slytherins – the likely ones, at least – would certainly not flock to his orbit for any reason aside from those that were purely and predatorily academic, and Severus could simply not see Antares Black becoming some kind of lackey to Lucius' son. Perhaps out of desperation, but -
"Is there anything else?" Antares burst out yet again, actually starting to get up from his seat. Black eyes stopped him in his tracks and made him regain his position, looking sullen and somehow not cowed. Severus' brain itched with thought, forethought and conclusion, and still –
"As you are so sure of your position in Slytherin, I suppose I shall soon become your Head of House," Severus put forth grudgingly, brain still whirring, only just noticing the boy perk up noticeably. "I will give you but little advice for your stay in my House, and let you interpret it as you shall. It is simply this: the only counsel you may trust is your own. I admit that your prospects for," he sneered slightly, "popularity look thin on the ground. Slytherins are impressed by money, power, wits and cunning, but not necessarily in that order. If you play your cards right, you should have gained some sort of standing by your sixth year among your future yearmates, and – "
"Sixth year?" Antares interjected. "You're having me on – "
"No," Severus cut him off. "I did not say you would have gained standing, I said you should have, by then." At the look of nervous incredulity upon the poor boy's face, Severus tried to explain his theory somewhat. "You must understand that publicly, in this school, I am not on your side. If ever the truth of your true family should come out," he paused, holding the boy's eyes with his own, trying to make him understand, "I would lose the favour of nearly every friend, every acquaintance, that I dare claim." Antares reddened, but – just behind those oddly familiar eyes, there was something rare, something Severus had not thought to come across, even here – understanding. "The consequences, as you can probably foresee, would be devastating," he continued, imbuing his low tone with all the meaning he could possibly squeeze into a few words, meanings that he knew almost by heart now.
Capture. Torture. Death –
"Okay," was all the boy offered, but the fear Severus saw flicker within was enough to satisfy him for now, accompanied as it was by the all-too-natural excitement that any boy would feel confronted with real intrigue at this age. Silence held for a moment, and then –
"Professor? Professor Snape? I think we've lost him – "
The urgent, anxious tone of Adrian Pucey burst upon them, followed by its frantic owner and his equally frantic friend, both of whom sighed and scolded when they caught sight of Antares perched nervously in his chair. After their entrance, it was all Severus could do to get them out of the classroom – he never normally allowed younger students in it, and it seemed to them some sort of absurd novelty – and finally order them off to breakfast.
And then, all too soon, he was alone, and still somehow worried. Would the Headmaster's words hold true? Did that boisterous, irritatingly curious eleven-year-old boy really own and use the wand that contained the brother of the core of his dreaded Master's wand?
"I suppose it all remains to be seen," he muttered, a little resignedly, to himself, giving the dark classroom one last look before he shut the door. Perhaps, in a month or two, he could really think and worry and scheme as Albus seemed to require of him. But now – it was too soon to tell.
And then Severus put a hand in his pocket and, hit by the sudden remembrance of the salve he'd been supposed to put on the boy's rather shocking burns the night before, he swore, and rubbed at his eyes. It would have to wait for another time, really –
And with that, he headed for his quarters once again, strongly wishing to return to his bed.
A/N: Can't believe this darn chapter is done. A bit dark, wasn't it? And I'm sorry if I went too expository or revealed too much – I'll make up for that in spades, I can tell you. And do tell me if you spot any mistakes I (probably) missed. Apologise for lateness – y'all know why, so won't go into it here. Hope you enjoyed it...the next one is certainly on the way.
