The Brightest And The Most Beloved Severus found Lucius' note rolled up on his bed. It was simple, concise, and very, very shaky. Saturday the twenty-fourth, eight in the evening. Go alone. Please, be nice. Please. He nodded to himself. The timing was good, not a Hogsmeade weekend or a practise night. Hufflepuff was playing Gryffindor that afternoon, so everybody would be a bit distracted. Nobody would care if a lone Slytherin vanished for a few hours. Hell, nobody seemed to care that a lone Slytherin was vanishing. He raked a hand through his limp, greasy hair. It came back with a thin layer of hemp oil. Severus wiped it on his robe and frowned. The silken mess had, in the last few weeks, grown drier and drier until he could either deal with the oil that protected it from shimmering, corrosive fumes sitting on top in a sticky layer, or let the brittle strands be destroyed completely. He dropped the note in his drawer and gathered up a few things before heading to the prefects' bathroom. Cringing, he muttered the password, "Rub-a-dub-dub," so low the door had to pause to make sure it heard him. Head bowed, he stepped in, and it took a moment to realise he heard splashing. "Goddammit! James, you were supposed to lock the door!" "Me? You're the one who had to go back to get your bathrobe. Or were you going to try streaking the girls' dorm again?" Black snorted. He looked up. "Fuck off, Snape." "Oi! Watch your mouth around my brother, Padfoot!" "Sorry, Moony. You didn't hear me, did you, Rommy?" A high voice said, "Y'mean when you told Greaseball to fuck off?" "ROMMY!" Remus started giggling. "I'm telling Mum." "You're bloody well not!" "Bloody well am!" The splashing started again. At least twenty types of bubbles filled the air, the water, nearly obscuring five particular Gryffindors. Potter and Black sat at the edge, perhaps a foot apart, glaring at Severus. Remus was torn between drenching his brother and sending his own "go-on-try-it-I-dare-you" looks. Peter, huddled in the corner, kept his head down. He kept glancing up at Severus, then dropping his eyes before his cheeks could go red. Snape arched an eyebrow. "This is a pretty picture. I almost wish I had a camera." "Wank mags getting too sticky to read, Snapey-poo?" Black grinned viciously and wiggled his eyebrows. Severus bristled. "Actually, I was thinking of something a little more beneficial. Say, having a particular prefect's status revoked for allowing his friends in here?" Potter snorted. "As if anyone's going to listen to you." "Say that again?" Potter lifted his head from the edge of the tub where he'd let it drop back. His glasses were gone, making him a bit cross-eyed. "Who's got more clout, Head Boy, or some Slytherin who wanted a peepshow?" "There is nothing here that could interest me, Potter." Peter squeaked, but didn't move. Apparently, he would let it slide as part of their secret. All the better for Snape - the fat rat was starting to get whiny about going public, at least to their friends, and Snape did not need that in his life. The whole experiment had grown tedious long ago and he was just waiting for an excuse to cut it off. "Guys, cut it out," Remus said. His mouth was drawn in perturbation. "Not in front of the K-I-D." "I'm not a kid!" Romulus folded his arms, sitting next to Remus. His shoulders barely stuck out of the water. "That's right," Snape muttered, "you're a whelp." As soon as he said it, he knew he was a dead man. Five sets of eyes locked on him. Romulus looked terrified, Peter disbelieving, Potter and Black outraged, and Remus looked like he wanted to finish what he'd failed at the year before. Snape took a step backwards. Even if his muscle hadn't been melting like ice in spring, he couldn't take on five at once and expect to walk out. A loud splash signaled that one of them had gotten out. Even before Black and Potter could haul themselves up, Snape was met with the unexpectedly terrifying sight of Remus Lupin stalking, naked, towards him, slender muscles sliding over a slim frame. Severus took a couple of quick steps backwards. Before he could properly turn to run, though, a hand caught him by the collar. The last thing he remembered before the pain made him black out was an impression of blood spattering his slender, pale hands. His head screamed. It started in his teeth and oozed up through his nose and cheekbone, into his eye, around his skull and down his throat. Severus moaned. When he tried to sit up, he thought he'd been body bound. No, no, he was only too weak to move. "You're awake, then?" Madam Pomfrey's clipped voice broke through some of the dull grey fog that filled his head. Severus tried to speak, but all he could do was moan. It was an oddly sexual sound. The gasping quality surprised him. A moment later, a sharp, strong hand lifted his head, and a goblet was pressed to his lips. "Go slowly. We don't want you to choke." He automatically obeyed. The potion was sweet and tart and thin, like lime juice and honey. His mum gave him the same type of Painkilling Potion when he was seven and flew face-first into the side of the shop. That felt pretty much like this did. If Madam Pomfrey hadn't spoken, he might have thought he was back home and in his bed with the old Caerphilly Catapults sheets. With a twinge that was lost in the fading pain, he realised he'd never see his room again. "Wha'time'zit?" he slurred. "Eight in the morning, Friday, January twenty-third. Nineteen seventy-six, in case you feel like you've slept for a year. You've been out all night." Madam Pomfrey patted his hand and stood up. "Rest for now. When you're feeling a bit better, the headmaster would like a word with you." Severus tried to complain, but the last threads of his pain vanished and, with it, any will he had to stay awake. It was an odd sensation, and he suspected he'd been given a flavourless sleeping draught along with the Painkilling Potion. When he opened his eyes again, the hospital wing was bright and warm with afternoon sun. Gingerly, he sat up. His hat was sitting on the table at his right hand and he habitually put it on. His robe and trousers were gone, replaced with red-and-white striped pajamas. He felt like a stick of peppermint rock. Madam Pomfrey was tending a Ravenclaw girl with small snakes for hair. Severus watched quietly. He had the distant impression of the headmaster wanting to see him. Probably something about the fight. The Gryffindor-loving coot would probably try to pin the whole thing on him. Madam Pomfrey suddenly turned around. "Oh! You're awake, Severus! Just a moment, I'll summon the headmaster." "It wasn't my fault," he said in a gravely voice. She gave him perhaps the oddest look he'd seen in his life. A few minutes later, with his green bathrobe wrapped over the pajamas, Severus sat in Madam Pomfrey's office. Professor Dumbledore looked grave behind the desk, Madam Pomfrey not much perkier in the chair beside Severus. "I'm afraid, Mister Snape," Dumbledore said gently, "that you've rather a lot of explaining to do." "Lupin started it. I didn't touch him." Dumbledore shook his head. "Not about that, although you can rest assured that Mister Lupin has been suitably punished." "How? A nice silver dagger?" The faint translucency in Dumbledore's blue eyes vanished and his mouth set hard. "I realise that you have had your differences in the past. May I remind you that Mister Lupin had nothing to do with that incident, and was just as much a victim as you?" Severus snorted. "He says." "Whatever the case, I take that sort of comment seriously. You're in enough trouble without adding murder threats to the list, Mister Snape." Severus shrugged. "Would you just tell me what I did so I can get my detentions over with?" "I'm afraid you're facing expulsion." Severus gaped. A tight wad of horror began to swell in his stomach. "They started it! All I wanted was to have a bath in peace!" "Madam Pomfrey noted something off in your readings when she examined you. She looked into it. I'm afraid she found the curse signature." "What curse signature? What the Hell are you talking about?" Severus looked from Dumbledore to Pomfrey. "I didn't curse him! I didn't curse any of them!" "The Osmosis Curse," Madam Pomfrey said. Her spine was rigid, her expression cool. "I haven't used an Osmosis Charm in ages," Snape said warily. Waking up, puking his guts out, had killed his taste for them. "I certainly wouldn't put one on anyone else, either." Dumbledore shook his head. "Not an Osmosis Charm, Mister Snape, your Osmosis Curse. It's no use denying it." "What's an Osmosis Curse?" Severus squinted in confusion, staring at the headmaster. "How long was I out before I got here? If anyone's been cursed, you ought to ask that lot about it!" His stomach quivered in fear. "The signature wasn't fresh, Mister Snape," Madam Pomfrey said gently but firmly. "It was between two weeks and six months old." Severus blinked dumbly. The swelling lump of horror turned to one of dread. "You know nothing about it?" Dumbledore leaned forward intently. "No!" "You would swear to this." "Yes!" "Before council, under Veritaserum." "Yes! Why?" "So you honestly have no idea how this happened." "Idea how what happened? I've never even heard of an Osmosis Curse." Dumbledore rubbed his eyes. "May I see your left arm, Mister Snape?" "Why?" he asked. His eyes narrowed. "I didn't see anything, Headmaster." "I'd only like to test something, Poppy. Severus, please show me your arm." Scowling, Severus pushed back his sleeve to reveal pristine, pallid skin, slightly yellow and traced with blue veins. "Satisfied, sir?" "Just a moment." Dumbledore touched Severus' arm with his wand and muttered something. Severus felt a slight tingle, but nothing else happened. With a small sigh, Dumbledore leaned back in the chair. "I wholeheartedly apologise. However, I fear this places us in an awkward situation." Severus felt very small and young and lost. His heart was pounding, and his mouth ached for a cigarette. "What happened to me?" "That's what I'm trying to ascertain. You've obviously been the victim of an Osmosis Curse without your knowledge, but that spell cannot take hold without consent." "So you're wrong." The slow shake of Dumbledore's head felt like a coffin nail being driven home. Madam Pomfrey touched his thin knee. "We've suspected something for a while, Severus. Professor Fellus said he'd talked to you, though, and he couldn't see anything wrong apart from overwork. Professor Dumbledore or I would have approached you, but we didn't want to panic you. If we'd imagined anything like this... quite honestly, if I'd paid closer attention to how much you've changed... I'm so sorry." She scowled at no-one. "You said you'd used Osmosis Charms?" He nodded, the swell of horror snaking through his intestines. "Not for schoolwork. Only things like the Academic Bowl. And some research." Dumbledore hummed. "I suppose the curse could have been cast while a charm was active. If you were the one to cast the charm, that might be mistaken for consent." He leaned back in the chair, turning idly from side to side. "It's not a common spell, though. In fact, I doubt it would be accessible to any student. It's Dark magic, very close to an Unforgivable Curse. Most Aurors haven't even heard of it. I wish there were something I could do for you, I truly do." "You could cast the counter-curse for a start." Manners were gone in a flurry of anxiety. Dumbledore looked at his hands. They were wizened, and speckled with stray brown spots. "There is no counter-curse," he said quietly. "I'm afraid the effects are permanent, including all side effects. This would account for your... rather drastic physical changes, I regret to say. I'm sorry I didn't think of it sooner. And I'm sorry I didn't speak with you myself." Severus felt numb. He'd ignored his ever-looser robes, concealed himself in layers of heavy cloaks, denied the dagger pains that shot through wasting muscle whenever he exerted himself, turned a blind eye to the unfamiliar sallow face that stared at him from the mirror because he knew that, when he was out of school, it would go away. It was only stress. It was nothing to worry about. He slowly crumpled forward, arms around his chest. Severus' breath came in sharp wheezes. "There has to be a counter-curse." "I'm sorry." The headmaster sounded truly apologetic. Severus trembled. His hat slipped off. He was too shaken to bother picking it up. "Why isn't it an Unforgivable Curse if it's so bad?" "Consent, Severus. The Unforgivable Curses can be cast on anyone with or without his knowledge. I would consider this an Unforgivable use of a forgivable curse. It also gives a signature, which the Unforgivables don't do. Do you have any idea who might have cast it?" Severus shook his head. Lucius was the only person he knew who might think of something like this, but he wouldn't have done it to his best friend. Some things were beyond even Lucius' broad morals. Dumbledore stood up and stood behind Severus, rubbing his back gently. "Should you think of anyone who might have done this, don't hesitate to tell me." Severus nodded mutely. His eyes were fixed on the floor. "Additionally, I'm always here should you ever need anything. Would you care to join me in my office?" "I want to be alone. Sir." "Then I shall respect your wishes. Poppy, would you be too put out if Severus uses office for a little while?" "Heavens, no. Take all the time you need, dear. I'll be in the wing if you need anything." Severus grunted his thanks. A couple of gentle pats on the back, and he was alone. The first thing he did was scrabble for his wand. Clutching it tightly, the tip digging into his forehead, he squeezed his eyes shut and muttered, "Finite Incantatem!" A jolt of agony nearly put him on the floor. He bit back a whine and tipped forward until his head rested on his knees. For some reason, his mind drifted a story he'd once read in a Muggle Studies book. It wasn't the sort of thing he'd ideally read, but his epic quest for knowledge eventually led him to the tale of an angel named Lucifer. Lucifer was the brightest, the most beautiful, and the most beloved of all angels, until the intelligence and boldness that put him so far above the rest damned him forever. The concept baffled Severus; simply because he thought differently than the rest of the angels, Lucifer was punished. His beauty was stripped, and he was plunged, literally and figuratively, into his own Hell. He understood how Lucifer felt. He ground out his cigarette before kicking off from beyond the Quidditch pitch. If he wasn't careful the nicotine would stain his teeth, but, in the light of a more permanent Hell, yellow teeth didn't seem so serious. The flight - half an hour, more or less - gave him time to think about better ways to avoid Dumbledore. If he needed other ways, at least. The man had stopped him after supper and tried to insist on a game of chess. It was ridiculous. It was ludicrous. It was bleeding insane. The headmaster did not play chess with a student, not even if the student was poor, fading, cursed Severus Snape. In the end he'd finally insisted that he was tired. Given his pattern of insomnia, Severus had deduced that it was a symptom of the curse; Dumbledore, with a faint smile, bade him goodnight. The Scottish countryside passed below him in the darkness. With the help of a black cloak, Severus was swift, silent, an invisible predator stalking the past. Tom was tucked safely in his pocket, just in case Voldemort mentioned that particular research. He and Tom had talked, and they'd agreed that he would play the part of a simple record once more. Just as he was pondering the use of the kitchen as a detour spot to avoid the headmaster, the rocky hills below dropped off sharply and Severus saw the cheerful light of the little cottage. Once again it struck him how utterly incongruous it was to Voldemort's reputation. How odd all around, really. He was already being called the most feared Dark wizard in a thousand years, yet he was little more than a terrorist who had to recruit schoolchildren. Either the wizarding world was filled with incompetents (of which he had no doubt anyway), or there was a great deal Severus had yet to learn about the Dark Lord. He touched down outside the fence, as Lucius had, and tapped the gate with his wand. It hesitated, then swung open. He waited for it to come to a stop - that bollocks comment stuck with him. The tendrils of power were there again when he stepped through. This time, they merely danced over his skin. It felt like being licked by an excited dog. He smirked faintly at the thought of taking his revenge on Lupin in sins of flesh. He'd barely knocked when the door swung wide. Voldemort beamed. "You're right on time. Come in, leave your things." "Hello," Severus said curtly as he stepped over the threshold. The same comfort as last time permeated the cottage. The great and terrible Dark Lord took his cloak and invited him to remove his shoes because snow did do such dreadful things to the floor. Severus nodded and, mostly to humour his host, left them steaming by the radiator. There were doilies over the backs of two chairs now. Severus looked at them oddly until Voldemort said, smiling, "It's a hobby of mine. You've no idea how dull it gets with no-one to talk to." He waved Severus into a chair and proceeded to pour him a cup of tea. "Milk, no sugar, correct?" "Yes, thank you." Snape took the cup and watched intently while Voldemort poured his own. Lemon, one lump, as before. His movements were delicate, but undeniably masculine. He had the careful touch of one who had spent years bowed over a cauldron. Snape got the feeling that, just as he watched and recorded every move Voldemort made, Voldemort did the same of him. They sat in silence for a few moments, simply looking at each other. The soft, slightly quizzical smirk Voldemort seldom seemed to be without soon widened into a smile. "Neither of us is much for small talk. You still want to learn about Tom, then?" Severus nodded. He finally took a sip of tea. It was the same Darjeeling as before. Voldemort rest his mouth against his clasped hands. "Let me think. Tom Marvolo Riddle. Tom was... stunningly brilliant. Anything he wanted to master, he did. The only exception that comes to mind is Quidditch, but he was still one of Slytherin's better Keepers this century. Do you play?" Severus blinked. "Yes, sir. Keeper." He hoped he was still able to play. The gentle smile widened. "Now, you see, this is another reason Lucius is so incompetent. He knows I'm fond of Quidditch. I'll have to have a talk with him. He should mention details like this." Long, white fingers stretched and re-clasped, momentarily covering Voldemort's mouth in a way that was almost coy. He tipped his eyes down thoughtfully. "What else would you want to know about Tom? His specialty was Potions, but you knew that already. He created substances that could turn a bird's mind from flying. I can still see him leaning over his cauldron." The Dark Lord's voice turned wistful, his eyes focused on something further away in time than in distance. "To watch his hands as he minced a root, or gutted a rat, made me wonder why we were ever taught anything else. That was true magic. He had the most beautiful hands, you know. Very soft, very delicate. He always wore gloves on the pitch so they wouldn't callus." The serpentine eyes closed, as if trying to hold in a fleeting image. "You sound like you were in love with him," Severus remarked dryly. The eyes opened. "No. Only an observer. Nobody was ever in love with Tom." He swept to his feet, black robes swirling and coming to rest as he stood in front of the fireplace. His long, white hands were clasped behind his back. "It was impossible to ever be in love with Tom Riddle. That would have been like trying to capture the sun - too high, too engulfing. Only another sun could do that." Voldemort glanced at Snape. "How did you come to be so interested in him?" Severus shrugged. "I found some papers of his. They were interesting, that's all." He pushed his hat to the back of his head. "Do you have them?" Severus paused. Hesitantly, he reached into his robe and withdrew Tom. "Only this one. It's a record parchment." Reluctantly, he held it out. He felt like a limb had been severed when Voldemort slid it from his fingers. "Ah, yes. I remember this. He completed it just after Christmas our seventh year." The narrow black brows came together studiously. "Hello, Tom." The parchment stiffened for a moment, then went happily lax. Tom must have said something because Voldemort chuckled. "Yes, it has been a long time, hasn't it?" A pause. "Oh, of course not. It's a very private matter to bring up. I wouldn't want just anyone to know that I'd created a record of myself." Another pause. The gentle smile came back. "All right." Another pause. "Yes, I have one someplace. I'll go fetch it, then?" Voldemort handed Tom back to Severus. "I have something to show you." Severus was left alone for a moment. He looked down at Tom, wondering what he'd said. "What's he getting?" You'll see. Tom curved giddily. "You're awfully happy. Glad to see your friend?" One might say that. Before Severus could pry any information, Voldemort returned. In his hand was a small paperboard book, only a couple of layers thick, in an old, deep shade of green. The Hogwarts crest was stamped across the front in silver; the Slytherin crest, too, was stamped on it, in the bottom right corner. He held it out. "Have a look." Inside, the black and white photo of a dark-haired boy in Quidditch robes looked up suspiciously. His broom was clutched tightly in one gloved hand. He was quite tall, and powerfully slender, and his handsome face was angular and inquisitive. He narrowed his eyes slightly. Severus blinked. "Tom?" The photo looked surprised. It nodded. Severus' face broke into a wide grin. "You like what you see?" Severus wasn't quite sure how to answer. "He was handsome, wasn't he, sir?" Voldemort's smile came back a little bitter. "Yes. He was." He once again moved to stare at the fire. "Time ravages beauty and preserves..." he motioned to his white face, his brittle waves of hair caught in the silver hoop, "this." Severus froze with his cup against his lip. It burned, but he barely felt it. He stared at the tall, gaunt man gazing into the fire; Voldemort's gentle smile was gone, replaced with an expression of utmost stoicism. Forcing himself to retain control of his body, Snape set down his cup and saucer. He didn't know whether to cry out to the heavens in joy, or to shatter at the parody of power Tom had become. Instead, he asked evenly, "What happened to you, Tom?" Rusty eyes darted towards him. They reflected the red of the fire. "I haven't been called that in a very long time." Severus didn't say a word. He simply sat, waiting, hands folded in his lap. After a long pause, Tom looked away. "The Muggles and Mudbloods that control this world happened." His shoulders straightened, went stiff; he tilted his chin defiantly. "My mother died before I was dry from the womb, my father refused to acknowledge my existence, and, so, I was sent to," he laughed bitterly, "an orphanage." "What was it like?" "You want to know? Or are you only being polite?" The hiss in Tom's soothing voice rose; it sent icy shivers through the tiny muscles along Severus' spine. "If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked." Snape arched a sharp eyebrow and held it, waiting patiently for whatever challenge or accedence might come. "You've got courage, Severus Snape. I can appreciate that. You've also got a brain, and you're able to use it. I can appreciate that more." Tom closed his eyes. Alabaster lids creased as he spat words like they were venom. "There were twelve of us in my room, twelve little beds lined up in two rows. Almost every day, something strange happened in that room. The beds would be made so the foot was at the head and the head was at the foot, or all of our trunks would fly open and we'd not be allowed supper in order to clean up the mess. Once the beds even stacked themselves on each other. Two stacks of six, can you picture it? Skeletal, hard iron beds with mattresses too thin to cushion the frames. "It took them a while, but the Muggles finally figured out that it was me. I did it. The matron locked me in a storage cupboard with the roaches for a month after that. I was let out twice a day for... whatever was necessary, and the rest of the time I was kept there in order to break whatever defiant power dwelled in me. Oh, no." His eyes narrowed. A low, dangerous hiss started in Tom's throat. "They were afraid of me. That was one of the few signs of intelligence I have ever found in the Muggle world." Voldemort turned his head to look at Severus. Severus returned the stare. He could see the passion trapped within every nerve, the pain and poison seething just below the surface, felt raw power encompassing the Dark Lord like spines. "Bow before me, Severus Snape." Severus tilted his chin. "No." "Bow before me, or I will make you regret you ever came to this house." Voldemort drew his wand. He lifted it level to Severus' eyes. Severus stood up. He moved in front of the fireplace and held his arms a few degrees away from his sides. "No, Tom." "Why not?" "You haven't given me reason to. A threat isn't a display of power, nor is an undirected wave of power reason to cower in fear. I'm not your lapdog." For untold moments Severus felt death trickling down the side of his neck in a tickling play of nerves. The pale yew wand hovered, outstretched, tip aimed straight at his eyes. It suddenly dropped. A wry smirk grew on Tom's face. "You've no idea how many wizards crumble when they think they're about to die." "I'd rather die than blindly follow anyone." "Even if it means power beyond your wildest dreams?" Severus folded his arms in annoyance. "Are you implying I haven't any of my own?" Tom chuckled. "No," he said fondly, "not at all." Quickly, he waved Severus into his chair. "Sit down, you have questions." "How do you know?" Snape sat and accepted a hot cup of tea with a slight nod. "Because I would." Tom leaned back in his seat, chin resting on his fists, bent elbows on his chair's arms. "Go on, then." His eyes shone with mirth, or amusement. Severus stirred his tea a moment. "How can you justify punishing Muggles for what a few of them did to you?" Tom looked thoughtful a moment. "I don't punish them for what they did to me, I simply want to right the balance of power. I've seen, both first-hand and through study, what they're capable of doing to each other. Horrible, vicious creatures, Muggles. They think their lack of magic gives them license to hurt each other as they please." "Such as?" Tom looked at him intently. "There's a little country in southeast Asia called Cambodia. Several months ago, their Muggle government was overthrown by a dictator whose notion of gaining loyalty includes genocide." "So how does what you do not count as genocide?" Rusty eyes widened for a moment. "Is it better to allow an undisciplined society to run rampant and thus destroy itself, or is it better to make an example of a few to benefit the whole?" Severus took a drink. "You're saying you want wizards to rule in order to prevent Muggles from destroying themselves." "And us along the way." The tender, quizzical smirk was back. "They're like children, Severus. Our rightful purpose is to guide them, not be trampled and dragged along like so much dust. Children have a very black and white world, though. They see good, and evil, yet are unable to see anything but good in themselves. They don't recognise that good and evil are illusions. There's only the question of power, and who wields it." "If there's no good or evil, how do you know power is being wielded correctly?" Tom chuckled softly. "You're not one to underestimate, are you? The only true way to tell is by what benefits the largest number. It's an inexact science, very difficult to gauge. However, at the moment Muggles are capable of little more than bullying and posturing. Wizarding society worked through the worst of that years ago." "Prove it." Their eyes locked for a moment. Tom cocked an eyebrow. "We haven't sunk vast resources into killing as many wizards as we can at once. I assume you've heard of the atomic bomb?" Severus nodded. "It's supposed to be like a giant Immolatus spell, right?" Tom shook his head slowly. "It's a Muggle device that tears reality apart from the inside out. Only a little is destroyed, but so much chaos is released that it's more akin to a Killing Curse that can kill thousands, maybe millions, at once. The lucky ones die immediately. The rest can linger minutes, or years." He shuddered silently before clearing his throat. "The only such devices used in active Muggle warfare so far were detonated in Japan not long after the end of my seventh year. My years at Hogwarts were dark days the world over, all thanks to Muggle childishness and their silly illusions of good and evil." Severus sat quietly. His mind churned what Tom had said. Much of it, to his chagrin, rang true. However, he still didn't believe it enough to do anything but listen. And ask questions. "Why Mudbloods, too?" Tom snorted. "Mudbloods are the reason we suffer so many Muggle traits. They weaken us with their murderous beliefs. Think, Severus. They're abominations, neither wizard nor Muggle. As long as they're treated as wizards, we're subject to their Muggle-borne prejudices and vendettas, and we have no defence against the cancer they represent." His fingers dug into the arms of his chair, straining, revealing bowstring tension he tried to hide in the hunch of his shoulders. Severus blinked. "Does that apply to anyone who's grown up with Muggles?" The rusty eyes flared for a moment, and Snape had to fight a flinch. "I don't believe the same things as those creatures," Voldemort said in a voice fat with warning. "You ought to know that already, Severus Snape." Severus peered at him. A small voice screamed at him to run away, to never look back, that Tom Riddle was dead. Another, though, said to give the man a chance, he had reason to be bitter just as Severus did. The voices echoed, each trying to scream louder than the other. His mouth curved into a smile. "You make a compelling point." Tom relaxed. His eyelids fluttered. "Does that mean you'll be back again?" "Yes. But it doesn't mean I'll take your word for any of this." The warm, gentle smile stole a grey tinge that had settled on Tom's skin. "I'd be dreadfully disappointed if you did." Another One Bites The Dust Emeric closed his eyes and turned away when Severus walked into the library. He'd given in immediately and was paying Rita ten Galleons a week to keep mum. Severus sniffed and yet again flashed him a look of weary disappointment. Lucius was at a corner table. He normally studied there, now that fear of NEWTs had full sway over the seventh years. Much to Severus' slightly disgusted surprise, someone was sitting with him. A pale, piggy someone with a pointed, rat-like face. Peter's short hair quivered, as did his extra chin, when he spoke. Snape couldn't make out what he said, but Lucius suddenly stuck out his wand and turned a chair into a chipmunk, and back again before Madam Pince saw it streaking across the floor. Peter's eyes lit up and he nodded, grinning. Severus walked up to them guardedly. "Lucius. Pettigrew. Fancy seeing the two of you here." "'Lo, Severus." Peter hung his head, cheeks a bit pink. He smiled softly. "I was just helping your little friend with his Transfigurations homework." Lucius seemed oblivious to the subtle way Snape's eyes narrowed. "Apparently, Potter and Black normally do it, but they're at Quidditch practise." "Where else would they be when they should be studying?" That pair had never put in the same work and care Severus had. They simply slid through classes, doing the least possible amount of work and still getting all the accolades. It was enough to make a Slytherin ill. "You might do some good to spend more time on the pitch, Sev. The season's not over yet, and... well..." Malfoy plucked at Severus' loose robe. Severus yanked it from his grasp. "Don't you have homework to finish?" "Perhaps." Primly, he gathered his books and rose to his feet, eyebrows fixed in a haughty rise. "We'll have to do this again, Pettigrew. I've had quite a pleasant time." He bowed his head to Peter, who blushed and mimicked him clumsily, and brushed out with barely a smirk to Severus. "He's helped me a lot." The watery blue eyes sparkled when Snape took Lucius' seat. "Up for some tutoring tonight?" A hand snaked across the table to stroke Snape's. Snape jerked it back. "I don't think so. I have work to do." Peter froze. Slowly, his shoulders slumped. The pudgy lower lip hung loose. "What sort of work?" he said in a strangled voice. "The same thing you should be working on, NEWTs. Some of us have more than just those to worry about, you know. In case you've forgotten, there's an Academic Bowl round in a week and a half." "But... you already know everything!" "That doesn't mean I don't have to work." Frankly, he didn't. The Osmosis Curse, hellish as it was, still allowed him to process information at an unusual rate. That didn't necessarily mean he could divulge it any more quickly than normal, which he supposed was the only reason he'd not been disqualified from the competition. His exams were... somewhat more detailed than those for the rest of his classes, but that was only to be expected. Very little failed to catch his brain. "Well... can I help?" "How could you help?" Peter shrank from Severus' leer. "I thought you..." he trailed off. "M'sorry. Didn't mean to make you jealous." Severus snorted. "You? Make me jealous? Please." He folded his arms and glared. "Then what is it?" "Maybe I'm getting tired of you following me like some sort of lovesick dog. If I wanted a dog, I'd use Black. He's certainly nicer to look at." Peter began to tremble. Mounds of flesh rippled against his clothes. His eyes went wide and glazed, his breathing hoarse. Fat hands twitched on top of the table. He looked like he wanted to say one thing, then another, then another, then another. With more speed than he should have been allowed he shoved his chair back and raced for the door, wheezing loudly, bag scraping the ground. Severus watched him, bored. He'd not really intended to end things so abruptly, but Peter was useless. He hadn't done a thing to help Severus in the Academic Bowl, the tedium of playing Romeo had long since grated on Snape's nerves, and there were only so many detentions to land Potter and Black in before it lost its fun. Fortunately, he'd used the Imperius Salve the previous week to prevent any, ah, verbal slips. With a sniff, he opened his bag and took out his half-finished Divination essay. His mind kept drifting back to his visit with Tom eleven days before. Tom. Apparently, nobody had been allowed to call him by that name in nearly three decades. There was an odd rapport between them, though. By the end of the evening, Severus had a bit of time shaking hands without his chest going off in a flutter. It wasn't helped by a certain revelation. When asked what happened to him, physically, Tom smiled sadly and said, "Some curses you won't have heard of. Beneficial, but there is always a price for improvement." "What did the Osmosis Curse do?" Tom's eyes had gone wide for a moment. He'd started to open his mouth. Instead, he looked Severus up and down. Quiet understanding flickered in his eyes. "Next you'll tell me you're an orphan." He might as well have been. However, Tom did tell him more about the Osmosis Curse than he'd known. It was a ritual-based curse, which meant it took a long time to cast and was probably done while Severus was asleep. At least that pinpointed the when. It wouldn't do much more than it already had, physically, although the insomnia was a "dreadful bother". He recommended a weak Drowsiness Draught half an hour before bed. And, when Severus scowled sadly at Tom's affirmation that the physical effects were permanent, the man merely smiled and said, "Some things never fade." Severus' heart promptly skipped a beat, and went back to what it was doing. Reluctantly, he forced himself to pay attention to his essay. It was long, and pointless, and covered such (yawn) fascinating subjects as comparing and contrasting the entrails of different bird species. Frankly, Severus couldn't give a damn what a starling looked like on the inside next to a chopped robin unless he needed a piece for a potion. Being the master of manipulative bullshit that he was, though, he managed to write three feet more than Trelawney requested. Madam Pince kicked him out at eight. She tried, at least; it took her a few goes. At thirteen past, she slammed the door behind him and made sure to lock it extra loudly. Smiling smugly to himself, Severus set off towards the dungeons. Dagger pains shot from his calves to his hips. He shifted uncomfortably. More to stretch his hip than for any other reason, he took a single, oddly-propelled step. It didn't hurt so much. Hmm. Repeating it with the other leg, he found, again, a minimum of pain. Soon he was sweeping down the halls; his robe billowed behind him like wings. It felt a bit like skating. Severus grudgingly had to admit to himself that it was... fun. The fun came to a screeching halt when a hand shot out from behind a tapestry and yanked him in. Snape blinked at the small alcove. Potter grabbed his head and jerked him down to eye level. "Shouldn't you be tutoring Peter about now, Snape?" "I have things to do." Snape glared. "Take your hands off me right now, Potter. Wouldn't want me to scream, would you?" Much to his chagrin, Potter clutched him by the nape and pulled out his wand. He muttered a soundproofing charm. "Scream all you like, Greaseball." "You are assaulting a prefect. Ten points from Gryffindor." "Peter's spent the entire evening sobbing his eyes out and he won't tell us why. I've got an idea, though. Ten points from Slytherin." Severus snorted. "I hardly think that's justified." "Oh, I think it is. How does this sound for a scenario?" Potter leaned close to Snape's ear. His hot breath came in soft, moist puffs. Snape closed his eyes, cringing inside at the way his nerves almost seemed to enjoy it. Low and soft and throaty, Potter said, "Imagine a boy gets detention. Not the smartest, not the most handsome, but certainly the kindest. His detention puts him in with the nastiest, meanest, cruelest bastard in the school. The bastard, however, is what some might call marginally attractive. Used to be, anyhow. The boy develops a crush, the bastard finds out, and he takes advantage of the situation. The boy falls completely head-over-heels with the bastard for reasons well beyond my comprehension. The bastard promptly throws it back in his face. Sound familiar, Snape?" A last harsh puff made Snape shudder. Potter smirked; he must have taken it as fear. Snape blinked once, slowly. "Hardly, Potter." He wrenched out of the grip and pulled himself erect. Glaring down his nose a good ten inches, he drawled, "For your information, I never had any sort of interest in your ratty little friend. While he did attempt to seduce me, his skills are somewhat lacking. Really, you can hardly blame me for that." Potter narrowed his eyes. "Why don't I believe you?" "Because, unlike some of us, you're unable to deal with the concept of truth." "If I find out you touched him-" "Believe me, Potter, there are plenty of people I'd sooner touch than Pettigrew." He leaned close, smirking. "Including you." Potter grimaced like he'd just gotten a mouthful of alum. "That's disgusting." "Now you know how I feel about Pettigrew." He smiled, content in the fact that he was telling the truth. One long hand stroked unkempt black hair affectionately. "Get away from me, you freak!" Potter shoved him and stormed out. Severus, smirking lazily, leaned around the corner. "I've had better," he called. It was well timed - half a dozen third year girls were just coming down the corridor towards Hufflepuff. They stopped and stared just as James turned and saw them. He hurried away as the flurry of chatter started. "Oh, my god. Potter did Snape?" "I wonder where they put the hat?" "Ew, gross, Tabitha!" "Think we should tell Lily?" "Well, if we don't, who knows when she'll find out? Think he'd admit to shagging Snape?" "Evelyn Pierce said she did last year and she'd do it again first chance she got." "You're joking! Our prefect?" "Mm-hmm." "But she's a girl!" "Well, you know, Malfoy's always been a little, erm, elegant." "I always thought Snape and Potter hated each other." "Oh, come on. You saw the way they had their hands all over each other at the last Gryff-Slyth match..." the pack hurried away, chattering loudly. Severus smirked. Sometimes a reputation was a wonderful thing to have. By lunch the next day the story was all over school. Severus looked around, smug in the knowledge that he'd sullied the Golden Boy. Pettigrew's seat was empty (rumour held that he was off crying over losing James to a Slytherin); The Amazing Werewolf Brothers were absent as well, but Severus supposed they were off with their pet rat, or waiting for moonrise so they could get some practise baying; Black didn't take his slit eyes off Snape the entire meal; Potter kept his head down, gritting his teeth and clutching Evans' hand. Evans didn't look too comfortable, either. Severus allowed himself a small, satisfied grin. Now, I wonder why that would be? Evan shook his head, watching the Gryffindors. His Potions book was open and forgotten next to his plate. "You've got to have the biggest balls in the world, Snape. They're going to kill you as soon as you turn your back." Severus shrugged. "If they want to incriminate themselves, that's perfectly fine by me." He forked up a chip and gnawed. "Wouldn't surprise me if he actually did it," Emeric muttered sullenly. "Everyone knows Severus'll shag anything that stays still long enough." Conversation at their end of the table stopped. Skeeter looked terrified - her pocket money was in jeopardy. Not to mention her chance to break the news. Severus merely narrowed his eyes at Avery. "Does that mean you'd like a go?" He felt quite pleased with himself when Avery blanched. "God, no," he said loudly. "I prefer quality, not quantity." Severus leaned across the table so his face was inches from Avery. "Say that again, Emeric." "No shock there. You're never satisfied with only once, are you?" Severus surreptitiously leaned a bit closer so he could whisper directly into Emeric's ear. "Would you like me to announce to the entire Hall that you're a fucking queer? A quick Sonorus Charm would certainly make sure the message gets through." Avery whimpered softly. "Please, don't," he whispered under his breath. "Always, always remember, Emeric, I don't care what people say." He subtly, tenderly placed a kiss on Avery's ear, making a small hissing noise as he did to make it look like another whisper, and sat back down to eat. Emeric picked for the rest of lunch. Nobody else had the guts to comment. When Severus stood up to leave, the rest of the seventh years followed. It was coincidental - they'd lingered just in case any new developments about Potter came up. All of them were going to the same class. However, Severus was satisfied at the way Black's eyes sparked at his entourage. They followed him to History of Magic. Snape took his customary seat at the front of the room and got his parchment ready. There were a couple of minutes yet to wait. He busied himself with studying his notes while the rest of his class hissed and sniggered about Potter and Pettigrew sitting in the proverbial tree. Professor Binns came into the room precisely on time, as always. Today, however, he did so without apparent use of the door. Even stranger, he didn't seem to notice. Severus scowled, lost between shock and crippling laughter as their... unusually transparent teacher picked up his book (or a ghost of it, anyway) and flipped through. The rest of the class had fallen into dead silence when he came in. There were a few coughs. Each earned a short look from their teacher. "Um, Professor Binns?" Narcissa raised her hand tentatively. "Yes, Miss DuMarche?" "Um... sir? You're... I can see the blackboard behind you." "Well, of course you can. Don't be daft, girl, it's right where it's always been." "You don't quite understand, sir. I can see the blackboard right behind you. Through you." Binns actually looked annoyed. "I hardly think that's relevant, Miss DuMarche. All of you open your books to page eight-hundred and ninety-three, 'Squib Popes: The Catholic Church's Gripe With Magic', and let's begin, shall we?" "But, sir!" Narcissa blurted. "You're dead!" "That will be five points from Slytherin for interrupting. Now, if you'll kindly pay attention." To everyone's astonishment, he started to drone as if nothing was off. Nobody retained anything. Not even Severus' curse could mentally counter the glaring detail that Binns had gone toes up. Didn't the man ever fucking give up? About five minutes into class, the door opened quietly. Binns didn't notice. He droned softly in the background. Professor McGonagall stuck her head in, looking rather grave. "Class?" Ten heads turned in unison. Binns still didn't notice. "I'm afraid your lesson has been cancelled for the day-sit down!" A disappointed chorus rose up as everyone shuffled back into their seats. "I'm afraid that Professor Binns has pass-" "Do you need something, Minerva?" She shook her head. "No, Plato. I'm only here to-Plato?" She frowned and stared. Her beady little eyes went round. "What are you doing here?" "Teaching today's lesson. I'm sorry, Minerva, but could you make this brief? We have a great deal to cover." "Are... you sure you're... up to it? Today?" McGonagall stared, blinking rapidly. She glanced at her hand, then at Binns, as if to make sure she wasn't transparent as well. Binns looked at her quizzically. "Perfectly. Why? Do I look unwell?" "Plato, you've died. I can see the blackboard through you." Binns frowned commiseratively. "Hmm. I suppose I should give Slytherin their points back." He went back to his book. "Plato, I'm not sure you grasp the gravity of the situation. You've... you've died. You don't have to teach anymore." He blinked blandly at her. "If I've resigned myself to history, Minerva, what else would you suggest I do?" McGonagall stared, mouth pinched and twitching. She appeared to be thinking about it. Finally, with a baffled look and a snort of surprised resignation, she said, "Quite. Sorry to have bothered you," and slipped out. Binns looked at his students. "I hope you're still taking notes. This unit will be on the next exam." The sound of ten heads colliding with ten desks echoed and was gone. "Der Homunculus, by Animus Freidenker." "Correct." Severus flashed a smile at Black from across the room. He tapped his hat and leaned forward, eager for the next question. Black only scowled as the list of names - his being second - vanished from over the headmaster's head. It had been a pleasant round overall. Ninety questions in, Slytherin was tied with Ravenclaw - mainly thanks to Frank Longbottom - with Gryffindor slightly behind Hufflepuff. Severus felt the credit there was all his. He rather suspected Black, Lupin, and Sharma agreed. After all, their star player had been so terribly late in detention the night before after punching Severus in the eye. Of course, the fact that Severus kissed Black's cheek just prior was completely unrelated. The question came quickly, "A three-percent boric acid solution, when combined with mandrake leaf and spitting cobra venom, will produce what two substances?" Severus hit his bell without even thinking. It was so easy it was ridiculous. To his utter shock, Black got to it first. "When left raw, Tacitus' Tincture, a general-purpose antiseptic agent. When simmered, it forms Blind Man's Salve, useful for healing eye injuries." "Correct." Severus clenched his fists. His temper was starting to flare. The sore muscle around his black eye twitched. He hit the bell for the next question almost before he'd heard it. "Mister Snape?" "Calcium carbonate." "Incorrect. Miss Sprout?" "Calcium carbonite." "Correct." Severus closed his eyes and tried to breathe. It was a simple question about a simple chemical catalyst and he should have been able to answer it in his sleep. His mum was going to give him the lecture of a lifetime when she found out... only she wasn't going to find out. A lead weight settled in his stomach and he missed chiming in for the next question entirely. Fortunately, Narcissa got it. He was going to have to try a stronger dose of Drowsiness Draught. Or stop getting the crap beaten out of him by Gryffindors. In less than five minutes the final tally was displayed. Slytherin eked a mere two points more than Ravenclaw, and only thirteen more than Gryffindor (who tied with Hufflepuff). Snape won out over Lucius, who won out over Narcissa, whose lip began to tremble when she realised she'd been cut. The Ravenclaws were reduced to Frank Longbottom and Imogene Pugglesby, the Hufflepuffs to Lisa Sprout and Evelyn Pierce, and, shame of shames, the Gryffindors were left with a cur and a wolf. Severus was a bit disappointed to see Devi go, but at least Naggy would stop playing Sickeningly Supportive Sweetheart day in and day out. Narcissa immediately dragged Lucius off for consolation. Naggy did the same with Devi, and ever since the day Binns kicked the bucket Evan and Adam had been a bit wary of Severus. He wondered what Emeric had said. He ignored the lower years that tried to flock around him (not as many as after the first round, he noted) and, quickly, swooped out of the Great Hall, intent on a smoke. He'd just situated himself in a small niche between hedges when he heard a twig snap. Plucking the fag from his lips, he barked, "Who's there?" He drew his wand, ready to annihilate his habit's evidence with a word. "How could you?" Watery eyes peeked around a corner. Peter fiddled with his robe; it was a little tighter around his stomach. Of course - in the last few days he'd probably hit the Chocolate Frogs with a vengeance. "I'm just that damn good." Severus took another drag, glaring. He let the smoke out through his nostrils. "Shouldn't you be off cowering somewhere?" Peter screwed up his mouth. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep his eyes from dripping. "I don't know what I did wrong, but how could you just go and sleep with one of my friends like that?" Snape snapped the cigarette out of his mouth again, pinched between his thumb and fingers. "You were born, that's what you did wrong. And I didn't sleep with Potter. If I did I'd have to cut off my nob and burn it." "I meant Lily." Severus stared. Absently, he dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his toe. "Bollocks." "Lucius told me. I haven't said anything to James." "And you're not going to!" He was going to kill Lucius - very probably literally. Peter opened his fat, pink mouth. He took a short, wheezing breath and stepped up to Severus. Chubby hands trailed over the front of his robe. "I still love you." "Bully for you." Blue eyes, wide and clear and ingenuous, looked up. "How much do you want me not to tell anyone?" Severus' lip curled. "You little rat. You're trying to blackmail me." "I only want you back, that's all." He leaned up on his toes and tried to press his mouth to Snape's. Snape jerked back. "Let go of me, you insufferable fungus." Anger saturated his hissing voice almost as much as fear did. "Make love to me, Severus," the watery eyes fluttered, "or I'll go find James and tell him." Severus backed up against the wall. He didn't know where Peter found the spine to even suggest it, but he had to listen to the tiny voice deep in his skull that said he'd do it. He went rigid as fat, pink hands crept up the front of his robe. Buttons were undone one at a time, and he no longer had a voice of his own.   The door slammed open. "LUCIUS!" Severus yanked open the drapes to Malfoy's bed. Three heads looked up. "He's not here," Emeric said sharply. "Then where is he?" "Banging Narcissa." "Shouldn't be long, then." Severus sat down on Lucius' bed to wait. He crossed his arms and legs, twitching his foot to distract some of the urge to kill. Wilkes sighed. "Can't you just go find a Gryffindor to shag and leave us alone?" "Shut up, Adam." "Why should I shut up? I'm not the one who raped his roommate over Christmas." Severus squinted. "Pardon?" Adam sat up. "Emeric told us what you did to him." "Define 'us'." "Evan and me." Severus' lips drew thin. "Then perhaps he mentioned that it was his idea to waltz over to my bed in the middle of the night and beg to be shagged rotten." Emeric snorted. "Why the fuck would I do something like that?" "Something about putting me to sleep, if I recall. You seemed fairly eager." "You're delusional, Severus. If I wanted to get raped I think I could do better than an ugly git like you." Severus' back stiffened. The absurdity of Avery's comment aside, "I'm a damn sight better-looking than you." Avery cackled. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? I don't know what potion you've been taking, but you look like the-" he stopped. His mouth hung open. "Anyone would have to be desperate to look at you anymore." "What do I look like, Emeric? The Dark Lord?" Three shocked sets of eyes froze on him. Severus lifted his head haughtily at the silence pervading the room. Evan got up and made his wary way to where Severus sat. "Show me your arm." "Why should I do that, Rosier? Don't tell me you've got one of those 'I'm-a-spineless-moron' skulls on there." Evan sneered and grabbed Snape's left arm, shoving the sleeve back roughly before Snape could jerk it away. "He's clean." "Of course I'm clean, you daft twit! If any one of you had any right to call yourselves Slytherins you'd have stood up to him, too." Evan's jaw dropped. He quickly closed it. "You're lying." "You wish I were." Severus stood up and backed Evan towards the wall. "If you want, you can ask him yourself. Unlike some people, I'm perfectly capable of handling myself with dignity, not crawling all over and pissing myself just because someone sticks a wand in my face." "But... he could have killed-" "I'm here, aren't I? You never had any spine, did you?" He stabbed a finger at Evan's arm. "Cowards." Evan didn't say anything. Adam looked at Emeric, shaking his head. "Forget it. Either way, he's dug his own grave." Emeric nodded slowly. Snape thought he caught a glimpse of regret in his eyes. He was very aware of the other three people in the room staring at him as though he were the guest of honour at a funeral. Severus smiled sweetly. He patted Rosier's cheek and sat down to wait for Lucius. Go on to the sixth part of the story :: HOME:: BY AUTHOR :: BY PAIRING :: LINKS :: LINK TO US :: SSF UPDATE LIST :: VISIT OTHER SSF SHIPS ::