Take The First Step

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all of its many characters are not mine, they belong to JKR. The only one who is mine is Cerise. Please leave reviews after reading this story. I do like to improve my work, and by hearing other people's opinions my work improves and becomes more enjoyable for everyone else. All flames will be obliterated by my secret weapon... Moody's Magical Eye @--^. And thanks have to go to sevcrucio for being my beta-reader and editor, keeping my lax grammar in check.

Summary: What did Severus get up to after the fall of Voldemort? A job at Hogwarts, annoying poltergeists, family secrets and stupid students are all in a day's work for the disgruntled former spy.

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Take The First Step

Chapter One: Overture

By Slytherin's Silver Snake, Beta-Read and Edited by sevcrucio

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The Ministry of Magic was the so-called upholder of justice and order. Sworn to uphold magical law and the wizarding way, only to be thought of as a total farce by certain elements of the population. The system that mechanised it came only in three colours; red, blue and yellow. Those who were green had experienced prejudice at the same time they were spouting it, very few noticing the hypocrisy.

Many of the House of the Serpent were cunning enough, as they should be, to find work in a prejudiced market, but they had been unwilling to stomach the rampant prejudice of muggle-loving fools such as Albus Dumbledore. They had taken a darker path, following the one known as the Dark Lord, including the one who was seated, bound to a chair by enchanted ropes.

Oh how he remembered it well. Potter the Rotter, Dumbledore's golden boy who could never do wrong. They were as different as night and day, red and green. His fingers clenched tighter against their restraints, a warm pain coming from his knuckles. Slytherin life seemed to matter little to the Headmaster, his life worth even less than that. What comparison could be made between his life and that of a monster like Lupin? Slytherin, the one place where he had felt some sense of belonging, was treated poorly. That day in his fifth year was a vivid reminder of such prejudice. Bully a Gryffindor, a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff and most of the staff would come down upon you like a ton of Erumpets. Bully a Slytherin; go ahead, children are children after all.

What a pathetic excuse! He thought angrily, pushing his unworthy inquisitors to the back of his mind. Neither of the two were Slytherin, they could not understand the pressures people of that House had to face. To be honest, he expected the past Gryffindors to prove their bias as soon as they opened their mouths. Well, the Headmaster might not do so, but the old Auror sure would.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, bullying. He was well aware that he had been the oddball, ridiculed by his enemies for being more interested in his books than Quidditch or the opposite sex. They were fools, every teenager once they reached a certain age started to develop other hormone-driven interests. He was not totally immune; all he could do was to control his emotions. Emotions were a weakness that others took advantage off. In fact, emotions were a favoured weapon of the Dark Lord. An Occlumens such as himself found this easier than others, though he wondered what kind of people would imprison a man who had barely had enough time to see his newborn son.

There was also the whole messy matter as regards to the Shrieking Shack. Loony Lupin the werewolf, Potter the Rotter, Black the Twat and Pettigrew the Pathetic. Just the thought of it made his blood boil! Here, have some points and an award for attempting to kill your fellow student. As for you, keep your mouth shut, or else. What nerve!

Calm. Remain calm, Severus. Losing your rag, though you are in the right, will not help your case, will it? he thought, breathing deeply, closing off his mind to any snooping the Headmaster might do. He would get through this and prove them all wrong. Lucius may have had the money, charm and connections to keep his public reputation intact, but he would solve this problem using his greatest weapon - his intellect. No one made a fool out of him, and the Ministry was no exception. Were they not grateful enough for him turning spy, that they had to question him even further?

"Severus, I cannot help you if you are unwilling to talk," said a quiet voice, full of pity. How he hated that. He needed nobody's pity, or his or her concern. Looking upwards, he found himself gazing into the blue eyes of his old Headmaster and one-time enemy, Albus Dumbledore.

His lips remained sealed. Albus was still looking at him, eyes full of so-called concern for his welfare. Why could he not stop gazing at him like that? He sealed himself away even more. Those eyes may have been a different colour, but they were also the same. They both shared the ability to delve into the depths of a person's mind. Both of them were Occlumens of the highest order, though he had been born with the talent, developing it early on in his childhood. One could see it in his black eyes. Nobody would find out his thoughts unless he wanted them to. Mind you, even he had to admit that the old man was no fool. He took the bull by the horns and gazed once more into those blue eyes.

"I may have aided you, at great personal expense to myself and those around me, but what on earth makes you believe that I wish to talk?" he reciprocated disdainfully, his lips curling into a sneer. "Why would I converse with a man who so obviously displays both tolerance and prejudice in equal measures? You say you are concerned for me, yet you have already shown me exactly how much you value my life."

"You watch your mouth, filth!" a second voice, somewhat gruffer, growled from the corner of the oppressive dingy room they were all in. Normally, he would have rolled his eyes at such behaviour and made a caustic remark about the man's parentage. However, that would not have been a good move to make. The Auror was wand-happy, whereas he had no wand at all. The thing had been confiscated at the moment of his arrest. Mind you, who ever listened to his opinion, especially where Dumbledore's Golden Gryffindors were concerned? That lesson had been rammed down his throat often enough.

The old Auror was still glaring at him, aged eyes embedded in an equally grizzled face. Really, the fool needed to change his robes. Those disgusting things were battered and filthy. He had a quick glance at the famed Auror, Alastor Moody, before returning to the more important matter. The sooner he was out of here, the better. Still, that nagging child's voice just would not agree.

Blah, Blah, Blah. He already knew that what he had done was considered unforgivable, officials often saying that he should have been given to the Dementors and had his soul sucked dry. He cared, just not that much. What was in the past was exactly that, in the past. No sense in beating himself up over dead wood. That annoying voice was always there, telling him that he should think differently.

Remember that you are not the only one you should be looking out for Severus. People have risked their life and reputation for you, while getting themselves in trouble. The least you can do is recognise their sacrifice. He could see an image of himself as a fresh-faced student, imploring his older and wiser self. He had been so naïve. Even then he had experienced more than what was necessary for a boy his age. But why did it now bother him so much?

He could feel Dumbledore's pain as the old wizard sighed. Getting him to open up was not going to be easy, especially with what the Ministry intended to do if he did not comply.

His black eyes blinked, realising that he had just gotten into the mind of the most powerful wizard alive. Had he done it by himself, or had Dumbledore allowed it to happen?

"Severus, I am afraid that it is my unfortunate duty to inform you that if you do not answer these questions the Ministry requires..." Dumbledore started to say softly, rubbing his face. Oh, poor Headmaster. Was he feeling tired? Maybe he should spend some time in here and see how he liked it. Oh... he was still talking. "Barthemius Crouch has given the Department permission to use more stringent measures."

Measures? He stiffened in his chair. What measures? He would have been rattling his fingers on the old oak table, if he were not bound and tied like some wild animal. The matter of possible measures had piqued his interest.

"What sort of measures?" he asked suspiciously, all the while remaining aware of the other occupant of the room. There was no love lost between them, which suited him just fine. Why should he care about someone who adhered to an age-old hypocrisy?

After the things the Headmaster has done for you, you treat him like this... You owe him your life! Show some gratitude! -- Fine, whatever. Just shut up! That annoying childish voice still had not shut itself up. He yawned. This waiting was getting on his nerves. When was Albus going to answer his question? The feeling in his stomach was getting worse with each passing second. The old wizard had paused for several seconds, no doubt thinking about the words he was going to say. Gods, could he not hurry up?

Albus then looked at him. "The ministry has decided that, should you be unwilling to co-operate with their enquiries, they will have to question someone else who may have known what you were doing. You will be thrown into Azkaban until their enquiries have finished and be disallowed visitors until they have finished cross-examining Cerise."

He remained silent. The Ministry was seriously thinking of bringing Cerise into this? He should have expected as much. The Ministry had been at war with the Dark Lord and his followers. It was fairly obvious that they were willing to go as low as their opponents and drag whole families into this sorry mess. Normally, he would not have cared about what happened to others, but he knew that he could trust this one person. Was it love? Perhaps, he may have married the woman (no-one else had looked interested), but he also had trouble expressing his feelings after what he had been through. Wearing his heart on his sleeve had only lead to heartache, and he was unwilling to show any weakness that could put him back in that position. A more fitting term, ones that he liked, would be 'Mutual Respect' or 'Requited Sentiments'. Anything but the L-Word.

"They should bring her in anyway. The whole lot of the Corvus family is rotten apples. No, sorry, were rotten apples," Moody grinned toothily at him, knowing full well what he meant, having led the team that had captured Zelus and Avara. The old Auror had no idea at all what it was like to go against one's House. "I always knew that - "

" - You know nothing! Do not talk about that which you do not understand" he snapped, snorting derisively at the comment the Auror had made. Ever since turning spy for the Order there had been certain elements that had doubted his intentions. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. The only way out was death. The Dark Lord could own him physically, but not mentally. Especially with him being a Master of Occlumency.

Moody glared at him once more. "What I do know is that filth like the two of you should be rotting in Azkaban for a long time. Once a Dark Wizard, always a Dark Wizard. Corvus knew full well what she was doing when she associated with a Death Eater like you. You're nothing but scum, even if you did aid Albus. No, you are worse. You're a traitorous piece of scum."

What hurt him the most is that he knew Moody was right, whilst at the same time he wanted to put his fist through the man's face. He would never admit it to Cerise, unless pressed to do so, but he did care for her, like she cared for him. Unlike his father, she never expressed her disappointment in him. She loved him, and she had also been willing - foolish girl - to put herself in the firing line by associating with him and his friends. After that bad memory of the Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L in his Fifth Year, things had taken a subtle change for the better. Only slowly, but they had changed. She and Evan Rozier, along with other Slytherins, had turned up before James could... well, do the worst. He had never seen Cerise look so angry. The quiet ones were always the worst. Potter and Black had looked amusing, hanging off one of the spires of a window by his pants. Then they had fallen over seven meters to the floor. Slytherins, after all, did have a macabre sense of humour. Attack one, and you attacked the whole House.

He did not show it to his two inquisitors, but he was rattled. The Ministry was planning to separate him from the one of the things he well and truly deserved. His resolve steeled, going ice cold. Albus could sense this, him allowing the old wizard to probe the edges of his mind. Good, the old man might understand how he was feeling this time. No one would separate him from Cerise and Vafra, not unless they valued their life. He had foolishly made the mistake of confessing to Albus, reverting back to the sniveling child he had been and admitting to his crimes. All of this, including his tears, had served a purpose. Many of his compatriots were dead or imprisoned, and they did say that a snake would go to any lengths to protect its family. He was just willing to go farther than others, especially after what had happened to both his and Cerise's parents.

"You know nothing," he repeated quietly. "Your obvious bias towards our House is making you tar her with the same brush you use for everyone of us. She was well qualified to join the Death Eaters, but decided not to do so. Besides, you have not experience the kind of understanding intimacy brings, have you? Fear, Joy and Happiness. Everything is laid bare, in most cases." His lips curved into a sly smile. Some things always remained private.

How pathetic. He was acting like the champion of the downtrodden. Still, Albus did have a point. The Headmaster needed him to talk to the Ministry and he desired to get back home, where he could retire in peace, away from prying eyes. He looked at Albus. "Very well, I shall begin."

~~~

Thankfully, Albus had kept his word. The old man had at last displayed some sort of spine. Thanks to Albus vouching for him, he had been spared the spectacle of a trial. Perhaps they could be friends after all... perhaps, being the operative word. Cerise would not have to testify against him and he could now walk away scott free. Funny... Somehow he felt empty, even though he should feel elated. He still had his freedom, his family and his friends. Yet the Dark Lord was still alive and Dumbledore had now repaid his debt. Now he had to explain to Lucius why he had decided to remain with the Headmaster, and the Dark Lord too, once he eventually returned.

He had it all worked out. Albus believed in him too much. He was actually feeding the man carefully selected information, all the time spying on him and the Order of the Phoenix for the Dark Lord, to whom he was also passing equally selective information. Dumbledore was planning on letting him teach at Hogwarts, though he would have to have some time to inform the other professors that he would be coming. The Headmaster had suggested that it was another method of making the Dark Lord believe his story. He would get close to the Slytherin children, pretending to educate them as future Death Eaters, when he would in fact subtly guide them off the path as best as he could.

Talking about his friends, two of them were waiting for him in the entrance to the Ministry. There was a chair nearby, but Lucius was casting it an aloof gaze, preferring to stand. He was wearing black velvet robes, etched with fine veins of silver woven into the sleeves, seams and collar. Over this was an equally expensive-looking matching black cape, fastened with two silver serpentine clasps, each inlaid with a green stone, perhaps emerald. He was also holding a black cane that held Lucius' black wand, the serpent's head handle carved from silver. This was what Evan Rozier had jokingly referred to as the 'Pimp Cane'. The allusion had raised an eyebrow on his face back then, though it was still somewhat amusing.

However amusing this might have been, his attention shifted to a woman standing several feet away, her chin resting on her fist as she studied him quietly. The sight was relieving, having spent a few weeks trapped inside this hypocritical hellhole. She was wearing a black cape that went over one shoulder and was pinned to the other with a small silver clasp, the material hanging loosely, ending just above the floor. Underneath this was a black robe with a high collar, but the robe sported dark green and blue etching instead of silver. The material he knew to be fur-lined linen, but Cerise had stated often enough that the Russian-styled robe was comfortable.

"You look abysmal, my dear friend," Lucius remarked, studying the shadows that appeared to hang around his eyes. The Malfoy Patriarch languidly gripped his black cane. Lucius just radiated power and prestige, both of which he knew his mother had long since stopped displaying. She had to have lost them if she allowed his father to treat her the way he did. In the start he had cared about this loss, but later he just lost all interest in his parents. If his father acted like an idiot and his mother was too afraid to defend herself, then they were both fools.

Why should he care anyway? Neither of them had ever shown any signs of loving him. He had buried himself in books about the Dark Arts that his older cousin lent him on the sly in return for certain favours, namely his adoration, information about his mother and his future support. He had often been left home alone, which proved to be a blessing in disguise. A quiet environment and all the books he could read was exactly what he loved. His cousin had also borrowed books from the Restricted Section when they were both in school, handing them over to him in exchange for his support in House matters, but there was little there he had not already learned.

"Since when have I cared about my appearance?" he replied snidely, earning an aloof stare in return. Things had always been like this between him and his cousin, each of them playfully playing against the other. They had been doing it ever since they were children. His parents were never that bothered about him, nor were they ever at home. His cousin had been the only one to show some concern, however falsified and self-serving. He would briefly stop for quick visits via the Floo Network once his parents were out. Lucius seemed to appreciate the fact that he told him what he thought of him, but he was also wise enough to let Lucius think that he was in charge.

Cerise quietly expressed her amusement. She looked fine, decorated in the black robes she had brought little more then a few months ago. The material was loose, allowing her to hide her figure. Her figure was already back to normal after Vafra's birth, though only because she had kept drinking Slimming Potions against all medical advice, including his own, preferring Narcissa's guidance. She may not have been as visually stunning as Narcissa, but she had her own charm. Besides, she had a better intellect than the woman who was now a Malfoy, though Narcissa was no fool.

"No, I suppose you never did," she said quietly, immediately falling silent as she noticed the scowl on his face. She then murmured some sort of hastened apology, hoping to appease his limited temper. To be honest, he did not care. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep for the next two days in a nice warm comfortable bed.

He pulled his robes across his chest, folding his arms and depositing the ebony wand he had been given once he had been let free inside a holster in his robes, the three of them walking outside the Ministry and into the fresh air. Albus' offer had intrigued him. Lucius would deride it, as he considered teaching to be a position below his social standing. Still, his cousin appreciated the fact of a good education, as long as they were not forced to mix with mudbloods. Albus had said he would try and find a house for him in Hogsmeade, one that he could go to at the weekends. No one could Apparate into or out of the school, and the only Floo Network was a link to the Ministry in Albus' office.

Originally, he had thought of selling his large house and all of its bad memories. Then he had realized what a foolish move that would be. The house was exactly that, magic, bricks and mortar. All of his memories could be alleviated by other methods, Occlumency being one. He had heard rumours Dumbledore had a pensive. Perhaps he could convince Albus to lend it to him. His parents' leftovers could be removed, and he could get the House-Elf to rearrange the rooms to his liking. The secret chambers downstairs were perfect for his experiments. What's more, the library was now his. He could not help rubbing his hands in glee, even though he had already perused all of its contents.

Potter would be furious, if he were still alive. His smile grew even more frightening. The ideological fool had always disparaged him for his favourite hobby. He was not nearly as brave the first time he had cursed him, crying like a baby because of his fear of insects. Just because he was not a star quidditch player they deemed him a worthy target. Feh! Why should he care about what Potter had thought of him? The boy was nothing better than something that belonged on the bottom of his shoes, which was exactly how James had treated him.

The errors in his first flying lesson were Potter's fault. He had cursed his broom in retaliation for the earlier curse. He was actually a very good flyer, because how else would have he made it onto the Slytherin team as a Chaser in his sixth year, or qualified a Ministry test to be a referee? He remembered it well, the sound of Potter's ribs being broken. James had teased him before the match, so he had conveniently bribed Cerise, who was becoming a good Artificer (and fellow Chaser), to tamper with a Bludger. They still don't know who did it, even though Potter had sworn it was him.

Looking up at the sky, he realised that Lucius and Cerise had stopped, waiting for him to catch up. Could they not understand that he wanted some peace and quiet? Cerise would, but Lucius was another story. So many of the old gang had been killed or dumped in Azkaban, such as the Lestranges. Lucius loved the sound his own voice, always looking for an appreciative audience for his eloquent speeches. At least they were not boring. His cousin really was a master politician.

"Well then, I believe that I shall take my leave," Lucius said abruptly, resting on his cane. "I can see that you are not up for a spot of breakfast; it's quite a shame. Besides, I think that the two of you wish to be left alone."

With that, Lucius apparated away, before he had a chance to reply. He knew that Lucius had been prepared to convince the Ministry to keep him out of Azkaban, but he was grateful it had not come to that. Any help from a Malfoy came at a price.

Finally... One down and one to go. No, two to go, he cursed silently. He had forgotten about Vafra. He had not seen him, which led him to believe that Cerise had briefly left him in the care of her House-Elf, Windy. Hmm... Trust Lucius or trust Albus? That was a very tough question. Any person could take advantage, no matter their age. Even back in school it had been done.

How dare he do me the injustice of dying! he thought angrily. James Potter had yet again bested him and escaped his judgement. Now he would never hear an apology, though it was too late for one. Potter fully deserved what had happened to him, in his opinion. Cell it poetic justice. Still, it was a shame Lily had passed on. He shook his head. She may have defended him that one time, but what about all the other times? She was like a brave version of Lupin. One Marauder down, three to go. It was his life's crusade to make them pay.

"Severus, are you feeling alright? Do you wish to sit down?" Cerise asked, her soft voice slightly concerned as he held a hand to his forehead, adjusting to the sunlight and the space freedom brought. She may not have been able to stop what was going on, but she had most certainly made her feelings known. She shared an attribute with Lucius. She was an eloquent speaker when she wanted to be. That time she had been visibly angry... Who would have thought someone such as himself could ruffle the raven's feathers? Such fidelity was a hard thing to find.

She had consciously chosen to be with him, disproving Black's theory that he had used the Imperius Curse to snag himself a girlfriend. The dynamics of his personality made such an intimate relationship difficult, but Cerise had belt with it as best as she could. Intractable and impenetrable, his young whiny self remained safely in the shadows. He may have banished his tendency to cry at everything that happened to him, but his temper usually got the better of him, exploding at a moments notice. He loved secrets; it had been fascinating to prod and probe Cerise for her secrets. Occlumency was indeed useful, but he never used it to cheat in his exams. Why would he, when he could easily pass with flying colours? That still irked him. He had graduated from Hogwarts as the Valedictorian because he scooped all the highest marks in the graduating class, yet Potter got more attention from most of the non-Slytherin staff because of some stupid award. Services to the School or some rubbish like that.

He shook his head, answering Cerise's question. He remembered her indignity at finishing just below Black and Potter, coming Fifth. He glided over to where she was standing by a window, displaying moving displays of the latest witch fashions. He snorted. Green and yellow did not mix, no matter what some overpaid fop at the Daily Prophet thought. Speaking of fops, he wondered what Lockhart was doing. No doubt bluffing his way around somewhere. Lockhart had been in the year below him. How on earth had a pretentious waste like him been sorted into Slytherin?

"All I want is... as I have iterated so many times already... is to go home and get... some sleep. We can talk in the morning," he yawned, Disapparating away, leaving Cerise to follow him.

~~~

A few days after his return home he had stalked off upstairs before Cerise could dump Vafra on his lap, as she so tended to do when she believed he was not pulling his weight. His own House-Elf, Fletcher was packing away the items that he wanted to take with him to Hogwarts. Whilst he was drinking from a shot glass, boxes were being filled with books about Potions and academic periodicals, as well as books on the Dark Arts that would have had Dumbledore complaining, if he ever saw them, that is.

Cerise had slinked off somewhere, perhaps to have a bath. He could remember the sound of running water, though not the exact words that she had said. He was languishing in an antique chair in front of a moonlit window. His slender fingers ran over the carved wooden serpents that served as arms. Dumbledore had indeed kept his word. What's more, the teaching position was now his and he had even had the chance to decide on what he desired to teach. Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was pleased, not many people would be willing to hire someone with his reputation. Besides, educating the minds of the future seemed to interest him. Lucius was already enquiring about him teaching the Dark Arts to Draco once the boy was old enough to attend Hogwarts.

Lucius had taken the news about the position at Hogwarts better than Cerise, enquiring why he was working with a bunch of muggle-lovers who had played a part in the downfall of their cause. Once his cousin had heard his supposed reasons, he had quieted down, though still expressing his disapproval. There was an agreement that it was best to have someone in there to keep an eye on things for the Dark Lord, if he returned, and to make sure Slytherins interests were upheld. Lucius sat on the board of governors but had promised to keep out of his way.

Cerise had been apoplectic. They had had an argument about the usual things. One of the things he remembered was that she shouted, "You leave a pregnant woman to go and spy for Dumbledore?" and then not talked for him for several days, during which he had packed anyway. Still, Cerise had seen sense. She had been quite like a Slytherin, actually. He was never going to change his mind, so she was trying to control things to go the way she wanted them. She had quieted once she had heard about Albus finding a house in Hogsmeade, mumbling as she reluctantly started to pack her own things.

He deposited his glass on the windowsill that was down and to his right, running a hand over his face. Peering through slits he could see a large antique wardrobe at the other end of the darkened room. He remembered it well, secreting himself away in there when he was young, trying to find someplace that the rows could not reach him. A veritable escape from reality, complete with a black security blanket with which he used to cry himself to sleep, still inside the wardrobe. How he had ever allowed himself to be so weak he did not know.

Still, there was still a question that needed answering. Defense Against the Dark Arts or Potions? He was pleased with the latter, his unmatched skill finally being recognized. He was already pleased with being the next Head of Slytherin, and at such a young age too; it was only fitting that a Slytherin should lead that most ancient and noble of houses. However, what he had truly desired was the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. What did a person on that side know about the dark?

He scowled, grabbing the glass and finishing it before throwing it to the far end of the room. The delicate glass smashed on impact, falling to the floor. He had already talked about it with Albus. The job was not his. In fact, he had been denied it. He had said that he would like to teach it, but Albus had claimed it could bring out the worst in him. Teach potions and see how he gets along? He could always apply next year; anyone else Albus hired would run once they saw his displeasure. Oh yes, he would most certainly make sure a rumour was created, one that the position was jinxed. That may take some time, but the job would be his.

Another thing; the Headmaster had put his trust in him, but refused him this chance. Albus wanted to be his friend, he could tell, but some wounds would never heal. Had Albus been there for him after that werewolf had almost bitten his head off? No, he had not. Yet he had been there for him little more than a year ago, ever since he had...

" - Severus. Are you going to come to bed, or will I have to come over there and sleep on your lap instead? I doubt it would be comfortable," Cerise called from his left, cutting him off from his train of thought. Normally, he would have shrugged off her suggestion and told her he would come when he was ready. Still, he did feel tired. Anyway, she did not answer him back on petty things such as sleeping hours.

Cerise was standing just inside the room. The door still hung open behind her. Cerise could be silent when she wanted to be; it was quite annoying, actually. He liked the way she seemed like a breath of fresh air, much like the forest where she used to live. She was looking at him impassively with those amber eyes, dressed in a black nightgown, a cedar wand shoved into the belt.

He blinked as she fully entered the room, the door snapping shut behind her. He had barely noticed the way her arms were positioned, or the mass of black fabric that was being cradled. There was no way he could prevent it- he smiled at the thought of his son. He was definitely proud of the boy, and he would be even more so once Vafra and Draco grew older and taught that offspring of James a thing or two. The Marauders would be turning in their graves. Oh, one already was! He had heard how Harry was being shipped off to the Dursleys. His son would have everything, whereas Harry would have nothing. He had heard about that family; it was hard to believe that Petunia was related to Lily.

The smile dropped from his face as he rose from his chair, proving that he could indeed peel himself away from a place of study. He had nearly forgot his own lesson about weakness. Still, he could show a little of himself around Cerise. She had proven herself in his eyes, unlike many he had encountered. He could be friendly with Lucius, but was well aware that his cousin would stoop to exploit him, which was why he was more on his guard now that he was an adult.

He strode across the room to Cerise, who was gently stroking something hidden amongst the black material. Vafra, he had not seen him for just under a month. He stood behind Cerise, peering down over her shoulder and into the black material. A diminutive face, sallow in colour, was sleeping peacefully. Vafra's black eyes were closed, looking adoringly cute in repose. One obvious feature had not been passed onto his son, as Lucius had kindly pointed out to him many times before. In place of the infamous Snape nose was an elegant curve, inherited from his mother's side of the family. He reached around Cerise with his arms, curiously gently prodding the material with a single finger before running it over the boy's head.

"Do you think he looks like me? Even a little bit?" he asked, secretly interested in the little being in front of him. A feathery brow of black hair poked out from a hood of equally dark fabric. The same hair as Cerise. Speaking of Cerise, she sounded amused.

"Oh most defiantly. He may have my hair and nose, but he takes after his father, don't you?" she cooed gently, stroking under the boy's nose. He scoffed sarcastically. What was it that made most women go all gooey when they saw a baby? Their hormones?

Yes, Vafra did sort of resemble him. He reminded himself of how frail he had been as a child. Still, that young child had been in possession of some very sharp teeth. The boy's development would prove to be most interesting. He unfolded his arms, returning them to his side. Cerise then asked him if he wanted to hold Vafra, but he refused, claiming that the boy was already comfortable where he was, and that he did not want the little thing to start bawling as soon as he woke up. Besides, he needed to get some sleep.

~~~

He could not believe this! Already he had only been at Hogwarts for a week and he was up in the Headmaster's Office, which was full of clutter. He had been accused of an aggressive action, when anyone who was not blind (there were very few) could see that he had acted in self-defense. Why would a frail boy such as himself attack a boy who could physically beat him to a pulp? The office was crowded; not only was he here, but so was Potter, Black, the Headmaster and Professors McGonagall and Mandrake, the male Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor being his Head of House.

Looking at the Headmaster, who patiently waited for an explanation of his behaviour, he sniffed. Tears had already started to trickle from his eyes, convalescing into a small stream.

"They attack me first! I was only acting in self-defense!" he protested, his tears now flowing fast and freely. "Do you just expect me to lie back and take it? You know full well what they did! Their barbaric attack was totally unfounded!"

McGonagall remained impassive. Mandrake was gazing through narrowed eyes at the Gryffindor boys, who were in turn, were glaring directly at him. They were such fools, playing with fire. He was well within his right to protect himself. A now-removed bruise under his right eye affirmed it. What a bunch of barbarians, to attack with their fists before using a wand.

"Us? Overboard? You're the one who lost it, Snape!" Black yelled. Why did everyone have to be so malicious to him? Of course, he had failed to mention the real reason for the little fracas that had occurred outside the Charms classroom. Lucius had seen them hanging outside and had slithered up to them, taking great delight in torturing some First Years who were now their enemy:

"Do you know what Snape said about you, Potter?" he had heard Lucius say, sidling up to where the two boys were hanging around in the corridor. "He said that you are a twisted little prick with the mental capacity of a toddler and the amazing talents of a legless rat." He had then joined his cousin, noticing the increasingly red faces of the two Gryffindors, one of whom, Black, was rolling up one of his sleeves.

"I heard your mother was imprisoned in Azkaban when they found out she had given birth to a child as ugly as you," he added, arriving at his cousin's side, joining in with this little game of Gryffindor-baiting that Lucius insisted he start to do as early as possible.

That black-haired girl, Cerise, had gone off to their common room in the dungeons. More tears ran from his face as Potter and his stupid friend protested to the Headmaster. Lucius had already warned him that Dumbledore was a muggle-loving fool who was biased against their House. Time to see if he was right.

James' face had a look of desperation. The Fear Curse he had used still seemed to have a small hold over the boy. He was brushing something imaginary off his robes. "You did not see what he did! (He told the Headmaster what he and Lucius had said). We were going to have words with him, but he used something called Expelliarmus that got rid of our wands. Then he attacked me with - attacked me with a curse, Peior Metus. He was trying to frighten me to death!"

The annoying Gryffindor's protest had seemed to have an effect on the staff. McGonagall had barely stopped herself from gasping. Dumbledore was looking at him differently, a serious look in his eyes. Professor Mandrake, however, was studying him with a morbid fascination. He then blinked. "Have I done something wrong?"

His voice, though quiet, still had that child-like quality. He could not understand why the three members of staff were looking at him in such a manner. How he wished he were downstairs with his cousin and other members of his own House. For some reason he had a feeling that Lucius was bragging the whole incident already to the rest of Slytherin.

"Ten points will be deducted from both Slytherin and Gryffindor for their vicious assaults on fellow students. I am... You two are free to go," he said, before Potter and Black had a chance to protest. The two boys glared at him before leaving the room, Potter still wiping whatever it was off his robes. He knew them to be insects, seeing as that was Potter's worst fear. What about him? Why could he not go? "Professor McGonagall, you are free to go as well. Professor Mandrake and I must have a word with young Mister Snape."

~~~

Soon enough, it was morning. He moaned and stuffed his face into the pillow as his eyes caught the sunlight that streamed in through the window. The black curtains had already been drawn back. His wand... Where had he put his wand? His right arm came crashing down onto the adjacent pillow, hitting it heavily before he started to search for his wand. Hang on... He bent his arm, scrunching the empty green pillow between his fingers. So feathery and soft... Just where was Cerise? Had she woken before him? Yeah, right. That would only occur when Hell froze over and the Dark Lord decided not to Crucio his followers on a regular basis. He rolled onto his back and squinted, looking at the crescent moon shaped clock on his bedside table.

Midday already... no, it's twenty-five past. Why on earth had she not woken him up? He then remembered what had happened the first and last time she had tried to do so. He had been eighteen, and had slept in late once after making his own moonshine, which the boys in his dormitory had insisted on trying. Apparently, it had been excellent, not that he expected anything less.

Cerise had snuck into his bedroom (Prefects got their own room) and tried to wake him up by vigorously shaking his shoulder. He in turn had vigorously shooed her hand away with an arm, only to strike the scalding hot cup of coffee that she was holding in her other hand, covering it in burns. Oops indeed; it gave a whole new meaning to the term 'Killer Reflexes'. Still, it was her own fault; she should have put the cup down first.

He kicked off the covers and hurriedly rose from the bed, grabbing his wand from underneath his pillow. His bedclothes were quickly discarded at the foot of his wardrobe, exchanged for his usual black apparel. Fletcher could tidy them up later. There was no point wasting his time on trivial matters. He then grabbed his black cape from where it hung on the back of the door and rushed down the stairs, coming to a slower pace as he reached the entrance hall.

Someone had already lit all the braziers, green fire illuminating the granite-hewn hall. His owl... He had to go find his owl and get the mail. Albus' letter should have arrived by now. By the end of the day he would be out of this house. He was itching to get out of here, and no, he was not fleeing from Cerise as many of his friends had been quick to joke about at his expense.

He slinked through the door to his left, striding into the Dining Room. Sure enough, his owl was perched on the back of one of his chairs, a letter held in it's beak. Such an opulent room; perfect for hosting. No one would have thought that the boy with greying pants would have come from such a home. His parents were not bothered by the fact that they argued in front of him; if they were they did not show it, just like they had failed to show him any love. That was what happened sometimes in pureblooded families; marriages were arranged between two families and a child was expected soon after. The same had happened to him, but the marriage was not arranged, and everything had happened on his own terms. No one would ever find themselves in a position to hurt him.

The room was otherwise empty. Cerise must have gone elsewhere. No matter. He took the envelope from the owl, giving her a brief scratch behind the ear. Tiamat gave a hoot of appreciation before taking off, settling down somewhere in the rafters above his head. He turned the letter onto its front, catching sight of the Hogwarts crest in the center. Finally, it had arrived.