Chapter Nine
Wednesday, the 21st
A revealing cough that disturbed the heavy silence every few minutes was the only sound that could be heard in Severus' laboratory that night. It was already a quarter to 10 and two cauldrons, one of them considerably larger than the second, were being manipulated and worked on for over 2 hours.
Severus was focused on another batch of nutrition potions for Madam Inas. He was loathe to admit that he rather missed the habit of brewing potions for an infirmary, even if he did complain rather fiercely about doing so. He had never tired to tell Poppy to just let the dunderheads suffer through their recovery; he believed it was the best way to make sure the students never attempted to do anything idiotic enough to get them in her care in the first place.
But taking in consideration Ingrid's method of dealing with her patients and the fact that even that didn't put the most careless students on hold, he doubted anything else would. Severus was sure the mediwitch was making the two seventh-years Brontë in her care were lectured to exhaustion about the imbecility of preparing and drinking an illegal and experimental potion to try and lose weight in record time.
The chits had almost seriously damaged their internal organs and body with that stunt. If Snape himself hadn't scented the sicken sweet smell of the belladonna, and Inas hadn't noticed with acute precision that the girls seemed to eat nothing at all and lost about 15 pounds in only two days, a few restorative draughts and rest would be the very least the young women would need.
As it happened, they were to stay for a week in the infirmary and were forced to eat every single one of their most hated meals, like rare liver beef and beet salad. Even though the food indeed provided ample nourishment, Severus very much doubted they were needed when taken with his potions.
It was Ingrid's personal and most effective method of persuasion when belittling lecture wouldn't do. Each day Snape approved of her more and more. Even though he was focused on his stirring and chopping, Severus didn't miss the tension that was oozing from his apprentice.
Ever since Ernest had arrived for their evening lessons he had looked unusually anxious and doubtful. Severus had caught his student opening his mouth to say something and then haltingly snapping his mouth closed in rapid succession several times. Normally Snape would press people to talk, the very situation galling him but for some reason he decided to let Ernest Hamilton be, let the boy find his way around whatever he wanted to say. Severus could easily ignore the childish behavior, he was good at it.
As it happened, Ernest must have decided that almost 3 hours of procrastination was enough.
'Professor?'
'Yes, Mr. Hamilton?' Snape asked without looking up 'Are you having problems with your Peace Potion?'
Severus knew the answer for that question but since Ernest didn't seem ready to fill in anything else he just used his most disbelieving and contemptuous tone. It normally pushed people to get to the point. With Hamilton it was no different.
'No, sir. I have already started on the Felix Felicis.'
A slight stutter was enough to make Severus' patience and aloofness grow thin. It had taken his pupil a rather long time but Ernest had come about his fear and wasn't the same annoyingly impressionable teenager around his professor.
Snape took a deep meaningful breath and let his eyes search for Ernest's hazel ones. The boy was hunched over his ingredients, obsessively rearranging them over the worktable.
'Very well,' the professor took a deep and annoyed breath before adding knowingly 'Then what is it?'
Ernest looked around nervously and that made the older man frown. Escaping routs, Hamilton was looking for escaping routs that hadn't happened in a long time. The boy was also wriggling his hands together, the muscles of his jaw working furiously. Something was really off in the way the boy was acting.
Closing his eyes tightly for a few seconds, Ernest seemed to be gathering his strengths and courage to say whatever it was he needed to say.
'I'd like to,' the student averted his eyes to a stained spot on the worktable '...ask your ...permission ...to be absent ...of our class ...for the weekend ...sir.'
The unnecessary pause between every couple of words was unusual as well as rather irritating. Hamilton was a well-spoken adolescent, unexpectedly so for his age and he refrained from doing anything other than acting like a man on the making, especially around Severus.
The older man knew that his opinion was important to his student, Snape wasn't foreign to the feeling of being looked up to – despite of what people might imagine. He wasn't a model of sociability or beauty; Severus had never been and had lost the desire to try to become one when he was still barely shy out of kindergarten.
Still, Snape was a powerful wizard, one that, despite of most of it being of the scornful type; inspired a lot of respect. Not many could really appreciate Severus' value but someone always did, even if ephemerally.
Draco Malfoy had been one of those, and one of the few Severus had actually given any sort of credit to. Sometimes he could remember the late night talks he had had with Lucius' son, the boy always willing to help Snape with his researches and to learn a bit more about potions. Draco had never really cared about the craft, never really had the passion Ernest had for the subject but the subtle and precise power that such an activity demanded from and granted to a wizard had always fascinated the Slytherin.
Draco had inherited Lucius' poise, his quick thinking and his ruthlessness but unfortunately he had all of Narcissa's temper and stubbornness. A Black trait, Snape had once called it to Malfoy Sr.'s immense amusement.
Who would have thought that it was that same trait that would condemn nearly all members of that ancient wizarding family and take with it many others? Severus didn't like to think about it, about those last moments, that fateful year and all the collateral damage that it caused.
Severus shook himself mentally; it was no use to think about such things. Ernest was nothing like Draco and Snape couldn't help but resent and be thankful for that, all at the very same time. Hamilton was as self-assured and self-aware as Malfoy had been but Ernest was as controlled and focused as the Potions Master had ever wished Draco to be.
In a situation like this, Draco would be looking him right in the eye, not in a challenging way but still slightly defying. He wouldn't be nervously wriggling his hands together and looking anywhere but Severus. Still, Draco would dread rebuke and disappointment just as Ernest was in that moment.
'The whole weekend?', he asked blankly.
'Yes.'
The former spy nodded absentmindedly as his student shifted his weight from one leg to the other every few seconds. Reaching for a flask of hellebore, Severus waited for his cauldron to start shimmering before dropping a handful of the ingredient into it.
'I was already going to excuse you from your duty for the weekend, Mr. Hamilton.'
'I know, sir' Ernest replied with a subtle relieved sigh 'Still, I thought I should ...ask ...anyway.'
Severus nodded thoughtfully and began to stir his potion.
'Your potion is ready?'
'Yes', Ernest placed both hands over the worktable 'I always brew one in advance.'
'I see', was the noncommittal reply 'How is it going?'
Instead of answering the boy asked a question of his own.
'Have you talked to Prof. Potter, sir?'
'Why would I, Mr. Hamilton?' Severus raised one of his eyebrows, making his student blush slightly.
'My potion ...although Prof. Potter did make it better and stronger -'
'... it hasn't worked in quite a while, has it, Mr. Hamilton?'
'No, sir.'
'How long?'
'Over eight months.'
Severus was shocked but hid it with his usual impassive grace. Over eight months. Potter had made him think that the problems with the potion had been going on for a good amount of time but not so long. Looking at Ernest, Snape took in the boy's fidgeting and obvious unease and finally realized the last piece of the puzzle.
Hamilton hadn't told Potter about his problems with his potion. The boy knew that his – he hated to think of the Golden Boy this way but still it didn't change the fact that he was one now – professor would notice the signs sooner or later but Ernest most certainly wasn't the one who warned Potter of what was happening.
Suddenly the Potions Master was reminded of something he hadn't thought in a long while: "He made me chain him". Again he was consumed with curiosity to know what exactly had happened, what a 14 years old boy would do or say to convince an adult – even if this adult was a complete imbecile – to chain him during the full moon.
Severus remembered that Lupin had done the same thing during his stay at Hogwarts during Potter's third year. And taking in consideration the werewolf's battered wrists; Lupin was probably more than used to doing that to himself. Was it something Mr. Hamilton was only currently indulging himself in or was it something he had learned from the older dark creature?
Somehow Snape doubted that Remus Lupin had ever found fit to tell an adolescent to physically restrain himself, even if this adolescent happened to be a ruthless and savage monster once the moon was round and ever watchful.
No, Hamilton most certainly had decided that all by himself. But still it didn't change the fact that he had convinced Potter to chain him, and that in itself seemed ludicrous. Apparently absolutely necessary, but still outrageous. Severus couldn't imagine his former student relenting easily in such an endeavor, in this life or the next. No matter how logical it could sound.
The only explanation for that was that the boy's current potion wasn't helping in the least and left the young man without any sense of reality whatsoever to make him distinguish himself from the beast that took over him every month.
And it most certainly explained Potter's utter desperation to convince Snape to take the other's former position at Durmstrang.
'It has been working less and less each month, hasn't it?' Severus asked knowingly.
'Yes.' Ernest sighed resignedly 'It's been a few months that I ...Prof. Snape, sir?'
Severus raised an eyebrow at the boy's procrastination. It wasn't like Hamilton to beat around the bush like that. The clear amber eyes were pale with what could only be apprehension and doubt. So apparently this little heart-to-heart wasn't over, then.
'Yes, Mr. Hamilton?'
Ernest looked at Severus, clearly trying to make some dire decision. Snape tried to figure out what could possibly be and he couldn't fathom the reason for the boy's hesitation. The young man had already confided the current inefficiency of his potion but obviously was nowhere near asking assistance on that regard anytime soon.
Severus could understand why his student was being so wary about approaching the subject with him. The Slytherin wasn't known for his charitable persona and he knew that very well but it didn't mean that if given the right motivation, or if asked in the right way, he wouldn't accept any challenge thrown his way.
That had been one of the reasons why Severus offered Ernest Hamilton an apprenticeship. The adolescent had talent no doubt but there was no way Snape could work on his pupil's potion without the boy's direct participation on the process.
'I'd like to tell you something but I'd like to ask you to, please, do not mention it to Headmaster Antokolsky, sir.' The blonde looked away briefly and frowned deeply 'If he found out, Prof. Potter might get in trouble and none of this is his fault. He's merely doing what I have asked him to and he only follows my request because we both know there is no other way.'
Severus had never been good with giving reassurances. He had always loathed hearing them and he had never cared to learn how to give them. Snape reached out for one of the sharp knives from his endless collection and rolled it in his left hand for a moment before chopping the rest of the roots on his worktable, the professor decided to deal with that situation like he always did.
'I trust you to keep all the knowledge I am giving you, do I not?'
He heard Ernest stutter slightly, he had obviously started the younger man.
'Yes, sir.'
Waving absentmindedly to the cauldrons between the both of them, Severus continued on without even bothering to look up.
'Potions are my life, Mr. Hamilton, the only reason why I am here today. I trusted it to you. So, yes, I believe you can indeed trust me if you wish.'
'I know, sir. I never meant to disrespect you but you do understand that –'
Putting his knife aside and dismissing anything the other had to say along those lines, Snape interrupted him dryly.
'Yes, I know, Mr. Hamilton.'
The silence that stretched after that was tense and quite understandable. Severus was sure his pupil was coming to a serious and defining decision. It wasn't like him to indulge in that kind of moment but it was necessary, he had been waiting for that moment and it was important that the initiative came from Hamilton.
With a deep breath, the 16 years old gathered his courage himself.
'Professor', Ernest waited until Snape looked at him before swallowing visibly and continuing on '...would you mind to follow me? I would like to take you somewhere.'
When they walked up in the direction of the main hall Snape was indeed intrigued about where the boy would lead him. When they again began their descend through the special staircase that lead to the Headmaster's office, he was positively suspicious about the fact that Ernest knew the private password to a secret passage that was successfully hidden at the seemingly dead end outside the imposing wooden door of Antokolsky's quarters.
But when they reached a tunnel, that clearly was taking them deep into the underground of the school, Severus was sure he wasn't going to like whatever Hamilton was going to show him.
The tunnel was large and enabled him and Hamilton to walk side by side without brushing past each other or having to hunch. That was really impressive for the student was well over 5 feet 8 and Severus was slightly over 6 feet 2. Usually, secret tunnels tended to be incredibly slim and uncomfortable, at times very useful, but still horrible for his back.
As they went on, Snape tried to figure out where this was going to end. The boy at his side was silent, solemn even. In a very twisted way, the professor thought. In fact, that was the first time he had ever seen Ernest at ease outside his dungeons or far away from Potter. The young man had the same calm expression he had when he was working on a cauldron, as held a torch he had lit with a controlled Incendio and was now carrying with masterful intimacy.
Did this mean that he felt comfortable there?
This boy was so unusual, so different, dark and indescribable that Snape couldn't help but feel absolutely uneasy with the many sides of Hamilton that reminded him of --- himself.
Obviously he never had been bitten by a werewolf at the mere age of five, neither did he have a brother with whom he had witnessed his parent's suicide (even if for a greater cause, there was no other way to put it) and never had he seen them being slay by a horde of werewolves, but Severus knew what it was like to have one solo source of joy and sanity. He had seen the boy at his classes, had watched him during the meals and studied him every evening at their extra lessons.
Ernest didn't have friends, Severus was quick to notice. Hamilton talked to some of his schoolmates, as Potter had assured him in the summer, but somehow the professor was sure that his pupil did it more for someone else's sake than his own.
Hamilton clearly had serious problems with one of his housemates and some other students. Severus hadn't been able to completely figure out what the issue was for certain, but something kept nagging at the back of his head and clenching his guts rather fiercely whenever he thought about it – making him afraid of already knowing what the reason for the constant bully from Mr. Masson really was about. Hamilton was the best in his year, but he was nowhere as annoying as Potter's know-it-all friend or a show-off as Percival Weasley had been.
Ernest was quiet, efficient and mostly avoided to bring any type of attention to his person. Talking with the other professors, Snape had learned that his class and Potter's were the only two that Ernest truly participated in a public manner. The other members of the staff had told Severus that even though they all were aware that Mr. Hamilton knew the answers for the questions they asked in their class, the boy rarely ever answered them.
"Ernest is an incredible student, out of the ordinary intelligent and focused", Dimitri Boyd, Nárvhalr's Head of House and the Transfiguration professor, had told him once "...but he is dreadfully introverted and highly secretive. What is either a very helpful quality, or merely a troubling flaw."
Naturally Potter had overheard the conversation and found fit to defend Mr. Hamilton rather heartily. That was another thing Snape couldn't quite put together in the big picture. He understood that perhaps the Golden Boy had taken to himself the part of the boy's surrogate brotherly figure while his student was at Durmstrang, especially if Hamilton had been so close of Lupin, who was nothing else but a surrogate godfather to Potter. But still, they were indeed far too close than Snape would've anticipated.
It obviously had been a hard decision to Ernest to choose between his lessons with the Potions Master and his apparent confidant. Potter had been affected as well, if his constant scowl and grunting were any indication he was far from pleased at the fact that Severus had prohibited Hamilton of telling him or anyone anything about their lessons.
Severus couldn't care less; he wasn't about to change his only condition anytime soon, least of all for the sake of the bloody Boy Who Lived's peace of mind.
'This way, Professor.'
The boy's soft voice echoed and reverberated through the tunnel as if he had howled. The unpleasant feeling Severus had felt came back full force, and he had a hard time concealing it. At least, that was what he thought, for Snape was sure Ernest wouldn't be able to tell that the Potions Master was uncomfortable not, even if he had been indeed looking up at Severus.
The younger one stopped before an iron door, and a chill went up and down Snape's spine.
A cell.
A hidden dark cell.
Severus shook his head to try and keep all the screams, the moaning and writhing, pleading and laughter deep inside his mind.
It's over, he repeated to himself, it's over, Severus. Pull yourself together, damn it.
Snape took a deep breath and closed his hands into fists at his sides, willing himself to follow his mind's barked order. When he finally was in complete control of himself again, Severus felt his sweat turn cold at the small hissing sounds that came from the young man before him.
Parseltongue.
'What in Hades' name are you doing?'
The hissing stopped abruptly and the former Death Eater couldn't help the relieved sigh that left his mouth. Ernest was looking up wide-eyed at him, apprehensive and surprised. Perhaps he had been harsher than he had thought, but in all honestly Severus was glad. It was better to know that he had used his most aggressive tone and not the pleading one he dreaded that could have left his mouth.
'I'm opening the door, sir', Hamilton answered readily and warily '...it's well protected so only Prof. Potter and I can get it open.'
'I doubt this is someplace any of the other students could simply stumble to.'
'Most certainly not, sir, but I – ' the boy interrupted himself 'We don't want to take chances.'
Snape only nodded once. He knew that the boy would reassume the hissing soon and he pierced his nails on the heels of his hands, grounding his teeth tightly.
'I see Prof. Potter taught you Parseltongue.'
Ernest expression could only be described as crestfallen. The boy genuinely looked disappointed.
'Only this password really', he answered the unasked question then contradicted himself with slight shrug 'Well, not really. I had to memorize the sounds without really understanding the meaning. Prof. Potter says he doesn't fully know how to speak the dead language only that he does understand it and speak it. He said he wouldn't be able to teach me, even if he wanted to.'
Severus discerned in that subdued tone that the unwilling withhold of knowledge bothered Ernest. One more thing that Snape could identify with, even if he had learned to abhor that particular skill inherited by Salazar's heirs and whatnot.
'It is a rather long password' he commented in a deceiving uncaring tone.
'I came up with it. Prof. Potter said it had to be something both of us would memorize easily enough. And that maybe only we would think of. We-'
'…weren't taking chances, yes.'
'It's a quote from Epictetus', Ernest looked vaguely anxious, what made Severus sure that the boy was trying to hold back his excitement 'Prof. Potter lent me a book with several quotes and biographies once, and he has the habit of underlining his favorite bits. There was this one quote that he had underlined and that I really liked it. We talked about it many times and it only seemed natural to turn it into our password.'
Severus refrained from berating the uncontrollable babbling, mostly because he could see Ernest was downright put out at himself for doing it in the first.
'You don't have to tell me the password, Mr. Hamilton', he stated plainly in a rare surge of unmasked sincerity 'Even if I did know what it was, I most definitely wouldn't be able to use it for I have no knowledge or desire to learn it in Parseltongue.'
Hamilton nodded his understanding and looked back at the door. Severus could see the boy reaching for it with his free hand, his thumb fondling the handle thoughtfully. The young man took a few seconds saying the whole password again and took a deep breath before pushing the door open; there was no mistaking that the boy was hesitating greatly to show whatever was behind the door.
Whatever Hamilton's reason had been, Snape couldn't really understand Ernest's sudden need for reassurance. At least, he didn't until Ernest lit the many torches in the room with a simple Lumos.
Snape was speechless. Before him wasn't an empty room, or any paraphernalia he could have conjured up just to appease his imagination. In ways it was way worse. He was suddenly standing right in the middle of a clearing. Enormous trees surrounded him and he could hear the cricking of insets and other nature creeping sounds. The more he looked, the more he tried to relocate himself, the more Severus was sure he had been there before.
The smell was strong, that of unmoving and perpetual forest, there was something musk and indescribable about it. Something forbidden.
And then it hit him, he had seen those trees before, at least he had seen the original on what those replicas had been based on. Ernest Hamilton might not know but he had part of the Forbidden Forest in that room. Before he could say anything regarding his latest epiphany, Hamilton was talking again.
'Prof. Potter and Prof. Antokolsky enchanted it with the help of a friend of theirs', Ernest kept his voice low, almost reverent '… so I'd have all the space I'd need.'
Severus was stumped. He was in the middle of what was undoubtedly half of the forest he had lived close by for over 20 years, a feat like that demanded a great amount of power and Transfiguration skill. Snape knew for sure that Piotr had taken a mastering at that kind of magic; McGonagall herself had introduced him to one of the best Transfigurations Masters in the world after Antokolsky graduated. Potter had never really shown much talent on the craft, but then again Potter was rarely ever outstanding in any class back at Hogwarts that wasn't Defense Against the Dark Arts.
After Voldemort's defeat – Severus had forced himself to name the devil many years before – Potter had proved he had power, raw and untrained as it was. From what Snape had witnessed in the final battle and everything he had learned in those months of unwitting correlation at Durmstrang, Potter had learned to control and focus his magic but that didn't change the fact that sheer power alone wouldn't be enough to help build such a solid and flawless alternative universe inside that room.
That left the third person Hamilton had mentioned. It had to be someone who'd be able to channel Piotr's natural talent and Potter's magical ability, blending the two together and making it all possible. It had to be someone with unquestionable magical knowledge as well an impressive amount of control. Severus had his suspicion on who had actually aid his boss and co-worker in the task.
Ernest watched him unblinkingly, gauging his reactions as Snape took in the environment slowly and carefully. Snape analyzed every inch his eyes could see, every tree, bushes and even the open starless night above them. An unwanted feeling of homesickness took hold of Severus' heart, in such a merciless way that he almost couldn't breath for a moment. That was when he caught a glimpse of something on the ground, something that sparkled and was clearly not part of the magically altered ground. He walked slowly towards it, guided by the clear moonlight what he saw made him look up inquiringly at Mr. Hamilton.
'This - is a recent development', the dirty blonde young man said quietly, nodding towards the shackles that shone obscenely midst the dead leaves 'Before, Prof. Potter could keep me under control. Even when the potion didn't work quite as expected...but it's been a while since --'
Ernest swallowed forcefully and took a deep breath before continuing; he didn't meet Severus' eyes and kept on looking at the silver fetters.
Silver, the only thing that could and would hurt and stop a werewolf on rampage.
'He couldn't restrain me', Hamilton continued almost too softly for Severus to catch the words 'I was completely immune to any of his spells and most of his wards. I almost –'
The sudden halt was enough to give away all the fear and guilt the boy was trying to keep from his voice.
'The blood-' Ernest's breath caught tellingly but the boy's expression remained blank 'I-I found him unconscious. In the morning. At least, I didn't bite him', he sighed in defeat 'I practically - ripped him apart. I could cast the spell myself and do not put him through this ...but I could break it'
The pleading tone, the need for understanding was crystal clear in the boy's voice, even if Hamilton still refused to look his professor in the eyes. Severus listened, quiet and ever observant as he absorbed everything.
'I need someone else to cast it' the young pupil stated firmly, his tone almost bordering on fierceness 'He didn't want to do it. He refused. He said he'd never do something like this to me. That it wasn't right and that we would find another way.'
'But the potion was no longer working' Ernest's words were strained now with helplessness 'I tried to find a way to strength it. I tried everything I could think of but there was nothing. By that time, he had realized that the potion's power on me was growing thin and I know he's still trying to find a way to make it work again.'
Snape watched as his student forced himself to unclench his fists and raised his chin from his chest to meet his tutor's gaze. The boy looked knackered, beaten and scarred, he looked far too young, far too resigned, far too thin and tired. It was the first time that Snape really looked at Ernest.
Sure enough he had watched the boy relentlessly during their tutoring, capturing little things, quirks and habits like Ernest's perpetual battle with his hair – that insisted to find an unwanted place over his eyes every few second. Severus had picked on Hamilton's lacking sleep and eating habits, he had smelled the insecurity and almost non-existent backbone but Snape had never really looked at the boy.
The professor had never seen the pale, silvery scar that ran over Ernest's jaw, nor had he seen the indentations he carried on top of his left hand between his thumb and forefinger. Snape had never seen the closed, but poorly healed, injury on the young man's bottom lip; one that had left a pinkish mark that became white whenever Hamilton bit it savagely – what only happened when the younger man was nervous, as Ernest was in that moment.
Severus had never before realized how much Ernest Hamilton reminded him of Remus Lupin.
And just as soon as that realization hit him, the Potions Master knew exactly why he hadn't allowed himself to notice all the signs. Because that wouldn't make Ernest his pupil, it'd bring old resentment to the face of someone far too young to handle it or even deserve it. Despite of his anger, his bitterness, Severus had never hated Lupin because of his condition. Lycanthropy had never been something one could control, least of all back in a time when murderous beasts such as Greyback were on the loose.
It was something else, something that had always evoked pure horror, distrust and disgust in Snape: cowardice. There was no other way to put it, Lupin himself had admitted as much when he went back from whatever downright pack he had been with to Hogwarts in Potter's third-year.
Severus doubted he could ever forgive Lupin for bowing down and keeping silent for all the humiliation he witnessed, for every abuse and unfair attack Potter Senior and Black used to put Snape through. All because the werewolf was too much of a coward to stand-up to his friends, and of course, irony would have it that Remus Lupin was the only one in that quartet that actually saw anything wrong with the way Severus was bullied.
It wasn't what he was that the Potions Master couldn't stand, it was who Lupin had been and probably would forever be that irked Snape. Why, hadn't the werewolf taken the easy way out and disappeared as soon as he found out about what had happened with his dear friends? Hadn't he left, without a word, not even caring about the destiny of the son of his so-called friends? Lupin was weak, had ever been and Severus couldn't stand that about him.
But Ernest was a different story. Hamilton wasn't weak; he was subdued, resigned, controlled and extremely self-aware. He didn't provoke anyone, neither did he allow anyone to be bullied before him, but he had the odious habit of taking everything people ditched out to him and for the life of him, Severus couldn't understand why.
'I can't wait' Ernest said limpidly, locking his gaze with his professor's and making sure he had the older man's undivided attention 'I can't keep on waiting. Not with him here with me every month. I didn't bite him for two months straight but I still don't know how.'
'Each time I woke up to find him like a-', amber eyes darkened in what was suspiciously like fear, his breath catching slightly every now and again '...a ragged doll... made of flesh and blood... I begged him to do it. It was either this or leaving me here alone but he wouldn't. He said he wouldn't leave me alone. So he chained me. And he has been doing it ever since.'
The silence that followed was heavy and oppressing, yet neither one said a thing. Hamilton continued to look into Severus' eyes, waiting for the former Death Eater's indignation or perhaps scathing remarks. Snape offered none.
'What do you do when you're at home?' he asked neutrally throwing the boy off-balance for a second.
'I go to Mr. Remus Lupin's' at the unasked question in the intense onyx eyes, he added 'I grew up there after my parents died. He and Miss Tonks took care of my brother and me for 3 years. When we decided to move, they made me promise that I'd go there every full moon. I agreed.'
'Mike doesn't like it very much. He feels –' Ernest flinched as if someone had slapped him and looked away quickly, closing his fists tightly again '...useless and I hate to make him feel like this but... but there's nothing he can do about it. Nothing I can do about it. Mike, Michael, is my older brother.'
'I see', was all Snape said, not giving away he had already known most of it 'Did he come to Durmstrang too?'
'Yes, but he finished his studies at Hogwarts.'
Severus nodded and knelled to take a closer look at the shackles, there were two and they were firmly attached to the ground. They were protected and charmed in every way possible; running his right hand over one of them Severus could sense what were unquestionably a very strong Indestructible Charm, as well as an ancient and almost unbreakable Protective Charm.
'I gather there is a deeper reason for you to show me all of this, other than you trying not to rise my fury at your irresponsible absence from your duties for days, Mr. Hamilton' Snape commented as he studied the silver fetters.
A light bustling of robes told him that Hamilton was fidgeting, a habit that Severus had only witnessed a handful of times and that had never been seen by anyone else but himself and Potter.
'Yes', the boy started to slowly address the masked inquiry 'I'd like to try and make my potion work. Prof. Potter is good, and he has done much for me so far but I see how he's frustrated that he can't think of anything as well. I know you can find a way to make the potion work on me again' the impressive amount of faith and certainty in that young voice forced Severus to look up at the boy 'I know you're the only one who can, sir. I don't want to be chained for the rest of my life and I don't want to force Prof. Potter to chain me forever either. It destroys him a little ...each time ...I can see it in ...in his eyes.'
And clearly he's not the only one, Severus thought carefully as his student fixed his glare at something else but himself.
'Very well, Mr. Hamilton', Snape replied airily as he stood up in one graceful move 'We will work together on this new experience. I figure it will be a good enough test for your seemingly unperturbed dedication.'
The happiness and relief were almost tangible, as they pulsed from deep inside the boy's soul. His magic was reeking of pleasure and hope, creating a small static shock effect that made the hair on the nape of Severus' neck stand to no end. He automatically sneered in response and that got Ernest to force his magic back to acceptable normalcy but the boy didn't quite manage it.
'Thank you, sir' the student said in a polite and formal tone that belied the giddiness in his eyes.
'Not so fast, boy', Snape warned viciously, his lips twitching when his stern words were enough to make Hamilton get a hold of his annoying excitement '...you must know by now that everything in life has a price, every deal have it's drawbacks. I have two conditions, Mr. Hamilton.'
Ernest was suddenly as grave as he was in class. With his face marked by a precocious maturity that had no business marking his features in the first place.
'What are they, sir?'
'First, I will stay here with you and Mr. Potter during your social withdrawal', Severus continued ruthlessly as soon as the boy's mouth opened '...and I don't want to hear any excuses or protests against my decision. From either one of you, so you will have to tell your Dark Art professor not to bother me about this.'
The adolescent looked decidedly put out, very aware that he had been cornered into agreeing to something he wasn't OK with at all. Severus allowed himself a ghost of a smile.
'Yes, sir' was the almost groaned answered.
'Since you'll be at it, you shall tell your Dark Arts professor that he will assist us in this research.'
'You want Prof. Potter to work with us?' Ernest sounded overly stumped to Snape's tastes.
'I don't want anything, Mr. Hamilton' Severus stressed with a well placed curl of lips '...but seeing that you two have accomplished so much working together, I believe I'll need both your assistance in this endeavor.'
Severus didn't say that it was most likely that the Golden Boy wouldn't have it any other way either, what meant that the ex-spy could only pretend that the insufferable idiot's presence was his own decision, or Snape'd have to deal with Potter's endless whining. For obvious reasons the Potions Master chose the first option. The blonde boy merely nodded and offered his hand.
'Thank you, sir, thank you very much.'
Snape looked at the hand before him, and then back into those wise light eyes. He relented, and took a firm hold of the young hand, knowing that now more than ever he was committing himself to something that he didn't really know he was quite prepared for, or if he truly wanted to face just now.
That not withstanding, Snape shook his student's hand, ignoring the way the boy's magic made the hairs on his arms stand at the barest touch. Hamilton really did need to control his magic just as much as the boy could control his facial expression.
'Let's go, Mr. Hamilton', Severus stated with his no nonsense voice that always got people moving 'I do believe you have a Felix Felicis waiting for you at my dungeons.'
The boy nodded and quickly led them back to his professor's private laboratory, forcing his tutor to dispel bothersome and unavoidable cackles of excited magic on the way.
Author's Note: I'm really sorry for taking so long to post this chapter. I hope you enjoy it anyway, and I sincerely hope Chapter 10 will be up soon.