Werewolves at Hogwarts

Chapter 2

Glancing around the dungeon, Severus Snape straightened to his full height and gave one of his very rare smiles of pure satisfaction. He had spent the summer holidays in Prague at the International Potions Conference. There he had been courted and feted by his peers, deferred to and consulted by his inferiors. To his great satisfaction there were only half a dozen people in the world that could be classed as his superiors. All in all, it had been a very satisfying and satisfactory two weeks.

Taking his trunk from his pocket, he engorged it and left it in the middle of his sitting room for the house-elves to deal with. There was a new bottle of Ogden's in the cupboard and he felt he deserved a glass before he went in search of supper.

Filling a tumbler with the fine firewhiskey, Severus took it into his bedroom and stood it on the dresser while he discarded his outer robes and pulled open the wardrobe to select his usual 'in-school' clothing. He had felt it was required of him to dress the part to uphold the honour of his House as Head of Family and had endured full wizarding robes while at the conference. Striping off the robes, he undid the wrappings and tapes and stepped out of them with a sigh of relief. Why couldn't wizards have invented elastic and fine knit jersey, instead of Muggles?

In the privacy of his own quarters, Severus indulged in a good scratch before wandering into the bathroom and flicking on the shower. Stepping under the almost boiling water, he allowed it to cascade off his hair and down his narrow torso as he leaned against the wall. This was one thing he had sorely missed in Prague, his own, extra high shower with Hogwarts hot water that was slightly effervescent.

'Mind you,' he thought with a lazy, satisfied smile, 'the tight arsed, bubble butted lay he last shared a shower with was something.' He had hired the courtesan for a couple of days, one convenience he didn't dare indulge in at school!

'And remember what that stupid whore was thinking when he was letting you bang his butt!' his never quiet, acerbic inner voice sneered. 'That if he performed well you might take him on as a permanent mistress and you had enough money to support him in the style he wanted to become accustomed to.'

Life was never unadulterated pleasure; there was always a hook to catch the unwary. Flicking off the taps, he dried himself hurriedly. He pulled on comfortable clothes, a high-necked, long sleeved undershirt and comfortably snug briefs before the almost Muggle style trousers and frock coat. School robes went over the top and he felt ready to face the world again. Picking up his whiskey, he took a good swallow and made his way out of his quarters.

Swinging by his classroom, he peered in the door and gave a self-satisfied chuff of approval. Argus Filch had moved the floor to ceiling wall cabinets he had discovered in a disused classroom. They were of the darkest ebony with lead lighted doors. He wasn't sure if he liked the vines and roses on some doors and the lilies and ivy on the others but he was pleased that Filch had put them together in a pleasing pattern. All he had to do was to push them up against the wall and secure them. Inside each of the cupboards were tiny drawers for the more rare and expensive ingredients as well as shelves and boxed sections for more bulky items. Whoever had commissioned the cupboards had really known a lot about the needs of a Potions Master.

Smirking to himself, he closed and locked the door, renewing the spells on it before he made his way up to the staffroom. Entering on silent feet, he was surprised to see Minerva McGonagall occupying the hearthstone, her paws wrapped under her and her eyes half closed as she purred in appreciation. When she saw Severus she half rose but he waved her back and settled in the closest chair, propping his feet on a hassock to the flames. A house-elf winked into being and seemed delighted that he would order some sandwiches as well as a cheese plate.

Turning back, he smirked when he saw Minerva sitting demurely on the chair opposite, her ankles neatly crossed; her green robes smooth and wrinkle free. "Didn't think there would be anyone here, then?" he asked toasting her with his half empty glass.

"No. I thought I had the castle to myself this evening. How was your conference? Did they stroke your ego satisfactorily?"

"Oh they did it very well. The best hotel, meals laid on, hot and cold running sycophants, what more could any man ask for?" He gave an exaggerated smirk and Minerva laughed ruefully.

"Humm, so how was it really? You are back a little early you know?"

Severus sighed. "Not too bad. We resolved the issues of quality control across the board when producing Hospital Grade Potions. There was some consensus on the use and abuse of hallucinogenic potions in the field of psychometrics and how addictions should be managed. Apart from that, we upgraded half a dozen Honorariums to Masters and even reviewed the examinable points of the Mastery examinations to bring them into line with modern practice and methods. It was hard work but... satisfying."

"And did you find any romance this holiday? Wasn't that why you were going to be a little longer, to visit Amsterdam?" Minerva asked slyly, almost smirking as the younger man stiffened then relaxed, shaking his head in commiseration.

"Romance, Minerva? Who looks for romance? A good shagging is about the best I can expect, bought and paid for of course."

It was the older woman's turn to shake her head sadly. She knew Severus' history and his preferences, as did most of the staff. "Ah Severus, one day you are going to find your cynicism is no longer an adequate shield to your heart."

"My heart?" One eyebrow shot up in cynical questioning. "Er, do I have one of those?"

Minerva shook her head again, waving him into silence. "One day a man is going to come along and knock you onto your cynical arse, shake up your world and rule you with a rod of pure adoration, or so I wish for you with all my heart."

Snorting at her sentimentality, Severus ignored her as he turned his attention to the food the house-elves had brought for him. Minerva's romantic streak was usually well hidden but Severus had been on the pointy end of it on a number of occasions. Still, as he wandered back to the dungeon that night, he wondered who would be interested in him, the man.

Oh, people were interested in Severus Snape the Head of the Snape Family or Potions Master Snape, internationally recognised inventor of original potions and published author. But who was interested in a lanky, skinny, sallow skinned, walking skeleton with the disposition of a rabid bear, hair that was permanently greasy from potions fumes and yellow teeth that no amount of dental charms would straighten or blunt for more than a couple of hours?

Lying in bed with his hands crossed behind his head, he continued to worry and tear at the knotty problem, building a picture of his ideal man in his mind. He would have to be very intelligent, extremely patient and tolerant of Snape's ways. He should be a very sound sleeper as Severus sometimes had such nightmares that his own screams woke him. A war veteran would probably be ideal, as he would know what haunted Severus' unconscious and make allowances for his more introspective and dark moods. Looks were not important, but he had to be in good shape as a flabby body was a definite turn-off, but handsome was not a prerequisite. Experience and technique were almost guaranteed these days if he was of the right age, no stumbling, blushing virgins or randy twenty year olds who had no idea beyond self-gratification. Perhaps an ex-whore would be a good choice after all?

Severus drifted off to sleep with pleasant pictures dancing in his head.

~~*~~

Ron Weasley tossed and turned in uneasy sleep until his wife elbowed him in the kidneys hard enough to wake him up. "Wha... Oh! Was I dreaming again?" he muttered, scrubbing at his face and glancing at the clock on the bedside table. It was a Muggle affair with two large bells on top and a little hammer that dinged between them. Desiree had insisted he use a Muggle clock when standard waking charms failed to raise more than a vague protest from him in the mornings.

Desiree Weasley was a pure Muggle, a resident teaching surgeon who had almost fainted when her patient at Guys Hospital had been whisked away from under her very eyes by what seemed like magic just before she had begun to prep him for surgery. For some reason the memory charm the St Mungo's team had cast on her didn't work and she had gone looking for her mystery man, finding him almost by accident when he was looking for her. They had courted cautiously, the war barely over and stray Death Eaters still wreaking havoc in the wizarding world as well as in the Muggle world on occasion. They'd found understanding and comfort in each other and finally married when they found they couldn't manage without each other.

Two children later, Desiree was still fascinated by the magic in her husband and even more so in her children but it worried her when Ron began his nightmares. She knew of the war and its devastating consequences, its destruction of lives and families. It horrified her that a war of such magnitude had been conducted in England right under their noses and very few Muggles had even noticed. It terrified her when her husband and his friends sat together, their faces becoming grim and harsh, not like themselves at all, and they reminisced, bloody, terrifying, ghastly stories that curdled her stomach and haunted her for nights after, and they lived with it all the time. Now Ron was worried again and about something that was not the war but just as upsetting.

"Okay Mr Macho, tell mama all about it," she muttered, turning on the bedside lamp and fluffing up her pillows ready to listen.

Ron snorted a laugh and dropped a kiss on her temple. "Where to start," he sighed, then scratched his moustaches thoughtfully. "You remember Remus Lupin?"

"Little guy, faded into the woodwork unless spoken to?" Desiree replied promptly, snuggling into her husband's arms. "What about him?"

"He's a werewolf. Yes, a real one and no, he's not dangerous usually, only for one day a month."

"I thought the full moon lasted two or three nights?"

"Not for most werewolves, particularly not Magicals. Muggle werewolves sometimes last three nights and some of them do not change into real wolves which is where the danger comes from, and the classic Muggle picture of a werewolf. Remus is a full wolf like most Magicals, and a very influential member of the packs too. That's beside the point. What is the point is that because of the war, the laws that were forced onto non-humans to try and make them join the Dark have been quietly reviewed and changed to less draconian ones. Unfortunately, someone or some group is trying to make werewolves out to be much worse than they really are."

"How are they doing that?" Desiree asked with a frown.

"Okay, the law was that no non-human could own property or work with humans or adopt children. That law was changed so that they could own property and work with Muggles and in some magical enterprises. They were allowed to adopt werewolf children but still not human children and the laws on sterilisation were lifted."

"Stop right there! What laws on sterilisation?"

"Any werewolf over the age of seventeen had to be compulsorily sterilised. The law was changed four years ago to stop the compulsory bit but if a werewolf committed a crime of any sort and I mean any sort, then they were sentenced to sterilisation and deportation to an island in the Orkneys which, according to the laws would be a kindness as they would be with their own society. It was a concentration camp, simple as that, although that is changing now."

Desiree twisted to stare at him in horror. "I thought that sort of thinking went out with the Second World War," she protested.

"Oh no, Grindelwald is still influencing the world with his wonderful solutions to 'those' sort of problems," Ron spat out the words in disgust. "The point is, someone, or a group of someones has suddenly started to manufacture crimes to fit werewolves and werewolves are being hauled in at an accelerated rate. There is a pattern and it is beginning to come together but I can't see where it's going just yet, but when I do, it might get a little hairy around here. Desiree, I - look Kiddo, if I ask you to go stay with Harry and Ginny at some point, will you just take the kids and go, no questions asked? It might be the difference between life and death for you all."

For an answer she leaned over and kissed him hard. "If it gets too bad, send a message saying plan werewolf and I'll not even stop to pack the kids' blankies before I'm out of here."

"Deal," he smiled crookedly, kissing her back.

~~*~~

Outer robes discarded, sleeves rolled up, Severus worked hard to fit the cabinets against the wall. It had been something of a trick as the wall had been about three inches too short to accommodate the last one. 'No surprise that Argus hadn't finished the job,' he thought grimly.

Usually it was no problem to shrink something but Severus had struck a snag. The cabinets were immune to magic. He had tried to alter the rose vine pattern but that had failed abysmally, shrinking was just as useless. Still that made them utterly tamper-proof!

Glaring, Severus saw nothing for it but to move the blasted wall! Hogwarts had been there a very long time and moving walls went beyond its usual level of teacher cooperation. Still, Severus had been in the same rooms and the same classroom for nearly twenty one years. He cringed at the thought but it was true, he had been a teacher at Hogwarts longer as than he had been anywhere else, ever. The classroom was his kingdom and it was imbued with his personality, which wasn't reassuring. Still, it was worth a shot.

Placing his hands on the back wall, he concentrated deeply on the stones and wordlessly asked if they felt like moving just enough to accommodate the last cabinet. The wall remained solid but one corner seemed to waver and shake, easing out as the cabinet carefully shimmied backward until it slotted neatly into the space.

Pleased with himself, Severus patted the stonework, thanked the castle and then leaned against the cold stone as a wave of weariness washed over him. Moving walls was definitely hard work. Besides, it seemed as if he had been working forever and a break for food might be a good idea. He could always come back after midday and fill up the cupboards with ingredients he had in the storeroom and the new, rare items he had brought back from the conference. There were notes to write and his Potions Ledger to be completed this evening. The task would make the perfect ending to a rather strenuous day!

Pleased with his projected plans, Snape accio-ed his robe and put it on before striding off to the staffroom to see if lunch was ready.

~~*~~

The staffroom was a lot noisier than it had been the night before. Half a dozen teachers were laughing and chatting as they congregated around the informal smorgasbord the house-elves had prepared. Madam Rolanda Hooch and Professor Agytha Sinistra were gossiping in the corner, swapping holiday snaps and giggling like overgrown schoolgirls. Madam Hooch had been to the Quidditch finals in Nepal and had brought back a lot of individually signed photos of the team players.

"Here, one for you Severus," she said with a toothy grin as she handed over a snap of the Nepalese Beater, a gorgeous young man who looked like Snape in build and colouring and smiled coyly at the camera.

He glanced at the photo then shook his head. "Sorry, cousin Emilio is straight," he remarked, handing it back.

"He's your cousin? You bastard, why didn't you tell me, I could have..." Hooch exclaimed then snarled as Snape smirked, making a 'gotcha' gesture.

"You are just too easy!" Severus sneered and turned his back on the two exasperated women to collect some food.

"That wasn't nice Severus," Albus said cheerily, joining him at the small table. "Very funny and well timed it was, but not very nice at all. Glad you are in such a good mood. Were you moving walls this morning? I felt the castle twitch."

"Humm had to expand out on one corner to fit in my new cabinets."

Albus shook his head. "I don't think even Minerva could get Hogwarts to cooperate as you can, my boy. So, had a good holiday? Are you ready for the children?"

"I am never ready for the dunderheaded hoard of under achievers." Severus sniffed, picking delicately at his fish. Extracting a bone, he glanced up at the headmaster. "So, what terrible twist of fate are you about to impart to me? What unexpected disasters are we faced with this term that we, or rather I will have to clean up before the sheep flock in?"

"You are such a cynic. No disaster, just the greenhouses again. Terry Lightfoot our Herbology professor is not coming back and I have to try and find an immediate substitute. Have you any ideas?"

"That doesn't involve a defoliation spell? That's a pity. My contact with the great outdoors is usually kept to a minimum, although you might try asking Filius. I seem to recall him bragging about a grandson with a green thumb, but that might have been a misfired curse."

Albus laughed aloud and shook his head. "One of these days Severus Snape, one of these days I will take you seriously! Filius, humm?" Albus was still chuckling as he strolled away.

Severus' eyebrow rose in puzzled curiosity; he hadn't actually meant to be funny. Shaking his head at the eccentricities of the headmaster, he continued to de-bone the fish with finicky precision.

~~*~~

Lunch over, Severus wandered down to his dungeon and continued to catalogue and re-house his potions ingredients. Most people couldn't understand his fascination with the raw ingredients that made up potions. For Severus each tiny scrap told an involved tale of the care taken to produce it, and the potential just waiting to be released. He didn't love potions, as many people had accused him of in the past; it was the combinations and effects of ingredients that fascinated him. And he was good at it. Sometimes a recipe for a potion, complete in all aspects, would pop into his head, including how to stir it and what sort of rod or ladle to use. He chuckled grimly at the thought.

When he'd first shown an aptitude for potions brewing, his teacher and the newly appointed Headmaster Dumbledore had been impressed enough to send a note home. His father had written back to tell them both that no son of his was going to be mucking about with smelly brews. Why wasn't Severus being encouraged to excel at charms and hexes? To Severus he had written:

You useless piece of excreta! Practice your wand work! You are pathetically inept at anything a real Pureblood Heir is accomplished at. You will cease to participate in potions and learn to use a wand like any other wizard or you are no son of mine. It only takes a stroke of the pen to disinherit you. I would take a great and abiding delight in doing so. You are a failure and a disappointment. You failed to meet your Grandmother's expectations and you have failed to meet mine. Do not fail again. Or do not come home!

Yes, Severus remembered that missive word for word and he had penned a careful reply.

Dear Sir, I am sorry certain aspects of my curriculum distress you. I will, of course, do my best to fail the subject but as it is very elementary, I may pass inadvertently. I hope you will understand the circumstance, if this is so.

Oh yes, an apology was Severus' reply, on parchment treated with a slow acting and cumulative potion that was untraceable. Every letter, note or piece of correspondence between him and his father was equally treated until Thaddeus Snape finally died of a heart attack when whipping a servant just after Severus' seventeenth birthday.

A couple of uncles had tried to step in and take the reins of the Family from the despised heir. They were totally shocked and horrified when an unbowed and unbroken Severus strode into the Family Hall, his contempt and hatred for all his relatives palpable, a real presence in the Manor. He dismissed them with all the bile and poison he had accumulated over the years. Hating them, he told them that they were to vacate the family manor, his charity started and finished in his own pocket.

The Uncle who made protest was banished into the far wall with such force he broke his ribs. Even more horrifying, the boy had not bothered to take out his wand, using wandless magic to a degree no older Snape could match. Any thought of duelling for the Position was immediately squashed without a whimper.

Severus smiled as he put his handful of dried foliage into its assigned box. The spell of memory that rosemary cast had caught him in its clutch. Still savouring his victory over his relatives after years of abuse and ignorance, he closed up shop and went to bed.