Apoe Chapter 4 Up!
So I've finally finished APoE's third chapter. It finished up at a little over 6500 words. I haven't gotten the chance to sit down and give it a good edit. I'm going to rest my eyes for a bit and come back to it. However, I thought I'd post it up here anyhow.
EDIT: I'd like to add that I'm sorry for the quadruple-spacing, it's just that I don't feel like going and taking out all of the break tags right now.
Chapter Three: The Problem With Fate
And fate has led you through it
You do what you have to do
The entire Slytherin House looked absolutely wretched. It was the Leaving Feast and the term had not ended as they had hoped it would. The silver and green clad students sat sullenly at their table while their rivals whooped and crowed in celebration. They might have been in better humour had the Ravenclaws been in first place, and even Hufflepuff would have been ridiculously laughable, but having Gryffindor place first resulted in more than a fair amount of resentment and hostility.
Bellatrix, who was sitting at the end of the table with the sixth and seventh years, had hissed her displeasure to the entire house while Dumbledore gave his closing speech. She was not pleased that Slytherin lost the race for the House Cup her final year at Hogwarts, especially since she was Head Girl and had put forth a lot of effort to ensure a Slytherin win.
Rodolphus draped his arm around her shoulders consolingly, but it had no effect on her mood whatsoever. She continued to glare unpleasantly at anyone she happened to make eye contact with. Few dared to. In fact, the entire house resorted to speaking in hushed tones over their dinners as not to upset her any further. No one particularly fancied a well-placed curse and a trip to Madam Pomfrey.
Having already been on the receiving end of not one, but two of Bellatrix’s angry tirades, Severus, Rabastan, and Evan were slumped down at their table, glowering at each other petulantly. A girl had never spoken to them so crudely before, and though none of them was willing to stand up to her, they did not appreciate such a harsh lecture. Instead, they chose to take out their frustration on each other.
“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 the cup had you not been caught getting off 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 began to laugh, and Florence, who was in earshot and evidently listening to the boys’ conversation, looked positively murderous and turned away from them huffily.
“You were in the hall, Snape,” retorted Rosier. “You could have warned us.”
“And chanced sighting you both at it? I’d rather jump off the astronomy tower.”
“You’d better not let Bellatrix hear you could have prevented it,” Rabastan muttered, “or she’ll push you off the astronomy tower.”
“I’m not afraid of Bellatrix,” said Severus, though he lowered his voice substantially just in case she was listening.
“You should be,” Rabastan replied. He shrugged a shoulder and sighed. “Besides, Rosier, it’s your own fault that you have to feel up Florence every time you both find yourself alone together.”
Rosier stabbed at a piece of pie with his fork. “You’re all just jealous.”
“Jealous of Florence?” Rabastan repeated. “I hardly think so.”
Both Snape and Rabastan glanced at Florence surreptitiously. At the moment she was speaking in a low 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. She must have noticed the attention that she was getting because she gave the boys a coy smile before returning her interest to Florence. Snape looked away awkwardly, but Rabastan continued eyeing both girls steadily. “Florence looks like a cheap tart,” he mused.
“Only because you’re comparing her to Narcissa,” Rosier grumbled through his pie.
“There’s really no comparison,” Rabastan replied.
“Jealous,” Rosier reiterated, 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 thought was quite reasonable considering the fact that all of Evan’s friends had been talking about her, and not all that nicely. With a finesse that only Rosier could manage, he leaned down and whispered something in her ear that earned a reluctant giggle. A moment later she had scooted down the bench to make room for him to sit. Rosier straddled it, looking smug as he leaned in and put his arm around her waist.
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 and fifth year prefect, mostly kept to himself. Still, Severus assumed that this one, like all of the rest of Rosier’s relationships, would be short-lived.
“Snape.”
Lestrange gave Severus a sharp jab to the ribs, drawing him out of his thoughts. “What?” Severus snapped, arching an eyebrow.
It didn’t seem to matter to Rabastan that he was irritating Severus. “Black and Potter haven’t tried anything else, have they?”
Severus followed Rabastan’s gaze to the Gryffindor table. The boys were busy shovelling food into their mouths, occasionally telling a joke or engaging in conversation with one of the other Gryffindors at the table.
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 should 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 the majority of his housemates, he did not have a lavish home to return to and neither was he spending the holiday on some exotic trip. 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 did receive post, it was never a parcel filled with sweets or other gifts.
Truthfully, 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 learned to put on airs well enough, and he could now feign disdain for “common folk” as well as the rest of his housemates, 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, avoiding admitting to anything that would reveal his indigent upbringing.
It was a greater challenge skirting around another simple matter: His father, Tobias Snape, was a muggle. No one in the Slytherin House was aware of that fact, and Severus intended it to stay that way.
“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.
* * *
Severus had packed all of his belongings and was now standing in the front hall, dropping his trunk off with the other students’ things. There was an enormous mountain of luggage piled in the corner, as well as owl cages, wrapped parcels, and the occasional stray item. He tapped his battered trunk lock with the end of his wand, muttering a hex under his breath. If anyone attempted to pick the lock, his or her fingers would fuse together so that they resembled mitts. He almost hoped that someone would be thick enough to try it.
There were at least two-dozen other students milling around him, exchanging addresses and saying their last minute goodbyes. One small first year was crawling around on his hands and knees, looking for his rat that had escaped in all of the commotion. Some of the students had already changed into their muggle clothing, and there was so much bare skin showing that Severus was surprised Rosier wasn’t lurking around taking pictures.
“Muggles,” a soft voice spoke up next to him. “Their sense of fashion is appalling.”
Snape glanced over and noticed Regulus, who was levitating his expensive-looking trunk so that it teetered on the edge of some of the other luggage. The young boy steadied it with a hand, his blue-grey eyes following the pale legs of two girls walking by, both of whom were wearing very short skirts.
“Do you think so?” Snape asked. Like Regulus, he was still wearing his school robes. Half-blood though he may be, he felt much more comfortable in wizard clothing.
Regulus’s brows knitted and he looked up at Snape. “You don’t?” he asked uncertainly.
“I really don’t care about it one way or the other,” Severus replied bluntly.
“Oh,” Regulus faltered, clearly anxious about making a good impression on his older housemate, “well, I suppose you’re right, of course. Muggle fashion isn’t that important in the grand scheme of things.”
“I should hope not.”
“Right then,” Regulus said, giving Severus a nervous smile before dropping his gaze to the floor. The young boy’s cheeks were tinged with pink. Severus regarded him silently, waiting for the real reason behind Black’s conversation. Surely he didn’t really expect a discussion over muggle fashion.
Regulus coughed into his hand and glanced at the doorway to the grounds. “Should we go?” he continued, “It’s early enough that we shouldn’t have trouble finding an empty carriage.”
Severus hadn’t planned on finding company for the trip home so early, but he knew it was inevitable. He considered unnerving the fourth year into submission, thus making it a quiet trip home. Regulus’s company was preferable compared to some of the other Slytherins, however. The young boy rarely gave Severus any cheek and was smart enough to know when to hold his tongue.
“All right,” Severus agreed at last, walking towards the doors. He crossed the threshold and marched out onto the grounds, squinting his eyes to in order to relieve them from the glaring sun, which was beating down upon the students mercilessly.
Regulus brightened a great deal and trotted forward so that he was walking at Severus’s side. “It’s always a little depressing leaving, isn’t it?” He looked over his shoulder at the towering stone walls of the castle. “No magic for an entire summer.”
Severus nodded and gave Regulus a sidelong glance. “Surely it’s not that dull at your house?”
“Well, no,” Regulus paused thoughtfully, “it’s not. It’s just that Sirius will be home for the summer, and Grimmauld Place will be up in arms.”
“Really.”
“He didn’t come home over Christmas, which, to tell you the truth, was a bit of a relief. When he’s home it’s all arguments and slamming doors. My mother and father didn’t even mention him once.” Regulus grimaced, following Severus to the line of carriages not far ahead of them. “Now that he’s coming home they won’t be able to pretend he doesn’t exist.”
“Pity,” replied Severus. He thought back to his argument with Sirius the week prior. “Perhaps they’ll toss him out,” he added as an afterthought. They reached an empty carriage and he gestured to the door for Regulus to climb in.
“Perhaps,” Regulus agreed, clambering into the carriage. His voice seemed hollow and detached, and the sharp features of his face looked glum.
Severus followed him in and sat on the opposite bench. Regulus remained silent, offering a pained-looking smile before gazing out the window at the growing number of students approaching. Severus observed him wordlessly, reflecting on his behaviour. Regulus, it seemed, was not as hardheaded as his brother, or even Bellatrix for that matter. Though there was clearly a grudge between brothers, he appeared to be a little regretful of the growing distance between them. Personally, Severus thought it was idiotic; he couldn’t imagine a worse person to be related to than Black, except, perhaps, Potter.
Lost in thought, Severus turned away from Regulus and stared out the window at the calm waters of the lake. The surface reflected the blue, cloudless sky, and the squid appeared to be basking in the warm water near the shore. Regulus was right; it was unfortunate that the students couldn’t stay at Hogwarts year round if they wanted to. The magical world was much more inviting, and even if he wouldn’t be able to perform magic, it was preferable to his tiny house on Spinner’s End. Severus sighed and shut his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool glass. He simply detested going home for the summer.
Outside of the carriage there was a sudden increase in noise, and two students who must have been roughhousing caused the carriage to rock back and forth. Severus could hear an older voice calling out to the students causing the raucous, and the scuffle quickly faded. Instead, the sounds of two girls chattering merrily crescendoed until a soft voice floated in through the doorway.
“Would you boys mind if we joined you?”
Severus opened his eyes and shifted so that he could see who was speaking. There, silhouetted in the sunlight, stood Narcissa and Florence.
He clenched his jaw tightly, wondering if the gods were set on giving him a hard time today.
“Not at all,” Regulus answered politely, gesturing to the two open seats. He glanced at Severus, who jerked his head up into a nod, confirming the invitation.
“Thank you,” Narcissa said with a smile. She carefully stepped into the carriage and took a seat next to Regulus. She immediately began to press the folds out of her silvery robes, surveying both boys silently. Severus had the funny feeling that he was being appraised.
Florence poked her head into the carriage after Narcissa. Her mess of curls was sticking up in all directions and her school robes were askew. She looked so dishevelled that Snape couldn’t help but wonder if she had been saying last minute goodbyes to Rosier. At least she hadn’t dressed up for the train ride home, he thought approvingly. One would have thought they were going to a fancy dinner party by the look of Narcissa’s wardrobe.
Florence paused wearily at the door before sitting next to Snape. She seemed to be about as thrilled with the arrangement as he did. “Hello,” she said shortly. “Sorry to bother you.”
“The other carriage we tried had Longbottom and McKinnon in it,” Narcissa added with a scandalous sniff. “We could hardly sit with the Gryffindors after the House Cup incident.” She gave Florence a meaningful look before settling back into her seat for the ride.
“You might’ve been able to,” said Florence, who flushed at Narcissa’s subtle accusation. “Longbottom nearly fell out of his seat when he saw you.” Her brown eyes glittered humorously. “Marlene had to steady him; did you see?”
“He’s always been a little twitchy around girls,” Regulus mused.
“It’s unfortunate that it didn’t render him unconscious,” Snape said quietly. He hadn’t intended on joining the conversation, but couldn’t help himself. Regulus shook his head in amusement.
Narcissa’s blue eyes twinkled slyly. “It was absurd, really. I hadn’t even said anything yet.” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “You’d have thought I was Bella.”
The carriage gave a sudden jolt and began rolling towards the Hogwarts Express. Huddled in his corner, Severus returned his gaze to the landscape as the others continued to talk.
“Speaking of Bella,” Regulus said, lowering his voice, “I heard rumours of an engagement this past week. Have you heard anything about it?”
“Yes, that,” Narcissa answered smoothly, “I have a feeling Rodolphus will be over to ask for her hand in marriage within the next week or so.”
“You don’t say?” Regulus looked surprised.
Narcissa smiled knowingly, showing a perfect set of white teeth. “You mustn’t mention it to your mother or father, but she’s already begun planning.”
Florence piped up from beside Severus. “She told you that?”
“Of course not,” said Narcissa lightly. “I overheard her speaking about it with Rodolphus. They were talking about an engagement party and a special guest of honour.”
Regulus wrinkled his nose. “A guest of honour? That’s uncustomary, isn’t it?”
“It must be someone important,” Narcissa agreed, stressing the word important. Snape stole a quick glance at the cousins, who were exchanging curious looks with one another.
“You don’t think--” Regulus began. His mouth dropped in awe.
“--Sshh,” Narcissa quieted him, placing her hand on his forearm. “I’m not certain yet, but it’s a possibility.” Her gaze flickered from her cousin to Snape and finally to Florence. “This is completely confidential,” she whispered.
Florence’s eyes were as wide as galleons. “Oh!” she breathed.
“If it’s confidential,” Snape asked, “then why are you talking about it openly?” The same uneasy feeling he’d had when Rabastan had threatened Evans returned, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Oh, Snape,” Narcissa admonished, “you both are sure to be invited. Most of the Slytherins will be. You can’t say that you’re not in the least bit interested.”
She was right, he realized; in all truth, he was very interested. If the guest was whom they all surmised, it would be very interesting indeed. Both Narcissa and Regulus were watching him curiously, and he replied with an ambiguous shrug.
“I never said that.”
Regulus patted Narcissa’s hand on his forearm, nodding. “I’m interested, too,” he said. “And I knew you would be Snape.” He smiled at Severus. “After all, you know as many dark spells as Bellatrix does.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Narcissa warned him with a look. “You know how she hates competition.”
“I’m not competing with anyone,” Severus replied.
Narcissa pulled her hand away from Regulus and folded her arms in her lap primly. “It’s not that you are, Snape,” she said frankly. “It’s that you could.”
“You do have a bit of talent,” admitted Florence. “Anyone who doesn’t see that has gillyweed for brains.”
“Yeah,” Regulus agreed, “I wish that I knew as much about the Dark Arts as you.”
Narcissa laughed. “Regulus, you ninny, you’re the best one at Defence Against the Dark Arts in our year.”
“That doesn’t mean that I can’t learn more,” Regulus responded, giving Severus a hopeful look.
The entire carriage grew silent, contemplating what had been said. Severus pondered it all pensively. It was true, he did know a lot about the Dark Arts, and he had made it his personal goal to learn more every day. He was rather good at duelling, with quick reflexes and a vast catalogue of curses and other spells. Did the other Slytherins really see his talent as a valuable asset? He almost smiled.
“All it takes is a little potential,” he said finally. Regulus grinned at him.
Florence, who seemed bored by all of the talk, cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Narcissa,” she asked, “do you think Lucius Malfoy will be at the party?”
Regulus gave a loud snort and muttered something inaudible under his breath. Lucius Malfoy was the definition of pretentious, with extravagant clothing and a pompous manner. Snape didn’t know him very well, though he was a popular topic of conversation by most of the Slytherin girls, infamously so, in the boys’ opinions.
“Oh, I hope so,” breathed Narcissa. “I do hope so.” She brushed her hair back from her pale face, and her eyes were sparkling.
“Considering that he’s from one of the most wealthy pure-blooded families, that’s almost a guarantee,” Regulus pointed out. His nose was wrinkled in disgust.
"And charming!" said Florence, at the same time Narcissa whispered, "and handsome!"
Both girls giggled lightly, and Snape took that as his cue to turn back to the landscape.
* * *
Narcissa and Florence thanked the boys hastily before climbing out of the carriage and advancing into the throng of students queuing up to board the scarlet train.
Severus watched them go, breathing a sigh of relief. The carriage ride had made him very aware of how he was severely lacking in charm and social graces. It wasn’t as terrible as he’d thought it might be, but Narcissa’s presence made him uncomfortable. He simply wasn’t used to being around girls, and it irritated him much in the same way Evans’s presence did.
Thankfully, Narcissa didn’t seem to be interested in his actions in the same way Evans was, if she truly was interested in him at all. If he had called Narcissa a nasty name, she would have ignored him and likely sought out revenge later. Not Evans, however. Evans wanted to talk things out; Evans expected him to express his regret for calling her mudblood.
“Not bloody likely,” he muttered to himself. He was not soft, and he had no intention of letting her persistence affect him.
“Sorry?” Regulus, who’d been standing beside him, looked perplexed. “Did you say something?”
Severus blinked and shook his head quickly. “Nothing,” he said, waving off his comment with a dismissive hand, “I was merely thinking aloud.”
Regulus seemed to be satisfied with that answer. “Let’s go find a compartment, then,” he said, joining the queue.
The queue moved quickly, and once they were on the train Severus and Regulus didn’t have to walk far to find an empty compartment. They settled in for the ride, and Severus pulled out his wand and waved it lazily at the door. It snapped shut. It was probably the last time he’d use magic until September, he thought moodily.
“You’re not meeting anyone else, then?” Regulus asked, staring at the closed door.
“Lestrange may be in here later,” Snape answered, thinking of the tentative plans. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, attempting to clear his thoughts. For some odd reason, he didn’t feel like cursing Potter and Black and making another huge scene on the train. This time he longed for something subtler. He thought about it silently, listening to Regulus rustle around on the other bench.
Snape’s peace lasted all of five minutes, when there was a rap on the door. It slid open and Lestrange popped his head into the compartment. He jabbed a finger in the air towards Snape. “He’s not sleeping, is he?” he asked Regulus in disbelief.
Snape opened an eye and peered at Rabastan’s finger testily. “Not with you around I’m not.”
“Good,” Rabastan replied, taking a seat next to Regulus. “I can’t find Rosier. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I want to know where he is. Probably off with Florence.”
“Very clever,” agreed Snape. Regulus snorted in amusement.
“Black and Pettigrew are in the aisle a couple of compartments up,” Rabastan continued, “and Potter’s lurking by the prefect compartment.” He eyed Severus shrewdly. “Have you given any more thought to my suggestion?”
Snape nodded. “Some,” he said slowly.
“And?”
“I’m still thinking.”
“Oh.” Rabastan frowned and kicked his legs up so that they rested on Severus’s bench seat. “That’s not promising.”
“Sorry,” Snape said insincerely.
Regulus bit his lip and looked at Snape. “Actually, today might not be a good day pick a fight with Sirius,” he said. “I’m sure he’s already in a foul mood, having to come home and all.”
Rabastan looked unimpressed. “So?”
“So,” Regulus continued quietly, “his temper is going to be short.”
Snape considered this. Sirius’s reluctance to go home for the summer holiday could prove to be useful. “Perhaps,” he murmured, “perhaps we should wait until we get to the platform.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sure that there’s something that would hit him where it hurts, and he wouldn’t be able to retaliate.”
Regulus nodded, looking worried. “I s’pose so.”
Rabastan, however, sat up eagerly. “Yeah!” he agreed, turning to Regulus, “in front of your parents.”
“Maybe,” Regulus said, “but I have to live with him for the rest of the summer, so I would rather not be involved.” His brow wrinkled in concern.
“It looks like you already are,” a new voice sneered from the doorway. Rabastan had neglected to shut the door behind him and Sirius was leaning on the doorframe next to Peter Pettigrew. He eyeballed Regulus, and his top lip curled up viciously. “Is this the lot you’re hanging around these days?” His grey eyes flickered to Snape before he shook his head at his brother. “You’re going to need a bath when you get home.”
Severus stiffened. Perhaps he’d been unwise in thinking to wait until they reached the platform.
“Shut it,” Regulus retorted tightly.
Rabastan had already stood up and was approaching the doorway, pushing up his sleeves. “Let’s see how well you do with only this lump to support you, Black,” he snarled, nodding at Pettigrew. The round-faced boy flushed and uttered something that sounded more like an undignified squeak.
“Lestrange,” Severus said tiredly, “don’t waste your time.” He levelled his gaze with Sirius and gave him a superior smile. “He’s clearly jealous that his brother has finally found a worthy role-model.”
“Right,” snarled Sirius. “You, a role model!” He laughed bitterly.
“Erm, Sirius?” Pettigrew butted in, his eyes darting to the side. “You might want to-“
“Budge along!” another voice snapped. “If you lot don’t find a compartment, I’m going to speak with your parents as soon as I step off this train!” Frank Longbottom appeared in front of the doorway, pushing Peter along and grumbling under his breath.
“We were just chatting,” laughed Peter nervously as he was pushed further down the aisle.
Frank obviously wasn’t fooled by his feeble excuse. He placed a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “Go,” he reaffirmed.
Severus and Rabastan smirked at Sirius. “You heard him,” Severus said silkily. “Go.”
“I’ve got this under control, Snape,” Frank said tiredly. He patted Sirius on the back again. “I just banished James to this end of the train, Sirius. Go keep him occupied, will you?”
Severus and Rabastan exchanged looks and snickered at Frank’s remark, which angered Sirius even further.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Sirius hissed at Regulus before Frank pushed him out of sight. The elder Gryffindor paused in front of the doorway, glancing around at the Slytherin boys.
“Can we help you?” asked Lestrange, who was still on his feet.
“I doubt it,” replied Frank. “Let’s not start any trouble today, boys. I’m perfectly capable of speaking to your parents, too, you know.”
“We’re shaking, Longbottom,” retorted Rabastan, narrowing his eyes into dark slits.
“Perhaps Carrow will have a talk with you, then,” replied Frank with a sigh. “Regardless, I’m watching you.”
Snape raised his eyebrows in challenge. “Watch away,” he replied smoothly. Frank gave the boys another dark look before continuing on to the next trolley car.
Rabastan stood in the doorway and watched Frank leave. “I don’t like him,” he muttered. “Stupid git thinks he’s so great. There’s a rumour that he’s going to be head boy next year, you know.” He flopped back down onto the bench.
“It’s only a rumour,” Snape said pointedly. For some reason, Rabastan had always harboured a grudge against Longbottom, one that extended beyond the normal Gryffindor Slytherin rivalries. “Shut the door, will you? I don’t want any other idiots popping in to say goodbye.”
The next couple hours were uneventful. Severus slumped over in the corner of the compartment and pretended to be asleep while Rabastan and Regulus argued over Quidditch. After what seemed like ages, Severus was relieved to hear Rabastan beg off to find his brother. Regulus soon followed, shutting the door quietly behind him. Severus cracked an eye open, peered at the empty compartment, and sighed contentedly.
He began to run through his plans once the train reached platform nine and three quarters. He’d have to go through the barriers, change into muggle clothing, and then catch another train towards Halifax. He was rather sure that neither of his parents would be there to meet him; at least, they hadn’t bothered to the year before, and had went so far as to buy a ticket for his trip. His father would be working, god willing, and his mother had mentioned finding some part time work for an herbalist in her last letter.
It didn’t really bother Snape that he had to go the trip alone. He preferred the solitude.
Neither Regulus nor Rabastan had returned to the compartment by the time the Hogwarts Express reached platform nine and three quarters. Severus gazed out the window absent-mindedly, watching the various families who were waiting to pick up their children. He noticed Regulus’s mother, dark and formidable, standing next to her sister-in-law, who was fair like Narcissa. Longbottom’s mother was also there, complete with her moth-eaten vulture hat and red handbag. She looked, Severus decided, absolutely ridiculous in the hideous ensemble. It was hard to miss her.
He scanned the crowd quickly for his mother, but he didn’t see her in the crowd. The compartment door slid open behind him.
“’Lo,” said Regulus breathlessly. “Sorry to leave you alone like that. I got tied up with Barty Crouch.” He smiled apologetically at Severus and walked to the luggage rack to pick up his trunk. They had appeared as soon as the train slowed to a stop.
“I didn’t mind,” Severus assured him. He stood up and stretched, feeling his back pop into place, and reached up to retrieve his battered trunk. Regulus was already in the aisle, blocking it with his trunk so that Snape had room to exit.
Both boys lugged their belongings behind them, making their way off the trolley car.
“Well,” Regulus said, looking over his shoulder, “have a nice summer. Perhaps I’ll see you,” he added with a mysterious smile. Waving, he set off in the direction of his family. Narcissa was already there, chatting with her mother and aunt amicably.
Pausing to survey the platform, Severus watched as the wizard families reunited. Muggle-borns, as well as a few half-bloods, had already started to run through the barrier. Not wanting to be spotted, Snape followed suit. He had almost reached the brick wall when someone rammed him with a trunk from behind.
A hot stab of pain shot through his calves and the backs of his knees, which had buckled beneath him, and he swore loudly. Glowering, he spun around to see who’d been so careless as to run into him. It was Sirius.
“Oops,” Sirius said, his eyes glittering, “sorry.” He gestured to his trunk. “It must have slipped on the trail of grease you were leaving.”
“You’d better not let your mother see you speaking with me,” Severus hissed angrily. “She might get her hopes up that you’ve come to your senses and embraced family tradition.” He paused and sneered at Sirius. “Do you fancy yourself as the prodigal son?”
Sirius scowled. “She’s fine with Regulus,” he spat. “He seems to be turning out just how she wished I would.”
“Better, you mean?”
Sirius twitched. “Leave him alone, Snape. He shouldn’t have to idolize you; he might stop taking baths.”
“Oh, ho, ho,” Severus laughed dryly. “Is that all you can do? Make jokes about my appearance?” He clicked his tongue sympathetically.
“I’ll show you what I can do if you start putting ideas into his head.”
“He was born and raised with those ideas, Black. I’m not putting anything in his head.”
“Maybe not, but you’re certainly cultivating them.” Sirius opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by his mother, who was calling his name. He shut it quickly and frowned.
“I’ll teach Regulus whatever he wishes to learn,” Severus replied quietly. “He needs a brotherly figure in his life.”
Severus knew that his comment had touched a nerve when Sirius drew back his fist, ready to come to blows. Everything was going just as Severus had planned. Very quickly, he backed up and fell through the barrier, leaving a furious Sirius on the other side. He doubted that Sirius would follow; Mrs. Black was waiting for him.
With a twisted grin, Severus manoeuvred through the crowd of muggle parents waiting for their children to come through the barrier. Making sure that he was unnoticed, he ducked around a corner and entered a men’s loo. It was a practiced art of his, vanishing into the scenery and becoming easily overlooked. He locked the door behind him and dropped his trunk to the floor. After rustling around in his pocket for the key, he pulled it out and inserted it into the rusty lock.
There, on top of his belongings, was a pair of worn black trousers and a grey cotton shirt. He pulled them out with a grimace and changed into them quickly. This was the part of his trip home that he dreaded the most. Changing into muggle clothing always made him anxious; he hated the risk of having another student recognize him dressed as a muggle. Of course, having muggles see him dressed as a wizard wasn’t exactly an alternative.
He pulled at the waist of his trousers. They were sagging down his hips and he hadn’t thought to bring a belt. Not only that, but it looked as though he had grown two inches since he’d last worn them; his bony ankles were clearly visible. Even his shirt seemed tight across his back, and he wiggled around in it uncomfortably. One thing was evident; he would have to make a trip to a charity shop to buy some new clothing over the summer. Preferably sooner than later, he decided, feeling constricted as he bent down to retrieve his trunk.
Severus opened the door and peeked his nose through the small gap. The corridor was empty, and there didn’t appear to be any Hogwarts students mulling around on the platform ahead of him. Pressing his lips together in determination, he exited the loo and headed for his train at break-neck speed. His ticket was safely tucked away in his pocket, where he had placed it while packing.
His progress was slowed when he found himself on the heels of a very large and very slow old man. Growing impatient at the sudden change of pace, Severus yanked on his trunk and darted around him.
There was a loud thump and a distressed cry, and Severus found himself on the ground.
“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his sore arm. He looked up to see a blond haired man with familiar looking green eyes looking down at him reproachfully. “Sorry,” Snape added. He glanced around to see where his trunk had landed.
“You should be careful, young man,” the man answered. He extended a hand to help Snape up when another figure appeared from behind him.
“Snape?” a female voice spoke up.
Suddenly the green eyes registered in Severus’s mind. Oh no, he thought desperately, please, don’t let it be her, but when he faced the person who had spoken, his heart immediately sank to his bare ankles.
It was Evans. She surveyed him with a peculiar look on her face while her father stooped to right Severus’s trunk.
“Are you all right?” Mr. Evans asked Severus, managing a polite smile. Severus barely managed a nod in reply.
“You know him, Lily?” Mr. Evans added, realizing that Lily had called Severus by name. “Does he go to school with you?”
Lily nodded. “He’s in my year,” she said slowly, “though he’s a Slytherin.”
Severus’s mind was racing, trying to think of a logical explanation for his appearance. He turned to Lily to make an excuse, but stopped when he noticed her look of annoyed disbelief. A grim realization slowly settled in the pit of his stomach. She obviously suspected the truth, and he doubted he could persuade her to think otherwise.
“Slytherin, eh?” Mr. Evans repeated, blissfully unaware of what was going on between his daughter and Severus. “So you’re a rival?” Apparently Lily had told him about how Hogwarts worked.
“Something like that,” Snape muttered. He grabbed his trunk and clutched it so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He felt like such a fool, standing there in shabby clothes that were too small for him.
“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever run into someone from another house,” Mr. Evans said with an interested look. “Nice to meet you, Mr…” he glanced at his daughter. “Snape, was it?”
“Yes, Dad,” she answered shortly, still eyeing Severus. “Severus Snape.”
“Severus, then,” Mr. Evans replied lightly. “My name is Richard, by the way.”
Snape nodded again. “It’s…er…nice to meet you too, Mr. Evans,” he replied, unwilling to use Lily’s father’s first name. Swallowing his pride, he forced himself to continue. “I…apologize for my…carelessness.” He refused to even look at Lily at this point, instead bowing his head slightly to her father. He dearly wished he could escape from them both and forget that the entire episode had happened.
“I’m no worse for wear and tear,” Mr. Evans quipped. He glanced at his daughter, whose eyes were still locked on Severus. “I’m going to take this to the car,” he said, turning to Lily and kissing her on the forehead. “You can catch up.” He gave Snape a small wave and walked off, whistling.
Severus shifted his feet uncomfortably, quite aware of Lily’s unwavering gaze. “I’ve got a train to catch,” he said.
“You are such a hypocrite,” she replied crossly. Her arms were folded in front of her as she glared at him. “I can scarcely believe it. All this time you’ve been running around pretending to be a pureblood, acting like it made you better than everyone else.”
Snape felt the blood rising to his face. How dare she criticize him for acting that way? It wasn't as if he'd had any other choice, being a Slytherin. Even if he had, he rather liked being able to fool them all. He’d much sooner embrace his wizard heritage than his muggle one. Evans couldn’t possible understand; she was actually proud to be a muggle-born.
He fixed her with a long, cold stare and felt the blood rising to his face. “Wrong, Evans,” he replied, his voice strained and tight with anger.
He pulled his trunk forward with a lurch. “I’m only half of a hypocrite.” And then, because he felt furious and reckless and embarrassed as well as a hundred other things, he flung his hand up in the air. “Tarra,” he finished sardonically.
With that, he brushed past her and marched off to find his train, sincerely vexed that the whole façade he’d built for himself was about to crumble.
____________________________________
AN: Of course, all characters and HP property belong to JK Rowling. I don't receive any sort of profit from writing this, nor would I ever expect to.
The song lyrics at the top are (again) from "Do What You Have to Do", by Sarah McLachlan, Surfacing, Arista Records c. 1997
EDIT: I'd like to add that I'm sorry for the quadruple-spacing, it's just that I don't feel like going and taking out all of the break tags right now.
Chapter Three: The Problem With Fate
And fate has led you through it
You do what you have to do
The entire Slytherin House looked absolutely wretched. It was the Leaving Feast and the term had not ended as they had hoped it would. The silver and green clad students sat sullenly at their table while their rivals whooped and crowed in celebration. They might have been in better humour had the Ravenclaws been in first place, and even Hufflepuff would have been ridiculously laughable, but having Gryffindor place first resulted in more than a fair amount of resentment and hostility.
Bellatrix, who was sitting at the end of the table with the sixth and seventh years, had hissed her displeasure to the entire house while Dumbledore gave his closing speech. She was not pleased that Slytherin lost the race for the House Cup her final year at Hogwarts, especially since she was Head Girl and had put forth a lot of effort to ensure a Slytherin win.
Rodolphus draped his arm around her shoulders consolingly, but it had no effect on her mood whatsoever. She continued to glare unpleasantly at anyone she happened to make eye contact with. Few dared to. In fact, the entire house resorted to speaking in hushed tones over their dinners as not to upset her any further. No one particularly fancied a well-placed curse and a trip to Madam Pomfrey.
Having already been on the receiving end of not one, but two of Bellatrix’s angry tirades, Severus, Rabastan, and Evan were slumped down at their table, glowering at each other petulantly. A girl had never spoken to them so crudely before, and though none of them was willing to stand up to her, they did not appreciate such a harsh lecture. Instead, they chose to take out their frustration on each other.
“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 the cup had you not been caught getting off 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 began to laugh, and Florence, who was in earshot and evidently listening to the boys’ conversation, looked positively murderous and turned away from them huffily.
“You were in the hall, Snape,” retorted Rosier. “You could have warned us.”
“And chanced sighting you both at it? I’d rather jump off the astronomy tower.”
“You’d better not let Bellatrix hear you could have prevented it,” Rabastan muttered, “or she’ll push you off the astronomy tower.”
“I’m not afraid of Bellatrix,” said Severus, though he lowered his voice substantially just in case she was listening.
“You should be,” Rabastan replied. He shrugged a shoulder and sighed. “Besides, Rosier, it’s your own fault that you have to feel up Florence every time you both find yourself alone together.”
Rosier stabbed at a piece of pie with his fork. “You’re all just jealous.”
“Jealous of Florence?” Rabastan repeated. “I hardly think so.”
Both Snape and Rabastan glanced at Florence surreptitiously. At the moment she was speaking in a low 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. She must have noticed the attention that she was getting because she gave the boys a coy smile before returning her interest to Florence. Snape looked away awkwardly, but Rabastan continued eyeing both girls steadily. “Florence looks like a cheap tart,” he mused.
“Only because you’re comparing her to Narcissa,” Rosier grumbled through his pie.
“There’s really no comparison,” Rabastan replied.
“Jealous,” Rosier reiterated, 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 thought was quite reasonable considering the fact that all of Evan’s friends had been talking about her, and not all that nicely. With a finesse that only Rosier could manage, he leaned down and whispered something in her ear that earned a reluctant giggle. A moment later she had scooted down the bench to make room for him to sit. Rosier straddled it, looking smug as he leaned in and put his arm around her waist.
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 and fifth year prefect, mostly kept to himself. Still, Severus assumed that this one, like all of the rest of Rosier’s relationships, would be short-lived.
“Snape.”
Lestrange gave Severus a sharp jab to the ribs, drawing him out of his thoughts. “What?” Severus snapped, arching an eyebrow.
It didn’t seem to matter to Rabastan that he was irritating Severus. “Black and Potter haven’t tried anything else, have they?”
Severus followed Rabastan’s gaze to the Gryffindor table. The boys were busy shovelling food into their mouths, occasionally telling a joke or engaging in conversation with one of the other Gryffindors at the table.
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 should 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 the majority of his housemates, he did not have a lavish home to return to and neither was he spending the holiday on some exotic trip. 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 did receive post, it was never a parcel filled with sweets or other gifts.
Truthfully, 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 learned to put on airs well enough, and he could now feign disdain for “common folk” as well as the rest of his housemates, 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, avoiding admitting to anything that would reveal his indigent upbringing.
It was a greater challenge skirting around another simple matter: His father, Tobias Snape, was a muggle. No one in the Slytherin House was aware of that fact, and Severus intended it to stay that way.
“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.
* * *
Severus had packed all of his belongings and was now standing in the front hall, dropping his trunk off with the other students’ things. There was an enormous mountain of luggage piled in the corner, as well as owl cages, wrapped parcels, and the occasional stray item. He tapped his battered trunk lock with the end of his wand, muttering a hex under his breath. If anyone attempted to pick the lock, his or her fingers would fuse together so that they resembled mitts. He almost hoped that someone would be thick enough to try it.
There were at least two-dozen other students milling around him, exchanging addresses and saying their last minute goodbyes. One small first year was crawling around on his hands and knees, looking for his rat that had escaped in all of the commotion. Some of the students had already changed into their muggle clothing, and there was so much bare skin showing that Severus was surprised Rosier wasn’t lurking around taking pictures.
“Muggles,” a soft voice spoke up next to him. “Their sense of fashion is appalling.”
Snape glanced over and noticed Regulus, who was levitating his expensive-looking trunk so that it teetered on the edge of some of the other luggage. The young boy steadied it with a hand, his blue-grey eyes following the pale legs of two girls walking by, both of whom were wearing very short skirts.
“Do you think so?” Snape asked. Like Regulus, he was still wearing his school robes. Half-blood though he may be, he felt much more comfortable in wizard clothing.
Regulus’s brows knitted and he looked up at Snape. “You don’t?” he asked uncertainly.
“I really don’t care about it one way or the other,” Severus replied bluntly.
“Oh,” Regulus faltered, clearly anxious about making a good impression on his older housemate, “well, I suppose you’re right, of course. Muggle fashion isn’t that important in the grand scheme of things.”
“I should hope not.”
“Right then,” Regulus said, giving Severus a nervous smile before dropping his gaze to the floor. The young boy’s cheeks were tinged with pink. Severus regarded him silently, waiting for the real reason behind Black’s conversation. Surely he didn’t really expect a discussion over muggle fashion.
Regulus coughed into his hand and glanced at the doorway to the grounds. “Should we go?” he continued, “It’s early enough that we shouldn’t have trouble finding an empty carriage.”
Severus hadn’t planned on finding company for the trip home so early, but he knew it was inevitable. He considered unnerving the fourth year into submission, thus making it a quiet trip home. Regulus’s company was preferable compared to some of the other Slytherins, however. The young boy rarely gave Severus any cheek and was smart enough to know when to hold his tongue.
“All right,” Severus agreed at last, walking towards the doors. He crossed the threshold and marched out onto the grounds, squinting his eyes to in order to relieve them from the glaring sun, which was beating down upon the students mercilessly.
Regulus brightened a great deal and trotted forward so that he was walking at Severus’s side. “It’s always a little depressing leaving, isn’t it?” He looked over his shoulder at the towering stone walls of the castle. “No magic for an entire summer.”
Severus nodded and gave Regulus a sidelong glance. “Surely it’s not that dull at your house?”
“Well, no,” Regulus paused thoughtfully, “it’s not. It’s just that Sirius will be home for the summer, and Grimmauld Place will be up in arms.”
“Really.”
“He didn’t come home over Christmas, which, to tell you the truth, was a bit of a relief. When he’s home it’s all arguments and slamming doors. My mother and father didn’t even mention him once.” Regulus grimaced, following Severus to the line of carriages not far ahead of them. “Now that he’s coming home they won’t be able to pretend he doesn’t exist.”
“Pity,” replied Severus. He thought back to his argument with Sirius the week prior. “Perhaps they’ll toss him out,” he added as an afterthought. They reached an empty carriage and he gestured to the door for Regulus to climb in.
“Perhaps,” Regulus agreed, clambering into the carriage. His voice seemed hollow and detached, and the sharp features of his face looked glum.
Severus followed him in and sat on the opposite bench. Regulus remained silent, offering a pained-looking smile before gazing out the window at the growing number of students approaching. Severus observed him wordlessly, reflecting on his behaviour. Regulus, it seemed, was not as hardheaded as his brother, or even Bellatrix for that matter. Though there was clearly a grudge between brothers, he appeared to be a little regretful of the growing distance between them. Personally, Severus thought it was idiotic; he couldn’t imagine a worse person to be related to than Black, except, perhaps, Potter.
Lost in thought, Severus turned away from Regulus and stared out the window at the calm waters of the lake. The surface reflected the blue, cloudless sky, and the squid appeared to be basking in the warm water near the shore. Regulus was right; it was unfortunate that the students couldn’t stay at Hogwarts year round if they wanted to. The magical world was much more inviting, and even if he wouldn’t be able to perform magic, it was preferable to his tiny house on Spinner’s End. Severus sighed and shut his eyes, resting his forehead against the cool glass. He simply detested going home for the summer.
Outside of the carriage there was a sudden increase in noise, and two students who must have been roughhousing caused the carriage to rock back and forth. Severus could hear an older voice calling out to the students causing the raucous, and the scuffle quickly faded. Instead, the sounds of two girls chattering merrily crescendoed until a soft voice floated in through the doorway.
“Would you boys mind if we joined you?”
Severus opened his eyes and shifted so that he could see who was speaking. There, silhouetted in the sunlight, stood Narcissa and Florence.
He clenched his jaw tightly, wondering if the gods were set on giving him a hard time today.
“Not at all,” Regulus answered politely, gesturing to the two open seats. He glanced at Severus, who jerked his head up into a nod, confirming the invitation.
“Thank you,” Narcissa said with a smile. She carefully stepped into the carriage and took a seat next to Regulus. She immediately began to press the folds out of her silvery robes, surveying both boys silently. Severus had the funny feeling that he was being appraised.
Florence poked her head into the carriage after Narcissa. Her mess of curls was sticking up in all directions and her school robes were askew. She looked so dishevelled that Snape couldn’t help but wonder if she had been saying last minute goodbyes to Rosier. At least she hadn’t dressed up for the train ride home, he thought approvingly. One would have thought they were going to a fancy dinner party by the look of Narcissa’s wardrobe.
Florence paused wearily at the door before sitting next to Snape. She seemed to be about as thrilled with the arrangement as he did. “Hello,” she said shortly. “Sorry to bother you.”
“The other carriage we tried had Longbottom and McKinnon in it,” Narcissa added with a scandalous sniff. “We could hardly sit with the Gryffindors after the House Cup incident.” She gave Florence a meaningful look before settling back into her seat for the ride.
“You might’ve been able to,” said Florence, who flushed at Narcissa’s subtle accusation. “Longbottom nearly fell out of his seat when he saw you.” Her brown eyes glittered humorously. “Marlene had to steady him; did you see?”
“He’s always been a little twitchy around girls,” Regulus mused.
“It’s unfortunate that it didn’t render him unconscious,” Snape said quietly. He hadn’t intended on joining the conversation, but couldn’t help himself. Regulus shook his head in amusement.
Narcissa’s blue eyes twinkled slyly. “It was absurd, really. I hadn’t even said anything yet.” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “You’d have thought I was Bella.”
The carriage gave a sudden jolt and began rolling towards the Hogwarts Express. Huddled in his corner, Severus returned his gaze to the landscape as the others continued to talk.
“Speaking of Bella,” Regulus said, lowering his voice, “I heard rumours of an engagement this past week. Have you heard anything about it?”
“Yes, that,” Narcissa answered smoothly, “I have a feeling Rodolphus will be over to ask for her hand in marriage within the next week or so.”
“You don’t say?” Regulus looked surprised.
Narcissa smiled knowingly, showing a perfect set of white teeth. “You mustn’t mention it to your mother or father, but she’s already begun planning.”
Florence piped up from beside Severus. “She told you that?”
“Of course not,” said Narcissa lightly. “I overheard her speaking about it with Rodolphus. They were talking about an engagement party and a special guest of honour.”
Regulus wrinkled his nose. “A guest of honour? That’s uncustomary, isn’t it?”
“It must be someone important,” Narcissa agreed, stressing the word important. Snape stole a quick glance at the cousins, who were exchanging curious looks with one another.
“You don’t think--” Regulus began. His mouth dropped in awe.
“--Sshh,” Narcissa quieted him, placing her hand on his forearm. “I’m not certain yet, but it’s a possibility.” Her gaze flickered from her cousin to Snape and finally to Florence. “This is completely confidential,” she whispered.
Florence’s eyes were as wide as galleons. “Oh!” she breathed.
“If it’s confidential,” Snape asked, “then why are you talking about it openly?” The same uneasy feeling he’d had when Rabastan had threatened Evans returned, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Oh, Snape,” Narcissa admonished, “you both are sure to be invited. Most of the Slytherins will be. You can’t say that you’re not in the least bit interested.”
She was right, he realized; in all truth, he was very interested. If the guest was whom they all surmised, it would be very interesting indeed. Both Narcissa and Regulus were watching him curiously, and he replied with an ambiguous shrug.
“I never said that.”
Regulus patted Narcissa’s hand on his forearm, nodding. “I’m interested, too,” he said. “And I knew you would be Snape.” He smiled at Severus. “After all, you know as many dark spells as Bellatrix does.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Narcissa warned him with a look. “You know how she hates competition.”
“I’m not competing with anyone,” Severus replied.
Narcissa pulled her hand away from Regulus and folded her arms in her lap primly. “It’s not that you are, Snape,” she said frankly. “It’s that you could.”
“You do have a bit of talent,” admitted Florence. “Anyone who doesn’t see that has gillyweed for brains.”
“Yeah,” Regulus agreed, “I wish that I knew as much about the Dark Arts as you.”
Narcissa laughed. “Regulus, you ninny, you’re the best one at Defence Against the Dark Arts in our year.”
“That doesn’t mean that I can’t learn more,” Regulus responded, giving Severus a hopeful look.
The entire carriage grew silent, contemplating what had been said. Severus pondered it all pensively. It was true, he did know a lot about the Dark Arts, and he had made it his personal goal to learn more every day. He was rather good at duelling, with quick reflexes and a vast catalogue of curses and other spells. Did the other Slytherins really see his talent as a valuable asset? He almost smiled.
“All it takes is a little potential,” he said finally. Regulus grinned at him.
Florence, who seemed bored by all of the talk, cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Narcissa,” she asked, “do you think Lucius Malfoy will be at the party?”
Regulus gave a loud snort and muttered something inaudible under his breath. Lucius Malfoy was the definition of pretentious, with extravagant clothing and a pompous manner. Snape didn’t know him very well, though he was a popular topic of conversation by most of the Slytherin girls, infamously so, in the boys’ opinions.
“Oh, I hope so,” breathed Narcissa. “I do hope so.” She brushed her hair back from her pale face, and her eyes were sparkling.
“Considering that he’s from one of the most wealthy pure-blooded families, that’s almost a guarantee,” Regulus pointed out. His nose was wrinkled in disgust.
"And charming!" said Florence, at the same time Narcissa whispered, "and handsome!"
Both girls giggled lightly, and Snape took that as his cue to turn back to the landscape.
* * *
Narcissa and Florence thanked the boys hastily before climbing out of the carriage and advancing into the throng of students queuing up to board the scarlet train.
Severus watched them go, breathing a sigh of relief. The carriage ride had made him very aware of how he was severely lacking in charm and social graces. It wasn’t as terrible as he’d thought it might be, but Narcissa’s presence made him uncomfortable. He simply wasn’t used to being around girls, and it irritated him much in the same way Evans’s presence did.
Thankfully, Narcissa didn’t seem to be interested in his actions in the same way Evans was, if she truly was interested in him at all. If he had called Narcissa a nasty name, she would have ignored him and likely sought out revenge later. Not Evans, however. Evans wanted to talk things out; Evans expected him to express his regret for calling her mudblood.
“Not bloody likely,” he muttered to himself. He was not soft, and he had no intention of letting her persistence affect him.
“Sorry?” Regulus, who’d been standing beside him, looked perplexed. “Did you say something?”
Severus blinked and shook his head quickly. “Nothing,” he said, waving off his comment with a dismissive hand, “I was merely thinking aloud.”
Regulus seemed to be satisfied with that answer. “Let’s go find a compartment, then,” he said, joining the queue.
The queue moved quickly, and once they were on the train Severus and Regulus didn’t have to walk far to find an empty compartment. They settled in for the ride, and Severus pulled out his wand and waved it lazily at the door. It snapped shut. It was probably the last time he’d use magic until September, he thought moodily.
“You’re not meeting anyone else, then?” Regulus asked, staring at the closed door.
“Lestrange may be in here later,” Snape answered, thinking of the tentative plans. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, attempting to clear his thoughts. For some odd reason, he didn’t feel like cursing Potter and Black and making another huge scene on the train. This time he longed for something subtler. He thought about it silently, listening to Regulus rustle around on the other bench.
Snape’s peace lasted all of five minutes, when there was a rap on the door. It slid open and Lestrange popped his head into the compartment. He jabbed a finger in the air towards Snape. “He’s not sleeping, is he?” he asked Regulus in disbelief.
Snape opened an eye and peered at Rabastan’s finger testily. “Not with you around I’m not.”
“Good,” Rabastan replied, taking a seat next to Regulus. “I can’t find Rosier. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I want to know where he is. Probably off with Florence.”
“Very clever,” agreed Snape. Regulus snorted in amusement.
“Black and Pettigrew are in the aisle a couple of compartments up,” Rabastan continued, “and Potter’s lurking by the prefect compartment.” He eyed Severus shrewdly. “Have you given any more thought to my suggestion?”
Snape nodded. “Some,” he said slowly.
“And?”
“I’m still thinking.”
“Oh.” Rabastan frowned and kicked his legs up so that they rested on Severus’s bench seat. “That’s not promising.”
“Sorry,” Snape said insincerely.
Regulus bit his lip and looked at Snape. “Actually, today might not be a good day pick a fight with Sirius,” he said. “I’m sure he’s already in a foul mood, having to come home and all.”
Rabastan looked unimpressed. “So?”
“So,” Regulus continued quietly, “his temper is going to be short.”
Snape considered this. Sirius’s reluctance to go home for the summer holiday could prove to be useful. “Perhaps,” he murmured, “perhaps we should wait until we get to the platform.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sure that there’s something that would hit him where it hurts, and he wouldn’t be able to retaliate.”
Regulus nodded, looking worried. “I s’pose so.”
Rabastan, however, sat up eagerly. “Yeah!” he agreed, turning to Regulus, “in front of your parents.”
“Maybe,” Regulus said, “but I have to live with him for the rest of the summer, so I would rather not be involved.” His brow wrinkled in concern.
“It looks like you already are,” a new voice sneered from the doorway. Rabastan had neglected to shut the door behind him and Sirius was leaning on the doorframe next to Peter Pettigrew. He eyeballed Regulus, and his top lip curled up viciously. “Is this the lot you’re hanging around these days?” His grey eyes flickered to Snape before he shook his head at his brother. “You’re going to need a bath when you get home.”
Severus stiffened. Perhaps he’d been unwise in thinking to wait until they reached the platform.
“Shut it,” Regulus retorted tightly.
Rabastan had already stood up and was approaching the doorway, pushing up his sleeves. “Let’s see how well you do with only this lump to support you, Black,” he snarled, nodding at Pettigrew. The round-faced boy flushed and uttered something that sounded more like an undignified squeak.
“Lestrange,” Severus said tiredly, “don’t waste your time.” He levelled his gaze with Sirius and gave him a superior smile. “He’s clearly jealous that his brother has finally found a worthy role-model.”
“Right,” snarled Sirius. “You, a role model!” He laughed bitterly.
“Erm, Sirius?” Pettigrew butted in, his eyes darting to the side. “You might want to-“
“Budge along!” another voice snapped. “If you lot don’t find a compartment, I’m going to speak with your parents as soon as I step off this train!” Frank Longbottom appeared in front of the doorway, pushing Peter along and grumbling under his breath.
“We were just chatting,” laughed Peter nervously as he was pushed further down the aisle.
Frank obviously wasn’t fooled by his feeble excuse. He placed a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “Go,” he reaffirmed.
Severus and Rabastan smirked at Sirius. “You heard him,” Severus said silkily. “Go.”
“I’ve got this under control, Snape,” Frank said tiredly. He patted Sirius on the back again. “I just banished James to this end of the train, Sirius. Go keep him occupied, will you?”
Severus and Rabastan exchanged looks and snickered at Frank’s remark, which angered Sirius even further.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Sirius hissed at Regulus before Frank pushed him out of sight. The elder Gryffindor paused in front of the doorway, glancing around at the Slytherin boys.
“Can we help you?” asked Lestrange, who was still on his feet.
“I doubt it,” replied Frank. “Let’s not start any trouble today, boys. I’m perfectly capable of speaking to your parents, too, you know.”
“We’re shaking, Longbottom,” retorted Rabastan, narrowing his eyes into dark slits.
“Perhaps Carrow will have a talk with you, then,” replied Frank with a sigh. “Regardless, I’m watching you.”
Snape raised his eyebrows in challenge. “Watch away,” he replied smoothly. Frank gave the boys another dark look before continuing on to the next trolley car.
Rabastan stood in the doorway and watched Frank leave. “I don’t like him,” he muttered. “Stupid git thinks he’s so great. There’s a rumour that he’s going to be head boy next year, you know.” He flopped back down onto the bench.
“It’s only a rumour,” Snape said pointedly. For some reason, Rabastan had always harboured a grudge against Longbottom, one that extended beyond the normal Gryffindor Slytherin rivalries. “Shut the door, will you? I don’t want any other idiots popping in to say goodbye.”
The next couple hours were uneventful. Severus slumped over in the corner of the compartment and pretended to be asleep while Rabastan and Regulus argued over Quidditch. After what seemed like ages, Severus was relieved to hear Rabastan beg off to find his brother. Regulus soon followed, shutting the door quietly behind him. Severus cracked an eye open, peered at the empty compartment, and sighed contentedly.
He began to run through his plans once the train reached platform nine and three quarters. He’d have to go through the barriers, change into muggle clothing, and then catch another train towards Halifax. He was rather sure that neither of his parents would be there to meet him; at least, they hadn’t bothered to the year before, and had went so far as to buy a ticket for his trip. His father would be working, god willing, and his mother had mentioned finding some part time work for an herbalist in her last letter.
It didn’t really bother Snape that he had to go the trip alone. He preferred the solitude.
Neither Regulus nor Rabastan had returned to the compartment by the time the Hogwarts Express reached platform nine and three quarters. Severus gazed out the window absent-mindedly, watching the various families who were waiting to pick up their children. He noticed Regulus’s mother, dark and formidable, standing next to her sister-in-law, who was fair like Narcissa. Longbottom’s mother was also there, complete with her moth-eaten vulture hat and red handbag. She looked, Severus decided, absolutely ridiculous in the hideous ensemble. It was hard to miss her.
He scanned the crowd quickly for his mother, but he didn’t see her in the crowd. The compartment door slid open behind him.
“’Lo,” said Regulus breathlessly. “Sorry to leave you alone like that. I got tied up with Barty Crouch.” He smiled apologetically at Severus and walked to the luggage rack to pick up his trunk. They had appeared as soon as the train slowed to a stop.
“I didn’t mind,” Severus assured him. He stood up and stretched, feeling his back pop into place, and reached up to retrieve his battered trunk. Regulus was already in the aisle, blocking it with his trunk so that Snape had room to exit.
Both boys lugged their belongings behind them, making their way off the trolley car.
“Well,” Regulus said, looking over his shoulder, “have a nice summer. Perhaps I’ll see you,” he added with a mysterious smile. Waving, he set off in the direction of his family. Narcissa was already there, chatting with her mother and aunt amicably.
Pausing to survey the platform, Severus watched as the wizard families reunited. Muggle-borns, as well as a few half-bloods, had already started to run through the barrier. Not wanting to be spotted, Snape followed suit. He had almost reached the brick wall when someone rammed him with a trunk from behind.
A hot stab of pain shot through his calves and the backs of his knees, which had buckled beneath him, and he swore loudly. Glowering, he spun around to see who’d been so careless as to run into him. It was Sirius.
“Oops,” Sirius said, his eyes glittering, “sorry.” He gestured to his trunk. “It must have slipped on the trail of grease you were leaving.”
“You’d better not let your mother see you speaking with me,” Severus hissed angrily. “She might get her hopes up that you’ve come to your senses and embraced family tradition.” He paused and sneered at Sirius. “Do you fancy yourself as the prodigal son?”
Sirius scowled. “She’s fine with Regulus,” he spat. “He seems to be turning out just how she wished I would.”
“Better, you mean?”
Sirius twitched. “Leave him alone, Snape. He shouldn’t have to idolize you; he might stop taking baths.”
“Oh, ho, ho,” Severus laughed dryly. “Is that all you can do? Make jokes about my appearance?” He clicked his tongue sympathetically.
“I’ll show you what I can do if you start putting ideas into his head.”
“He was born and raised with those ideas, Black. I’m not putting anything in his head.”
“Maybe not, but you’re certainly cultivating them.” Sirius opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by his mother, who was calling his name. He shut it quickly and frowned.
“I’ll teach Regulus whatever he wishes to learn,” Severus replied quietly. “He needs a brotherly figure in his life.”
Severus knew that his comment had touched a nerve when Sirius drew back his fist, ready to come to blows. Everything was going just as Severus had planned. Very quickly, he backed up and fell through the barrier, leaving a furious Sirius on the other side. He doubted that Sirius would follow; Mrs. Black was waiting for him.
With a twisted grin, Severus manoeuvred through the crowd of muggle parents waiting for their children to come through the barrier. Making sure that he was unnoticed, he ducked around a corner and entered a men’s loo. It was a practiced art of his, vanishing into the scenery and becoming easily overlooked. He locked the door behind him and dropped his trunk to the floor. After rustling around in his pocket for the key, he pulled it out and inserted it into the rusty lock.
There, on top of his belongings, was a pair of worn black trousers and a grey cotton shirt. He pulled them out with a grimace and changed into them quickly. This was the part of his trip home that he dreaded the most. Changing into muggle clothing always made him anxious; he hated the risk of having another student recognize him dressed as a muggle. Of course, having muggles see him dressed as a wizard wasn’t exactly an alternative.
He pulled at the waist of his trousers. They were sagging down his hips and he hadn’t thought to bring a belt. Not only that, but it looked as though he had grown two inches since he’d last worn them; his bony ankles were clearly visible. Even his shirt seemed tight across his back, and he wiggled around in it uncomfortably. One thing was evident; he would have to make a trip to a charity shop to buy some new clothing over the summer. Preferably sooner than later, he decided, feeling constricted as he bent down to retrieve his trunk.
Severus opened the door and peeked his nose through the small gap. The corridor was empty, and there didn’t appear to be any Hogwarts students mulling around on the platform ahead of him. Pressing his lips together in determination, he exited the loo and headed for his train at break-neck speed. His ticket was safely tucked away in his pocket, where he had placed it while packing.
His progress was slowed when he found himself on the heels of a very large and very slow old man. Growing impatient at the sudden change of pace, Severus yanked on his trunk and darted around him.
There was a loud thump and a distressed cry, and Severus found himself on the ground.
“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing his sore arm. He looked up to see a blond haired man with familiar looking green eyes looking down at him reproachfully. “Sorry,” Snape added. He glanced around to see where his trunk had landed.
“You should be careful, young man,” the man answered. He extended a hand to help Snape up when another figure appeared from behind him.
“Snape?” a female voice spoke up.
Suddenly the green eyes registered in Severus’s mind. Oh no, he thought desperately, please, don’t let it be her, but when he faced the person who had spoken, his heart immediately sank to his bare ankles.
It was Evans. She surveyed him with a peculiar look on her face while her father stooped to right Severus’s trunk.
“Are you all right?” Mr. Evans asked Severus, managing a polite smile. Severus barely managed a nod in reply.
“You know him, Lily?” Mr. Evans added, realizing that Lily had called Severus by name. “Does he go to school with you?”
Lily nodded. “He’s in my year,” she said slowly, “though he’s a Slytherin.”
Severus’s mind was racing, trying to think of a logical explanation for his appearance. He turned to Lily to make an excuse, but stopped when he noticed her look of annoyed disbelief. A grim realization slowly settled in the pit of his stomach. She obviously suspected the truth, and he doubted he could persuade her to think otherwise.
“Slytherin, eh?” Mr. Evans repeated, blissfully unaware of what was going on between his daughter and Severus. “So you’re a rival?” Apparently Lily had told him about how Hogwarts worked.
“Something like that,” Snape muttered. He grabbed his trunk and clutched it so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. He felt like such a fool, standing there in shabby clothes that were too small for him.
“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever run into someone from another house,” Mr. Evans said with an interested look. “Nice to meet you, Mr…” he glanced at his daughter. “Snape, was it?”
“Yes, Dad,” she answered shortly, still eyeing Severus. “Severus Snape.”
“Severus, then,” Mr. Evans replied lightly. “My name is Richard, by the way.”
Snape nodded again. “It’s…er…nice to meet you too, Mr. Evans,” he replied, unwilling to use Lily’s father’s first name. Swallowing his pride, he forced himself to continue. “I…apologize for my…carelessness.” He refused to even look at Lily at this point, instead bowing his head slightly to her father. He dearly wished he could escape from them both and forget that the entire episode had happened.
“I’m no worse for wear and tear,” Mr. Evans quipped. He glanced at his daughter, whose eyes were still locked on Severus. “I’m going to take this to the car,” he said, turning to Lily and kissing her on the forehead. “You can catch up.” He gave Snape a small wave and walked off, whistling.
Severus shifted his feet uncomfortably, quite aware of Lily’s unwavering gaze. “I’ve got a train to catch,” he said.
“You are such a hypocrite,” she replied crossly. Her arms were folded in front of her as she glared at him. “I can scarcely believe it. All this time you’ve been running around pretending to be a pureblood, acting like it made you better than everyone else.”
Snape felt the blood rising to his face. How dare she criticize him for acting that way? It wasn't as if he'd had any other choice, being a Slytherin. Even if he had, he rather liked being able to fool them all. He’d much sooner embrace his wizard heritage than his muggle one. Evans couldn’t possible understand; she was actually proud to be a muggle-born.
He fixed her with a long, cold stare and felt the blood rising to his face. “Wrong, Evans,” he replied, his voice strained and tight with anger.
He pulled his trunk forward with a lurch. “I’m only half of a hypocrite.” And then, because he felt furious and reckless and embarrassed as well as a hundred other things, he flung his hand up in the air. “Tarra,” he finished sardonically.
With that, he brushed past her and marched off to find his train, sincerely vexed that the whole façade he’d built for himself was about to crumble.
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AN: Of course, all characters and HP property belong to JK Rowling. I don't receive any sort of profit from writing this, nor would I ever expect to.
The song lyrics at the top are (again) from "Do What You Have to Do", by Sarah McLachlan, Surfacing, Arista Records c. 1997