cxxx. for the wicked

The sudden, thundering bang of fists raining on his door jerked Severus from his potion-induced slumber.

His migraine blazed anew across his left temple and Severus grit his teeth, breath stolen by the pain, sweat building and dripping along the nape of his neck. He cupped his palm to his left eye, cursing—and the rapid banging continued.

What now?

Kicking back the sheets, Severus stood and summoned his robes from the armoire, throwing them on over his gray nightshirt, striding through his living quarters. He expected to find Minerva or Filch or Albus in the corridor—though, if he'd given it half a thought, he'd have known Minerva or Albus would have sent a Patronus in the event of an emergency, rather than descend into the dungeons to beat his door down. Without students about, Filch didn't have much reason to come whinging, let alone at this godforsaken hour.

He froze upon finding Potter and Black standing at his threshold.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're—?!"

His thunderous remark cut itself short when he noted their wide, terrified eyes and the limp Horned Serpent in Potter's shaking arms. They'd come in a hurry, neither wearing their dressing gowns over their pajamas or their slippers.

"He was in the dormitory," Black blurted out, looking back the way they'd come. "He—Sirius Black was in the dormitory!"

Severus stiffened and forced his eyes to focus. "What are you talking about, girl?"

"He hurt Livi!" Potter said, her eyes glassy and wet in the corridor's dim light. "He did something, there was this funny red light, and I thought I was dreaming—."

"She gasped, and it woke me, and—."

"There was a bloke just standing there, and then he disappeared—!"

"Shut up," Severus hissed, trying to make sense of their rapid, panicked babbling. He slammed closed the portrait leading into his quarters and grabbed Potter by the arm, dragging her and Black across the corridor to his office. He shoved the pair into the dark, cold space, then stopped to flick a fire into the empty grate. The idiots would freeze to death if he didn't do something for them. "Stay here."

"But—."

The door shut in Potter's face, and Severus sealed it. Only then did he fully register their words, their fears of someone—maybe Sirius Black, maybe not, but an unknown male nonetheless—being in their dormitory. A curious tangle of dread and rage pulled through his chest as he snarled, "Expecto Patronum!"

A paltry silver thread wove from the end of his wand, but nothing else. Severus didn't bother to curse or try again, instead summoning a house-elf, ordering the short creature to bring the Headmaster down to the dungeons. He hurried after that, all but running toward the hidden portal barring passage to the Slytherin common room. He was almost there when Slytherin appeared at the head of the corridor, and for the briefest of seconds, they held each other at wand point.

The pain in his head hadn't made Severus insensate enough to not know it best to lower his own wand first.

"My Lord," he acknowledged.

"Snape," Slytherin returned, red eyes roving from him to the supposedly blank stretch of dark stone. He still wore his day clothes, not a stitch out of place; Severus wasn't entirely sure the bastard was capable of sleep. "One of our young charges has crossed the entrance ward and I came to investigate."

Came to catch whoever it was out, more like. "Both, in fact. Potter and Black believe there was an intruder in their room."

"And they came to you first? Not their Head of House?"

A worrying note wove through the shorter wizard's tone, and Severus chose his following words carefully. They hadn't the time for Slytherin to throw a fit over some perceived slight. "I am closer to the dungeons, my Lord."

"Hmm. We'll have a discussion on this later."

Oh, I can hardly fucking wait.

Motion in the corridor's mouth drew their attention as Albus arrived, appearing tired and wary, Minerva trailing after him, wrapped in her tartan dressing gown. Slytherin's eyes cut to Severus, a not-so-subtle fury glinting in their ruby depths, and the Headmaster was quick to lie for Severus' benefit. "The wards alerted me to a disturbance," he said. "Is everything well, Professors?"

"Black and Potter claim there was an intruder in their dormitory."

"An intruder?" Minerva and Albus shared an uneasy glance. "Are you certain? Is it possible they imagined it? They are young girls, and it can be rather, erm, eerie in the dungeons this late at night."

"Potter and Black aren't the type to be frightened easily. You know this, Minerva." Of course, Severus couldn't be certain of anything, but somebody had Stunned Potter's snake—and that in and of itself was cause for alarm, because the only way a person would know of the Horned Serpent was if they'd watched the girl, if they'd observed her enough to discover its existence.

"And where are they now?"

"In my office." The Transfiguration mistress made as if to head in that direction, but Severus cut her off. "I have sealed the room. You will not be able to enter."

"Excellent, Severus," Albus said. "Minerva, if you would alert the remainder of the staff and the Heads of House while we—."

The Headmaster stepped toward the entrance of the common room, and Slytherin interceded. Severus' pulse raised when Slytherin's hand brushed Albus' chest, and the Headmaster visibly recoiled, his wand out, a palpable burst of magic swelling in the air.

"I won't have brainless Gryffindors stomping through my ancestral House," Slytherin spat, unmoved by the cold steel in Albus' gaze or the threatening stance adopted by him and the Deputy Headmistress. They'd stumbled upon a potentially dangerous situation—and not because of an intruder in the castle. Relations with Slytherin existed as a game of Muggle tug of war; if one wished to win, they had to know when to pull, and when to give, how best to displace their opponent and take their feet out from under them. The game would be more straightforward if Slytherin had been a sane man—but he wasn't, and one day some slight infraction, such as challenging his authority in his own House, could throw him into an unpredictable rage.

If Slytherin pushed, Severus didn't know what they'd do, what he'd do, what Albus would want for him to do, because the three of them together might be able to force Slytherin to retreat—but it would not be permanent, and Severus could not sacrifice his position in a futile gambit. He had spent years of his life, had killed, to remain in Slytherin's good graces. In the same breath, if Albus allowed Slytherin to chip away at his own influence and authority—.

"Need I remind you that I am the Headmaster of this school, Professor?" Albus said, and if Severus hadn't known the wizard well, he wouldn't have heard the words and the anger that went unvoiced.

"For now." Slytherin smiled. "Go on, then. Manage your school, Headmaster, and I will see to my House. Severus!"

The Potions Master hated being called to attention like a stung dog, but he nonetheless dipped his head in acquiescence and followed Slytherin into the common room, hearing the monster's harsh, guttural hissing as he commanded the painted serpent above the hearth. A series of spells left his wand, a thin veil of yellow sweeping through the darkened room, illuminating purulent halos of ugly color in its wake. Naturally, a spell meant to detect traces of human presence would be ineffective in a communal space.

Slytherin went off to check the boys' corridor while Severus checked the girls', finding nothing but dark, empty beds until the two professors met again inside Potter and Black's dormitory. The lantern had been left lit, their rumpled sheets thrown back, a bit of gift wrapping forgotten on the floor, but the room was otherwise surprisingly tidy and undisturbed. Slytherin again muttered a mantra of spells, and again, the room lit with color to indicate human presence—but the Defense professor's voice cut short as something changed. Severus, too, noted the shift in resonance and swished his wand. "Appare Vestigium."

Several hues bloomed in the dark, most faded to drabber tones—but three traces remained stronger. Three.

"It appears Potter and Black didn't imagine things," Slytherin crooned, pacing by Potter's bed, his hand ghosting over the curtain. "A third party was in here—though, should that party be Mr. Black, it does beg the question of how he managed to breach my dungeons and why he fled from two pubescent witches simply because they woke to find him in here."

Severus didn't have an answer to those questions. The password for the common room changed every fortnight and had yet to be reset since the remainder of the juvenile horde had departed; he could only surmise that Black had lifted the password from someone who'd gone home for the break, since Potter and Miss Black weren't nearly as careless as the others in their age group. But why flee? He'd already Stunned the snake, easily the most dangerous threat in the room, which meant he had a bloody wand trained on both Black and Potter. In his recollection, Sirius Black had always been one to press his advantage and had taken risks to get one last curse out whenever he and his band of merry-men attacked Severus. Why run? And how? How did he get out of the dorm?

A sharp breath drew Severus' attention just as Slytherin yanked his hand away from Potter's trunk, the pads of his fingers bright red with fresh blisters. For half a moment, Severus thought Potter might return to her dormitory to find her possessions reduced to ashes—but Slytherin pulled back his ire, instead settling for curiosity.

"Potter wards her trunk."

"As any good Slytherin should, my Lord."

"Hmm." He allowed the matter to drop, and Severus bit back the desire to sneer, ill at ease with the wizard's desire to go rooting through a witch's things while a fucking serial killer might well be wandering the castle. The incessant pulsing in his temple forced Severus to close his eyes, if only for a second, willing the pain to recede to manageable levels. When he opened his eyes again, Slytherin was watching him, a sick, pleased grin on his handsome face.

"We should not discount this being a distraction," Severus drawled, aiming to get Slytherin out of there. "It is odd, my Lord, that a wizard capable of breaching your protections would leave two unprotected children undisturbed. I can only imagine what his real aims must be…."

His vague suppositions were enough to redirect Slytherin's mind onto his own agenda, and though the wizard scoffed, he retreated swiftly enough, doubtlessly off to check that his own office and chambers hadn't been tampered with. Severus went to follow but paused to have a final look about, checking for any anomalies. He found none—but when his own pale hand passed over the latch on Potter's trunk, his fingers drew back perfectly fine. Severus stared at them and the trunk for several seconds, and then gathered himself, dousing the lantern on his way out.

x X x

"And you saw nothing which could conclusively say whether it was Black or not?"

"No, Albus. Nothing in the room had been visibly disturbed." Severus crossed his arms against his chest as they continued down the passage toward his office. An exhaustive search had been undertaken, but two hours of scouring the halls had—once again—turned up nothing. He wanted to blame Lupin for this farce—and he would discover how the mangy wolf was connected to this, he swore—but Lupin didn't know of the Horned Serpent, and didn't know the pass-phrase into the Slytherin common room. Deceitful knobhead he might be, but Lupin didn't have that kind of finesse.

Albus sighed, eyes downcast in thought. "All of the other students are accounted for and, according to Pomona and Filius, deep asleep in their beds. I've done what I can to keep this from the Ministry; the perceived threat against Mr. Longbottom provides Gaunt with enough leverage to keep the Dementors here, but if Black is thought to be attacking seemingly blameless third-years in Slytherin House, he will push for more Ministry presence."

Severus grunted. "Miss Black is his daughter. Already Lucius has told me there are mutterings in the Ministry speculating on their possible collusion. This incident would place undue suspicion on the brat."

"Yes, it would." They passed a torch, and the glow revealed the Headmaster's severe expression. "I must admit, my theories for Black's possible reasoning in breaching the wards and not violently attacking Miss Potter are very grim indeed, Severus."

Gritting his teeth, the Potions Master spat, "He knows, Dumbledore. He knows the Dark Lord went to Godric's Hollow and knows damn well he didn't overlook the girl. I was in the house, he came there, he—."

"Yes, Severus, you have told me this and I have taken it into consideration."

"Black has that knowledge we have sought to hide from the Wizarding world for over a decade. If he does not seek to slaughter the girl in his Master's name, then he will bring her to him!"

"But to do so, he would have to find Voldemort, and if he were able of finding Tom, we must ask ourselves why he is here in the first place. It is a pointless risk to remain in country."

"There are always whispers of the Dark Lord's whereabouts, Albus."

"Not conclusive whispers, my boy."

"No, but some are louder than others. Quirrell followed such a note into Albania, and look what happened to that fool." They stopped outside his office door, and Severus lowered his voice. "You are underestimating the Dark Lord's violence. Even the most ardent of his followers—those who haven't drifted to another camp in his absence—would not approach him without an offering of appeasement. Mark my words, Headmaster, if Black doesn't kill Harriet, he will drag her to the Dark Lord himself!"

Dumbledore grasped his arm, and only then did Severus register the fine tremble in his own hand, the thump of his heart against his ribs. Anger, he decided. I'm fucking angry.

Jerking free, Severus released the wards sealing the door and pushed it aside, allowing the Headmaster to walk in first. Black had apparently nodded off while they searched and now jolted upright in Severus' chair. Potter stopped stomping about and fixed the pair of adult wizards with a glare.

"What's happening?" she demanded. "Both Elara and I saw somebody in the room—and he hurt Livi! Was it Sirius Black? D'you catch him? Did—?"

Albus rested his hand on the girl's shoulder to slow the endless onslaught of her questions, and they conversed in soft, soothing tones while Severus strode over to his desk and eyed the unmoving reptile laid on its top. Potter's was the only Horned Serpent he'd ever seen, the creatures no longer being native to England and rare to boot, but he understood they reached a rather massive size and outlived wizards by a century at least. Potter's beast was already approaching two and a half meters in length, its angular head nearly as large as Severus' splayed hand.

At least she hasn't taken to wearing it as a bloody scarf quite so often, he thought, inspecting the serpent to ensure it really had only been Stunned. Possibly because it's getting bloody monstrous in size. He gave his wand a negligible flick, incanting, "Rennervate."

He hadn't accounted for the Horned Serpent being a wretched wild animal, and so when it writhed under Severus' hand and opened its confused blue eyes, it lunged at his face.

"Protego Serpens!"

The snake bounced off a whorl of vapor as Severus reeled, gasping, and collided with the shelves at his back. The ghost of fangs brushed against his throat. Jesus Christ!

"Sorry, Professor!" Potter dismissed her Shield and rushed to calm the furious, seething mass of wriggling coils on his desk. "He's—he didn't mean it, he's just scared—." She dwindled into ghoulish hissing, and he shivered. Dumbledore came to his side.

"Are you well, Severus?"

No, he was not well; he hadn't been well in fucking years! He'd just spent the better part of a winter night combing a Scottish castle for a serial killer, his migraine hadn't abated in the slightest, and he yet had several hours of toadying to Slytherin ahead of him. He wanted to sleep, for Merlin's sake. Severus shook Dumbledore's touch from his arm and slouched, well-aware of Black's inquisitive stare resting on the top of his bowed head.

Stupid brat, he thought viciously. Stupid brat and stupid, no-good cunt of a father.

"Harriet," Dumbledore said to the bespectacled girl. Potter looked around and stopped trying to dislodge the serpent from wrapping itself around her. "Does your familiar have any additional information for us? Did he perhaps see something you and Miss Black missed?"

"I—dunno, Headmaster," she replied, more hissing interspersed between the words. "He's—bloody hell, Livius, stop squeezing—I think he's a bit confused, and quite angry. He keeps mentioning the 'rat one,' but he gives people names like that all the time, and he changes it around. He changed Elara's name to the 'rude one' just the other day."

"I see." Dumbledore straightened, the bones in his back popping ever so slightly. "Well, as I said before, a search has been conducted and largely completed. We found nothing suspicious, and the rest of the students are tucked tight into their beds." The Headmaster forced a smile. "Now, for your safety, I have reached out to our mutual friend, and he readily agreed to take you both in for the remainder of the holiday."

Both witches brightened. "Mr. Flamel?" Potter asked.

"Yes. Nicolas should be waiting for us in my office as we speak. Let's move along and meet him, shall we?"

"But, Professor, what about our things?"

"Never fear, they'll be sent after you in the morning. Now, come along."

Severus followed their odd grouping, though he couldn't say why, really. He found himself walking again for some reason, trailing Dumbledore, and didn't stir until he felt the warmth of a hearth near him, a curly-haired wizard rising from one of the Headmaster's comfortable guest chairs to greet the young witches in cheery French. Usually, seeing the world's foremost scholar in alchemical science and potion creation would have garnered more of Severus' attention, but he could barely bring himself to look at the man. A sense of relief had filled him the instant Dumbledore said Potter would be leaving, and that relief had robbed Severus of the adrenaline that had been keeping him upright so far.

He was bone-weary.

A hand tugged on his sleeve, and Severus blinked, glancing around to find Potter at his side, still holding her ridiculous snake, green eyes wide and focused on his own. "You're bleeding, Professor. Livi didn't bite you, did he? I thought I caught him fast enough."

Severus swiped at his cheek and, sure enough, blood had begun to gather and well in the corner of his left eye like teardrops. The red smear stood out stark on his shaking hand. He bowed his head, allowing his limp black hair to swing forward and hide his face from view. "Mind your own business, Potter."

Flamel recalled Potter to him, his arm coming to settle on the girl's short, narrow shoulders. A sweet wrapper and a burst of blue light saw the trio off via one of Albus' illegal Portkeys—and silence descended in their passage, the Headmaster sinking into his chair while Severus propped his elbow on the mantel and rubbed at his bloodied, painful eye. The portraits on the wall remained silent observers, as did the phoenix waiting on his golden perch.

What a night.

"Sometimes I wonder," Dumbledore said, in a voice so soft the fire nearly masked it even from Severus' keen ears. "I wonder if it would have been better had she gone to Beauxbatons."

"Albus?"

The older wizard sighed and looked at him. "I wonder if young Harriet would be safer there, happier. If, by sending her farther away, would I remove her from danger—or simply abandon her to dangers unknown? Would I be sparing the child to only kill the young woman she is becoming? Because Harriet's destiny is as bound to her and she is to it, and I do not know if it is crueler to allow her ignorance or to take it away from her."

"You could send the girl to Siberia, and she'd end up getting pummeled by a Yeti. It's from the Potter infesting her blood."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Perhaps. Though truth be told, I don't often see much of James in dear Harriet. Poor boy was rather…."

"Arrogant?" Severus supplied, though it lacked bite. He was too tired to have a go at James Potter, the tosser. "Foolish? Thick-headed?"

"Ignorant, I would guess," Dumbledore continued. "Not with willingness or malice, but we were all quite ignorant then. Blissfully so."

Severus shoved off the mantel and turned his wounded side from the Headmaster, lip curling. The first tentative breaths of light had begun to herald the dawn beyond the tower's windows, fatigue like a hairshirt growing tighter and tighter over Severus' chest. "As much as I'd love to reminiscent about James bloody Potter all day, I've other places to be, Albus. Other egos to assuage."

The older wizard turned to survey the windows and the light that came so begrudgingly over the frozen horizon. "So you do. Be careful, Severus. Be watchful."

"I always am."


A/N: Next chapter goes completely off canon. Should be fun!

Albus: "Severus, why does your nightshirt say 'Do Not Resuscitate'?"

Snape: "It was on a discount."

Narrator: "This was a lie."

Poor Severus didn't get to fangirl over meeting Nicolas Flamel.