He Said, He Said

II.

The power of perception had always been Daniel Deschamps strong suit, and right now Snape was hoping it was focused on his uncomfortable posture in the wooden seat beside the old, scratched, wooden desk next to him. Daniel was behind glass, in a separate room, talking animatedly with Chief Constable Blurty, and making a very good show of forgetting Snape had even arrived with him. There was a familiar scratching sound at his right, and he glanced sidelong at the large woman who was filing her chipped red nails as though they were made of granite slabs. She was loudly chewing gum, an effect which made parts of her face oddly crack. There were lines of beige beneath her heavily kholed eyes, which made her look as though her face had been plastered.

"Sae, you're Danny Boy's new fling?" she asked him, her cockney accent so thick Snape could barely decipher the words. She made Hagrid look like a master linguist. "Yeah, I guess yer'll do, 'sidderin' you fixed yerself a right fuck up, wha?" She dropped her nail file onto her desk and leaned closer to Snape, an overpowering scent of cheap aloe nearly making him gag. "Yer a bit of an oddity, rayt enou', but yer nuttin' at all compared to that stalkin' bastard 'e 'ad 'afore. Some Monaco slut, I think. Or was 'e Asian? Can't rightly remember 'im, but then, I might 'ave 'im confused with about ten or so other's jus' like 'im that Danny Boy wanders around with. 'E's got something new on the go once a week, 'e does. At least that's my impression. Still, we alls gots to love the guy, rayt? 'E's got that kinda personality--like a serial killer withou' the killin', jus' karysmatick, yew know?"

Snape wasn't so sure he *did* want to know.

Of course it was unsettling to think that Daniel had a new 'friend' every week, and certainly the ease with which everyone here at his old precinct accepted Snape only added to that suspicion. He narrowed his small black eyes at Daniel, wondering just how much trouble he would get into, really, if he took out his wand and turned him into the dog he was.

"So wot are ye then?" the dark eyed hag at the desk asked him. "You one of dem wicca freaks? Can't see the point meself, too much fooking howdy doo, if you ask me. None of that dancing in the moon, mooning the world withou' my knickers, no sir." She let out a rheumy laugh, "That would send most of 'em scrambling for a proper priest, I dare reckon!" She suddenly became serious as she got a good look at Snape's robes. "Here, you ain't some priest, are ye? Well, fuck a duck, I's never thought o' tha'! Cause if so, I's reckon poor Danny Boy's got a lot to answer for in the confession booth. Now that I looks at ya, I imagine I done ya wrong talking about Danny Boy's trash. Dinna mean nae disrespect, father..."

Snape gave the glass 'office' a panicked glare. He self consciously put his hand on his wand, fighting the urge to use it. The trouble at the station had been neatly smoothed over when Daniel had politely told the conductor that Snape was some 'patient' on a day pass, whatever that meant. He sulked a little in his chair, the drone of the nail file echoing through the large area filled with empty desks. There were two detectives looking through papers at a file cabinet on the other end of the room. One was old and fat and the other rail thin. They cast suspicious looks at Snape every now and then, but it was hard to tell if it was because they didn't like the look of him, or it was the force of habit from their job.

He didn't want to think about the incident at the station, even though it did keep brewing up in his mind, bothering him. He still couldn't understand all the fuss that was made. So what if he didn't have a proper'ticket'? The one he had given the collector was much more interesting than their drab examples, he'd given one with a train on it actually moving across the paper instead of just a series of numbers on a dull orange background. Who wouldn't want a ticket like that? Then there was all that fuss over him complaining over the smell of that pimply teenager's 'chips'. He had every right to retaliate, they had been insufferably rude. He'd also suspected they were theives and told them so. Poor Tommy Hilfinger, whoever he was, having his ragged clothes stolen from him. It was vile the way Muggles just turned their heads at such an obvious crime. They couldn't *both* be Tommy Hilfinger, could they, not when Tommy Hilfinger was obviously the poor, skinny man in the huge picture on the wall of the station platform. Bastards, stealing from a person who obviously had so little in life. No, Daniel was wrong, a few nights in Azkaban *would* have done the little rats a world of good.

Oh no, but Daniel made him bring them back, as well as turn them into human beings again. Pity. They'd run off and complained to the train security and as a result they were delayed for over an hour while the whole mess was puzzled together.

"...I's had enou' of them biznissmen, I can tells you tha'. Give me a rough up punter anyday, they dun have that weird streak in 'em. Wantin' me tae do *that* wi' a garden gnome, I mean, come on...!"

Snape shuddered.

He watched as Daniel took the vial out of his side pocket and held it up to the light, saying something to Blurty, who also peered up at the small glass tube. Snape hadn't found any magical properties to it at all, but there was something about it that unsettled him. He knew after his many years of working as a spy during Voldemort's uprising that it was wise to pay attention to his instincts. He frowned as Daniel pocketed the vial, in a place far too close to his heart for Snape's liking. Right now, his instincts were screaming that they get back to Hogwarts, and put that vial into a much safer and more secure environment.

The door to the glass office was finally opened, and both Blurty and Daniel spilled out of it. Daniel was still talking to Blurty as he approached Snape. "We'll see if radiating it does anything. Doesn't sound very healthy, I have to tell you that." He cast a warm smile at Snape, "I see Lucy's been keeping you company. What are you in for today, Lucy?"

Lucy was still filing her nails. "Whorin'." She nodded at the two detectives at the other end of room, still at the file cabinet. "Waitin' for those two tae git me fine papers so I's can go. Been havin' a nice chat with the father here, in the meantime."

"Yes," Daniel said, giving Snape a wholly sympathetic look. "He looks grey enough for that to be true." He sighed, and took out the vial from his side pocket. Snape immediately thought he was being far too easy with the substance, constantly taking it out and hiding it, as though it was mesmerizing him. Daniel held it in front of Lucy. "Have you seen anything like this on the streets lately, Lucy dear?"

The liquid turned to powder, and then smoke and then liquid again as Daniel waved it before her. Lucy frowned as she looked at it, her make-up caking. "I dun think so. Why? Is it any good?"

Daniel gave her a wan smile, and pocketed the vial again. "Don't touch it," he warned her. "It killed the pusher."

***
They took a taxi back to a hotel, since Daniel didn't want a repeat of their train troubles. Snape found the entire process more exhausting than interesting, and nearly said as much by absently turning the cab driver's hair different colours without him noticing.

"Quit it," Daniel said. "You aren't supposed to be using magic in the Muggle world anyway, it's against Hogwarts rules."

"The rules are different for the teachers, Daniel," Snape said.

Daniel sank further into his seat as Snape purposefully turned the cab driver's hair a brilliant yellow/green. "I guess some things will never change," Daniel said. He shrugged and scratched the back of his head when the cabbie's hair coloured turned to flaming orange. "Listen, I'm going to drop you off, all right? Do you think you can get into our room at the hotel properly?"

"Of course I can!" Snape angrily replied. He turned the cab driver's hair colour back to its original electric blue and pocketed his wand.

Daniel's expression indicated he didn't have much faith in this retort. "You go to the front desk, you tell them you have a reservation and you are 'S.Snape'. You pick up a key..."

"Yes, yes, yes," Snape said, waving him off. "It's a simple process, a child could understand it." He glanced out the window of the cab, thinking quickly that London was a rather dirty looking place of huge, black buildings and garish yellow lights. It looked worse at night, a kind of oily feel to the air, full of a dampness similar to his dungeon office. No wonder Daniel had no issue with having his classroom there, it had all the discomfort of home. Drops of rain were beginning to descend and Snape looked unhappily out into the gloom. "What's so pressing that you need to go out?" Snape asked. "Where are you going?"

The real question of course, was 'who' was he going to, especially after that disconcerting conversation with Lucy. Daniel remained quiet, looking out his own window, his hand propped under his chin, dark blue eyes absorbed in the scene on the other side of the glass. "I'd damn near forgotten how much of a depressing hovel London can be," he said. "Especially the places I have to visit."

He didn't clarify at all what he meant by that, and Snape instinctively knew not to press him on it. He kept wary eyes on Daniel's form beside him, hoping to possibly ferret out some information with carefully placed silence. But Daniel was far too inward right now, and whatever he was holding, it was with an iron stubbornness that Snape would not yet be able to penetrate. The taxicab pulled up in front of a tall, Victorian styled hotel, a valet immediately taking Daniel's suitcase and staggering up the steps with it. The rain was falling more fiercely now. Snape stood beneath the drops, his hair getting wet. He turned to watch the cab leave, his expression stern as Daniel left with it. Fine. Let him have his stupid Muggle secrets--Severus Snape was a wizard who knew how to get information out of a man, no matter how much he tried to hide.

Black hair dripping, he walked into the lobby of the hotel, which was fairly busy with Muggle activity. A couple of old ladies were together in the central sitting area, sipping at cups of tea. Various men were scattered about reading newspapers, one or two foreign sounding accents punctuating the air. He walked up to the front desk, and was about to ask for his room key, when he stopped.

An involuntary shudder ran through him, his dark eyes narrowing in recognition.

There was no mistaking it. There was another wizard here, in this lobby. He cast a sweeping glance through the room, searching past the newspapers that hid the Muggles beneath them. The feeling was more pronounced in the far right corner, and he followed it, the shadows of the area pronounced, a rather sickly looking fern attempting to live within it. The sensation shifted as he approached, and he cast his gaze around the room again, this time finding a rather simple looking Muggle in a suit with his back turned to him. The Muggle folded his paper quickly and hurried away. He had a bowler hat on, but beneath it was long, black hair, and Snape caught just the barest outline of a profile within the shadows, an unmistakably dark brow. He followed him, and marched directly out the front hotel doors after him, and then onto the sidewalk where the rain was now billowing down in a torrent. It soaked him to the skin almost immediately. He walked a few paces, only to end up turning back when he couldn't make out anything further down the street other than the yellow, eerie glow of old lamplights. He had lost him.

Not that it mattered. He knew who he'd seen. He shook his wet hands and the sleeve of his drenched robe as he re-entered the lobby, the old ladies now paused from enjoying their cups of tea as they stared at him with nervous, shocked glances. He rung out the ends of his sleeves, leaving a long trail of water on the red carpet. The hotel concierge behind the front desk raised a thin, disapproving brow at him.

"Sirius Black," Snape muttered.

***
He was pacing the room like the carpet had something against him, small black eyes flashing with serpent anger. His fists pounded his sides as he paced, his thin mouth assuring Daniel in no uncertain terms how those who hadn't heeded his warnings were about to reap what they sowed.

Daniel yawned. He was sprawled on his back on the bed, still fully clothed right down to his black shoes, which were now resting muckily on the pillows on the other side of the bed. His head hung off the edge of the mattress, his bangs defying gravity as he looked through them at Snape. "Are you really so sure it was Sirius?" he asked. "He wasn't dressed like him all that much, was he?"

"Who cares what he was wearing, I know that profile anywhere!" Snape spat at him. He had magicked his robes dry, but Daniel was still wearing damp gear, and not all looking as though it bothered him. Snape glared at him, accusing. "He didn't check in under his old name, however. There was a bit of confusion when I went to get the key...At first they weren't going to let me in, they thought I was a 'street person'." He frowned. "That's not what that Lucy person was, right?"

"Oh, no," Daniel said, biting back a smile at Snape's expense.

"Where were you, anyway?" Snape asked. He stopped his pacing just long enough to get a good look at the portrait of Queen Victoria on the wall. She didn't move or acknowledge him once, a fact that was *most* unsettling.

"Hanging about with street people," Daniel said, yawning again. "I had to ask around some old haunts as to whether or not anyone had heard of our favourite poison." He took it out of his pocket, and played with it beneath the lamplight. Snape had to fight to keep from snatching it from him once and for all.

Instead, he settled for nagging. "Stop playing with that thing, who knows what it can do."

Daniel gave him a smirking smile. "Haven't you been paying attention? We already know it can kill."

He kept the vial in his grip, clearly getting a perverse sense of joy out of Snape's discomfort. Snape made a disgusted face at him and turned away, and it was only then that Daniel put the vial away in his jacket for the remainder of the evening. He clasped his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, a spider slowly making her way across it to a dark shadowed corner. He glanced from the arachnid to Snape, who had stopped pacing but who, barely perceptible, shuddered for a moment.

"I don't think that fellow was Sirius Black," Daniel said to him. Dark blue eyes melted into the shadowed gloom of their room, casting more cold than warmth. "Although...I don't think you're wrong in believing it was a wizard."

"Of course I'm not wrong!" Snape nearly shouted at him. "I think the rain has frozen most of your mind."

Daniel quietly laughed. "I showed the vial to one of the street guys I know well. He's got a bone disease now, just one fall and he'll break his legs, that kind of thing. That's what heroin does, eats away the bone tissue." His eyes were on the ceiling, every now and then finding that female spider in her corner, and watching as she spun her deadly web. "I showed it to him, and he says to me 'It's full of orgasms!' "

Snape didn't get the joke. "Organisms," he corrected Daniel.

Daniel gave him a crooked grin. "I like orgasms better."

"Muggle pig," Snape said to him, and sulked.

"If it's what I think it might be," Daniel said, "he won't be all that wrong, at least not in his perceptions."

Their room was dark, a heavy dampness permeating it through the still steady fall of rain outside the narrow window. It was so plain here, Snape thought, the portraits of the walls uncaring, the lamps cheerless even when they were turned on, the walls and aura of the room cured of any sentiment. Unhappiness was a way of life for Muggles, by the look of things. If this was what that brat Potter and his friend Hermione Granger had to suffer through every summer, perhaps he could even find room for pity for them.

"We go to the lab tomorrow, it's not too long a drive," Daniel said around a yawn. He gave Snape a vicious wink. "You'll get to find out what *serious* science is all about."

Daniel was a lucky man. Snape might not be able to take a joke, but he did know constraint--which he exercised now, when all he really, really wanted to do was turn Daniel into a beetle and enjoy the satisfying crunch of his body under Snape's heel.

"I don't know why I talk to you," Snape said through clenched teeth.

Daniel outright grinned. He shrugged his shoulder, scratched the back of his head.

"Because some things are just better than conversation," he said, and grinned even wider.