Many, many thanks to my beta, FawkesyLady, who had rewritten a lot of weak paragraphs for me. This fic would be of substandard quality without her brilliance. :))
Disclaimer: This isn't mine. Well, the plot is, and Alice obviously, but everything Harry Potter everything else belongs to JKR. Also, this chapter contains song lyrics - 'Comfortably Numb' by Pink Floyd.
Severus apparated home in a gloomy mood. His angry query about whether anybody cared one jot about the Slytherins who had pledged their allegiance to the Dark Lord was dismissed with, 'It is the Slytherin way.' To make things worse, the Order had not forgiven him for his mistreatment of Molly last week. Secretly, he regretted his lapse. He knew that he was taking out his anger on her in a passive aggressive way, but he couldn't stop himself. The tea was quite bad, however his reaction was well out of proportion to the offense. He wondered what they would have done if it had been Lupin who had lost his temper in a similar manner. Surely the comparison was apt - the man was also an agent who had to rub elbows with some of the most reviled beings in wizarding society, and do it convincingly. Who was he kidding? They'd all coo and get him another drink and mentally check the lunar calendar. That must get old for the old wolf. No, he would be forgiven instantly.
A group of people who willingly accepted Remus Lupin for who he was, and was willing to give Sirius Black a second chance, shunned Severus Snape openly. In spite of years of service, in protecting the Potter boy numerous times over the past five years, he still had not been deemed worthy of consideration. The hard line of prejudice held him ever back. Severus would never be one of them. Not really. The Headmaster had openly written off the entire House of Slytherin, and its provisional leader with it. Concern was a luxury reserved for the brave and bold. It was not the first time today that he had to remind himself of who he was, and why he kept labouring for so little regard or reward.
He decided to put the Order from his mind, since it was so easy for them to do the same. The Death Eaters would be sleeping off last night's festivities. Severus should finally be able to get some well-deserved rest. He fixed himself a cup of properly brewed tea and sat down in his armchair, contemplating what to do with himself now that he had so much free time on his hands. He could read the newest Potions Weekly, or brew that potion he wanted to try, but neither of these would do. He felt strangely restless.
There was the problem of Miss Alice Crowley, itching at the back of his mind. He had learned a good number of new things about his neighbour as a result of listening in on the the infernal adolescents. He snorted - appearances could truly be deceiving. The Miss Crowley he knew from Hogwarts was a quiet, timid girl who worked hard in Potions. He would have never described her as devious. On the upside, at least he had found the missing phial of unicorn tears among the devastation, one he had thought lost or stolen and nearly impossible to replace. Unicorn tears or no, he now knew who the culprit was, and would find a way of making the witch pay very dearly for her impudence. This, he would not forget.
Last night's debacle with Crowley was still very fresh in his mind, equally unforgettable. The witchling might be awake. If she wasn't awake at noon, she'd be nursing a vicious hangover soon enough. Not for long he hoped. He had left that cure on her table. How had her pain become his responsibility?
And what exactly had Dumbledore done or said to get her into that state? After he had left and his head had cleared, he had put the clues together. Alice was angry, trapped into something by the Headmaster. Severus couldn't help but find himself agreeing with Molly Weasley. Wars were meant to be fought by adults, not children. Having Harry even in the same house as the meeting made Severus worry. He had worked for years to keep the boy safe, and safety was nothing but a fragile illusion, one that Severus needed to believe. Alice Crowley had been heretofore untouched by the ugliness that he voluntarily wore like a cloak. He did not know what Albus was about, but what he saw last night were not the fat tears and mewling of an innocent. It was the wise despair of a witch who had glimpsed her own strings and named her puppeteer.
The parallels between The Order and the Death Eaters were stacking up. It disturbed him that she understood, drunk as she was, how perfectly balanced he had to be, dancing on the edge of Dumbledore's sacrificial knife. Maybe Trelawney should switch to Happy Harpy wine, it might lend her some needed clarity.
He pinched the bridge of his nose as he recalled Crowley's inappropriate advances. He had surprisingly mixed feelings about her. Part of him remembered her appalling attempt to kiss him, and his chest tingled with the memory of the pressure of her body against his. And that mouth, usually so sharp and coarse… uttered sweet promises, sent his blood racing. She was barely a woman, she could not possibly know what she wanted - it was the wine talking.
He sighed heavily, staring into the middle distance. His solitude was his penance. What witch would ever want his black, betraying heart? He disgusted himself most days, but he had to keep going. Every action, every word was another mea culpa on the rosary of Lily's death and his own mistakes, worn smooth under his fingers.
A rattling sound behind the window shook him out of his maudlin introspection, and he looked up to see Sharon, his pet owl, who was beating the glass with her beak. Severus' knees creaked in protest as he got up and walked into his kitchen to let her in. 'Hello, Madam,' he smiled warmly and the bird. 'Are we hungry?'
'Twit-twoo!' Sharon flew gracefully inside and perched on Severus' shoulder, taking care not to hurt him with her sharp talons. Her friendly greeting made him chuckle. No matter what happened with his life, he knew he had an eternal friend and confidante in his familiar. He stroked her feathered breast with the side of his finger, and the owl's eyes drooped at half-mast in an expression of contentment.
The wizard tossed a handful of treats into Sharon's bowl, and she jumped off his shoulder and attacked them immediately. Severus leaned against the countertop to observe her, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. 'One would think I never feed you, my ladybird. I am going to go bankrupt if you keep gobbling up all these treats!'
Abruptly, Sharon's head whipped around, and she stared at her human accusingly, as if to say 'What? Are you saying I'm fat?!'
Meeting his owl's glare, Severus perceived his gaffe. His own eyes widened in alarm as he hastened to repair the breach. Throwing his hands up placatingly, he rushed to explain, 'No no no, Sharon. I apologise, I misspoke. Your feathers are as sleek as ever,' Severus courteously placed a few more treats in the bowl with a theatrical flourish. Sharon cocked her head to the side as she considered Severus warily - was he being sincere? Perhaps she shouldn't eat those extra treats… With a mental shrug, she decided to feast. She could always burn them off later with Barry.
She hopped closer to get a better look at her wizard. She was used to seeing him exhausted, and had even come to accept that he would sometimes be in a vile, rotten mood, throwing things against walls and barking at her like a rabid beast. Today, however, his eyes were red-rimmed and haunted, his whole posture tense even as he made polite conversation. 'Twoooo?' She cooed with concern, wanting to know what was bothering her favourite pet human.
'I'm alright, Sharon,' her Human replied and stroked her wing affectionately, although his tone was that of resignation. 'I've… had a rough night, milady. Witches are insane.'
'Witches?' Sharon's feathers stood at attention. She had a feeling that her wizard had some juicy gossip to relay, and her magmatic eyes bore into his as she edged closer still with an encouraging hoot. 'Do tell!'
'Miss Alice Crowley,' the Human shrugged and turned his back on her, busying his bony hands with lighting a cigarette. He exhaled a large cloud of smoke with a shuddering breath before elaborating, 'Got herself drunk as a skunk, then told me to kiss her. Daft.'
'Well?' The owl gawked at her Human in confusion. 'You did kiss her, did you not?' She had always thought that her pet human was in desperate need of a mate, and whilst the mating rituals of humans were mostly alien to her, she did understand that the ridiculous two-legged creatures enjoyed smashing their beaks together as a way of showing affection.
'I would never oblige her, of course, the girl was inebriated! I would never consider it!'
Sharon rolled her vibrant eyes in exasperation. 'What do you mean, you silly ape? Why didn't you eat her beak if she was asking you to? Is she not to your liking?'
'She's my student, for Merlin's sake!' Severus was pacing around his kitchen, waving his cigarette around for emphasis. Sharon's head was rapidly turning this way and that, following her Human's agitated movements. She really did not understand what the fuss was all about.
'She is a fully-fledged witch, not a hatchling! What is the impediment?' Sharon quipped with a mental quirk of an eyebrow.
'She is a woman now - she made very sure that I could not miss how lovely she has become. I could ignore such things in the classrooms and hallways, I am a man of principles.' A whine of frustration preceded his next admission, 'But I am a man all the same. I passed the test of temptation this time. It wasn't bloody fair.' The wizard turned to face Sharon, and looked at her with pleading eyes before continuing his soliloquy. He cradled his face in his hands, and his next words came out as a tormented groan. 'She wanted me last night. But she was drunk. She won't want me today - she is not for the likes of me.''
'And why would that be?' Sharon flapped her wings in irritation, narrowing her glowing eyes at the stupid wizard. He was overcomplicating things for himself, despite her helpful advice. Honestly - how unreasonable could humans be?! The owl was seriously tempted to nip him on the ear. Maybe that would shake some sense into the obstructive idiot.
'She's so naive. She has a youthful attractiveness. And yet, it is her frightening insight and natural brilliance that define her true beauty. Why in the name of Morgana would she want an old bastard like me? I have nothing to offer. Nothing but destruction and death…' The wizard grunted in self-disgust, and opened his ancient fridge to find a few rashers of bacon, wrapped in brown paper on one of the shelves. He deftly chopped the bacon into tiny strips before igniting the gas hob in the corner with a quick flick of his wand. As the bacon cooked, he continued his miserable musings.
'If she was being sincere, then she must be a fool. And I am an even greater fool, for wanting to believe…'
'Why don't you just ask her?' Sharon interjected. She was getting tired of the self-loathing monologue, and craned her pretty neck towards the hob, intensely interested in the delicious-smelling meat. She hoped that her Human would share.
'It just... can never be. And the wine will wipe any memories of our conversation. Small comfort.'
Feeling that she had endured quite enough of her Human's drama, Sharon began grooming herself with excessive vigour, wondering how the silly apes managed to get through the day without hurting themselves. It was even more baffling that they procreated at all - surely it couldn't be THAT difficult to find a partner? Her wizard made lovely bacon, that had to count for something!
As soon as she deemed her feathers sufficiently groomed, Sharon puffed her chest up in a truly regal manner. Radiating patient superiority, the owl decided to make her idiot-pet's life a little easier and share some tried and trusted relationship advice. 'You know, I think you should do what any self-respecting owl would do. If you wish to woo a mate, simply kill a big tasty rabbit and drop it at her feet. Show her how splendid you are.' She clacked her beak, 'Mark my words, works every time. Without fail!'
Severus turned off the hob and transferred the perfectly fried bacon onto a saucer. He placed it at Sharon's feet before marching out of the kitchen, muttering under his breath, 'Obviously, the stress is doing things to me. I am going to let off some steam before it destroys my better judgement.'
He slouched across his living room and opened the door of the cupboard under the stairs. Bending his back, he descended a small staircase which led to his basement lab. Inactivity did not suit him at all - strange and frightening thoughts bred in his mind when he was idle, and a good, long brewing session would surely chase them away. As soon as he set foot in the lab, he marched straight to his ingredients cupboard and perused his impressive selection, trying to think of the most intricate and time-consuming potion he knew. He needed something fickle, something that would require his undivided attention, and finally decided on a small batch of Felix Felicis. Merlin knew, he needed some luck in his life.
Having collected his ingredients within a small basket, Severus walked around his lab towards an enormous dresser where he kept all of his tools of the trade. He inspected the innumerable ladles, stirring rods, knives, tubes and beakers of all shapes and sizes, weighing each and every one with the trained eye of a Master, choosing only the ones which would help him brew as efficiently as possible. As he held up two stirring rods and compared them against one another, an unbidden memory of Miss Crowley's basement lab came into his mind. It was so similar in layout to his own, yet so poorly equipped in comparison, and Severus imagined the girl, standing in front of her own brewing equipment, choosing the right tools for the job with the same care and precision as he did. 'Sod off,' he spat aloud and picked out his instruments in haste, tossing them carelessly onto the workbench. He refused to give Alice Crowley any more time of his day.
He washed his hands thoroughly at the sink and began chopping, grinding, slicing and dicing his ingredients. Immediately he noticed that his efforts weren't up to his usual impeccable standards, and a small bead of perspiration appeared on his temple as he crushed Occamy eggshells more forcefully than necessary. Severus felt like an Apprentice again. He was distracted, his mind's eye supplying a picture of a different, delicate wrist, one he had last seen two decades ago, twisting and turning in the Hogwarts classroom. The witch in his thoughts looked up from beneath a curtain of auburn curls, and smiled at him lightly, her emerald-green eyes sparkling with happiness, her alabaster skin radiating the joyful glow of youth. Severus growled in the back of his throat, and ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head to clear his mind of the image. He grabbed the edge of his workbench for support, inhaling quick, shallow breaths. 'Lily, please, no!' He needed to focus. He needed to work.
He dropped the required Ashwinder egg into the cauldron and added the finely diced horseradish. As the cauldron began heating up, he juiced the squill bulb, managing to get the juice all over the front of his shirt. Grinding his teeth in irritation, he waved his hand to clean up the mess with a wandless spell, and made another, more cautious attempt. His wayward brain chose that very moment to picture Miss Crowley once again, waltzing around her own workstation. He could see the witch, picking up a bulb by its tip with her dexterous fingers, clenching them into a dainty fist as she squeezed. His treacherous mind seized onto the image of a teasing apron ribbon, swaying this way and that just below the girl's narrow waist.
He hissed angrily and shut his eyes tightly as his cock sprung to life in his trousers. Brows drawn and features twisted in a rictus of torment, he chucked the squill juice carelessly into the cauldron. He stirred furiously for minutes, or perhaps hours, willing his breathing to slow and his erection to disappear. He stirred until his arm felt like it was on fire, then tossed the wooden rod onto the floor with an anguished cry. He didn't even have to look at the potion to know that he had made a complete mess of the expensive brew.
Indeed, a quick inspection showed a mass of green, clay-like goo, bubbling lazily at the bottom of the cauldron, rather than the thin, canary yellow liquid he was aiming for. He seriously doubted that even Longbottom himself could have made a worse effort if he tried. 'Substandard!' Miss Crowley's low, feminine voice announced in his head, and Severus felt sick. His heart was beating frantically in his chest as he sprinted out of his lab, leaving the place in a frightful state.
When he entered the bathroom, he peeled out of his clothes, using magic to undo the rows of buttons that usually made him feel so secure. Today he had no patience, anxious to get free. He was falling apart, and he yearned to reach for the control that Occlumency provided. He was more and more dependent on that art, and he could hear his mother, tsking at his lack of personal discipline. After he pulled his feet free, he stepped into the shower and switched on the tap. Ice cold water hit his face, and he flung his arms out for support as his heartrate dropped precipitously for a moment. Forced to focus on such simples as breathing and counting heartbeats, his mind was afforded a moment's release, imposed by a physiological reflex. It was a different kind of pain, this cold. It brought numbness. Peoples of the North considered hell to be an ice-kingdom, but in that moment, Severus thought them very mistaken. A bitter laugh escaped his lips as the strains of Comfortably Numb started to play in his mind. 'There is no pain, you are receding. A distant ship smoke on the horizon.' Mechanically, he sluiced the rest of himself down, scrubbing away his agonies.
When he reemerged to find a fresh set of clothes, he had regained his balance. Shaving always braced him, and the splash of aftershave's sting was a familiar pain. He had decided what he was going to do and it was time to be about it. He selected his best everyday suit with clinical detachment, and dressed himself in quick, controlled movements. Wand out, he used it to polish a scuff from his left boot before turning to survey his work.
A flutter out of the corner of his vision altered him to his owl's presence. A quick glance confirmed that she had no complications tied to her leg. It was simpler to ignore Sharon's questioning hoot as he came to stand in front of his mother's oval mirror. Satisfied that he was fit to be seen, he steeled himself and disapparated in a neat twist.