Happy Hallows release in 36 hours, everyone!
Severus left the Slytherin common room to return to his own chambers, having delivered his typical start-of-year lecture and avoided any conversations with the students. The other heads of house chose a more individualized method of governing their respective students, but Severus wanted his Slytherins to understand from the first what was expected and what they could expect.
His rules were simple. If cheating was attempted, it had better be successful enough that he never heard of it. The same standard applied to general rule-breaking. If a student was sent to his office for such an offense because it was poorly executed, they could expect no quarter. That rule was always accompanied by regretful nods from the upperclassmen and wide eyes from the first-years. It was an effective way to manage behavior. They were Slytherins. They were sorted based on personal ambition and cunning. Telling them not to attempt to break the rules would be hypocritical and pointless. Severus had no interest in training up angels, only successful Slytherins. Those that did not yet possess the skills to apply their ambition and cunning would quickly learn from those who did – with little involvement from their head of house.
His last rule always brought a cheer, even from first-years. No matter what the task – always beat Gryffindor. The age-old rivalry was felt by all, and he wanted them to understand immediately that their path to success did not lead toward ending it. He smirked. Despite all her lofty morals, Minerva would no more have the competition end than he would. It would be a form of admitting defeat, something neither of their houses would stand for.
Draco had attempted to catch his eye as he turned to go, but Severus had enough on his mind without attempting to deal with the boy's favor-seeking. He'd admonished the students to get to bed early and left as quickly as possible. His one refuge at Hogwarts was the little suite of rooms just off the dormitory, and at the moment, he was in desperate need of some refuge.
Umbridge. Of all Lucius' tricks, this one was nearly unforgivable. That squeaky little creampuff teaching a sterilized curriculum that a five-year-old would turn up his nose at. But she had come straight to him before the faculty meeting that afternoon, cooing that Lucius Malfoy had told her Severus would be a good source of information and assistance if needed, and she had no doubt they would be excellent friends. Severus had merely stared at her, quelling a dozen murderous urges before giving a curt nod and walking away.
Severus curled his lip. It was one thing to simply find someone to take the Defense job, quite another to then insinuate that he would be a good resource for the person who had taken the position he'd been denied twelve times. The Dark Lord's original intent had been to install Severus in the post, but it quickly became clear than nothing short of an Imperio would convince the headmaster to acquiesce – and the idea of anyone, even the Dark Lord, holding Albus Dumbledore under an Imperius Curse was laughable.
A stack of syllabi lay on his desk, the NEWT level one on top. He had intended to revise it this year, add a few more projects that would require the students to go beyond the printed recipes and delve into an understanding of how the ingredients reacted with one another. After the faculty meeting he'd simply not had the stomach for it, and he was hardly in the mood now. Still, he didn't want to start the year without at least reviewing the upper level requirements. The few students he'd had who were truly devoted to the art of potions had done this work independently, but he saw no reason why the less invested should be allowed to malinger.
The fire flamed green as he moved toward his desk. Severus held his breath for a long moment. If it was Albus, he would simply come in regardless of invitation. If it was anyone else, his grate was protected so that visitors must first request permission before invading his quarters. If he ignored the message, he could work in peace. A horrid image of Umbridge waiting by her mantel with that ridiculous tiny grin was enough to send him several steps away from the fireplace. Another green flare stopped him. Whoever it was, they were persistent.
He turned on his heel and strode to the mantel, stooping to collect the two parchments that had landed on the rug.
Severus, I'd like a word. Minerva.
He scoffed at the imperious tone. It had taken Minerva almost a decade to stop treating him like a student, and their uneasy camaraderie of recent years tended to fade when she was under stress or worried about her Gryffindor brats.
The second parchment was even more dictatorial.
It's imperative that we speak before tomorrow. M.
He sighed and reached for the jar of Floo Powder. It seemed unavoidable, and this was preferable to Minerva appealing to Dumbledore. He poked his head in and connected to her office. She was in the act of putting a third note into the grate when his face appeared. The parchment caught him full in the face with surprising force. Severus caught the missive and crumpled it, scowling at the woman.
She added insult to injury by giving a surprised, barking laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, Severus. I didn't expect you to answer."
He raised an eyebrow. "You said it was imperative."
"That's never made a difference before, young man," Minerva said in her best Head-of-House scolding tone. When he merely raised the other eyebrow, her reproving frown slipped a bit. "Forgive me, Severus, I didn't intend to start a quarrel."
She rarely apologized for comments such as that. Severus took a second look at her, noting the knitted brow that usually spelled trouble for some unfortunate. The severe look was tempered by the worry in her eyes, the generally unsettled demeanor that rather startled him. Minerva was a worrywart and an inexorable disciplinarian, but it was difficult to shake the stolid core that made her beloved and feared by the students.
He pursed his lips and jerked his head back into the Floo."Come through. We can talk more privately in my apartments."
Minerva came with a teakettle grasped in one hand. "Don't smirk like that. I'm in need of some tea to settle myself before bed and I doubted you'd have any to offer."
Severus silently indicated the small cabinet by the fireplace as he seated himself. Containers of tea and coffee blends lined the two shelves within. "I'm a potions master. Brewing is a hobby."
"Twenty years I've known you, Severus, and you still manage to surprise me at least once a year," Minerva said, placing her kettle on the fire.
He couldn't read her tone. There was an undertone of true, pleasant surprise, but a heavy dose of frustration and suspicion overshadowed it. He sidestepped the comment. "You sound as if you could use some syrup of hellebore added to that."
"No, thank you, I've no time to wait for the effects to wear off," Minerva countered snappishly. "That Umbridge woman would probably insinuate I was a drunk if she saw me."
"I presume your desire to talk stems from her presence," Severus stated, not really needing an answer.
Minerva stopped fidgeting with the kettle and turned to face him. "She's up to no good, Severus. I can feel it. And all that yammering about perfecting what ought to be perfected and pruning bad practices – she might as well have accused us all of subverting the Ministry outright."
"Would she be wrong if she did?" Severus pointed out calmly. He had his own reasons to dislike Umbridge, but he was enjoying his upper hand with Minerva. It was a rare treat.
She didn't even acknowledge the barb. "Albus has been so close-mouthed lately. He's been focused on finding out about Hagrid, and Remus' work with the werewolves, but he won't spare a moment to speak to me about Dolores Umbridge and her position here."
The teakettle gave a piercing whistle. Minerva removed it from the fire and glanced about for a cup. Severus conjured one and sent it across the room to her, still waiting for Minerva to continue.
"And that lovely speech she gave in faculty assembly about how Fudge is hopeful this will lead to increased cooperation between the Ministry and Hogwarts, and how our continued lack of collaboration has been a detriment to our students – "
"Yes, Minerva, I was there as well," Severus interjected, losing patience with her babbling.
Minerva took a sip of her tea, regaining a fragment of her usual authoritative persona. "I need to know about her, Severus. Is she a Death Eater? Are we inviting You-Know-Who into our midst by welcoming her?"
"She's no Death Eater," Severus said simply. "I do know she's been a near-fanatical supporter of Fudge since he came into office, and has been anti-Dumbledore for some time before the events of this summer."
Minerva nodded, settling into the chair across from him. "I looked her up in the records here. She graduated in '69, must have been a year or two before you came. She was a Slytherin prefect for one term, but then was demoted because of discrimination and overly-harsh measures against muggle-borns and half-bloods."
"I suspect that is when her objections to Dumbledore began," Severus put in. He leaned forward, not waiting for Minerva to start another rant. "She has Cornelius Fudge's ear, and she wants to be able to use it. The best thing you can do is get your little lion cubs to stay out of her way until this flap with Dumbledore has settled down. The Ministry isn't just disgruntled with an eccentricity this time – the Dark Lord's power is growing there by the day. "
"Only my lion cubs, eh?" Minerva gave a disgruntled sniff.
"Your house is notorious for a lack of good judgement," Severus said bluntly. He raised four fingers, ticking off one at a time as he continued. "The Ravenclaws are too clever to openly defy her. The Hufflepuffs will put more effort into keeping the peace than into subverting her. The Slytherins," he allowed himself a small grin of satisfaction, "will more than likely become her greatest supporters. We already have an advantage with house allegiance." His eyes narrowed on Minerva. "So, yes, that leaves only Gryffindor to create trouble."
Minerva seemed to wilt before his eyes. "Hermione Granger has already come to me asking about Umbridge. If only she could convince the Weasleys and Potter to keep their tempers, I'd worry a great deal less."
Severus rolled his eyes and stood, hoping Minerva would take the hint. "You are duty-bound to worry as long as there are troublemakers in your house – which means you will always have cause to worry. Warn your students about her, and be prepared to smooth ruffled feathers when the time comes."
"As if I'd smooth her mincing little feathers," Minerva muttered, more to herself than to Severus. "All that baby talk and those hideous pink cardigans -"
Severus sighed, making an impatient motion toward the Floo as Minerva babbled. "Is it any wonder your students behave as they do?"
That silenced her. With an indignant hmph that left him in no doubt she would be prepared to squelch any Gryffindorian uprisings, she collected her kettle and stepped through the grate to her own quarters.
Severus turned back to his desk, eyeing the stack of syllabi. His NEWT students could go one more year without the alterations. All he wanted to do was sleep and forget that the pink-swathed monstrosity was happily ensconced in the office that rightfully should have been his.
His dreams were troubled. They began with Umbridge interrupting his Potions lecture to ask about the difference between a Grindylow and a Red Cap. He attempted to answer with something properly biting, but Potter jumped up and shouted that he thought Umbridge was a Death Eater because Hagrid hadn't returned. Supremely annoyed at the absurdity of the boy's reasoning, he Silenced the boy with a rush of pardonable elation, and returned his attention to Umbridge to order her out. Instead of the squat woman, Minerva stood before him, lioness face in full-wrinkle, taking him to task for singling Harry out for punishment when the boy was clearly a saint – like all Gryffindors.
"Oh indeed, and are you this year's beauty queen?" Severus snapped.
Minerva's lips thinned. "Detention, Mr. Snape."
Severus opened his mouth to protest, only to look down and find himself in the much-mended robes of his student years. Minerva nodded briskly and stalked away, leaving Severus to reorient himself. He was just outside the Great Hall, and from the looks of the other students, it was perhaps his sixth year. He took a step forward, searching the crowd. There. A flash of that deep red hair he knew so well. He pushed several smaller students aside.
"Lily!"
She didn't turn around, merely continued her conversation with the girl by her side. Severus ducked around a few other students and reached her. She kept her back turned. He took her arm, forcing her to look at him.
"Lily."
Treasa Shannon's resigned face met his. He recoiled instantly. They were standing in Lucius Malfoy's drawing room, and the Dark Lord was hovering over his shoulder, quite pleased with himself.
"You see, Severus, I considered your tastes when I selected her," he hissed.
Severus swallowed the bile in his throat. "Yes, my lord."
Voldemort disappeared, and they were alone in the manor house. Treasa was pacing in front of him, obviously trying to choose her words for something. Severus could see himself as if he were a spectator to the scene. Young Severus looked bored and mildly detached from the situation.
"I've already offered an apology for the lack of entertainment. Is there more we should discuss?" young Severus asked. "As you know, I've potions brewing."
And a class to teach, Severus mentally added, eyeing Treasa as she half-nodded, half-hesitated in response. Why would I be recalling this moment?
"I… I just want you to know…" Treasa stuttered, looking alarmingly as if she might cry.
Young Severus narrowed his eyes. As little as he knew his wife, he knew this was uncommon behavior. With a sigh and an eye-roll, he silently cast the incantation. Legilimens.
Instantly, he was in their bedchamber, watching himself reach out in his sleep, muttering one word. Lily. The scene changed to the Dark Lord's face. ""Let me make myself clear, Miss Shannon. I require a pureblood witch to marry a Death Eater who has, unfortunately, developed an interest in a mudblood. He is faithful to me and I wish to reward him for his decision – and you are the witch I have selected."
He withdrew from her mind instantly, gazing in horror at her tear-brightened eyes. It felt as if the entire edifice of his adult life was about to crumble around him.
"I-I understand," Treasa managed.
"Hem, hem," came a sound from behind Severus. He turned from the scene to find Umbridge watching with great interest. "Is there a reason you've kept your marriage a secret, Professor Snape?" asked the sickly sweet voice. "Perhaps this is something we should consider carefully. If the relationship is not conducive to your work at Hogwarts, perhaps it should be… hem, terminated."
She giggled. Severus reached for his wand, intent on hexing her to Salem and back, when he felt the Dark Mark on his arm burn. He clutched at the pain, only too aware that Umbridge was eyeing him with great interest. She opened her mouth to speak, and Severus finally wrenched himself awake.
His fingers were digging into his arm, but his first realization was that the Mark hadn't actually burned. His second realization was that he was nearly mummified in his sheets. By the time he'd managed to extricate himself, the dull, pounding headache that accompanied a poor night's sleep was in full swing.
Severus sat on the edge of the bed, pressing his fingers to his temples. Reliving that particular set of memories never failed to take a toll on him. He despised himself for the weakness, but had yet to overcome his horror that she knew his secret – had known since before the wedding. He increased the pressure to the point of pain, forcing the memories back into their hiding places in his mind. There had been worse beginnings to a first day of term, but for the moment, he couldn't think of a single one. He considered skipping breakfast, but had the distinct, unpleasant notion that his absence would be noticed and commented upon by Umbridge.
"Albus, I hope you know what you've let us all in for," he muttered to the empty room. "Meddlesome witch."
The day passed with no greater incident than a note from Lucius Malfoy requesting he visit that evening. He'd been seated next to Umbridge at breakfast and dinner, and had managed to pull off an imitation of civility that would have impressed Albus, had the man been paying the slightest attention to anything besides the food on his plate and the various correspondences he received at the meals. The only relief he'd had all day was a chance to take Potter to task for a poorly made potion.
There was a certain feeling of relief that accompanied his Apparition to Malfoy Manor. Despite the fact he could not protest the method of Umbridge's placement, he had no compulsions against voicing his opinions of the woman's attitude - and of the rest of the Hogwarts staff.
Narcissa answered his knock with a cool smile and a question about Draco's welfare. Severus answered with as little irritation in his voice as he could muster. Madam Malfoy had two chief concerns in her life – the advancement of her family socially, and the well-being of her son. After answering countless owls Draco's first term, Severus had agreed to give a report when he was invited to the manor in return for Narcissa limiting her correspondence.
"Is his class load too heavy?" she pressed after he assured her Draco was in good health. "It is his OWL year, after all."
"He'll do well if he applies himself," Severus replied.
Narcissa stared at him, her face a sculpture of refined concern. "Do you have any doubts?"
"It's the first day of classes, Narcissa. I'll know better after some time has passed."
"Is he handling the responsibilities of prefect well?" Narcissa asked as they headed down the hall to Lucius' study.
Severus thought for a long moment. So far, Draco had given one first year detention for not clearing a path for the older students, and threatened several students of other houses for various non-existent violations.
"He'll make his father proud, I wager," he said finally.
Narcissa's smile warmed. "I'm so thankful you're there to keep a good eye on him. Draco has nothing but the highest praise for you."
Severus merely bowed slightly in acknowledgement, edging closer to Lucius' door. This wasn't a strain of conversation he intended to continue if he could help it. Narcissa nodded and motioned him forward, turning back toward the drawing room.
He knocked, but heard no answer. After a second attempt, he simply turned the knob and went in.
Lucius' wand was trained on him from a few paces away. Severus' own wand was in his hand before he fully registered the threat. He stepped into the room, keeping the wand down and to the side until he knew Lucius' intentions.
A jet of blue light erupted from Lucius' wand from his non-verbal hex .Severus flicked his wand upward, casting a Protego to deflect. The spell rebounded into a book case, sending two volumes to the floor. Lucius advanced a step, another silent spell glancing from his wand. Severus' quick dodge to the left saved him. He cast a Stinging Hex, the first that came to mind. Lucius blocked it and sent two more jinxes in quick succession. Severus' shield charm sent both back at his opponent, who ducked them. A yellow jet of light whizzed past Severus' ear and into the family portrait on the wall – eliciting angry shouts from the Malfoy ancestors. He shot an Expelliarmus without taking time to aim. The spell ricocheted off the end table, setting it on two legs and sending the cut-glass bowl to the floor.
Lucius cut his eyes to the disturbance. The momentary distraction gave Severus a chance to cast a second Disarming Spell, this one with enough force to rock his opponent on his heels. The wand arced through the air and landed squarely between the two combatants. Severus kept his wand at the ready and met Lucius' coolly amused gaze, resisting the urge to toss another curse at him.
"Care to explain?"
"Come, Severus, you can't tell me this is unexpected," Lucius drawled in that calculated smooth tone that usually boded ill. He stepped forward and reclaimed his wand. "After your little escapade at St. Mungo's."
Severus' chest hollowed out at the words. "St. Mungo's?"
"I've been talking to Macnair. Seems the Dark Lord was quite put out with how long it took him to speak with Bilbius," Lucius said, his smirk leaving no doubt as to how the Dark Lord had vented his frustration. "But when Macnair got a chance to speak, he said that his first attempt failed because you all but chased him out of the ward."
"Macnair should stick to executing animals. He has no understanding of a being with human intelligence," Severus scoffed, burying all other reactions. "If it's taken him this long with that old prophecy-keeper, my run-in with him can hardly be blamed."
"Indeed." The cut-glass bowl was levitating back onto the end table. Lucius never broke his focus on it. "Though it might make one wonder why you were so anxious to visit St. Mungo's at all."
The hollow in his chest turned cold. "Is it considered off limits to us?"
"Macnair seemed to think you were looking for someone," Lucius said, turning to face Severus. "Naturally, I looked into the matter to see if there were any old enemies of yours lurking about the hospital. No patients that I could find. The staff records are much more difficult to access, so I wondered if you could just save me the trouble by telling me who you were going to see."
Severus raised an eyebrow in what he hoped was a convincingly bored expression. "And while you're at it, you should try to get the Hogwarts prospectives list from Minerva McGonagall to see if there are any students I might want to keep from coming to school next year. Must everything have ulterior motives with you?"
Lucius smiled. "Yes. So many things do, you understand, that it's merely habit. And I can't fathom why you would bother going to St. Mungo's just to irritate Macnair."
"Has he finally managed to locate the old fellow?" Severus asked, interrupting Lucius' appraisal of him.
Lucius took the tangent, much to Severus' relief. "Yes, but Bilbius has been frightfully uncooperative. Macnair thinks some more persuasive tactics would work, so he's planning a raid to kidnap him sometime later this month."
Severus snorted. "Abduct a patient from St. Mungo's in broad daylight? Has he gone mad?"
"Not broad daylight," Lucius corrected. "During the night shift."
The cold hollow plummeted from Severus' chest to his toes. He drew in a deceptively normal breath and released it, nodding his alleged approval to the plan. Lucius' smile when from calculating to self-satisfied. He motioned Severus toward the wine cart.
"But enough of Macnair. Come, tell me what you think of Umbridge."