Spring 1992

Severus Snape

"You are not certain of his innocence," Albus said plainly. He had a habit of trying to guess the intentions of others, a habit that dragged like chalk across the back of Severus' mind.

What did it matter if he was certain? It wouldn't change the facts of the night, nor would it dismiss any of the suspicion that Weasley was rightly due. That was the way the world had always worked, a poor boy in the wrong place would always bear the brunt of every wrong. It was their duty to grin and bear it, lest they all becomehim.

"I am not certain he is guilty," Severus replied. It was the sort of answer the old man liked, his lips tugging upwards at the corners.

Regardless of guilt, all that mattered was perception. Severus could already hear the whispers that would float along the students about the night. It was hard to keep things like this from spreading, and Weasley would be the centre of things… again. The boy had a nasty habit of pushing himself into the centre of controversy and had Severus not the better sense, he might have ripped the damn hat from its spot on Albus' shelf and demanded to know why it placed the red-haired brat into his house of all of them. He wouldn't do that though, because there were bigger questions to be asked about Ronald Weasley, questions that scared even him.

"You are unusually quiet this evening, Severus," Dumbledore said, his voice light. "Something troubles you, I suspect."

"Troubles me?" Severus sneered. "You're letting that rat of a man walk around this school unlaboured and now a student has paid the consequences for your hubris."

"I can assure you that the matter is well in hand. Professor Quirrell will be watched with far greater scrutiny to ensure there are no… misadventures on his part." Dumbledore sighed, steepling his fingers. "There are some storms we cannot yet break, but we can be ready with an umbrella, at the very least. That is beside the point, it's not what troubles you. And I think we both know that this incident is not related to Quirrell or the stone."

"You can not be so certain. He may have needed the blood to tackle the useless traps that you all have laid, I can name a dozen potions which would be ever-potent if you simply swapped the base for magical blood. There is a reason such things are illegal."

"And can you name a dozen potioneers capable of such feats?" Dumbledore asked with raised eyebrows. "No, I suspect not."

"So you think this is the work of students then?" Snape said through gritted teeth. "You believe there to be a group like this just lurking beneath our noses."

"Stranger things have occurred," Albus frowned. "Had I the mind as a professor, I might have properly realized the danger of Tom's group some years before it became an issue. The world may very well be a different place."

"As a professor?" Severus scrunched his nose. "Do not forget old man, that it was in these halls while you were Headmaster that my life was ruined."

"We all have regrets, Severus. Some of us merely wish not to dwell on them."

"And you think the same thing could be happening again?"

"It is a possibility," Dumbledore sighed. "We both know that Tom still lives. In what form, I can not say, but he may be recruiting again. He trusts that Quirrell will retrieve the stone for him, and that he will live fully once more."

Severus nodded. "Which is why I have suggested to you at length that we should dispose of the stuttering imbecile."

"Many men have done terrible things for good reasons. It's a dangerous path to walk. If I allow you to tarnish yourself by killing Quirrell then who is to stop us from killing others?"

"Nobody."

"Exactly my point, Severus. We can not simply maurade our way through those we perceive to be our enemies. Not when our vision is so often clouded by emotion, fear, or any other number of things." Dumbledore sighed. "We will simply keep a better look out for students displaying the same signs as last time. I trust you know what to look for?"

Severus swallowed. He knew exactly what to look for. "Ronald Weasley," he said softly.

"Ah, so you did notice it."

Severus nodded, the boy's mind was unlike any that he had tried to read before. Where most occlumens forced their minds to be clear, like empty halls, there were very few who could selectively show memories. There were none who could do what Ronald Weasley had done. Severus had never met an occlumens whose mind felt such as his, like an endless suffocating pit devoid of anything but the steady pulse of power.

"Curious, isn't it?" Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "Most curious indeed."

"You knew, and you haven't confronted him about it," Snape frowned. "He could very well be lying about what happened tonight."

"He could be, but I would rather give Mr Weasley the benefit of the doubt. Don't you think we are all owed at least that much?"

"But you are aware of what is at stake, you have just said so yourself."

"I am, yes," Dumbledore smiled. "And so are you, Severus, and yet you have not confronted the boy either. What is your excuse?"

"I am not sure if you are as demented as you act, but you must still understand that it is generally not favourable for Professors to read the minds of students."

"Is it not?" Albus shrugged. "I don't think anyone has ever told me as much."

Servus glared at him. "What must be done with him?"

"It was only a few months ago Severus, that Mr Weasley and Mr Potter saved the life of Hermione Granger, a most brilliant young witch who also happens to be a muggle-born."

"I am well aware of Ms Granger's blood status."

"Yes, of course. You are always an attentive Professor, I am sure. We must assume then that whatever is happening with Mr Weasley, is not of our concern. He is friends, on all accounts, with Harry and has not once spoken of blood purity. Not to mention that his family has ties to the order."

"Your precious order," Snape sneered. "Can not stop another war, if you just dismiss every threat and refuse to deal with them."

Dumbledore frowned. "So what would you have me do? Come now, Severus, you can not possibly suggest that I kill the boy?"

"No, of course not. But, I am no fool and I refuse to act the part of one. Regardless of Mr Weasley's affiliation with Potter, I will not ignore the actions he has taken this year. I am well aware of what it can be like to be placed in Slytherin when those you love are sent elsewhere."

"Ah, I see." The old man's eyes twinkled in a manner that made Severus feel sick. "If you think that there is any risk to Mr Weasley falling down dark paths, then by all means, Severus, keep a close eye on him."

"That's exactly what you wanted isn't it?"

Dumbledore smirked. "Perhaps."

- SS -

The air in his office was thick with the scent of labour: of crushed roots, simmered draughts, and metallic tang. It was the scent of mastery, control, and total devotion to the craft of potioneering. Among the shelves of ingredients Severus was immersed in the proof of his own skills, the only thing in his life that had never failed him and the only thing that he had never failed. It might have, if he were a different man, become synonymous with home. Only his true home had died years ago.

Draco Malfoy, an obnoxious mix of Lucius Malfoy's pride and Narcissa's sharp looks sat in the single chair in front of Severus' desk. The boy was wearing a mask, trying his best to seem as if he hadn't cared why Snape had called him into his office. But Severus knew better, he could practically feel the fear emanating from the boy's mind without even having to resort to legilimency. If he did, Severus imagined he could tear the boy's mind apart if it suited him to do so. The Malfoys liked to parade themselves as the top of wizarding kind, but Severus had spent enough time with Lucius to know for certain that there was little truth to their words.

"Mr Malfoy," Severus drawled, "do you know why I've asked to speak to you?"

"Probably about, Weasley, I'd imagine," Draco said. "He's done something again, hasn't he? Attacked some Hufflepuff?"

Severus narrowed his eyes.

"Well, I think he's guilty. Surely you saw what he did to me sir, he punched me. He's a Neanderthal, hardly even a real wizard."

"Is there any other reason you think that Mr Weasley might be involved?" Snape asked.

The boy's lips thinned. "Well, of course. As you know sir, Weasley is well… a Weasley. You know what they say about them."

"What is it they say?"

"The poorest lot in the country. It wouldn't surprise me if someone gave Weasley a handful of Knuts to attack that poor girl. Seems like the kind of thing he would get up to. After all, he's a blood-traitor."

Severus stared at Draco silently. A part of him wished he hadn't interfered the last time Weasley had punched him. The young Malfoy in front of him was far too much like his father, obnoxious, arrogant, and engrossed in blood purity. It was a laughable doctrine, the kind of thing that was only truly believed in by the likes of the Malfoys, Notts, or Lestranges who probably had their brains changed from years of inbreeding and enjoying themselves while the rest of the wizarding kind suffered. He thought bitterly of revealing the hypocrisy to Draco, of ruining whatever Lucius was trying to build in lord never believed in blood purity, he was a half-blood. He would have spared Lily if it wasn't for James , he cleared his throat.

"I am not here to ask you about Weasley," he said flatly. "It is about another matter. Something to which I take great personal offence."

Draco's eyes widened a little nervously. "I can promise you, sir, I didn't mean to offend you."

Severus reached behind his desk for a moment and then placed a small vial of potion in the centre. As he did so, he kept his eyes locked to Draco's. They didn't show any recognition.

"This," Snape said, "was found in your dormitory among your things. It was stolen from me some weeks ago, and I was unsure as to why."

The boy's eyes filled with panic. "Stealing? I wouldn't steal!"

Severus frowned. "No, Mr Malfoy, I don't think you would."You're not brave enough to steal from me.

"Sir?"

"I believe someone is trying to invoke my wrath," he said. "They would like me to punish you to the greatest extent I can manage."

"But I didn't steal it," Draco defended.

"Indeed," Severus drawled. "Which means, Mr Malfoy, I must ask you why someone would be trying to get you in trouble?"

Draco frowned. "It's probably Weasley, or Nott, or even Greengrass. A bunch of no-gooders."

"But why?"

"They don't know their place," Draco sniffed. "Nott thinks his blood is somehow better than mine—"Ironic"—and Greengrass is insufferable. No doubt she believes the lies her father peddles about my father."They are not lies…

"Very well, Mr Malfoy." Snape clicked his tongue. "I have heard enough of your theories for today, both about Mr Weasley and your fellow Slytherins. It seems that none of you have taken my words to heart. I have told you, and I will tell you again, that I will not tolerate in-fighting."

"It's not my fault, sir, honestly."

"Detention, Mr Malfoy. Tonight, with the groundskeeper."

Draco nearly shot out of his chair. "The groundskeeper! You can't be serious, sir? Surely there's something else I could do?"

"Perhaps, if you did not want to spend time with our groundskeeper, Mr Malfoy, you would have taken my words more seriously."

"Isn't he some sort of half-breed?" Draco asked. "A squib and a giant?" He nearly shivered.

Severus frowned at him. "You are dismissed, Mr Malfoy."