A hellish week of layered sleep depravity dragged by and suddenly it was Saturday again. The sun was starting its climb through the morning sky, the day was bright with only a slight draft coming from the snow-capped mountains around Hogwarts.
The fact that today was the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, summarized most complications that sought to involve Professor Severus Snape the past week. The Quidditch Cup had not been held for so long, it saw to considerable added interest and excitement surrounding the approaching game.
Rolanda Hooch and Severus Snape hovered at the fringes of the pre-match scene, keeping an eye on players and supporters gathering on the pavilions. He found himself somewhat eager to referee a match between the two big competitors, as he has interests on both sides.
Only once James Potter laid six-foot underground, Remus Lupin was ostracised, Sirius Black a dead man walking and little Lily found herself at risk did Quidditch begin to rub off on him.
Being comfortable on a broom was a skill he had to learn the hard way. Severus had put in hours of practice to be able to keep his composure during the fast-paced game, played whilst basically clutching a stick between your thighs and speeding through the air – and he had to pass the three levels of practical assessment trials during the Department of Magical Games and Sports International Practical Quidditch Refereeing Competency Examinations.
He had to learn to fly like he had to learn to like Quidditch and, although Severus had to make up for many disadvantages during his four years involved in the sport, he was now the most heavy-duty referee Hogwarts had. This was proven by the frequency he was placed on the field at the special request of Hooch, McGonagall or at times even Dumbledore to enable staff to catch cheats and break up inevitable fights between hot-headed participants.
His ability to bring players to heel and his shrewd knowledge and severe enforcement of the rules made him an intimidating referee. Even statistically, his matches were cleaner compared to the rest of the staff because of the control he was able to maintain over the field.
His main objective was to keep Holly from breaking her neck by accident or otherwise and he liked to think that his promise to keep her safe made him at the very least less bias toward other teams.
The Gryffindor players sat in a circle, going through a stretching routine together before warm-up.
Holly laid her ear on her knee in a deep hamstring stretch while simultaneously chatting happily with a friend twisted into a similar pose. She laughed with the general conversation and joined in with a cheer or witty comment as they did shoulder mobility. She then showed off by tying her boot laces while doubled over like an acrobat, her friends seeming to love it.
They love her.
Something powerful inside Severus seemed to be inexplicably slighted by this.
Could it be jealousy?
He looked away, trying to distract himself.
Gathered by the changing rooms, the Slytherin players huddled together in a strategic planning session. The new captain, Montague, used his wand to draw in the cold mud, occasionally pointing at players around him and then poking at the elaborate dirt-plan again. The team seemed reasonably prepared, but whether or not they are better than last season remained to be seen. He had booked the Quidditch pitch for their practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play, and yet he was still missing the House Cup in his office.
Severus despised seeing Gryffindor triumph over his own house . . . even if Holly was part of the team.
They have had enough victories, today the cup is for Slytherin.
And what a perfect day it is for a Quidditch skirmish; there was little wind and the sky was a uniform pearly white, which meant that visibility would be good without the drawback of direct sunlight in the eyes.
Severus' black goat hair scarf whipped away in the icy breeze but he caught a fistful in a gloved hand and stuffed the tip in between the buttons of the black waistcoat he wore over his usual white shirt. For Quidditch matches, he preferred to play without his constricting teaching coat and opted for soft leather knee-boots with his trousers tucked inside. He also wore an official Department of Magical Games and Sport (DMGS) issued lightweight, black referee cloak lined with wool, which he found was enough to keep him warm and still agile during the game. Severus knotted his scarf more securely around his neck when laughter and delighted shrieks pulled his black eyes back to the Gryffindors.
Not knowing why he was even still surprised by the things she did, he found Holly and two teammates doing cartwheels while holding their brooms above their heads in a triangle. Onlookers lay sideways as they laughed and applauded as Holly now entertained them by walking around on her hands with what looked like the Weasley twins and another female player. Although impressive physical display, it was too James-like for him to enjoy at any level.
Please. Lose.
He caught a glimpse of the decidedly English skin tone of her exposed hip bone and navel before she flipped upright again in an elegant flourish of crimson, leaves and legs. She bowed with her Firebolt held aloft and a brilliant grin, her face red.
Severus did not understand how she could possess of this kind of energy. He had been unable to sleep for more than forty minutes at a time for a week and she was wasting energy walking around on her hands.
She certainly doesn't look like she's been under attack by the Dark Lord for months . . .
Perhaps it troubled him because she was the reason he could not bring himself to sleep (or eat for that matter) and yet there she was, acting all unbothered in the very face of his suffering.
Stress had caused his neck and shoulders to grow stiff and sore, and the index and middle fingers of his right hand quivered with irrepressible, albeit minor, tremors when he was not paying attention.
And when finally he did find sleep, his dreams were haunted by spectres in darkened rooms, gathered around ancient stone altars inscribed with peculiar runes – no doubt brought up helpfully by his sub-consciousness to solve the riddle of how Holly Potter got to be on top of one in a nightdress, without any recollection of the strange event.
Severus used most waking moments fostering unhealthy suspicions and brooding over a plan aimed to firstly, determine the extent of and reasons for the psychic attack and thereafter – to somehow – exorcise the Dark Lord from her mind.
At this stage he required honest answers to several questions at the earliest opportunity and found himself even considering proactively using Veritaserum.
Lies will only waste more precious time.
He could hear hundreds of footsteps mounting the banked benches of the spectators' stands now. Severus was starting to feel anticipation for what was to come. After shouldering his broom he bewitched the trunk containing the various Quidditch balls to levitate in front of him as the players march onto the pitch in single file. A roar of sound greeted them.
Let the game begin.
666666
"— and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now Angelina — GRYFFINDOR SCORES! It's forty-ten, forty ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle . . ."
Slytherin was in the lead and the Snitch was nowhere to be found, the new Weasley Keeper seemed to be having trouble controlling his limbs well enough to knock a Quaffle away from his person today. All things considered; it was looking good for Slytherin.
Severus kept his sights on Draco and Holly soaring around the stadium as he climbed higher above the players like a large, black bird of prey.
He kept his whistle slack in his mouth, circling the game whilst looking for discrepancies.
Holly ducked a Bludger that Crabbe had sent rocketing in her direction and resumed her frantic scouring of the pitch for the Snitch.
He forced himself to focus on the progressing game.
"— Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey — Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good — I mean bad — Bell's hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession again . . ."
The next moment, Severus saw a green-and-silver blur streak out of the sky on his left. Draco had caught sight of the tiny Golden Snitch hovering a few feet above the ground at the Slytherin end of the pitch. He was diving toward it, lying flat on his broom.
Holly had noticed him too and had pulled her Firebolt around, quickly following Draco down to the ground.
Soon, she was neck in neck with Draco.
The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goal hoops and then it shot off toward the other side of the stands. The change of direction suited Draco, who was nearer.
Yes! Get it!
Feet from the ground, Holly lifted her right hand from her broom, stretching toward the Snitch. To her right, Draco's arm was also extended, groping for the tiny winged ball. . .
It was over in two desperate seconds — Holly's fingers had closed around the tiny, struggling ball — while Draco's fingernails scraped the back of her glove hopelessly. Holly pulled her broom upward, holding the struggling ball aloft. The Gryffindors and some of the other Houses' spectators were screaming their approval so loud Snape could feel the vibrations in his tight chest.
No!
Severus groaned inwardly even as he blew the whistle signalling the capture of the Snitch and the subsequent hundred and fifty points to Gryffindor, making them win once again.
WHAM!
Fuck.
A revenge-Bludger by Crabbe hit Holly square in the small of the back. She flew forward off her broom and landed flat on her back on the frozen pitch. Thankfully she was only five or six feet above the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch.
Severus exhaled slowly as he heard Hooch's shrill whistle for a foul in her territory and saw her zooming toward Crabbe.
He made a quick decision to break off toward Holly when he saw Slytherins descend near her but was relieved to see her chest rising and falling. He jumped a few feet before landing and made hard contact with the ground, the icy grass crunching underneath his boots. One hand gripping his broom handle, Severus drew close to Holly, his cloak swelling around him like a black sail. His cold shadow slid over her face, blocking the sunlight as he stood over her.
Her eyes were now open and blinking slowly.
He stood a few feet from her, not daring to come closer in such a complicated political setting. He tried to keep his voice level and loud enough to carry over the commotion.
"Are you all right?"
"'Course I am," said Holly grimly, shielding her face with one hand and holding the struggling Snitch in the other, trying to see him in the bright sunlight.
Severus beckoned the Gryffindor captain over.
"Take Miss Potter to Madam Pomfrey."
The older girl obeyed promptly.
Holly's green eyes paused on him as she picked up her broom.
He watched them start off toward the castle and when he was sure that Holly was fine, he turned and strode over to join Hooch and Crabbe.
He heard the girls talking as he left.
"It was that thug, Crabbe," the captain said angrily at Holly.
"He whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch — but we won, Holly, we won!"
Severus added the incident report to his mental to-do list and cringe inwardly. It propelled his feet faster down the pitch toward the group of gathering Slytherins, his cloak whipping back in response to his quickened pace.
A sudden fuss erupted behind him again and he turned irritably, looking for the culprits sure to regret it soon.
"Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay –"
Draco was standing close to a few Gryffindors, openly baiting both Potter and one of the Weasley Beaters to what looked like Muggle hand-to-hand combat.
"Leave it," the captain said, holding Holly by the arm. It was taking the combined efforts of four teammates to stop the Weasley Beater from leaping on Draco, who was laughing loudly. Holly looked around desperately, probably for Hooch, but met Severus' narrowed black eyes instead. Her eyes were wild enough to spur his feet into a half-run toward the group.
"Or perhaps," said Draco, leering as he backed away, "you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it —"
A split second later both the Beater and Holly were sprinting at Draco, she seemed to have completely forgotten that Severus was watching. With no time to draw out her wand, she merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as she could into Draco's stomach.
"Holly! HOLLY! GEORGE! NO!" Severus heard their captain and a few team members scream, Draco howling, Weasleys swearing, and then his own whistle piercing through the chaos. He raised his wand.
"IMPEDIMENTA!"
Only when Holly was knocked over backwards by the force of his spell did she abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Draco she could reach.
Severus reached into the brawl and pulled Malfoy away by his collar.
Although he grasped the severity of wrongness happening, seeing her spitting like an enraged cat and manhandling Draco that made him feel a strange tinge in his belly.
"What do you think you're doing?" Severus snarled at the culprits.
Holly had already leapt to her feet; realising it was he who had hit her with the Jinx.
Severus was holding his whistle in one hand and wand in the other, his broom lay abandoned several feet away.
Draco was now curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody. The Gryffindor Beater was sporting a swelling lip and the other was still being forcibly restrained by the three Chasers. Crabbe and a bunch of other Slytherins were making noise in the background.
"Wait for your Head of House outside the changing rooms, both of you! Go! Now!" He commanded.
Holly and the Weasley twin marched off the pitch, both panting but neither saying a word.
Severus looked around until he found a fuming Minerva struggling through students to reach the scene. He pointed to the changing rooms as a way of explanation and she nodded stiffly, changing direction to set after the two sulking Gryffindors.
He dealt with Draco personally, dropping to a knee next to him and checking his vitals before reprimanding him. He was disappointed in him but knew that he could not go at him too viciously. If Lucius got wind of it, he might start trouble.
The stands were almost empty when he finally sent Draco back to the castle.
He started toward the changing rooms when he saw Holly and her teammate with Minerva. His stomach dropped when he noticed the had been joined by Dolores Umbridge.
"– a lifelong ban?!" Minerva's cry carried to him. He quickly lengthened his stride.
"Ban us?" Holly said, now closer. "From playing . . . ever again?"
"Yes, Miss Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick," said Dolores, her smile widening still further as she watched Holly struggle to comprehend what she had said.
Perfect.
He slowed his pace and came to a standstill behind Holly, towering over the tense scene of upset witches – and a bloody George.
"Dolores. Minerva." He acknowledged his colleagues.
"Pardon my intrusion," he said graciously to the toad-like woman, ignoring Minerva.
"But I have heaps of imp spleens that need to be extracted, salted and pulped for the particular potions you ordered yesterday." He paused for effect. "In light of the recent events, may I put these two to good use in the dungeons?"
Holly made the marvellous mistake of glancing at George – in obvious relief – at his mention of 'these two'.
Blood rushed into Professor McGonagall's face and Umbridge smiled broader still, she looked from Holly to Severus. Taking apparent delight in the idea of sending the Girl Who Lived, alone, to the dungeons to be subjugated to the pale, sinister Potions Master (rumoured to have been a Death Eater).
"Why, thank you, Severus. A splendid suggestion indeed, those potions are of the utmost importance concerning official Ministry business. I do think I might appreciate some assistance with these two. You take Miss Potter and I'll see to Mister Weasley here." She smirked horribly at Holly.
"Well . . . good afternoon to you. I will be checking in." Dolores said finally, and with a look of the utmost satisfaction, she left.
Minerva was preoccupied with staring after Dolores, her mouth pursed like a cat's ass. He decided not to interrupt her reflections.
"Six o'clock. My office. Tonight." Severus breathed near Holly's ear, seeing her shoulders tense.
Satisfied, he turned and marched toward the castle. As he swept away, the fingers of his right hand started trembling feebly at his side and he clenched his hand into a fist.
A/N Dear friends, I'm excited to already be working on the next (and very first) juicy chapter *eek!* and will post asap. I'd love to know what you think, reviews are what I think of to conjure my Patronus AND what I use to fuel this story. See you soon!