I should be in bed.
I should be in bed, but instead I thought I'd give a little snippet of the latest chapter of APoE that I've been working on. Not that anyone's incredibly interested, but you never know.
And fate has led you through it
You do what you have to do
The entire Slytherin House was not in a good mood. It was the end of the year celebration feast and things had not gone as the Slytherins had hoped it would. The silver and green clad students sat sullenly at their table while their rivals, the Gryffindors, hooted and hollered in celebration. They might have been in better humour had the Ravenclaws been in first place, and even Hufflepuff would have been laughable, but the Gryffindors placing first resulted in a fair amount of resentment and hostility.
Bellatrix, who sat at the end of the table with the older Slytherins, had hissed her displeasure at the entire house while Dumbledore gave the closing speech. She was not pleased that Slytherin lost the cup race her final year at Hogwarts, especially since she was Head Girl. Rodolphus Lestrange had draped his arm around her shoulders consolingly, but it hardly had any effect on her. She continued to glare unpleasantly at anyone she happened to make eye contact with. Few dared to.
Not wanting to upset her and risk certain care from Madam Pomfrey, the entire house had taken to speaking in hushed tones over their dinners.
“Wankers,” growled Rabastan into the mouth of his goblet.
“Have a look at them,” said Rosier bitterly. “They think they’re so brilliant.” He eyed the Gryffindor table, or more specifically, the female end of the Gryffindor table. Angry or not, it didn’t stop him from ogling them mercilessly. Snape frowned at him.
“Well, we might have had a chance at securing it had you not been caught necking with Florence by Professor Flitwick,” he said flatly.
Rosier bristled. “Now see here,” he began, pointing his fork directly at the end of Snape’s nose, “it’s not my fault that Flitwick came back to the Charms classroom. We thought he’d gone.”
“Is it your fault that you had her pinned to the table with your hands up her shirt?” Lestrange asked wryly. Rosier turned pink and shook his head quickly, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish and sputtering incoherently.
“Then I suppose it wasn’t your fault that you both were on top of Flitwick’s Charms manual, either,” Snape added. Nearly all of the Slytherins around them started to laugh, and Florence, who was in earshot and evidently listening to the boys’ conversation, looked positively murderous and turned around huffily.
Rosier stabbed at a piece of pie with his fork. “You’re all just jealous.”
“Jealous of Florence?” Rabastan repeated. “I hardly think so.” Snape, Rabastan, and Rosier all glanced surreptitiously at Florence, who was trying to distract herself from their conversation by initiating a conversation with some of the other Slytherin girls. At the moment she was speaking in a hushed whisper to Narcissa Black, Bellatrix’s little sister. Rabastan’s gaze lingered on Narcissa’s long blonde hair as she carelessly tossed it over her shoulder. “Florence looks like common trash.”
“Only because you’re comparing her to Narcissa,” Rosier grumbled through his pie.
“There’s really no comparison,” Rabastan replied.
“Jealous,” Rosier reaffirmed, setting down his fork and standing up. He threw the Slytherin boys a look and walked over to where Florence was sitting, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. She turned around and gave him a dirty look, which Snape figured was quite reasonable considering the fact that all of Evan’s friends had been talking about her. With a finesse that only Rosier could manage, he leaned down and whispered something in her ear that earned a reluctant giggle. She then scooted down the bench to make room for him. Rosier straddled it, settling down next to her.
Severus watched this cynically. Rosier had been involved in more relationships than the rest of his fifth year dorm mates put together. Granted, Snape wasn’t anything close to a womanizer, Lestrange wasn’t exactly the romantic type, and Julius Carrow, their fourth roommate, mostly kept to himself. Still, he assumed that this one, like all of the rest of Rosier’s relationships, would be short-lived.
“Snape.”
Snape was drawn out of his thoughts when Lestrange gave him a sharp jab to the ribs. “What?” he snapped, arching an eyebrow.
“Black and Potter haven’t tried anything else, have they?”
Severus shook his head. “No.” Both Potter and Black had made themselves scarce the last few days of school, something that both relieved Severus and made him incredibly suspicious. “Unlike some people,” his eyes flickered back to where Florence and Rosier were sitting, “they seem to have been concerned with winning the House Cup.”
Rabastan nodded. “I was thinking that we could give them a proper send off during the train ride home.” His lips twisted into a grim smile. “Only if you’re up for it, of course.”
Severus silently deliberated this. He had, in all honesty, planned on holing himself up in a compartment somewhere to mentally prepare himself for the summer holiday. Unlike most of his other housemates, he did not have a lavish home to return to. Spinner’s End was part of the run-down, back-to-back housing in West Yorkshire, a community that was reliant on the textile mill not far down the road.
Severus loathed it. It was incredibly difficult pretending that he had been raised with the same posh lifestyle as the rest of his classmates. His books and supplies were second-hand, his robes were worn, and the rest of his clothing was practically hanging together by threads. While his housemates exchanged letters and packages with their own personal owls, Severus corresponded by Hogwarts’ owls. On the rare occasion that he received mail, Post Owls would deliver it, and he most certainly would not get packages from home filled with sweets and other gifts. The only new purchase the Snapes had made before Severus entered Hogwarts was his wand, a secret gift from his mother.
In spite of his dilapidated belongings, Severus had learned to play the role of being snobbish well enough, and now he could feign disdain as well as the rest of them, if not better. Most of the Slytherins were so involved with their own lives that they didn't bother to question his background. If they did, he would choose his words wisely, carefully avoiding admitting to anything that would reveal his poor upbringing.
It was a greater challenge skirting around another simple matter: His father, Tobias Snape, was a muggle.
“Well?” Rabastan repeated, jabbing Severus again. “Are you up for it or not?”
Severus sighed and thinned his lips. “We’ll see,” he replied finally.
***
Also, I have a question that I've been considering, mostly because it concerns a brief part of the rest of this chapter.
Do you think Snape attended muggle primary school?
Because of the small glimpse we have of his father, It makes me think that Tobias was resentful of having a witch for a wife and a wizard for a son. He probably craved muggle normalcy in a family. With that in mind, I am pondering whether or not Tobias and Eileen would send Severus to a muggle primary school. Somehow, with the glimpse of Eileen that we see, I can't see her protesting this. Besides, she married a muggle so she must not be that opposed to their way of life.
We know that Snape is very logical from his puzzle on the way to the Philospher's Stone, and Hermione commented that some the greatest wizards lacked that sort of logic, so I wonder if he learned the basics in a regular school system.
Then again, I can see Tobias being ashamed and keeping the family sheltered... Eileen would homeschool him, thus his early brilliance in Potions and the Dark Arts.
Let me know what you think. I'm truly interested!
And fate has led you through it
You do what you have to do
The entire Slytherin House was not in a good mood. It was the end of the year celebration feast and things had not gone as the Slytherins had hoped it would. The silver and green clad students sat sullenly at their table while their rivals, the Gryffindors, hooted and hollered in celebration. They might have been in better humour had the Ravenclaws been in first place, and even Hufflepuff would have been laughable, but the Gryffindors placing first resulted in a fair amount of resentment and hostility.
Bellatrix, who sat at the end of the table with the older Slytherins, had hissed her displeasure at the entire house while Dumbledore gave the closing speech. She was not pleased that Slytherin lost the cup race her final year at Hogwarts, especially since she was Head Girl. Rodolphus Lestrange had draped his arm around her shoulders consolingly, but it hardly had any effect on her. She continued to glare unpleasantly at anyone she happened to make eye contact with. Few dared to.
Not wanting to upset her and risk certain care from Madam Pomfrey, the entire house had taken to speaking in hushed tones over their dinners.
“Wankers,” growled Rabastan into the mouth of his goblet.
“Have a look at them,” said Rosier bitterly. “They think they’re so brilliant.” He eyed the Gryffindor table, or more specifically, the female end of the Gryffindor table. Angry or not, it didn’t stop him from ogling them mercilessly. Snape frowned at him.
“Well, we might have had a chance at securing it had you not been caught necking with Florence by Professor Flitwick,” he said flatly.
Rosier bristled. “Now see here,” he began, pointing his fork directly at the end of Snape’s nose, “it’s not my fault that Flitwick came back to the Charms classroom. We thought he’d gone.”
“Is it your fault that you had her pinned to the table with your hands up her shirt?” Lestrange asked wryly. Rosier turned pink and shook his head quickly, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish and sputtering incoherently.
“Then I suppose it wasn’t your fault that you both were on top of Flitwick’s Charms manual, either,” Snape added. Nearly all of the Slytherins around them started to laugh, and Florence, who was in earshot and evidently listening to the boys’ conversation, looked positively murderous and turned around huffily.
Rosier stabbed at a piece of pie with his fork. “You’re all just jealous.”
“Jealous of Florence?” Rabastan repeated. “I hardly think so.” Snape, Rabastan, and Rosier all glanced surreptitiously at Florence, who was trying to distract herself from their conversation by initiating a conversation with some of the other Slytherin girls. At the moment she was speaking in a hushed whisper to Narcissa Black, Bellatrix’s little sister. Rabastan’s gaze lingered on Narcissa’s long blonde hair as she carelessly tossed it over her shoulder. “Florence looks like common trash.”
“Only because you’re comparing her to Narcissa,” Rosier grumbled through his pie.
“There’s really no comparison,” Rabastan replied.
“Jealous,” Rosier reaffirmed, setting down his fork and standing up. He threw the Slytherin boys a look and walked over to where Florence was sitting, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. She turned around and gave him a dirty look, which Snape figured was quite reasonable considering the fact that all of Evan’s friends had been talking about her. With a finesse that only Rosier could manage, he leaned down and whispered something in her ear that earned a reluctant giggle. She then scooted down the bench to make room for him. Rosier straddled it, settling down next to her.
Severus watched this cynically. Rosier had been involved in more relationships than the rest of his fifth year dorm mates put together. Granted, Snape wasn’t anything close to a womanizer, Lestrange wasn’t exactly the romantic type, and Julius Carrow, their fourth roommate, mostly kept to himself. Still, he assumed that this one, like all of the rest of Rosier’s relationships, would be short-lived.
“Snape.”
Snape was drawn out of his thoughts when Lestrange gave him a sharp jab to the ribs. “What?” he snapped, arching an eyebrow.
“Black and Potter haven’t tried anything else, have they?”
Severus shook his head. “No.” Both Potter and Black had made themselves scarce the last few days of school, something that both relieved Severus and made him incredibly suspicious. “Unlike some people,” his eyes flickered back to where Florence and Rosier were sitting, “they seem to have been concerned with winning the House Cup.”
Rabastan nodded. “I was thinking that we could give them a proper send off during the train ride home.” His lips twisted into a grim smile. “Only if you’re up for it, of course.”
Severus silently deliberated this. He had, in all honesty, planned on holing himself up in a compartment somewhere to mentally prepare himself for the summer holiday. Unlike most of his other housemates, he did not have a lavish home to return to. Spinner’s End was part of the run-down, back-to-back housing in West Yorkshire, a community that was reliant on the textile mill not far down the road.
Severus loathed it. It was incredibly difficult pretending that he had been raised with the same posh lifestyle as the rest of his classmates. His books and supplies were second-hand, his robes were worn, and the rest of his clothing was practically hanging together by threads. While his housemates exchanged letters and packages with their own personal owls, Severus corresponded by Hogwarts’ owls. On the rare occasion that he received mail, Post Owls would deliver it, and he most certainly would not get packages from home filled with sweets and other gifts. The only new purchase the Snapes had made before Severus entered Hogwarts was his wand, a secret gift from his mother.
In spite of his dilapidated belongings, Severus had learned to play the role of being snobbish well enough, and now he could feign disdain as well as the rest of them, if not better. Most of the Slytherins were so involved with their own lives that they didn't bother to question his background. If they did, he would choose his words wisely, carefully avoiding admitting to anything that would reveal his poor upbringing.
It was a greater challenge skirting around another simple matter: His father, Tobias Snape, was a muggle.
“Well?” Rabastan repeated, jabbing Severus again. “Are you up for it or not?”
Severus sighed and thinned his lips. “We’ll see,” he replied finally.
***
Also, I have a question that I've been considering, mostly because it concerns a brief part of the rest of this chapter.
Do you think Snape attended muggle primary school?
Because of the small glimpse we have of his father, It makes me think that Tobias was resentful of having a witch for a wife and a wizard for a son. He probably craved muggle normalcy in a family. With that in mind, I am pondering whether or not Tobias and Eileen would send Severus to a muggle primary school. Somehow, with the glimpse of Eileen that we see, I can't see her protesting this. Besides, she married a muggle so she must not be that opposed to their way of life.
We know that Snape is very logical from his puzzle on the way to the Philospher's Stone, and Hermione commented that some the greatest wizards lacked that sort of logic, so I wonder if he learned the basics in a regular school system.
Then again, I can see Tobias being ashamed and keeping the family sheltered... Eileen would homeschool him, thus his early brilliance in Potions and the Dark Arts.
Let me know what you think. I'm truly interested!