Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Other Canon Wizard Draco Malfoy Severus Snape
Genres:
Drama Angst
Era:
The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 06/08/2005
Updated: 06/08/2005
Words: 3,395
Chapters: 1
Hits: 893

Shallow Blood

Lanni Weasley

Story Summary:
"They say that blood is thicker than water. They obviously never met Theodore Branson Nott." Severus Snape must tell Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Theodore Nott that their fathers have been arrested. All react in different ways.

Chapter Summary:
"They say that blood is thicker than water.
Posted:
06/08/2005
Hits:
893
Author's Note:
Although this is a small ficlet of something that Snape mentioned in my WIP,


Shallow Blood
Lanni Weasley

They say that blood is thicker than water. I can't help but wonder: Did they ever see the way purebloods act around others unlike themselves? Did they ever see the way purebloods act around each other? I find it extremely ironic. I think they got it wrong. Water is thicker than blood by far, for blood is as shallow as a creak. The purer your blood, the more shallow you are, and the thinner your humanity is stretched.

My humanity was stretched so far that it's barely visible now - stretched so thin that it's thinner than a toothpick. I used to have a bit of humanity in me when I was a child; I used to know how to smile, as hard to believe as that sounds. My father, when I was a very young boy, used to read me bedtime stories of a wonderful, clean world - clean, meaning that there were "no more scum-eating Mudbloods" left in the world. A beautiful bedtime story to tell a four year-old, if I ever heard one. My mother usually told me much nicer bedtime stories, which were the ones I actually smiled at.

But, I'm afraid, the Dark Lord was kind enough to take all that away from me. I had always strived to please my parents when I was younger. While my mother would hug me gleefully when she saw my amazing grades, I was never good enough when it came to my father. For the first time, when I became a Death Eater, my father was pleased with me and my mother was not.

"I knew you would choose the right path, Severus. You were always a brilliant boy."

"Thank you, father."

"Well, it's what we want that influences us, but it's our choices that create us."

My mother was painfully right about that. My father wasn't too happy about her saying that; and that night had ended with me walking out of the house yet again. I was always pleasing my mother, but I wanted more than that; I wanted to make my entire family proud. No longer would the Snape lineage be one of low social class; the Snape family would be as high and esteemed as the Malfoys, Blacks, and Lestranges. I chose to try to make my dream come true. I was stupid.

But today is not my day. Today is the day of three of my students. I sit here in my office behind my desk, wondering and waiting in silence. I sent the Head Boy, Thomas Avery, to fetch them. I also debriefed him of his father's sentence, but he hadn't reacted that much. He seemed to be more concerned about his younger classmates, but that's just what he looked like. Looking something is so much more different than feeling and thinking something.

There's a knock at the door. "Come in."

The door opens. The first one to walk in is eighteen year-old Thomas Avery, with just as many handsome features and smooth talking abilities as his father had at his age. He's tall with dark features, especially the eyes. He inclines his head to me and then steps aside to the back of the room.

Next, sixteen year-old Draco Malfoy walks into the office with his head held high - and his eyes looking low. He's wearing his usual out-of-school robes, which I'm surprised by because it's rather early by student standards. However, he has rings under his eyes; he's looking very tired; and his hair is unkempt. All that is not the usual for Malfoy standards; Malfoys are supposed to look presentable and calm at all times in every situation. Yes, tell that to Lucius when he was trying to murder fifteen year-olds and tell that to Narcissa when she learned of what her husband was doing two nights ago. Now that must've been a nightmare.

Sixteen year-old Vincent Crabbe is looking less menacing in his blue duck pajamas, if I do say so myself. The poor boy - what torture must come from wearing such hideous clothes. He's the shorter of the Draco Malfoy henchmen, but he's also the smarter one. Everyone underestimates the two of them, Vincent and Gregory Goyle, but I'm not one to put a sly remark past them. They're very loyal to their fathers, who are very loyal to a certain evil "mastermind".

The last to walk in is fifteen year-old Theodore Nott. It's amazing that just a year ago he was probably the tallest Slytherin. But since then, he's stopped growing, and Draco has passed him up. However, Theodore must be relieved to be able to hide again; he's never one to have liked being in the spotlight. And most of the time, that's a good thing. I've always had a certain - I can't say fondness, now can I? - keenness when it came to Theodore; he's a very bright young man. While Draco whines and throws himself out in the open to Potter - as Gregory and Vincent get into fights - Theodore keeps his head down and manages to stay out of trouble. Of course, that doesn't always mean he keeps his nose out of other people's business. I say, he does have a knack at eavesdropping.

However, I wonder how this will help him now. He looks in the best shape out of the other three boys in the room (I'm counting Thomas in the back, too, since he's also in their predicament now). In his normal, tattered, oversized school robes with dulled brown eyes and a bored look on his face, he looks utterly and completely calm. Well, maybe not exactly calm - more like tired of the whole situation already.

I nod to Thomas, who nods back and begins to walk out. He misinterpreted me. "Mr. Avery," I say loudly. He freezes and turns back around to face me.

"Yes, Professor Snape?"

"I want you to stay in here," I tell him.

He looks confused. "But, sir, you already-"

"There is more that I'd like to tell you," I simply say. He closes his mouth, nods his head, and shuts the door. In one smooth movement, he returns to his spot against the wall in the back of the room. I rise from my seat.

Draco sees this as a chance to bombard me with questions. "Professor, is everything all-?"

"No, everything is not all right, Mr. Malfoy," I interrupt. He shuts his mouth. "Sit down, all three of you."

As if on cue, Draco literally collapses into his seat, paling even further. He knows that it has something to do with his father. Vincent drops into his seat, looking around the room in an uneasy manner that I'm quite used to. Theodore eyes me with suspicion, gives the room a lazy inspection, and slowly sits down in his seat. He even has the nerve to prop his feet up on my desk. I give him a glare (he's wearing dirty shoes, and my desk is spotless), but instead of pulling his feet down immediately, like I'm used to, he doesn't move at all. Rather, he stares at me with that bored expression, as if he can read my mind and already knows what's happened.

I wave my wand; four cups of hot tea appear on a small tray in front of them. The three fifth years take one, and the tray floats back to Thomas, who takes the last one. The tray disappears from sight. I fold my hands behind my back and turn away from them, looking up at some Potions ingredients on a shelf.

"Last night, Potter and his friends were lured to the Ministry of Magic where they were ambushed by Death Eaters; someone - not one of them, however - was killed," I say tonelessly. I have learned over the past years that it is better to be blunt with young adults than to beat around the bush, as they have no patience whatsoever. I see Thomas straighten stiffly in the back. "All of your fathers were involved - and all of your fathers are going to Azkaban."

I hear the grieving sound of a cup breaking into tiny shards of glass. I turn back around to see that it was Draco who did the deed; it seems as if death is not his cup of tea. Good - the weaker they are, the less likely the Dark Lord will want them. His eyes are wide; his shaking hands are in the air, like he's still holding the cup; and he looks fit to faint. Vincent is now choking on his tea as he sets his cup down and coughs. Thomas wipes his face with a white handkerchief and keeps it there, like he's ashamed. And then there's Theodore, who is sitting idly in his chair with his dirty shoes on my desk, calmly sipping his tea with that same bloody bored expression on his face.

"Father - my father - he's going to - what?" Draco can't seem to spit out simple comprehensible sentence at the moment. He continues to sputter incoherently.

"Professor," Vincent says in his low voice, "how long is their sentence?"

"I'm afraid," I begin slowly, "that it will most likely be for life, like most Death Eaters are sentenced to."

"Life in Azkaban?" Draco nearly shrieks. "That can't happen to my father! He-he-he-he..." And then, he finally closes his mouth.

"Mr. Malfoy, your father is having a trial in a few weeks," I explain. This seems to calm him down a bit; he slides down in his seat as a passive look comes upon his face. "But I must warn you that he might not be able to get out of it. He could still get sentenced to life in Azkaban or even worse."

Just the thought of the Dementor's Kiss reminds me of Black; even in death, he stills tortures me, the great prat. If there's one thing I hate worse than feeling embarrassed, it's feeling guilty. I figured that once he died, I'd be living a better life. Who knew that I was terribly wrong? I don't even have anything to feel guilty about yet I'm still sulking. Then again, I sulk a lot so maybe this is just me being normal.

Draco probably would've dropped yet another cup so I'm glad that I didn't fix that last one just yet. He tries to gulp down a lump in his throat. "Do they-do they know who will try him yet?" he asks quietly.

I shake my head. "It's much too early to know that." He looks troubled. "But I have a feeling that your father's case, since he was so close to the Minister, may be what's called a 'code red'."

"Code red?" Vincent repeats. "My father won't be that."

"No, he won't, and neither will Mr. Nott's, but Mr. Malfoy's most likely will," I say. "That means that your father will be prosecuted by the Chief Prosecutor."

"And who exactly is that?" Draco demands heatedly.

"It doesn't matter right now." I wave him off. He doesn't need to know that his aunt, now his mother's good friend, will be sentencing his own father to imprisonment - and enjoy it. He just doesn't need that on his shoulders right now. He glowers at me, but says nothing in response.

"What's going to happen to my father, sir?" Vincent asks me.

"Your father pleaded guilty to being a Death Eater," I tell him in a monotonous voice. Vincent looks down to the ground. "He knew that he had no chance in court."

"That's what I thought," he mumbled.

"And of my father, Professor?" Thomas questions.

"He was poked in the eye by a wand, but after receiving quick treatment at St. Mungos, his eye was fully healed," I explain. Thomas nods his head, taking in the information slowly. "He is now in Azkaban, but is having a trial."

"How can he?" Thomas asks in a defeated voice. He looks much older than he is. "It's pretty obvious that he's a Death Eater."

I shake my head. "People have gotten out of stickier situations before."

Thomas says nothing else in response.

I glance at Theodore, but he just continues to stare back at me dully. Also, he's still calmly sipping on his tea, as if he has not a care in the world. I'm waiting for him to ask about his father, but he does not. Perhaps I'll tell him in private.

"Your mother," I say, looking at Draco now, "was taken to St. Mungos after she was informed of this news."

"What?!" Draco jumps to his feet, gaping at me wildly. "What happened to her? I must get to her right away!" He turns around and starts for the door. Thomas leaps in front of him. "I'll write her a letter!" He storms to my desk and tries to pull a (now dirty) piece of parchment out from underneath Theodore's feet, but Theodore doesn't seem intended on moving any time soon. "I'll Floo the hospital!"

But I've no Floo Powder, which leaves Draco quite empty-handed. I've never seen a more devoted son (well, I have, but I'd rather not mention the name 'Weasley' right now). He looks up to me with a pleading look in his eyes.

"Your mother is quite all right, I assure you," I tell him. "She was simply shocked at what your father has been accused of and promptly fainted." Draco nods his head jerkily and slowly sits back down. I turn to Vincent. "Your mother, apparently, locked herself up in her bedroom" - and is now sobbing herself to death, I'm sure - "so the Aurors sent there to tell her are in a rather hopeless state at the moment." I turn to Thomas. "You mother, however, took the news rather well, adding that she was 'glad that they finally caught the smarmy git'. Do you know why she said that?"

Thomas, although reluctant to admit it, nods his head in a joggle. "Marital problems - Father's been a right pain in the arse for a while now. Mum's about ready to shoot his head off with her wand and a frying pan."

"Well, perhaps it is better that the Ministry got ahold of him first," I mutter, turning away from him.

"Probably so," Thomas replies. "I reckon if dad would've come home late one more time, she would've knocked his head off or something." His face darkens. "Although, I'm not sure how much better Azkaban will be."

"Better than usual," I say. "The Dementors are leaving one by one."

"That means they could escape."

I turn my head and see that it was Theodore who had spoken. He still has his feet on my desk and that bored look on his face, but he is moving now; he's setting his empty cup down.

I nod my head. "Yes, they could escape."

Draco and Vincent exchange excited looks. Draco then looks up at me, eyes full of hope. "That's good then," the young Malfoy states. "He can get out of that Hell. I can't believe the Ministry is stupid enough to press these lies on my father - the idiots."

I do my hardest not to gape at Draco Malfoy. He doesn't know. He doesn't know. Lucius didn't tell him. I wonder if Lucius told Narcissa. No, probably not - she's changed a lot since the First War. It seems, beyond all means, that Lucius never told Draco or Narcissa that he was a Death Eater. Perhaps it was the best idea after all; it would protect them more if they knew less.

"You can go back to your rooms now," I tell them as I sit back down. Thomas opens the door and walks out quickly. Draco and Vincent walk out together, talking reticently. Theodore doesn't move from his spot; an insane grin lights up his face as the door closes shut.

"You wanted to speak with me alone," he says. Damn, is he that good or am I that obvious? How did he know that I wanted to talk with him in private? I'll never fully understand the genius that is Theodore Nott, even if he does remind me of myself when I was his age.

"Yes," I reply, eyeing his muddy shoes with distaste. He knows that I will not tell him to move his feet; he knows that I'll never stoop so low as to order one of my own students to do something. Usually, people know exactly what I want just by the look on my face - and he does - but everyone always does exactly what I want out of fear - yet he doesn't. He's not afraid of me. The battle of the minds - that's what I do - yet I'm defeated by a bored expression and muddy tennis shoes.

"Your mother, Ella, died when you were a young child," I say softly. I see him stiffen, but he does nothing else. "You live with your father alone. Right now, he's still in St. Mungos being treated for many injuries, but he will be incarcerated in Azkaban immediately once he is fully healed." Theodore doesn't move or speak still. "Do you have any relatives you could stay with this summer?"

Finally, Theodore shakes his head. "None - it was just Dad and me." He rolls his eyes. "Well, it was just me and then there happened to be Dad in the same house. We live separate lives now."

"That seems to be quite the quandary at the moment," I reply smoothly. He shrugs his shoulders, like he doesn't care that he has no one left out there for him. For a second, I wonder if he truly doesn't care at all. But no, even a young man at his age must care about being alone. I know for sure as hell that I cared when I was his age; I was always alone. I liked being alone, but my biggest fear was being alone and stranded by myself forever. Look where I am now.

"There won't be much of a difference if I just go home still," Theodore tells me. I arch one eyebrow. "I never talk to him anymore much; we have different interests nowadays."

"You knew your father was a Death Eater again, didn't you?" I say, finally understanding why there had been little reaction on his part from the news.

Theodore nods his head. "I wasn't too surprised to hear that he finally got caught, the bloody idiot. He's old; I told him that he wasn't fit to do that kind of stuff anymore, but with old age comes idiocy and stubbornness in my family."

I survey him. It would not be the most tactful thing to just ask if he's a Death Eater or not. Also, the fact that I'm a spy would not help me any. I can't just go around asking every student if they're a Death Eater, you know. That would simply just not be allowed and rather rude of me.

"Mum...Mum told him that his business would catch up with him one day," Theodore said quietly. He isn't looking at me anymore and finally takes his shoes off my desk. "I told him just the other day the same thing. He said that I'd better be prepared then."

"And are you prepared?" I ask. Theodore looks up at me. He set the question up for himself. I didn't really have to ask him anything. He looks away again, quickly.

"I...I'm not prepared," he mutters. He stands up suddenly. I lean back in my chair. He walks for the door, grabs the handle, and then stops. He lets go and turns back around to face me with a defiant, strong look on his face. "And I don't plan on ever being prepared for him or anyone else." He gulps. "They say that being brave is a Gryffindor's job. That doesn't mean that I can't be unprepared, right?"

I say nothing in response. That's the wiser thing to do. Theodore inclines his head to me, respectfully, and leaves my office as quickly as he can. The door slowly shuts, leaving me alone once again.

They say blood is thicker than water.

They obviously never met Theodore Branson Nott.


Author notes: I'll go ahead and admit that writing first person Severus Snape was one of the hardest things I've ever done - and I still don't think I've managed to keep him in character.

Also, near the ending, when Theodore says his father told him that "he better be prepared then", it actually meant, "You're going to become a Death Eater." When Snape asked, "Are you prepared?", it actually meant, "Are you a Death Eater then?" Theodore said he was unprepared. You do the math.

Thank you for reading!!