Defying Gravity

Defying Gravity

His father had brought him out to Diagon Alley ostensibly to buy his school things, but really as an excuse for him to go to the pub. He had stayed with Severus for about a half an hour, then he had pressed some coins into Severus' hand, muttered something about "places to go" and said that he'd come and find Severus when he was ready to go. He had walked off, ignoring Severus' loud protests and the stares of the other patrons.

And so Severus had gone on about his shopping, seething as he struggled to lug around his increasingly awkward load of school supplies. He had tried to put as much as he could into his cauldron, but it quickly became too heavy to carry, so he tried to drag it, but it made a dreadful scraping sound over the uneven stone pavement and caused people to stop and stare. He dragged it like this nontheless for a while until at last, panting, humiliated, and near tears of frustration, he had to stop and rest for a moment.

He hated the stares all the shoppers were giving him, and the knowing, pitying looks of the shopkeepers - people who knew his family, knew why he was dragging around his secondhand school supplies in a scratched, dented cauldron. The shame of it all enraged him - he was as pureblooded as any of them, maybe more so, but the people in the street looked at him like he was lower than dirt -

"Do you need some help?"

The sniggering voice snapped him out of his reverie, and he turned about, instinctively clutching his new wand. Four boys were leaning against the walls of a narrow, dark, dingy alley. Severus realized with a jolt that he had ventured far too close to Knockturn.

Simultaneously excited and wary, he paced back a step and grabbed the handle of his cauldron. One of the boys smirked at him, settling back against the wall and taking a drag off his cigarette, coughing slightly. He was a long, angular boy of about fifteen or sixteen, with a long thin face and stringy pale hair that he kept shaking out of his eyes in a terribly affected way. He looked rather lazy and unfocused, and Severus suspected he was either a bit drunk or on drugs.

"I said, do you need any help?" The boy asked again, brushing his hair out of his eyes with the tips of his fingers in such an incredibly put-on way that Severus hated him instantly.

"No," Severus said shortly, but at that moment, struggling with the cauldron, he lost his grip on the books he was holding in his other arm and they fell into a small puddle of dirty rain water. Humiliated at the boys' loud, raucous laughter, he knelt to pick them up, cursing under his breath, trying to wipe them off a bit with his robe. The books had been in bad enough condition to begin with, he just hoped they'd still be legible by the time he got to school -

"Hey," called the pale-haired boy, "What's your name?"

Severus looked up at him, malevolently. "Snape. Severus Snape."

He clenched his fist as this provoked quiet chuckles among the other three, but the blonde boy shushed them. He walked over and held out his hand.

"I'm Lucius Malfoy," he said coolly. "It's good to meet you." Severus stared at him for a moment, not fully comprehending, then shook his hand, gingerly. Why was a Malfoy talking to him?

"I know your cousin, Claudia," Malfoy went on. "She's a - friend of a friend." He gestured at the three other boys, still leaning against the wall sneering down at Severus. "These are my mates Rabastan Lestrange, Walden Macnair, and Jacobin Goyle." He gestured to each of them in turn, and they gave the barest of nods. "I see you're getting your school things, then?"

"Yes," Severus said reluctantly. He noticed that Malfoy was attempting to put on a lower-class accent, and was failing rather miserably.

"Well," said Malfoy cheerfully, "Let's us give you a hand then. Goyle, you take the cauldron - Lestrange, grab his books."

"Really, it's fine," said Severus, hanging on tightly to his books.

"I insist," Malfoy said with a smirk, his pale eyes glittering, as Lestrange yanked the books out of Severus' arms, not seeming to hear his protests. "It's no trouble. They can certainly manage it better than you can. What do you have left to get?" He snatched the list out of Severus' hand and scanned it. "Oh. You have everything."

"More or less," Severus said, eyeing the other three boys warily and praying they didn't drop his things in the mud or break them.

"Where are your parents, then?" Malfoy asked. "When are they coming to get you?"

Severus hesitated. "I - don't know."

"You don't. Well, where are they going to pick you up?"

"He - they said they'd find me."

Malfoy considered this for a moment. "Hm. Well. Your folks are the right sort of people - I'm sure they'd think to check Knockturn," he said slyly, more to the other boys than to Severus. "Come on. Mr. Rookwood told me Borgin's just got in a new shipment from India."

The boys chuckled lowly and the four of them started off. Severus hesitated. His mother had told him specifically not to go down Knockturn Alley - he was too young, she said. But his father hadn't said anything. And he was here with his father. And Severus wanted to go - so badly ... the stories he had heard, the things his uncle showed him that he made him promise not to tell his mother about, his father's small library of books that he wasn't allowed to read ...

"Are you coming or not?" Malfoy called impatiently.

His mind was already made up, he knew. Feeling a twinge of guilt at disobeying his mother, he hurried after the boys to catch up, reasoning that they had his school things, and it wasn't as if he could carry them himself, and oh, he wanted to see so badly -

"You need to stick close," Malfoy murmured under his breath to Severus once he had caught up. "Just stay with us and you'll be all right."

Severus nodded, though Malfoy wasn't paying attention. His heart was pounding and he tried not to look around. It was very dark and dingy, and he tripped a few times, but was too frightened to glance down and see what he might have tripped over.

He noticed that the boys were more wary and certainly less talkative now, and that Malfoy was studiously trying to avoid the leering eyes and ignore the strident cat-calls of the street venders. Severus felt obscurely satisfied that they were only marginally more comfortable here than he was, but his satisfaction was dashed when a moment later he stumbled over something on the ground and gave a girlish little half-scream that drew a great laugh from the people ranged around the alley. He was grateful when a moment later they entered a tiny, raggedy shop called Borgin and Burkes and the door closed behind them, shutting out the jeering laughter and shouts.

Malfoy, now in his element once more, relaxed and let his grating lower-class affectations slip to the forefront. He took a drag off his cigarette and, slumping back bonelessly against the door, called out in a lazy voice, "Hey, Mr. Borg - Oh. Mr. Burkes."

A short, squat man had stepped out of a door at the back and stood behind the counter smirking at them. His clothes were tatty and sweat-stained, and he was absently polishing a dull-looking object held in his gnarled hands.

"No smoking around the merchandise," said the man in a deep bass voice. "The last one who tried that - "

Malfoy put his cigarette out quickly. Mr. Burkes' smirk widened.

"Looking for anything in particular, children?" He asked unpleasantly.

"No," Malfoy said shortly, then - "Where's Mr. Borgin?"

"Took the day off," Mr. Burkes said, going back to his polishing. "He got some nasty boils off some of the new ... merchandise. I told him to wear gloves, but -"

"What merchandise?" Malfoy asked, too eagerly.

Mr. Burkes glanced up at the boys boredly. "Who's this?" He asked, frowning down at Severus suddenly.

"I'm Severus Snape," he said quickly, before Malfoy could make his introductions for him.

Mr. Burkes said nothing, staring down at him. After a long pause, he said, "Your uncle was in here last week. He told me a bit about you."

Malfoy looked over at Severus sharply. Severus said nothing, staring down at his shoes.

"Anyway," Mr. Burkes said suddenly, "the new merchandise is over there. Don't touch anything," he added. "I assure you you'll regret it if you do. And don't bother trying to pocket anything. You won't get very far." He chuckled to himself.

Malfoy glared at Mr. Burkes as he retreated into the back room. "Fucking arsehole," Malfoy muttered. "We know what's what, we aren't some stupid kids."

The other three boys muttered vaguely in agreement. Severus ignored them and glanced around the store. He ached to go and examine the objects - glinting, forboding, winking out at him from different vantage points around the store - but did not want to seem too eager. He swallowed hard.

"If Borgin was here," Malfoy was saying in a low voice, "He'd show us his new merchandise personally. We're proper paying customers and we deserve the sort of treatment that befits us. I'll speak to Borgin next time I come in - no need to talk to us like we're some riff-raff off the street - we got as much a right to be here as anyone and we're proper paying - "

"Oh, shut up," Mr. Burkes called from the back room.

Malfoy gave a start and glared at the door to the back room, which was slightly ajar. Mumbling disgruntledly under his breath, he nonetheless turned his attention to the merchandise.

Severus now felt free to browse a bit, and he looked over a few artifacts, somewhat nervously - he could feel Malfoy watching him out of the corner of his eye.

"So," Malfoy said quietly. "What d'you think your uncle might have told Burkes about you?"

Severus shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. He glanced over the information card of a rusty urn.

Malfoy was watching him very closely. "You've never been here before, have you?" He asked.

Severus shrugged again. "Who cares, I'm here now."

Malfoy smirked. "I snuck down Knockturn for the first time when I was going into first year, too," he said quietly. "My parents gave me hell when they found out."

Severus shuddered at the thought of what his parents would do to him when they discovered he had been down Knockturn.

"Do your parents have much of this stuff?" Malfoy asked, gesturing around.

"A bit," Severus admitted. It was a slight understatement. They had enough Dark Arts artifacts to land both of his parents permanent cells in Azkaban, should the Ministry ever decide to raid their house.

"My parents don't have hardly any. They're such bores, all they ever do is lay around and get high." He paused. "My aunt has loads, though. But she's a bit dotty and I think she thinks they're antiques. She always shows them off when she has guests."

"Well, my father shows our things off, too," Severus said quietly, "But only to the right guests."

Malfoy grinned at him. "Well, naturally." He lowered his voice again and continued. "Just what sort of stuff does your family have? Just - because - well surely you must know, you hear things about your family - "

"Just some stuff, I told you," Severus said tightly. Malfoy looked disappointed. He knelt down to examine something on a lower shelf.

About to dust off a string of pearls with his bare finger, he glared with feeble defiance at the back door and dusted them off with his shirt instead. He was silent for a moment as he examined the pearls, but presently he said, "Let's go outside for a smoke."

Severus, preoccupied with trying to reach something on a high shelf, gave him the barest of glances. "I don't smoke."

"Keep me company." Malfoy yanked him by the arm out the door. The other boys, absorbed in the merchandise, did not even notice.

Malfoy took out his wand to light his cigarette, cursed, shoved it back in his pocket, and pulled out a matchbox. He struggled with the match for several mmoments before he managed to light the cigarette, and this dispensed with, he slumped against the wall and took a long drag off his cigarette, coughing as he did so.

"Ugh," said Malfoy. "I fucking hate that place when Burkes is there. He's such a prig. He thinks he's better than us, and we don't know anything, like we're just some snot-nosed kids, but that's - he just ... well, I know his junk is overpriced, anyway." Malfoy seemed to feel this was inadequate, but could not come up with anything better, so he just slouched back, crossing his arms and scowling. He shook a lock of hair out of his eye.

Severus was silent. Around them, the noises of Knockturn Alley bubbled sinisterly - vague hisses and cackles, and the raspy, malevolent caws of the street venders. He swallowed hard, wondering if his father was in the collapsing pub down the street with wisps of smoke curling out the windows.

"So," Malfoy mumbled into his cigarette. "You looking forward to Hogwarts?"

Severus shook his fringe down into his eyes and mulled this over. He had been asked this question many times in the past few weeks, and was still not sure of what his answer might be. Yes, he looked forward to Hogwarts. He looked forward to classes, he looked forward to learning spells and magic and being the very cleverest, the very top of his class, because he had studied so hard and prepared so much and he was damned if he'd be beneath anyone at Hogwarts. Outside of school, he was a Snape, said with a knowing sneer, a distasteful single-syllable trip down the tongue. At least they're purebloods, people whispered.

But at Hogwarts he would overcome that. Somehow he must. He must be fiercely intelligent and he must show everyone who had ever laughed at him, who had ever beat him up, who had ever stolen his lunch or shoved him in the mud or called him names or hated him just because he was a Snape. He would try his hardest and show everyone.

But what if he did try his hardest and he just wasn't clever enough? The thought haunted him and was the one thing keeping him from really looking forward to Hogwarts; he couldn't fail at this, but what if he did, what if he simply didn't measure up? Then he would know that everyone had been right all along - Snapes were simply of a lower quality and it was no use going against the grain. He couldn't let himself believe this, but - what if it were true?

"You alright, there?" Malfoy's lazy drawl cut into his introspection.

"Fine." Severus chewed on his lower lip. "I guess I'm looking forward to Hogwarts. I don't ... I don't know." He shook his head again, muddled and confused and anxious all at once.

Malfoy looked over at him out of the corner of his eye, his stringy blonde hair falling from where he had brushed it behind his ear and obscuring his profile. "Well," he said in a slow, serious voice, "Keep this in mind, Snape. Even if you don't find yourself looking forward to Hogwarts, look forward to Slytherin. You'll meet a lot of people there, all kinds of people, some you might like a lot and some you might hate - but they're important people and they'll change your life. They're people who - they'll ... we're all ... " He paused, trying to collect himself. He took a drag off his cigarette and started again. "We've all got our parts to play, in life and - the future. There's things ahead - and Slytherin's going to play a crucial role. All of us've got places to be. We'll help you find yours."

Severus felt a shiver go up his spine. Things ahead. Whispers, rumors, things he wasn't supposed to hear, but he knew, everyone knew. Sometimes when his father came home in the middle of the night from the pub he would wake Severus up and sit on the edge of his bed, talking in soft, reverent tones about the revolution coming. Severus remembered those nights fuzzily, bits and pieces, as if they were a dream - his father's alcohol breath, the steady whir of the fan above them, the weight of his father's body on the bed and his quiet voice carrying through the still darkness over to where Severus sat a few feet away, leaning against the headboard.

"Things'll be different for us someday," his father would whisper. "This isn't forever. Not for us. There's things coming and when they do, I swear to God we'll have what's due us."

"I don't know," Severus said aloud. "I don't know." He pulled his cloak tighter around himself.

Malfoy shrugged, gazing out sightlessly at the sad chaos of Knockturn Alley. "You will soon," he said boredly. "The good old Sorting Hat'll show you to your place. Did you know about the hat? Sorry if I spoiled the surprise. It's not much of one. They put it on your head and it talks to you for a couple seconds and then it decides you're a Slytherin, or - or a Ravenclaw, what have you, it doesn't matter."

It does matter, Severus thought. "My mother was in Ravenclaw," he said.

Malfoy leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "My whole family's been in Slytherin," he said. "Back and back and back. I can't imagine what it'd be like to be in any other House - it's not even an option."

Severus didn't particularly like the thought of that. "She says I could be in Ravenclaw if I liked," he said, half to himself. "But I'm not sure if Dad'd like it much."

"You're clever enough, I guess," Malfoy said carelessly. "Maybe you'd do well in Ravenclaw. I wonder if I would've?"

Severus looked over at him, curiously. Malfoy seemed to be talking to himself, his face cool and blank, his voice distant. "I've thought about it before, sometimes. Ravenclaw, I mean. I think I could've gotten in - I'm clever in some ways, certainly cleverer than plenty of the Ravenclaws I know. But who can say - who can say? I might've been able to get in, but I never would have. Do you know what I mean - do you understand?"

Severus nodded, but Malfoy wasn't paying attention to him.

"I couldn'tve ever been in Ravenclaw. Even if I could have. I'm Slytherin born and bred, back and back and back - going a different way would just be pointless, like trying to go against the tides. I don't mean to say that it's a case of predestination though it probably is, but there's just so much and you can't go against all that and certainly you wouldn't want to. And if that's - I mean, I mean you know, I know that Slytherin's the place for me, sure it is, certainly it is, but it would've - I don't know, but it would've been something to be in Ravenclaw and see the world like that and care for the things they care for. It would've been - simpler, somehow, but so much harder. You can't fight the tides that way, not when everything in you pushes you to go one way except maybe for the part that thinks it might've been a time to be in Ravenclaw and be able to care about books and marks and those things. I've got my part to play in all this, we all do, and I wouldn't wish it any other way, sure, certainly, but sometimes, I ... "

His voice died off. Severus had been watching him the whole time as he spoke, his long thin face remote, his dull grey eyes flickering with an obscure longing that touched Severus. He understood Malfoy. He understood Malfoy's feeling of suffocation, of entrapment, that made him feel wild and desperate; he understood his instinctive lashing out at the hand he'd been dealt in life, that it didn't matter if it was a good hand or a bad hand but just that they were forced to carry it out, but most of all he understood the longing in Malfoy's eyes for an existence that could afford to appreciate good books and take pride in their schoolwork, that didn't give destiny a second thought and where freewill would be taken for granted. He understood, and empathized.

Malfoy tossed his cigarette away from him, and the two of them watched silently as it landed into a small puddle of dirty water and was put out.

"Let's go and find your dad," Malfoy muttered at last. "You wait here - I'll go in and tell the others we're leaving."

He brushed past Severus on his way inside but didn't look at him. Severus barely noticed. Things ahead, Malfoy's voice whispered to him. Parts to play. - We'll help you find yours.

He knew now that he would never be in Ravenclaw and that he had been a fool to ever consider the possibility. Malfoy had said it would have been like going against the tides, but Severus realized dimly that it was more than that - it was like trying to defy gravity. Hopeless, pointless, foolish and in the end, all you got was knocked down. It would take a Gryffindor to attempt something so foolish, and if Severus was sure of anything, it was that he was no Gryffindor.

And he knew then that he didn't have to wait for Hogwarts for his chance to prove people wrong about him and his family. In succumbing to the inevitable, meekly carrying out the hand he'd been dealt, letting gravity push him back to earth, he knew that he had already proven them right.