Slytherins in Doubt

Chapter One

He stood in the hallway, frowning. The brats had come back from their summer holidays. After weeks of quiet, the castle was suddenly full of screaming, laughing, and generally annoying children. One head stood out among the rest, quite simply because it was paler, several shades lighter than blonde. He watched the boy closely. He knew what was to have taken place over the holidays. He prayed that it hadn´t occurred.

The boy grimaced as he walked, and leaned briefly against the nearby wall. However, before anyone less observant than the professor could have seen the pain, he forced his face into a familiar smirk. The two bodyguards appeared behind him, idiotic grins plastered over their faces. The boy straightened, grinned at them and made some snide comment about Granger. They laughed hysterically, although the boy knew that his comment hadn´t been terribly funny. They followed him, always two steps behind. They were not friends. They would not walk beside him.

The professor had been barely older than that boy when faced with the same choice. All that he had seen is darkness. Darkness had appealed to him then, when he had wanted little other than recognition. Recognition was something he had never received in school. He had never been popular, had never fit in. His friendship had been refused from the very beginning by the three most influential boys in the school. Intelligence had gotten him little. The recognition of professors means naught to one ostracized by his peers. At least the younger boy could have been considered popular. Yet he also had no friends. Had he made the same choice?

He watched the three boys walk down the stairs toward their common room. When the pale head disappeared into darkness, he turned and strode away in the other direction, his robes billowing behind him. Albus was already standing on the steps when he entered through the great stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to his quarters.

"Well, Severus, my boy. I´m assuming that you have news?" he asked, sitting down behind his desk and reaching into the candy dish.

"The Dark Lord has given me a test." Severus Snape drummed his fingers nervously on his knee.

"Hmmm, I thought that we were beyond that. Has his trust in you slipped?"

"No, but he wants me to become more involved." Snape virtually spat out the last word.

"I´m sure we can come up with a suitable ruse." Albus smiled, "What would Riddle like for you to do this time?"

"He wants me to make sure Potter will be unable to fight at graduation. He wants to do the killing himself, to prove that he can."

"Now that, I think, we can accomplish. Lemon drop?"

Snape shook his head. "I thought perhaps an injury during quidditch. Something that looked like a cursed broom?"

"Of course. I´ll speak to Harry about it. It will have to be the last game of the season then."

Snape smiled, "Of course. And Slytherin will win by default."

"Perhaps, my boy. Perhaps." The headmaster made a mental note to change the game schedule. He enjoyed the Griffindor-Slytherin matches too much to allow a default. The other seekers just didn´t offer Harry enough of a challenge. "And young Malfoy? How is he coping?"

"He is hiding something." Snape´s expression softened slightly, "I cannot believe that he would take the mark. I do not think that he would lower himself so."

"One´s parents can be a strong influence, Severus."

"In wish he were my son, Albus. He´s not like Lucius, although he tries to be. There is so much the same about us. And yet, he is stronger, prouder than I ever was. I think that he can withstand Voldemort if necessary."

"Yes. I have no doubt that he can. But can he withstand Lucius?" Albus watched the younger man as he began to pace the office.

"Perhaps if I talked to him? Explained that there are other options?"

"It is not worth endangering your cover, Severus. You could sacrifice your life by doing such. Let the boy come to you." Dumbledore shuffled some papers on the desk. Snape knew him well enough to know that he was stalling.

"There was something else I wished to discuss with you. It´s about the new Defense professor."

"I noticed that there was no one in the seat at the feast. Did he not show?" Snape´s lips twitched, nearly lifting in a smile of hope.

"She preferred to introduce herself to her students in a less public arena. I wanted to ask you, Severus, to please make an attempt to at least be polite to this one."

"Why? Afraid I´ll hurt her feelings?"

"No, son. I´m afraid that she would hurt you." Albus stood and stroked Fawkes, not meeting Snape´s eyes as he explained, "She´s rather dangerous, you see."

Snape groaned, "Not another werewolf!"

"No."

"Let me guess, another half-giant, or better yet, a vampire. And she tells you she doesn´t drink human blood. Albus, will you never learn?"

"She is no vampire. She is just as human as you and I, Severus."

Snape looked at the headmaster doubtfully, "You honestly expect me to believe that an ordinary witch is a danger to me?"

At this, Dumbledore smiled, "I never said, my boy, that she was an ordinary witch."

*****

Draco dismissed his followers the moment he entered the dorm. He didn´t feel that he could keep up the pretence any longer, so he chose to use the summer potions essay as an excuse. Homework, after all, was the magic word to get rid of the two louts. He grabbed some books and left the dorm, heading toward the library.

Halfway there, he met his head-of-house, striding down the hallway like an overgrown hawk. He nodded to him, intending just to pass without conversation. Snape, however, had different plans. He stopped the boy, gently grabbing his robes to keep him from passing. He looked at him closely.

"Good evening, professor. Did you need something?" Draco was somewhat unnerved by the expression on the older man´s face. Pity was something he could not abide.

"Where are you going, Mr. Malfoy?"

"To the library, sir, to finish your essay."

"You should have finished that a month ago." Snape frowned. "Never mind. Be back in your bed by curfew."

"Yes sir."

He watched the austere professor walk away before starting again on the trek to the library. With no one in the hallway, he saw no need to hide his limp.

Malfoy was unsurprised to find that Potter´s mudblood girlfriend was in the library as well. What did surprise him was that the Weasel was there, standing beside her chair, bouncing like an excited puppy and occasionally fetching a book at her request.

He sat at a table alone, ignoring the frowns on the faces of the pair. He had little to do, since he had already finished all of his summer homework. The essay had just been an excuse to get away. For lack of anything else to do, he pulled out a piece of parchment and began to write.

At first, he was shocked at the ease with which the words came, but then he was pleased by the sense of release that the simple act of writing gave him. He wrote a story which was only fiction on the surface, and beneath was nearly perfect autobiography.

When he finished he had come to only one conclusion. He was no Malfoy now.

Reading over the story in disgust, he grimaced and balled it up, throwing it toward the trashcan as he left, but he missed.

"Stupid git can´t even pick up his own trash," Ron remarked as Hermione bent to pick up the parchment. She shook her head at her boyfriend.

"Didn´t you see the look on his face?" Carefully, she smoothed the parchment out. The story was written in a neat, if flowery, script. Hermione began to read. "Oh my..." she said softly, "Oh...my..."

She folded the paper and put it into her pocket. She couldn´t allow Ron to read this, but she knew of someone else who should.

"Come on, Ron, Harry´s waiting."

*****

Severus had seen Draco´s limp. He had only gone far enough to dissolve into the shadows before turning around to watch the boy walk away. He mentally changed the lesson plan for that Friday´s class. Advanced Healing Potions would be useful. He could not slip the boy a potion without blowing his cover, but he could make sure that Draco knew how to make them himself.

"Immerito" The hidden door to his quarters slid open. For a man who seemed cold and hard, his living quarters seemed incongruously inviting. The décor was green, naturally, but the sofa and chairs were stuffed almost beyond capacity and covered with green velvet pillows. A fire flickered happily in the fireplace. A painting of a raven blinked from above the mantle. Soft music was drifting in from an unseen source. A Bach concerto.

Snape walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey. Without bothering to get a glass, he placed the bottle to his lips and took a long draught. There are some types of pain that only liquor can cure. He carried the bottle to the bathroom, which was entirely done in black marble. He filled the tub and laid back in the scalding water, again tilting the bottle to his lips. He promised himself that he would save the boy. He would give him the chance that he had never had.

**********

There was a new girl in the class. It was strange that Draco hadn´t noticed it before, but then, he had been preoccupied. He noticed her now, if only because she was looking at him. She was wearing green robes, definitely not a standard uniform. And she was staring at him, which was getting annoying. Her expression reminded him of the one Snape often wore when he was investigating something.

You did the right thing, Draco.

The voice in his head surprised him. He was almost certain it had been the girl, but when he looked up she was walking toward the front of the room, her back to him. She sat there, on a corner of the professor´s desk. Her eyes ran over the rest of the room.

"Good afternoon," she said, smiling, "I would like to introduce myself. My name is Aislyn Morrigan. I am your new Defense against the Dark Arts Professor."

She ignored the stunned expressions on the faces of her students. She knew all too well that she appeared much younger than she was, especially with her hair pulled back into a ponytail and her face devoid of all make-up. It was a trait that had often been useful.

"I understand from the headmaster that some of your former professors have been rather lax in their duties. I fully intend to make up for that. But first, you must come to understand something. It is the one thing which is a true defense when faced with the dark arts."

She stood, and began to pace before her class.

"The Dark Arts, as you call them, are not inherently evil. They are part of a primal magic, much more difficult to control than that which you have been taught. They are also quite easily twisted to the desires of the person using them. The intentions of the caster are what make these magicks evil. And some of the spells, unfortunately, have recently come to be cast only with evil intentions. However, it is one of these, supposedly evil, unforgivable curses, that could mean your salvation when faced with danger. I will not be teaching you any of these curses, but before you can defend yourself against them, you must first learn not to fear them."

With that, she had the class introduce themselves, and tell her what they had learned, and failed to learn, in the years before.

**********

Snape´s distaste for the new professor radiated off of him in waves. He could not understand how a wisp of a girl was supposed to be a danger to him, much less how she could possibly have enough experience to teach a class to defend against Voldemort.

It was all he could do to keep from grumbling at his dinner plate. The girl was smiling at him. No, laughing. She was definitely laughing at him. Well, maybe not out loud, but he was certain that she must find something about him hilarious. And dammit, he could not figure out what it was.

Having had enough, he stood abruptly, but managed little other than knocking over his plate. He watched in amazement as the plate, seemingly of its own accord, flew back up onto the table. Not a bit of food was out of place.

At the expression on his face, Professor Morrigan burst into a full belly-laugh. Albus, having observed the entire interaction between the two, was laughing as well.

"What´s the matter, Professor Snape?" Aislyn drawled, "Never seen a plate fly?"

Snape left, his robes swirling behind him, ignoring the howling laughter that had now infected the entire head table. It was definitely not his best exit.

"Aislyn, my dear, I do not believe that your little joke impressed our Severus." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

"Then the man needs a better sense of humour, Uncle Albie."

Dumbledore leaned over and whispered into the young woman´s ear. "Were you able to get anything off of the Malfoy lad?"

"Of course." Her expression turned serious, "He´s made the decision, Albus, but I´m unsure whether he will stand by it. He is no Death Eater, yet."

"Anything else?" the headmaster asked.

"Nothing that I would be willing to tell, even to you." She looked down at the boy sadly, "But much that he should come tell you himself. Or perhaps Severus. His father has him convinced that you´re a bumbling old fool."

"Even bumbling old fools can be helpful." The headmaster replied, but he knew that it was probably best if the boy did seek Severus out. Perhaps not so much for Draco´s sake, but for Snape´s.

**********

Hermione pulled Harry away from the conversation at the table long enough to thrust a piece of parchment into his hand.

"Don´t let Ron see it!"

Suspicious, he waited until he had finished dinner, and walked into the Entrance Hall to open the wrinkled story. Once he had finished reading it, he stuffed it into his pocket and waited for his friends, who were no doubt delayed by Ron´s bottomless pit of a stomach. When they walked out of the Great Hall, he grabbed Hermione by the arm.

"Who wrote this?" he whispered.

"Who do you think?" She gave him the classic Hermione `you are a complete dunderhead´ look.

"Damn."

"I know." Hermione patted him on the shoulder consolingly. It´s not easy to lose an enemy.

"I´m showing this to Dumbledore."

"I thought you would."

Moments later, he was standing outside the familiar gargoyle statue. Instead of racking his brain for names of muggle sweets, he waited. The headmaster was still at dinner.

He saw Snape rush by, scowling as usual, and not long afterwards Professors Dumbledore, Morrigan, and McGonagall walked up, all chuckling about some occurrence at dinner. The new DADA professor had already caused one argument between Ron and Hermione, mainly stemming from the fact that Ron was having difficulties keeping his eyes to himself.

"Did you need something, Harry?" the headmaster asked gently.

"Yes sir. Could I speak with you, please?"

"Of course."

McGonagall and Morrigan excused themselves and walked away together. Dumbledore spoke the password, "marshmallow crème" and the statue slid back obediently. Once in his office, Dumbledore sat and looked at Harry.

"Questions, Harry?"

"Um, not exactly sir." He took out the parchment. "Hermione found this in the library. Malfoy dropped it."

Dumbledore took the parchment and read over it quickly.

"Did you read this, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Then you will attempt a more peaceful relationship with Mr. Malfoy in the future?

"Yes, sir."

"Very well, you may leave."

Harry got up and walked out, his shoulders slumped. Dumbledore smiled as he watched the boy leave, and then walked over to the fireplace. Throwing some floo powder in, he said, "Severus, could you please come to my office?"

After receiving an affirmative answer, he called someone else in as well.

**********

Severus collapsed upon his couch, parchment in hand. He hadn´t noticed the small, emerald green serpent which had followed him from the headmaster´s office. It slithered over beneath the table and watched him closely. He read over the story yet again. He had no doubts that it was true. The boy had been in pain, and now Snape knew that his guesses had been correct.

What he hadn´t realized was that, correct as his guesses had been, reality had been much worse.

...not good enough, never good enough...Unworthy...

...Don´t hit me anymore...

...Don´t hurt me anymore...

...I´ll do what you want...

...I can´t do what you want...

...I don´t want to kill him! ... No!

Snippets from the story seemed to echo through his mind, from his past as well as his student´s. The snake slid up onto his chest, startling him, but it seemed to mean no harm. He stroked its head softly. It coiled up, laying its head on his chest. The presence of the animal was soothing, and Snape drifted to sleep for the first time in weeks without the aid of alcohol.

Just before he drifted to sleep, he thought he heard a voice tell him not to worry, that the boy would come to him in time.