Chapter 7: The First He Couldn't Hide

Had they ever sat together?

Snape let his eyes wander down the Slytherin table, more than just a little bit annoyed with himself. He had had his House table right in front of his nose for three meals a day ever since he started teaching at Hogwarts on the first of September. And still he could not for the life of him say if Charles Herrington and Nadezhda McKibben had ever sat close to each other at either breakfast, lunch or dinner. Had there ever been any sign that they were a couple? Or had they – for the sake of appearance – always kept away from each other, just as they did now?

Charles was sitting with some fellow fifth-years on the far end of the table. His peers were talking animatedly, most probably about the upcoming Quidditch match, but Charles – even though he was a member of the team – seemed distant. And more than once did Snape see the boy's eyes wander towards the other end of the table, in the direction of a group of sixth-year girls. Nadezhda was sitting among them with her back straight and head slightly inclined as to show the other girls that she was listening intently. Her hands lay folded in her lap, and her eyes were modestly cast down, just as was expected of her. And the other girls looked admiringly at her, trying to imitate her posture. But none of thefm succeeded. None of them could compete with her poise.

Snape looked back at Charles, noticing that something had changed in the boy's look. A month ago, when the two had just broken up, Charles had looked at Nadezhda almost imploringly. Please, tell me that you didn't mean it, his gaze had called out. Tell me that you haven't changed. Tell me my blood status doesn't matter to you.

But Nadezhda had not responded. Instead, she had kept away from Charles and acted as if she hadn't noticed him whenever they were in the same room. And now, Charles was looking at her with the sort of gaze that was normally followed by a pitiful shake of the head and a sigh. Silly girl, that gaze said. You have been taken in. You are a fool and beyond salvation.

Snape clenched and unclenched his right fist a couple of times and then decided to hold onto his coffee mug, forcing himself to ignore the boy's look, a look that was not even directed towards him. That look was hitting a bit too close to home. Lily had looked at him in a similar manner after the incident by the lake. She, too, had shaken her head and sighed, indicating that she considered Snape a lost cause every time she had seen him together with the likes of Avery and Mulciber. And even though all this had happened years ago, the wound was still fresh, bleeding and hurting. Some days, Snape doubted it would ever heal.

'It's a shame, isn't it? I very much liked the idea of those two being a couple. It was a quite ground breaking relationship in Slytherin House.'

Snape turned his head to look at Dumbledore, who was leaning in slightly so no one would overhear the conversation between him and his Potions master.

'You knew?' Snape asked incredulously. 'You knew about McKibben and Herrington?'

Dumbledore nodded. 'I have an uncanny knack of knowing exactly those things that are kept the most secret in this castle,' he responded, his blue eyes twinkling mysteriously behind his half-moon spectacles. 'Charles and Nadezhda have been study partners since Charles' second year,' he explained. 'He was hit by a Bludger and not allowed to leave the hospital wing for three weeks. Horace sent Nadezhda to tutor him. And she kept on helping him with his homework, even long after Poppy had dismissed him.'

Snape nodded pensively. The first time he had heard Charles address Nadezhda, the boy had asked her to help him with his Charms homework. That day, Snape had seen the ghost of a smile in Nadezhda's eyes. Now he wondered if anyone would ever see that again.

'If I may steal some moments of your precious time, Severus,' Dumbledore continued, clearly not noticing the Potions master's ruminative expression. 'I'd like to talk to you in private. My office, if you don't mind. I fear the dungeons are too damp for a man my age.'

'Certainly, Headmaster,' Snape replied, already rising from his chair. It was just as well that Dumbledore coaxed him away. He had no desire to stay in the Great Hall any longer anyway.

'How is Nadezhda doing?' Dumbledore asked some minutes later, as the two men were ascending the spiral staircase that led to the Headmaster's office.

'She is attending all her classes, and as far as I know, her results are acceptable.'

'I am not talking about Nadezhda's grades, Severus,' Dumbledore replied patiently. 'I am wondering how she is doing. How does it look in her heart and soul?'

'If you are referring to Miss McKibben and Mr Herrington breaking up, Headmaster, then I am the wrong person to ask,' Snape snapped.

Dumbledore, in his turn, chuckled and held the door open, gesturing for Snape to enter first. 'You know, Severus, I would not even dream of asking you about your students' love lives. I have no desire to be hexed on such a lovely Halloween morning.'

He approached a window and opened it, turning his face into the fresh autumn winds, inhaling deeply a couple of times.

'A lovely morning, indeed,' he repeated and then looked over his shoulder towards Snape, who was lingering in that part of the office where the rays of the sun couldn't reach him.

'You know what I am talking about, Severus,' Dumbledore pointed out, turning to the dark wizard and letting the window fall shut behind him, shutting out the birds' song and the rustling of the autumn leaves. But the sunlight still lingered.

Snape nodded. He knew all but too well what Dumbledore was talking about. 'Miss McKibben is doing what is expected of her,' he informed the Headmaster.

'I thought as much. How often has she been to Malfoy Manor now?'

'Three times a week for the last month,' Snape responded in a sour tone. He wasn't at all happy with that number. If it were up to him, Nadezhda would not have been to the manor at all. But unfortunately, he wasn't always the one to decide. It was one thing to turn down Barty when the youngster sent an owl and tell him that it was inappropriate for Nadezhda to visit him. Snape could also turn down Lucius' invitations to dinner, claiming that the girl had to study and could not afford to spend the evening dining and wining at Malfoy Manor. But he couldn't keep her safe at the castle all the time. In fact, if he told Lucius no too many times, it might start to look suspicious. And that was something Snape couldn't afford.

'Has Voldemort asked to see Nadezhda yet?' Dumbledore asked.

Snape shook his head. 'Miss McKibben has not yet been summoned,' he responded, stressing the girl's last name just a bit more than necessary. He didn't like Dumbledore using her first name. It eradicated the mental distance Snape was trying so desperately to maintain.

'I assume that the Dark Lord is waiting for Barty's report,' he continued. 'After all, he himself issued the order for Barty to teach the girl the proper ways of a Death Eater.'

'And is Barty fulfilling his task?'

'The boy is somewhat preoccupied,' Snape replied, fighting hard not to sneer. 'His personal interests seem to be interfering with his orders where Miss McKibben is concerned.'

Dumbledore settled in the chair behind his desk and pensively stroked his long white beard. 'In this case, Barty needs to be kept happy,' he pointed out. 'As long as the boy has nothing to complain about, I think we can hope that Voldemort will not get involved.'

Snape agreed. If he kept Nadezhda away from Barty too often, the boy might start complaining. Bellatrix would get wind of it, of course, and she would not waste a second to tell the Dark Lord. And once the Dark Lord knew, Snape would have to come up with a damn good excuse for not allowing Nadezhda to leave the castle. 'It's against school rules' would definitely not cut it. As long as Barty spent time with Nadezhda, however, everyone would assume that he was indeed teaching her Dark magic and Death Eater values and would let the youngsters carry on.

'How is Barty treating the girl?' Dumbledore asked after some moments of silence.

Now Snape did sneer. 'Barty is acting as any other infatuated young man. He can neither keep his eyes nor his hands off his so called bride.'

In fact, Barty was growing bolder and more demanding with every visit to Malfoy Manor. Three weeks ago, he had just looked at Nadezhda like a puppy dog, trying to make her look at him in a similar fashion, but now he would paw at her as soon as she was within reach and claim kisses from her she was unwilling to give. And what Barty was up to when he excused himself and pulled his bride with him, Snape knew only too well. But on the bright side, Barty having his carnal needs satisfied meant that he had neither the time nor the desire to teach Nadezhda Dark magic.

'And Nadezhda is … playing along?' Dumbledore asked tentatively.

Snape's sneer turned into a scowl of the darkest shade. 'Miss McKibben is doing what is expected of her,' he replied curtly, well aware that he was repeating himself. But this was all he had to say. Dumbledore didn't need to know what ways Nadezhda had found to keep Barty happy. It was bad enough that he himself knew. He certainly wished he didn't.

'And you are certain that she has not produced any Dark magic yet?' Dumbledore enquired with a concerned tone in his voice.

'I am most certain, Headmaster,' Snape replied.

'Do you have proof? Or do you trust the girl nowadays?'

Snape's eyes narrowed, and he wondered if Dumbledore was asking a genuine question or if he – once more – knew exactly what was going on. 'I do have proof,' he replied.

'Prior Incantato?'

Snape nodded. He was indeed still using this particular incantation every time he and Nadezhda returned from Malfoy Manor. But nowadays, he didn't use it because he distrusted the girl. When she told him that she had not cast any Dark magic, he believed her. Why would she lie to him? She knew by now that she could trust him.

No, the reason why Snape still used Prior Incantato was the look in Nadezhda's eyes every time she handed over her wand to him upon their return to the dungeons. For a tiny moment, a duration of time shorter than a heartbeat, her green eyes were filled with a silent yet desperate plea. She wanted Snape to check her wand. She wanted him to see for himself that she was still a good witch. Innocent, untainted.

And so Snape did check her wand every time they returned from Malfoy Manor, nodded and wordlessly handed the slim piece of Elder back to her, not knowing what to say. Praise seemed inappropriate, and words of comfort he had none.

Dumbledore sighed. 'I wish there was something else we could do, Severus,' he admitted. 'I don't like this, not at all.'

'Trust me, Headmaster,' Snape replied, 'I do not like it either.'

By eleven o'clock that same morning, Snape had handed out more detentions than over the last two months combined. Not even the Slytherins had been spared. Six of them had been given detention that morning, four of them with Filch. But it didn't seem to work as a deterrent; the little dunderheads just went on blundering, melting cauldrons and spoiling potions, and the list of detentions grew longer and longer at the same rate Snape's scowl grew darker.

Needless to say, the Potions master was in a highly foul mood when he dismissed his last class that morning, fifth-year Slytherin and Gryffindor. Well, dismissed was probably not the right word to use, seeing as he threatened to test a batch of poison on them unless they managed to clear the classroom in under ten seconds. Of course, the students were out of the dungeon faster than Bowtruckles up a tree, and Snape himself turned his back on the door in order to wipe the blackboard. By hand, well-noted, as this simple act proved to be far more therapeutic and relaxing than the use of magic.

After two wipes, however, he froze in mid-movement. Something was wrong. The door to his classroom was charmed to fall shut and seal itself after the last student had left. But so far, the door had not creaked and the lock not clicked. That must mean that there was at least one student left in the room. Who, by Merlin's beard, would have such a pronounced death wish?

Determined to put even the bravest Gryffindor to flight, Snape spun around, the look in his eyes resembling an Arctic ice-storm. He would have that student out of his dungeon before they could say antidote. But he never yelled at the student in front of him.

'Miss McKibben,' he brought forth instead, quite stunned. What was the girl doing in his classroom? 'You are supposed to be attending Charms.'

'Professor Flitwick let me leave early, sir,' Nadezhda replied, her voice steady but her eyes – as always – cast down.

'Then you should be in the Great Hall, having lunch.'

'I've been there, sir.'

Snape felt his temper rise and silently counted to ten. The girl had better spit out why she was in his classroom right away lest he lose his patience.

'I received an owl, sir.'

Snape's eyes narrowed. Mail was usually delivered at breakfast. An owl arriving in the middle of the day could only mean very urgent news.

'From whom?' he demanded to know.

Nadezhda's steps seemed determined as she approached him, but when she produced a roll of parchment from the folds of her robes and handed it over, Snape could see her hand shake. And for some reason, this annoyed him utterly.

Unceremoniously, he snatched the parchment from Nadezhda's hand and unrolled it.

'Your presence is requested immediately,' he read aloud and frowned. This was Lucius' handwriting, alright, but the tone was all wrong. Lucius had never requested the girl's presence before. He had always invited her with the sweetest of words, assuring her how glad he and his wife would be to welcome Nadezhda to the Manor. Lucius requesting her presence didn't bode well.

'You will not be going,' Snape snapped and tossed the parchment into the fire. 'Compile a reply, and tell Lucius that you have classes to attend.'

The girl nodded, and Snape seethed. 'Are you not even going to question my decision?' he bellowed.

Nadezhda shook her head. 'No, sir.'

'And why not?' Snape hissed.

'Because so far, sir, I have never had any reason to.'

Snape glowered. He remembered the Hogwarts Halloween dinner consisting of nothing but sugar already when he had been a student, but pumpkin pie for lunch? Had the elves lost their minds? Pumpkin pie was a dessert, for crying out loud, and certainly not a meal suitable for already hyperactive teenagers! But everyone else seemed happy with the menu, especially the Headmaster, who had already finished his second slice. Better eat then, Snape thought, if only to fill his stomach and avoid having Dumbledore questioning his appetite. He cut off a piece of cake and viciously stabbed his fork into it, silently wondering if he could transfigure it into a pork chop without anyone noticing, when a searing pain on his left forearm almost made him drop his fork.

It was almost unbearable. If he had to describe the pain, Snape would have used the comparison of a white-hot pitchfork being driven into his flesh, just below the elbow, and then being pulled down to his wrist. The Mark was burning like the flames of hell.

With as much grace as he could muster and desperately trying to keep himself from shaking, Snape rose from his chair. He heard Filius Flitwick make a comment about him not liking the menu of the day either but did not answer. He wasn't sure if he'd manage to open his mouth without him screaming.

He strode out of the Great Hall and down the stairs that led to the dungeons, lips tightly pressed together and his hands balled into fists. He had to hurry, he knew that. The Dark Lord did not appreciate being kept waiting.

In his private quarters, Snape pulled on his travelling cloak, not the one he used when he visited Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, but the one that would turn into a hooded robe and a mask once he had Disapparated. It was quite a clever enchantment. Even if a band of Aurors were to raid his quarters, they would not find his Death Eater robes.

'Do you know why you are being summoned?'

Snape spun around. He had not heard Dumbledore come in. Neither had he noticed the Headmaster following him to the dungeons, so preoccupied had he been with the very question the old man had just asked.

Dumbledore carefully closed the door behind him, and Snape shook his head, teeth still clenched. He had not been summoned at all since he had entered Dumbledore's services. The Dark Lord himself had pointed out that it would be counterproductive if Snape were summoned away from Hogwarts right from under Dumbledore's nose. After all, as far as the Dark Lord knew, Dumbledore believed that Snape had turned to the Light for good. He had no idea what Dumbledore was using Snape for.

'I assume,' Snape brought forth, 'that it is something of highest importance. Otherwise, the Dark Lord would not risk summoning me during a school day.'

Dumbledore nodded pensively. 'Be careful,' he implored the younger wizard. 'Do not give him any reason to ...'

'Professor Snape!'

A young male voice and an urgent banging on the heavy wooden door made Snape and Dumbledore look at each other, alarm etched on both their faces. Snape had no time to lose, they both knew that. But there was a student in distress on the other side of that door. They could not just ignore that.

'Professor, please!'

Dumbledore approached the door with swift strides, and Snape fell back into the shadows. Hopefully, the Headmaster would take care of whoever was knocking, and Snape would be able to sneak out. But the sight of Charles Herrington and Nadezhda McKibben made both the Headmaster and the Head of Slytherin understand that the latter would not be going anywhere soon.

'Mr Herrington, what is this all about?'

Charles was supporting Nadezhda to the best of his abilities, which proved to be rather difficult, as the girl seemed to struggle against his grip. But anyone could see that she would be unable to stand on her own. She was deadly pale and shaking like a leaf from head to toe.

'There … there is something wrong with her … her arm,' Charles stammered and let Dumbledore take Nadezhda from him. 'She … she said something about a … a snake.'

Snape's eyes widened in shock, and he rushed forward to pull up the girl's left sleeve, hoping against hope that his suspicion was wrong.

'Why the hell are you still wearing that bracelet?' he thundered, momentarily able to ignore the pain in his own forearm.

'It can't be taken off,' Nadezhda whispered. 'A Sticking Charm, I guess. I never minded. But now ...'

She didn't need to tell him what was happening, Snape could see it all too clearly. The silver bracelet the Dark Lord had gifted Nadezhda with on her seventeenth birthday had changed shape. It had turned into a silver snake with emerald green eyes, curled tightly around the girl's wrist and sunk its teeth into her flesh, producing an ugly, red discolouration that was rapidly spreading up her forearm and obviously causing a fair amount of pain.

It seemed as if Snape was not the only one who was being summoned.