Happy New Year, dear readers, and I hope you've had a good Christmas.
Gosh, it's been a long break, hasn't it? Not sure about you, but I've missed you all terribly. Especially your comments. Thanks so much for your input and support, this story wouldn't go on without you!
Please note that this chapter is only partly beta-read. My fantastic beta, FawkesyLady, is busy saving lives, and my fingers were itching too much to resist posting.
I will likely post a revised version of this chapter, when Fawkesy can find a little free time, but right now she deserves her short and infrequent breaks to herself! So watch this space, dear readers, there might be updates.
For now, enjoy! And don't forget to leave a review. ;)
The first day of September saw Alice standing on Platform 9¾ at King's Cross station, waiting for the Hogwarts Express. Dressed in a black jersey skirt, a pair of flats and a dark denim jacket for the occasion,
she had found a quiet spot some distance away from the milling crowds and she lit up a cigarette, her back pressed comfortably against the wall. She had pulled her trunks to the front and stuck the cage containing a stupefied Barry on top, increasing her privacy and shielding her Head Girl badge from prying eyes.
The platform was buzzing with life on this warm, sunny day. The British wizarding population were coming in their droves, and Alice observed them through narrowed eyes, making unpleasant mental remarks about the people she recognised. 'She's lost a lot of weight, she has. But Ranson still looks like a bloody lardon. Buckley has acne growing on his acne, and Giles… fancy new hair, eh. Look at her. What a shame that a new haircut can't fix her teeth.'
Holding her cigarette between index and forefinger, she inhaled languidly, allowing the smoke to circulate around her mouth before drawing it into her lungs, relishing the taste. These weren't just any old fags; she discovered the packet this morning on the doormat beneath her front door. It had been posted through the letterbox along with a note which read, 'Good luck today, Crowley', written in the familiar spikey script that made her heart skip a beat. A rush of warmth diffused across her chest as she picked up the gift, marvelling at Snape's thoughtfulness - the note bore no signature, but she knew that it had to be him.
She checked her watch. Half an hour until the train's arrival. Her head lolled back against the cold stone of the wall as she exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, smiling lightly, reassured that Snape was still thinking of her over their two-day separation. She took the time to daydream, knowing that soon she would see the wizard she had fallen head over heels for again. She could picture him in the castle, waiting for her as desperately as she did for him. Was he glancing at the clock with impatience every now and then, wishing for time to run faster? Did he ramble aimlessly around Hogwarts' labyrinthine corridors, his black robes billowing as he struggled to find a place for himself in his impatience?
Did he reminisce about the times they've shared during the summer break between one boring staff meeting and another? And did he toss and turn in his bed late at night, remembering the kiss she had stolen from him on her doorstep?
Merlin knew, Alice herself could not stop replaying that perfect moment in her mind over and over again. It haunted her, a phantom feeling of the softness of his clean-shaven cheek, the hardness of his lips against her own, the pressure of his grip on her arms as he held her so tightly, refusing to let her go. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could almost feel him there and then, the memory of his smoky scent so fresh and so real in her head. She was a witch in love with her stomach aflutter, and she could no longer deny her own feelings. Not to him, and certainly not to herself.
She would have to ask him out. She had formed a plan in her head, to become Severus Snape's girlfriend and to lure him into her lair as soon as possible. He may have escaped her once, but next time, there would be no escape. Perhaps she had been too subtle and he simply hadn't realised that her offer of coffee could be roughly translated to 'I want to shag you senseless'.
A sly smile appeared on her face. She would shag him senseless if it was the last thing she did.
The chugging sound of Hogwarts Express slowly pulling into the station broke Alice out of her reverie. The enormous machine huffed and puffed laboriously, releasing clouds of white steam onto the platform, its fresh paintwork glistening in the afternoon sun, promising new beginnings and adventures to the many young witches and wizards who now flooded the platform's edge like a swarm of locusts. Alice stuffed her cigarettes into her pocket and unhurriedly double-checked that she had everything with her. She decided to wait until the parade thinned out a bit. Even from a distance, the sensory parade was nauseating. All around her, a broad spectrum of colours and textures swirled across her vision like shiny pieces of glass inside a kaleidoscope, the people's voices ringing in a grinding symphony with an unlimited range, confusing and discordant to her ears.
Breathing in the heady mixture of hundreds of scents mingling in the heavy air, Alice snorted under her breath at the sight of many mothers' tear-streaked faces, her throat constricting with envy as she watched the loving families say their farewells and promising to write often. Whilst she was far happier in Spinner's End than she ever was in her family home, in times like these she longed for a loving family to say goodbye to, knowing that she would be missed dearly. 'Oh, shut up.' She thought to herself angrily, grabbing her trolley and pulling it sharply onto the platform, a lone spot among the masses. 'It'll do them kids good to escape their stupid mothers' coddling anyway.'
Alice pushed her way through the crowd, tutting at the rude gesture sent her way by a couple of kids she had elbowed out of her way. As she handed her trunks to the attendant, a feminine voice broke out just behind her back, making her blood run cold. 'Alice, dear! How lovely to see you!'
Clutching the handle of Barry's cage in a white-knuckled grip, Alice turned around sharply just in time to see Mrs Weasley trotting over to where she stood. Her heart beat a rampant tattoo as she stammered, 'Uh, hello, Mrs Weasley'.
The plump, ruddy-cheeked housewife had her two youngest in tow, along with Harry Potter, who seemed to tag along wherever they went like a mongrel following a skulk of foxes. Mr Weasley was nowhere to be seen, and Alice was grateful to miss out on the hailstorm of question regarding Muggle household appliances, although the four pairs of eyes that were now fixed on her felt like balls of fire, boring into her skull and burning her sanity to ashes. She desperately wished for Fred and George, who always provided a solid wall between her and the cheek-pinching matron, but this year, she was forced to face the boisterous family alone.
Unperturbed by the reserved greeting, Mrs Weasley pulled Alice into a tight hug, squeezing the air out of her lungs as she held her tightly to her remarkably ample bosom. Alice forced herself to stay relaxed, her mouth stretched into a wide, beaming rictus, although her jaw was set so tightly she thought it would break, her open eyes giving her the look of a cornered, terrified animal. She never knew how to react to such displays of affection that seemed to be a daily occurence in the Weasley household, and chose to wait it out, breathing in the pleasant smell of spiced apple crumble that emanated from the witch as she counted down the seconds - one, two… and done.
Alice was desperate to get away, but Mrs Weasley was not done with her despite the fact that the train would be leaving shortly. Mouth stretched in an indulged smile, she crooned, 'Alice dear, you must be so excited to be going back to school! We missed you in the holidays, you simply MUST visit us at the Burrow over Christmas!'
Alice gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded, shifting her weight from side to side. In a thin voice she replied, 'Erm, thank you, Mrs Weasley. Yes, yes, that would be lovely.'
'Fred and George would be delighted to see you, I'm sure! Oh, I still can't get over how they dropped out of school.' The red-headed witch raised her gaze to the heavens and sighed heavily, and Alice couldn't help but wonder how the woman managed to stand upright with a bust as huge as that. 'But of course, as long as they're happy…' She paused, and reached behind her to give the rest of her brood a shove forward. 'You are always welcome to come and visit us, you know that, don't you?'
Without waiting for a reply, Mrs Weasley gave Alice a long, searching look, and continued, 'You seem to have lost a lot of weight again, dearie. I swear you get skinnier and skinnier every time I see you. Just remember that there's always room for one more at our table, isn't that right, children?'
The 'children' in question rushed to nod dutifully, assuring that of course, Alice would always be welcome to join them. Faking enthusiasm, Alice grinned through gritted teeth, hiding her embarrassment. She had no doubt that Harry and Ron were possibly sincere, but Ginny was a completely different story. The two young witches narrowed their eyes at each other for a split second in hostility, making their feelings clear. Alice would rather shove wasps up her arse than spend Christmas with that two-faced little bint.
The conductor's booming voice reverberated around the entire platform. 'All aboard!', causing Alice to exhale in relief. Before Mrs Weasley had the chance to pull her into another lung-crushing hug, she made a big show of turning around and inhaling sharply as she pointed in the direction of a bushy-haired girl who was walking among the crowds, searching. 'Oh, look! Isn't that Hermione Granger?!'
This tactic worked as a charm, and soon Mrs Weasley turned her attention to the last member of the Golden Trio, urgently waving at her to come and join them. Alice excused herself then, explaining that she wanted to find a quiet seat on the train. Mrs Weasley waved her off, reminding her to be good and to eat all of her meals, and Alice was finally free to drag herself and her familiar to the Prefects' carriage, reflecting that perhaps a loving family wasn't such a great idea, after all.
'Ah, there you are!'
A tall, handsome lad with a strong jaw, dark eyes and swishing chestnut hair broke away from the loose cluster of students gathered in the centre of the Prefects' Carriage and made his way towards Alice with a spring in his step. Mouth stretched in a warm, welcoming smile that would surely send many a witch's blood racing, he put one hand on her shoulder and led her gently towards the group. Alice immediately recognised him as Roger Davies, a Ravenclaw and a fellow seventh year, and the badge, proudly displayed on his breast, told her that he had been made Head Boy.
She stiffened reflexively. Feeling like she'd been hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx, she allowed Davies to lead her towards the group who had now paused mid-chatter and were staring at her with open curiosity. Davies, damn his heathen soul to an eternity of hell, spoke up excitedly, 'Here's our new Head Girl, ladies and gents! I was wondering where she was!'
The reactions to Davies' pronouncement was a parade of blank looks and surprise across the Prefects' faces. Some appeared puzzled, obviously struggling to put a name to the face, and others raised their brows in mild interest, muttering something incomprehensible to their companions, not bothering to hide their bemusement at Dumbledore's choice of Head Girl. That said, Alice detected no open hostility, except for Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson who were quick to express their disgust, their faces scrunched as though confronted with an unpleasant smell. The atmosphere in the carriage was, however, decidedly awkward.
In an effort to put her best foot forward, Alice smiled weakly, wishing for the Earth to open up and swallow her whole. She cleared her throat, intending to introduce herself properly, but before she could utter so much as 'hello', Davies took the lead with the natural ease of a born commander and began briefing the team, assigning tasks to each person. His charisma worked wonders, and within minutes most of the Prefects were jumping up and down and nodding their heads enthusiastically, eager to get to their duties. The girls in particular did not seem able to take their eyes off their leader, drinking in the words that flowed from his mouth. Alice reflected that they reminded her of a group of excited House Elves or a pack of tail-wiggling puppies. She would much rather deal with Malfoy's surliness than this bunch of goody two-shoes do-gooders, but was grateful for the opportunity to Not Speak.
The train began picking up speed, and soon the Prefects trickled out of the carriage to find their friends and get to work. Alice stayed behind, pleading the need to change into her school robes in private, and sat herself down on one of the worn upholstered seats that surely had hosted many a Head Girl's arse in the past, her pulse quickening in dread as the gravity of the situation hit her squarely in the chest. This was real. The time had come.
She had been asked to patrol the first and second year carriages, and the mental image of innumerable round, red-cheeked little faces made this nightmare all too real. 'You can do this,' she thought to herself, stroking the blue upholstery as though it could offer comfort and advice. 'It's just kids. Annoying, high-pitched, sharp-toothed ankle biters. Nothing to be scared of…'
Abruptly, the carriage door opened and Hermione Granger entered and stomped towards Alice, her bushy, bouncing curls making her look like an agitated lioness. With a great sigh, Hermione slammed a small flask on the table right in front of Alice, her amber eyes narrowing as she spat, 'I confiscated this from a group of seventh-year Slytherins. It's vodka.' She crossed her arms and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, her pretty, regular features creased as though she was trying hard not to cry.
Alice bit her lower lip in indecision as she watched Hermione, wondering if she should say something. Really, she told her everything without telling her anything, and Alice could only imagine the abuse that the fellow Muggleborn witch must have received. Alice herself had been called every name under the sun simply because of her blood status, but she was well aware that this was nothing compared to what Granger must have dealt with on a daily basis as a friend of Harry Potter.
Suddenly, Hermione turned neatly on her heel and made to exit the carriage, the red flush of indignation slowly bleeding away from her face. Alice called out, 'Wait!' and trotted over to Hermione with an apologetic smile. 'I'm sorry. They're twats. Don't let them get to you.'
'Thanks.' Hermione's amber eyes lit up somewhat as she opened the door. Before walking out, she added, 'Congratulations, by the way, on being made Head Girl.'
Alice nodded, and when Hermione left the carriage, she snatched the flask and shoved it into her pocket. Rubbing her hands in glee, she muttered, 'I'll dispose of this, alright. We wouldn't any of the little 'uns to find it and pinch it, now would we?'
Keeping the flask close to her chest, Alice scurried away to the toilets where she wouldn't be disturbed. She couldn't believe her luck - this was just what she needed, and she would take good care of it, no doubt. The idea of doing her rounds seemed a lot less daunting now that she had seen with her own eyes the treasures that sat hidden in the students' pockets, just waiting to be found.
The rattling of Hogwarts Express concealed the swaying of Alice's feet as she exited the toilets some time later. The vodka provided a pleasant buzzing sensation in her head, lending her strength to a much better extent than the Draught of Courage and veiling her mind, pushing her insecurities aside. Propelled by the promise of finding more contraband, Alice began her patrol.
She stormed into the first carriage, her gaze sliding across a cluster of kids who looked up from their game of Exploding Snap as she entered and stared at her questioningly. Everything seemed just fine. Thinning her lips, Alice shot the children a warning glare and hissed, 'Keep the noise down!' before slamming the door shut. Feeling like an utter idiot, she stomped to the next carriage, and even Filch himself would have been hard pressed to mutter things more unpleasant than she did right then.
'What a waste of bloody time.' She thought as she entered the second carriage as abruptly as she did the first. There, a bunch of pupils had gathered around one plump, freckled boy who resembled a glazed doughnut and was bawling his eyes out. Alice took in the scene before her and tilted her head to the side, putting her hands on her hips. 'What's going on here?'
The little boy wailed, 'I… miss… my… mummyyyyy!' and broke into a fresh fit of tears, sniffing loudly inbetween sobs.
Alice considered the boy. Crying for one's mother was an alien concept to her, something she had never experienced herself and could not begin to relate to, which elevated her unease to sky high levels. The rotund lad looked like a coddled, pampered prince, and Alice suspected that he could benefit from being made to toughen up. She spat, 'Well I bet she's not missing you if you're always being such cry-baby.'
Six faces looked up sharply, staring at her with disgust and disbelief. The doughnut boy erupted into a wailing fit, his face swollen and red as he struggled to catch his breath. This was not the reaction she expected to her on-the-spot guidance. Confused and annoyed at this unexpected turn of events, Alice crossed her arms defensively. 'Stop crying!' She commanded, the cogs in her brain turning at neck-breaking speed, trying and failing to understand what's gone wrong. 'Stop crying, or I'll give you something to cry about!'
She considered making a sharp exit there and then, but Doughnut Boy had descended into hysteria, his squeaky voice crescendoing to an unimaginable scream that reminded her of a newborn, his toffee-coloured eyes spewing out buckets of fat tears.
Hands shaking in panic, Alice bellowed, 'FIVE POINTS!', and the boy quietened abruptly, panting as he stared at her in horror. When she was sure that she had his attention, Alice continued, 'From whatever House you'll get sorted into, for being a wimp.'
After that, she turned around and escaped from the carriage, slamming the door shut with all the strength she had, not willing to find out if Doughnut Boy was going to continue his head-splitting fit making full use of a coloratura that would put Lucia Popp to shame.
Leaning her forehead against the wall, Alice allowed the train's steady chugging to soothe her. 'Five points…' she whispered, letting the words roll off her tongue, testing them out. 'Five points…' it felt so good, so empowering. And above all, it shut him up nicely. She could understand now why Snape delighted in deducting points. It worked.
A smirk appeared on Alice's face as she relished her new-found power. She had done the boy good. Hogwarts needed a Head Girl who was willing to do her job properly, and now, Alice was willing to be that girl. She imagined being showered in praise for proving herself as the one who took her duties seriously as she made her way to the next carriage in search of other students to bestow her wisdom upon.
The enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall depicted a clear night sky illuminated with millions of sparkling stars as a throng of students old and new entered through the enormous double doors. Severus sat at the High Table, observing the influx of children led, as usual, by Minerva, who had donned on her most impressive pointed hat for the occasion. He couldn't help but notice the aura of gloom among the new arrivals. It was not unusual for the first years to appear nervous or awestruck, but he certainly did not expect to see so many first years looking as though they were being led to the gallows pole.
'Oh, just look at the little darlings!' A feminine voice broke out to his right, soft and twangy, belonging to Professor Tina Tchihende, the new Defense professor who had arrived a couple of days prior. She was an ancient witch, older than Dumbledore himself and, if rumours were to be believed, just as powerful. Her brown, almond-shaped eyes that shone with intelligence and mischief disappeared among the web of deep wrinkles etched all over her face as her thin lips stretched into a wide, indulging smile. The witch seemed to radiate a profound love for every soul within the castle.
Severus found the woman oddly fascinating. Despite her very advanced age, she seemed energetic and full of life, and for the first time in forever, it seemed that Hogwarts would finally have a worthy Defense teacher. He had only met her briefly in a couple of staff meetings, but it was enough to ascertain that Tchihende's reputation as a living legend was justly deserved. She possessed a solid teaching plan, abilities that would put his own to shame, and an upbeat attitude coupled with taking no nonsense. She seemed to be precisely what Hogwarts needed, all wrapped in one, but a small part of Severus remained sceptical. After all, he knew better than anybody that these great, idolised figures often had a darker side to them that did not match the romanticised public image. To host the great witch was an honour, no doubt, but he was curious to see if she would truly live up to the expectations. For this reason, he would keep a close eye on her.
Either way, the one thing he knew for sure was that Tina Tchihende was not to be underestimated. The Dark Lord's reaction to her arrival more than made up for any dismay he might have felt as a result of his own application being rejected once again. During a private meeting, Severus discovered that it was possible for Lord Voldemort to go even paler than usual. His wax-like skin turned a shade so white it almost rendered him see-through, his grotesque features twisting into an expression of pure, unadulterated fear. To Severus, the sight was almost as good as watching Greyback being subjected to the same degrading treatment he had to suffer over the summer. He himself was now safe from it, elevated to the very top of the ranks thanks to that small, black phial he had received from Dumbledore. For now, he had no need to fear for his life or wellbeing, but that came with the heavy burden of more work.
Ah, there she is. Severus' heart skipped several beats as Crowley entered the Great Hall and made her way to the top of the Gryffindor table. As she walked, their eyes locked for a split second, and Severus could barely contain the warmth that spread all around his chest at the very sight of her. He had missed her immensely during their two-day separation, and had found himself restless all day, counting down the hours until he would see her again. He was glad to see that his little flea, as he had started to call this freeloading bloodsucker, appeared happy and well, and he felt his heart swell with pride as he noticed the Head Girl badge displayed on the front of her robes. 'Good girl,' he thought to himself. 'I knew you'd be alright.'
Whilst the Sorting Hat performed its traditional song, Severus took the opportunity to take stock of the House tables. He was relieved to see that Potter and his sidekicks had arrived in one piece and were currently Not Paying Attention, which made it very obvious that they were Up To Something, which could only mean More Work for Severus. He took a mental register of all of the Muggleborn students whilst performing a rapid rerun of all of the necessary steps to protect that particularly vulnerable group. A couple of Muggleborns did not make it back to school this year, and the knowledge of what exactly had happened to them reinforced Severus' resolve to do his best to keep them safe.
As the Hat's song died down and the Sorting began, Severus watched the proceedings with undivided attention, carefully studying the children who were being sorted into their respective Houses. This year's influx was slightly higher than last year's and the year before, with twelve new students in Slytherin, ten in Ravenclaw, eighteen in Hufflepuff and eight in Gryffindor. Among the cheering and clapping that rankled the Great Hall every time the Hat called out the name of the appropriate House, Severus recognised most of the youngsters sorted into Slytherin and made a mental note to have a private chat with those he didn't - they were likely to be half-bloods, and for that reason alone would need extra guidance.
Soon, the Sorting was over. Dumbledore gave a powerful speech, addressing the need for unity in these troubled times, and then the tables began filling up with unbelievable amounts of food, complete with extra special treats that were only served on occasions such as this. As Severus loaded his plate with roast pork and all the trimmings, he took the chance to allow his gaze to rest on the sweet girl at the top of Gryffindor table, knowing that the general population of Hogwarts was unlikely to pick up on this, engrossed as they were in conversing with their peers, too busy for constant vigilance.
Crowley had selected several pieces of chicken wings and a side of chips. She looked ever so sweet to him as she picked up her food with dainty fingertips and chewed, all the while sitting rod-straight and looking around the Great Hall, presumably to catch any sign of trouble. Severus' eyes softened a little as he stared at the vigilant witch - really, nobody expected her to be quite so scrupulous, but it amused him that she was trying so hard.
Satisfied, Severus turned his attention to Potter and his lackeys. The very sight of the boy put a damper on the somewhat tolerable evening. He had knitted his brows together and was whispering something urgently whilst Granger and the Weasley boy gesticulated widely in an obvious attempt to explain something to the thick-headed lad. Severus' jaw tensed against the sharp needle of intuition prickling at his brain. Whatever they were planning, he would find out. And then he would put a stop to it.
A flash of movement in the corner of his eye alerted him to the fact that Crowley had turned her blonde head towards the Head Table. After a quick glance which confirmed that everybody was either keeping their eyes on their plate or on their interlocutor, she locked her grey eyes with Severus' and winked. Severus acknowledged her with a slight nod, and she turned away abruptly and picked up a single chip before looking back at him with a coquettish smile.
She kept sending him quick, furtive glances that lasted barely a second as she brought the chip to her mouth. She bit into it in a slow, exaggerated manner, and gently sucked it into her puckered lips, her cheeks hollowing out as she drew in the soft middle with a mischievous glint in her eye.
Severus could not believe what he was seeing. Transfixed, he watched as she finished with the first chip and picked up another, repeating her little performance. Whenever their eyes met, Severus would glower at her in a silent plea and warning, which only served as encouragement for the crazy witch to do it again, and again, and again.
He had gone past doubting that this girl would be the death of him. She had flirted with him on more than one occasion over the summer, and he cursed himself for allowing it. Now, she was crossing a line, and he found himself unable to resist and unwilling to stop her. He held his breath and watched with growing fascination, reminding himself to sit still as the blood in his veins grew hot and his cock hardened under the table. 'Yessss… suck it all out, little one. Suck it all out.'
'Are you alright there, Professor Snape? You look a little pale, dear.'
Professor Tchihende's voice in his ear jolted him sharply back to the present and nearly made him jump. Severus turned his head sharply, feeling like a horny teenager caught red-handed. He muttered, 'I am quite alright, Professor Tchihende. I was… distracted' as he looked at the woman's wrinkled face, stretched into a wide, beaming smile.
The twinkle in her eyes reminded him disturbingly of Dumbledore as she nodded and said, 'Ah, I get that too, sometimes. It's a lot to take in, isn't it?'
Severus grunted in reply and buried his eyes in his plate, allowing his lank hair to hide his face like a pair of inky curtains. He grumbled internally, 'Why do they have to fucking twinkle all the time?'
Furtively, he glaced askance in Crowley's direction once more. The cheeky minx ended her little game. With a smirk entitled 'This Isn't Over', she turned to her food and ate in a completely innocent manner, ignoring him as she scanned the hall like a hawk once again.
She was playing a dangerous game and he nearly ended up caught, and it's barely been an hour since her arrival. Severus began stabbing his meat viciously with his fork, silently cursing the little witch. 'The insufferable, unbearable, uncontrollable, insolent, impertinent…
POTTER.'
The Boy Who Lived to be a Pain In The Arse was getting visibly agitated whilst Miss Granger did her best to calm him down. Potter was gesturing towards the Head Table with his head, his face turning a bright shade of magenta as he argued his point with his friends. Severus could not hear the words, but was now seriously concerned - a passionate Potter was never a good sign, and Severus deemed it necessary to patrol the castle extensively tonight, knowing that the boy would not last five minutes if he ran into certain individuals. This year, the danger was greater than ever before.
On the other side of the Great Hall, the mood seemed light and jovial at the Slytherin table. Undoubtedly the well-oiled propaganda machine was in full swing already, judging by the awe and admiration painted across the newest students as the elder ones informed them of the Pureblood agenda, radiating inspiration and the superficial charm typical for the new, impassioned generation of Death Eaters, ready and eager to follow in their parents' footsteps. Severus grimaced internally. He knew better than anybody how hard it was to rid oneself of the poisonous effects of brainwashing, so he would have to act fast, and hope that his new Slytherins would be smart enough to decode his advice for what it was - think for yourself.
Soon, the main meal was replaced by dessert, and Severus scowled at the selection of cakes, custards and ice cream that appeared before him. His sweet tooth was one of his best kept secrets, and it was incredibly cruel of the House Elves to present him with such a mouth watering selection of treats. Knowing that it simply wouldn't do for his austere persona to gorge on a mountain of puddings, he chose a modest piece of bakewell tart and cherished every mouthful.
Crowley, on the other hand, did not seem to have similar concerns. She was currently demolishing a huge piece of hot chocolate fudge cake complete with two generous scoops of ice cream. Once again she caught his eye, and an impish grin appeared briefly on her face as she picked up some ice cream on her spoon. First, the tip of her tongue came out to sample its taste, and then she slowly, deliberately, put the spoon in her mouth.
Severus' breath hitched as he watched her suck on the spoon, her rosey lips puckering as she dragged the silver utensil out of her mouth in a smooth, exaggerated motion. Crowley's eyes fluttered closed in an expression of sheer pleasure, and Severus couldn't contain the shaking of his hands as she ran her tongue across the dip of the spoon. He swallowed thickly and dropped his gaze to his own plate, and impaled the bakewell tart on his fork. He shoved a chunk of tart into his mouth and looked up at Crowley again, eyes blazing, with the intention of making it very clear that she should stop right NOW.
His eyes found her again and he nearly choked on his food. He caught a glimpse of the last of the ice-cream disappear into her mouth, and seconds later, a small amount of the white liquid trickled out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin. He forced himself to breathe steadily as she wiped it with her finger, and keeping eye contact, licked it clean, and smacked her lips lightly, her delight visible, her intentions beyond the shadow of a doubt.
Severus' face was carved out of stone, although his black eyes glittered dangerously as he thought to himself, 'You're playing with fire, silly little girl. Carry on, and I'll see what else I can put in that pretty mouth of yours.'
Crowley turned around sharply, wrinkling her brow as she admonished a pair of boisterous second-years who decided that it would be a good idea to flick profiteroles at one another, and Severus put down his fork and began observing the Hall again, his mind occupied with pleasant images of Crowley, on her knees, with her lips wrapped around his cock. He imagined himself, whispering words of encouragement and stroking her hair as she brought him to completion, the bliss on her face as she enthusiastically swallowed every last drop of his come, the sweet noises she would undoubtedly make…yes. As much as she drove him mad, she was the one thing that kept him sane.
Suddenly, his musings were interrupted once again as a subdued commotion erupted at the Head Table. The Professors whispered to each other with a palpable sense of urgency, and soon, Minerva came over to Severus and leaned in to whisper,'We have a problem in the Entrance Hall. Come quickly!', her watery eyes widened in alarm.
Severus rose swiftly from his chair and followed the tall witch through the Staff Entrance with Albus, Filius and Pomona, their exit accompanied by the buzzing sound of curious whispers of students.
So much for keeping an eye on the Chosen One.
'Miss Crowley, Mr Davies, thank you for coming so quickly.'
Professor McGonagall ushered Alice and Roger into her office and asked them to sit down. Shuffling her feet, Alice perched on one of the straight-backed chairs and looked around nervously, surprised to see Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Snape in there. Davies claimed the chair to her left and sat with his back rod-straight, officious and alert, his features set in a display of almost comical pompousness. Alice decided to stay silent for the moment - the toff seemed to love being the centre of attention, and Alice was more than happy to let him do all the talking.
Professor McGonagall appeared anxious, her elegant features creasing as she explained, wringing her hands, 'Miss Crowley, Mr Davies, I need to know if you had, by any chance, spotted any suspicious activity in the Entrance Hall. It appears that the Hourglasses have been... tampered with.'
Drawing in a sharp breath, Davies spoke up, 'That's atrocious! I haven't seen anything at all…' he turned his head towards Alice. 'Have you seen anything, Alice?'
Alice shook her head in response. She tried not to stare too openly at Snape, who in her view looked rather magnificent, backlit by the fire in the grate. That said, nothing about his countenance suggested that he was paying her any particular attention beyond wanting to know if she had seen anything suspicious, and a tendril of doubt pricked at her heart out of nowhere.
Davies stood up and put a reassuring hand on Professor McGonagall's upper arm. He seemed to have form for such familiarity. In an impassioned tone, he proclaimed, 'Don't worry, Professor, the prefect body will patrol the Entrance Hall day and night if necessary. I will make sure of it myself.' After a hesitant pause, he added, 'May I ask in what way the Hourglasses have been tampered with?'
Professor Flitwick piped up, 'All of the Houses are in negative points! It must have happened during, or shortly after the Sorting!'
Alice blinked rapidly, perplexed by the severe concern etched across the Professors' faces. Clearing her throat, she offered, 'Of course the Houses are in negative points, it's only logical!' She wrinkled her brow, glad to relieve them of their trouble whilst struggling to grasp why they would make a song and dance about such a non-issue. Didn't they know anything?!
McGonagall nearly tripped on her own robes as she trotted over to where Alice sat. She demanded, 'Miss Crowley, what are you talking about?!', her Scottish accent thickening and laced with urgency, her sharp features drawn into tight, severe lines.
Alice shrugged lightly, as though she was telling the most obvious thing in the world. 'Well, I deducted points on the train. All Houses start at zero, so it's only logical that they would drop into negative numbers. I took points from first years, or rather from whatever House they were going to be sorted into, so that explains the additional drop after the Sorting.'
'YOU?!' McGonagall's eyes nearly bulged out at this revelation. She put one long-fingered hand on her heart, breathing in deeply, as though Alice had just admitted to using Unforgivables on newborn kittens. 'Miss Crowley...'
Professor Flitwick jumped off his chair and pointed an accusing finger at Alice. 'You deducted over 200 points ON THE TRAIN?!'
Alice shifted her gaze rapidly from one face to another, working her jaw open and closed for a while as she hugged herself defensively, utterly baffled by their outrage. 'I… I was only doing my job!' She wanted to get up and hide behind her chair, as though the polished wood could shield her from their unjustified wrath. In a smaller voice, she added, 'Wasn't I?'
Professor Sprout stepped up. For today only, she was wearing a clean set of robes and had even scrubbed underneath her nails. Her face bore no accusation, but she seemed saddened and disappointed. 'You have taken 245 points, Miss Crowley. No wonder the little ones were so upset. You've given them the impression that Hogwarts is strict, harsh from the first moment. Was that your intention, dear? Perhaps you made a mistake?' Sprout gave a shivering smile, her eye twitching lightly as she wrung her hands.
Alice drew in a loud, shuddering breath. This was NOT going to plan. 'Aren't I supposed to be catching out those who mess about?'
Professor Sprout replied gently, 'And reporting them to us. You are not allowed to take points until tomorrow, and the first years are immune until next week. You should have known that. You should have also known that you're not allowed to take more than five points at a time.'
Glowering at Sprout, Alice muttered, 'I did take five at a time.'
Professor Sprout inhaled sharply, her demeanour changing from gentle to stern. 'Then you had overstepped the mark and you should have a word with yourself!'
Alice clenched her fists in indignation. This was the woman who had made her do dirty, unpleasant work in her lessons, bored her half to death with her stupid, dangerous, yucky magical plants and made it very clear that she didn't want Alice in her lessons. She tried to speak, but her throat constricted dangerously, stealing her voice.
Flitwick piped in, 'How utterly irresponsible of you! To punish fifty students…'
Alice muttered, 'forty-nine' and crossed her arms and averted her gaze, sulking.
McGonagall scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain, 'And you took points from your own House, too!'
'They were misbehaving!' Alice jumped to her feet, unable to bear any more scolding from these bullies, driven by the need to defend herself against their attack. She thought it disgraceful, the way they ganged up on her, and she wanted to turn around and punch Roger, that sanctimonious twat, if only to wipe that outraged expression off his face. She spat, 'I don't care whether they were Gryffindors or Blast-Ended Skrewts!', her voice rising in a steady crescendo into a full-blown shouting fit. 'You're having a go at me for doing my job and I bet you'd do the same if I did nowt! Can't win with you lot, can I?!'
'How rude!' Flitwick waved one finger at her and took a step towards her, breathing loudly through his nose which made him look like a miniscule angry bull with a thick moustache. 'Miss Crowley, you are the last person I would have expected this kind of behaviour from!'
McGonagall spat out, 'I am utterly disappointed!', looking away from Alice as though she could not stand the sight of her.
Alice, by now, was close to tears. She looked towards the door desperately, wishing only to run away from this castle and never return. She had only tried to make the best of a bad situation, but nobody seemed to be listening.
Professor Sprout stepped forward again, as though sensing that Alice was almost at breaking point. She said, 'Miss Crowley, please listen. Nobody is trying to have a go at you, we're just trying to explain that what you did was wrong and we want you to acknowledge it, that's all. We were very worried, but this isn't something that cannot be fixed. Just apologise and all will be well.'
Sprout's voice was calm and soothing, but Alice was too far gone, shamed and embarrassed in front of the Head Boy and, more importantly, in front of Snape. All that time, he stood there by the fire and observed quietly without making any effort to jump into her defence. He too must have thought her a failure. She begged, prayed to the heavens above for him to jump to her defense, to fight her corner as she would his.
'I just…'
A rush of black at the edge of her vision alerted her to Snape, who had finally abandoned his post by the fire and stalked towards her fluidly like a panther, his black, dangerous eyes glistening, as though illuminated by a flickering fire of their own. Alice paled as he approached, the tiny hope that he was going to back her up dying a painful death under his hard, unforgiving gaze. Coming to a halt at arm's length, he loomed over her and spat, 'You foolish chit.'
The cold emanating from the wizard made Alice shudder. She opened her mouth to argue, but could not find her voice. This wasn't the Snape she had argued with over the Summer with no problems or ramifications - this was the terrifying Professor Snape, the Bat of the Dungeons who could freeze the blood in one's veins with a single look. Her heart sank. She was on her own, and now he had turned against her, too.
He continued, 'NOBODY is bullying you. NOBODY is having a go at you for doing your job, and believe me, all of us would rather be somewhere else right now. Thanks to your inability to familiarise yourself with your job description, none of us Heads of Houses can do our own job of greeting our first-years. Thanks to your unwillingness to engage at least a couple of brain cells, you have caused significant disruption to the staff and the students on the VERY FIRST DAY OF TERM!'
Alice felt betrayed. The agony of knowing just how little she meant to him was too much to bear. She sobbed, 'Then why let me take points if I can't take points? Should I just sit there doin' nowt an' let the chillun run wild?!' She turned to appeal to McGonagall, pleading, 'Please, please just let me go and give the job to somebody else! I never asked for it in the first place!'
'Girl, are you being deliberately obtuse?!' Snape's patience snapped like a piece of dry wood, and he roared at her, his polished drawl thickening with every second, morphing into the thick, broad Mancunian accent as he berated her. She had stopped arguing now and listened to his tirade, defeated and tired of this situation. Silently, she took his verbal lashings on the chin, letting him slice her heart into thin strips with jagged edges.
Snape paused abruptly to catch his breath inbetween one sentence and another, his eyebrows rising as he noticed the looks of disbelief painted on the faces of his colleagues. Quickly, he straightened and cleared his throat, stiffening his upper lip in visible embarrassment at his poor choice of register. He grunted, 'As you were', and moved back to his spot by the fire where he continued glowering at Alice, who no longer had the energy to even feel amused at this uncharacteristic slip.
Professor Sprout winced and said, 'There, I believe Miss Crowley had learned her lesson.' She addressed her colleagues with a hint of hope in her voice, 'Don't you think?'
Professor McGonagall sighed. 'Yes, I believe you're correct, Pomona. Thank you, Severus, hopefully your… explanation had convinced Miss Crowley that she is in the wrong in this situation.' She turned to Alice, the anger bleeding away from her face. 'Miss Crowley, I suggest that you go to your quarters and contemplate your behaviour. I shall inform the Headmaster and you will receive detention. Go now.'
Jaw set tight to halt the flood of tears that were desperate to escape any second now, Alice turned on her heel and made to exit the office when there was a knock on the door. Hermione Granger stood there with a snivelling child in tow. She said, 'I am sorry to interrupt, Professors. This first-year is distressed and I can't calm him down. He said he wants to go home.'
The child in question spotted Alice. He pointed at her and screamed in terror, as though confronted by a werewolf, or worse. Chased by McGonagall's stern glare, Alice shoved her hands into her pockets and skulked off with her head down, vowing to never make any effort again.
I sincerely hope that you're feeling just as frustrated with Apocalyptic Alice as I am. If you don't have an urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, it means that I'm doing something wrong. XD