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Secretly Slytherin	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 12269 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 20: A Lovers’ Quarrel
After a minute or so, Snape groaned and pushed himself off of her back. He moved to lie on his side, staying close beside her, but not touching her. She lay still beside him, continuing to breathe in heavily with her eyes closed. Then, with a sigh, she raised up slightly and reached down to bring the pillow from underneath her stomach and placed it under her head, turning away from him so that she was also facing the fire.
Snape glanced up at the clock on the fireplace mantle. It was nearly one thirty in the morning now. He moved closer to her, raising his foot to rub slowly up and down her calf as he edged nearer. There was no response, and for a moment he thought that she had fallen asleep again. He raised himself up on his elbow to look over at her and found, to his surprise, that her eyes were wide open and she was staring abstractedly into the flames of the fire, not even turning to face him as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Do you want to go back to the bed and sleep for awhile?" he asked.
She laughed shortly, closing her eyes as she shook her head. "No," she replied, opening her eyes again. A moment later she was rising to her feet, stretching her arms up over her head and yawning. "After all," she continued, looking down at him, "I’d barely get to sleep before you’d be tossing me out in the hall again." She didn’t smile as she said this, but her tone was not quite as resentful as it had been before. She merely sounded tired and distracted.
Without waiting for a reply, she strode across the room to the doorway leading to the bedroom. He sat up and stretched out his hand for his robe and tossed it over his shoulders as he rose to his feet, tying the belt around him this time. He reached in the pocket and took out his wand, pointing it at the plate of food, the wine bottle and the glasses. They all disappeared with a soft "popping" sound. Then he bent down to the floor and picked up the book and the box containing the art supplies, placing them on top of the sofa. After that, he turned and gestured at a chair that sat next to the fireplace, and the pile containing Helena’s clothes and her school robe that was sitting within it rose up into the air and floated across the room, depositing itself next to the presents.
Then he made his own way to the bathroom. The door was standing closed, but not locked, and he turned the handle and walked in without knocking. She had taken the time to clean herself up again, and a wet washcloth was placed, folded neatly, next to the basin. As he walked in, she was bending down and toweling herself dry between her legs. She did not look up at him and he walked past her without a word and went to stand over the toilet and urinate. The soft, brushing sound of the towel against her skin and the trickling sound of his pissing seemed to echo loudly within the walls of the tiled chamber. Especially, as the air seemed suddenly chilly and still by the absence of any vocal communication with each other. After a moment, she straightened up and carefully folded the towel, placing it next to the washcloth. Then she turned and went out of the room, leaving the door open behind her.
When he joined her again in the sitting room, she had already put on her clothes and was sitting on the couch, brushing her hair. Her hand stroked quickly and automatically through the long, thick strands, and then she paused and bent over at the waist, bringing her hair in front of her and brushing furiously at her mane. He sat down beside her and waited for her to finish. She straightened up and sat against the back of the couch and flipped her hair over her shoulders, and then stood up to start putting on her robe.
"Are your roommates still oblivious to the fact that you are out until the early hours of the morning some nights?" he asked, finally breaking their long silence.
She snorted and thrust her brush into one of her pockets. "Oh, don’t worry. They probably would be, in any case. But, I decided I better make sure that I had told everyone the same story."
He frowned and waited for her to continue. She sat down on the opposite end of the couch, leaning against the arm and bringing her legs up to rest on the couch in front of her, making sure, he noted, that her feet did not touch his legs.
"You see," she continued, her tone tired and forced, "Ang actually had seen those pictures I had drawn of you-and McGonagall and Binns-that day. And, we had told Kathleen about them. So, as far as they knew, that was the only reason I ended up with those two detentions." She stopped for a moment and allowed a small sigh to slip through her lips, and brought up one hand to her neck to massage it wearily. "But, I knew there was a strong possibility that Kathleen would say something to Lewis about it eventually. And then he’d start wondering about the story I had told him-that you had found pictures of my Slytherin boyfriend." She brought her hand back down and crossed her arms in front of her, closing her eyes as she continued. "So, I used my wand to add some blank pages to the beginning of my book, and drew some new pictures. And, I made a point of "accidentally" leaving the sketchbook open on my desk." She opened her eyes in time to see his responsive smile to her words. "I came back to find Ang and Kathleen looking at it, and had a most convincing "fit" about it, after which I broke down and tearfully confessed "the whole story". And swore them to secrecy about it." She sighed again and moved to bring her legs down to the floor. "Which means, I’m sure, that Des and Lewis have already heard all about it," she added, sarcastically.
He nodded, his eyes watchful and contemplative. He was beginning to wonder if he had been too quick to be taken in by her "breakdown" earlier. Perhaps, he should have only been seventy-five percent convinced that it was real.
"Whose picture is it?" he asked, suddenly.
She laughed, continuing to stare ahead of her into the fire again. "Well, I did think of using Nathaniel Darmon as my model. But, after all, he does seem to be fairly popular with the ladies of his own house."
Snape nodded, and a frown creased his forehead. Yes, he was a handsome young man. Who had also recently grown a beard, he thought, at the last moment keeping his own hand from rubbing along his own unshaven stubble. And he was very popular with the ladies of all the houses it seemed. But, Snape could not imagine him dating someone outside of Slytherin.
Helena shrugged, and looked down at her fingers that were twined in her lap. "So, I ended up using Bertram Culbertson as my model. He’s also doing an Advanced Arithmancy Project, so we usually spend Tuesday afternoons together. We’ve always gotten along well. I’ll make a point of being extra nice to him in the next few weeks, and I’m sure anyone who sees us together might think there is something going on," she finished, casually.
He considered the idea. The young man in question was very bright, and not bad-looking, but very bookish and extremely shy. Rather "non-Slytherinish", actually. It would seem logical that the lonely boy might be willing to enter into a relationship with such a pretty, vivacious creature as Helena, even though she was a Ravenclaw. And equally logical, he supposed, that Helena would gravitate towards someone who shared her intelligence and interests. It was also logical that the young man in question would be nervous about their association and anxious to make sure none of his fellow students knew that he was dating someone from another house. Especially if he had been counseled against it by the formidable head of Slytherin. He supposed that even if Thurston were to confront the unwitting patsy, his shock at the question would produce a reaction that might be misconstrued as guilty admission. And if Mr. Thurston remained unconvinced and turned his suspicions to another direction, Snape could think of other ways of dealing with his rival, should it become absolutely necessary. His eyes gleamed at the thought of that. On the other hand, he did feel the slightest twinge of sympathy for the other boy. Mixed with a fair dose of contemptuous superiority, of course.
"Poor Mr. Culbertson," he muttered, his eyes gleaming maliciously.
"Well," she commented, looking at him with a smile that mirrored his own. "If you really feel badly for him, I could always give him a quick little ‘pity fuck’. Might be interesting to see how fast I could steam up his those thick glasses of his," she noted.
"That won’t be necessary," he replied, dryly.
"Anyway, I wouldn’t be too worried about my roommates keeping track of my whereabouts," she continued, returning her gaze to the fireplace. "They are too busy with their own love lives at the moment."
"I assume from the way that Mr. Crowl and Miss Carver have been pawing away at each other, that she is also no longer a virgin?"
She nodded, and looked around to glance at his face. There was a very nasty grin upon it.
"And your other roommate has a boyfriend as well?" he inquired.
She glared at him for a moment before replying. "As I am sure you are very aware of," she retorted angrily.
He raised his eyebrows. "Well, it does seem that she and Thurston have become very friendly lately," he purred.
"Oh, very friendly," she repeated, sarcastically, angrily rising from the couch and moving to stand in front of him. "In fact, this evening when I got back to the dorm, I was so happy that I wanted to tell Lewis all about my Mediwitch acceptance and show him all my documents-" she began.
"Except for my letter of recommendation, I hope!" he sputtered.
She laughed shortly. "Why not? I was prepared to tell him that it was my ‘reward’ for being sensible enough to break off the relationship with Culbertson," she retorted.
He frowned, unconvinced.
"Anyway, you needn’t worry because he ended up not really looking at any of it. When I got over to Des and Lewis’ room, I knocked."
She paused, and her eyes narrowed, a slight blush coming to her cheeks. "And although Lewis called out ‘Just a minute!’ right away, it seemed to take him forever to open the door. And when he did open it, guess who I saw was with him in the room?"
Snape began to chuckle.
"Yes," she admitted, drawing in an angry breath, "Kathleen, sitting on his bed, looking quite disheveled.""
"Kathleen or the bed?" he inquired, mockingly.
"Both," she spat out.
Snape closed his eyes for a moment, and laughed again. Suddenly, his eyes shot open, and he saw that she had retrieved her wand out of her pocket, and was just bringing it up to point it at him. A split second later, his own hand had shot out to grasp her firmly and painfully around her wrist.
She gasped as his fingers began to tighten in an iron-like grip.
"Drop it!" he warned, his voice low and threatening.
She clenched her teeth and took in a deep breath, refusing to let it go. Their eyes locked for a moment, with hatred blazing out of hers and anger darkening his.
He gave her another few seconds to comply, and then wrenched her wrist to the side. She cried out in pain as her fingers reflexively opened and her wand clattered to the ground. He immediately placed his own foot firmly upon it. He released his hold upon her arm and she drew back, rubbing at her wrist with her other hand.
"Are you proud of yourself?" she hissed.
"Did you really expect me to sit there and allow you curse me?" he taunted. He reached down in his pocket for his own wand.
"I mean your little trick with Lewis and Kathleen," she protested, still rubbing at her reddened wrist and blinking back tears.
He looked back up at her and began to laugh again. "Do you really think I had anything to do with that?"
"Yes." Her voice was cold and sure. "I don’t think they ever really looked at each other until that morning in the Great Hall. And, wasn’t it convenient that you were there, watching us, that morning? You seemed to know right away that they were more than usually interested in each other. And, is it just a coincidence that their relationship has progressed so rapidly?"
"I assure you," he began, rising up from the couch, noting with pleasure that she was nervously watching his every move. "I had nothing to do with their sudden attraction to one another." He paused and bent down to retrieve her wand off of the floor, placing it in his own pocket. "I fear that was all your doing," he continued, as he walked towards her.
She was trying very hard to remain calm as he advanced, but her eyes were drawn to his wand, wondering what he meant to do. And what, if anything, she could do to protect herself. "What do you mean?" she asked.
He turned his head to regard her mockingly. "In the first place, you were the one that gave him that beard, which seems to have made him so irresistibly attractive to all the young witches. And in the second place-"
He raised his wand in his right hand and stretched out his left hand towards her. "Give me your hand," he ordered.
"Why?" She tried hard to hide it, but there was very real fear in her eyes.
"Because I do not want you to have a bruise tomorrow," he replied, laconically. "I sincerely doubt anyone would believe that Mr. Culbertson would be capable of using you so roughly."
She had retreated so far that her back was, literally, against the wall.
"Give me your hand, Helena." It was said quietly, but the tone was again definitely threatening.
She hesitated a moment, and then lifted her chin and held out her hand in an almost defiant gesture, allowing it to lie across his left hand.
He looked down and murmured a spell as he used his wand to point at the reddened area that was indeed, beginning to show signs of turning black and blue. She held her breath, still not sure if he really meant to inflict more pain upon her. Instead, she felt the discomfort suddenly cease, and the marks from his fingers abruptly faded away.
"Better?" he asked.
She nodded her head, but her eyes remained watchful and wary.
"And in the second place," he repeated, moving his wand to his left hand and reaching in with his right hand to retrieve her wand out of his pocket. "I sincerely believe that it was your ‘little talk’ with him the other day that convinced him that it was silly for him to continue to hope for a relationship with you. You should take it as a compliment, actually," he commented, as he handed her wand back to her.
She raised her eyes and glared at him. His wand was already back in his right hand, ready to retaliate should she be foolish enough to try another attack.
"He must have been quite fond of you because I doubt he would have rushed into a relationship with someone else if he weren’t on ‘the rebound’, as they say," he finished, his eyes glinting malevolently.
She sneered at him and then brushed past him, back to the middle of the room.
"So, how do I get out of here?" she asked, more than a touch of annoyance in her tone.
She heard him laughing again, and turned angrily around. "What the hell is so funny now?" she inquired.
"Well, besides the fact that you are now so anxious to get out of a place you were so determined to get into just a short while ago," he mocked. "I think I finally understand why you were so upset and tearful earlier." He paused. "Poor Helena, not only is she faced with the prospect of losing ‘Lover Number One’ when she goes away in January. But, in addition, now she no longer has the comfort of knowing that ‘Prospective Lover Number Two’ is standing by, patiently and obediently awaiting the time when she will deign to bestow her favors upon him."
He smirked at her. "Oh, dear," he murmured, clucking his tongue in faux sympathy.
Her eyes glimmered back at him, full of hate and resentment. Then, a spiteful little grin appeared on her own face. "Yes," she murmured. "I am rather more unfortunate than you, aren’t I?"
She sauntered over to him and stretched up to give him a quick, passionless kiss on his cheek. His dark eyes looked down at her quizzically.
"After all," she continued, "you can always go back to your whores." She drew back and crossed her arms in front of her. "If you look hard enough, I’m sure you’ll find someone who’s willing to let you fuck her. As long as she’s paid well," she added, maliciously. "Or, do you have to resort to ‘Imperio’ to accomplish that?" she added.
She was rewarded by the sight of a quick flash of anger across his face before he composed himself again.
"No, I’ve never found that necessary," he replied, slowly. "And, I have found that there are whores of every kind."
He leaned forward. "Some sluts are willing to let me fuck them as long as they are paid well by such things as letters of recommendation. And help with personal transfiguration."
She drew her hand back and slapped him as hard as she could across the cheek.
He laughed again. "I do hope you realize that I allowed you to do that," he mocked. "Feel better?"
"I want to leave," she hissed.
"Yes, I think you should," he replied. "You are becoming tiresome."
She watched as he walked towards the wall opposite the bedroom door and placed his hand upon the paneling. Immediately, the wall opened up, and she recognized the small, white bathroom that was attached to his office beyond it.
She strode angrily towards it, pushing by him and reaching out to grasp the brass doorknob on the wall on the other side of the room.
"Aren’t you going to take your presents with you?" he asked.
She turned to look at him. He was leaning against the open doorway that led to his quarters, his features arranged into an expression of elaborate bafflement.
"You know what you can do with your presents," she replied as she angrily twisted the doorknob.
She threw the door open and walked into his office. She could hear his footsteps behind her. She reached out her hand for the knob on the door leading out to the hallway. This one was locked, and refused to budge. She spat out a curse and angrily crossed her hands in front of her chest as she waited for him to remove the wards.
"You still need my help to get safely up to the main floor," he murmured.
She sniffed contemptuously.
He shrugged and pointed his wand towards the door. A moment later, it swung open and Helena propelled herself through it. Snape remained in his office, listening as her footsteps began to fade. In less than a minute, he smiled to himself as he heard the sound abruptly stop, and another curse fly out of her lips and echo in the empty hallway. This was followed shortly afterward by a hissing, sizzling sound and another cry. His smile grew broader.
"Do you require my help?" he asked, his voice full of feigned solicitousness..
He waited for a reply. "Or shall I close the door and go to bed?" he threatened.
"Yes, I need your help!" she replied, fury resounding in every syllable.
"Lumos," he murmured. A light appeared on the end of his wand and he ventured out into the passageway. She was caught in a trap halfway down the hall, her foot sunk down to the ankle in an apparently solid-looking section of the stone floor.
He looked down at her foot and then back up to her flushed, angry face. "Haven’t found a spell that works?" he asked, in a conversational tone.
"Obviously," she replied through her clenched lips, trying once again to jerk her leg out and seeing it instead dip another half inch into the floor.
"Well," he allowed, "It really isn’t a spell as much as a recognition of authority."
He bent down and tapped at the ground with his lighted wand. "I, Severus Snape, Professor of this School demand that you release your hold," he intoned.
Immediately, she found herself able to lift her foot up as the stone removed its grip upon the extremity.
"Thank you," she muttered. Without, however, a touch of gratitude in her voice.
He smiled and turned to lead the way out. As he kept the light burning on the tip of his wand, she found that she did not need to hold unto him as he led her out. She merely had to watch very carefully where he stepped. Or rather, to watch what areas of the floor he made a point of stepping over. Not that it was as easy for her short legs to accomplish the distances that were so easy for his long strides.
As she followed, she found herself cursing him and almost half-hoping that Filch would make an appearance. She’d like to see exactly how Snape would explain the fact that he was barefoot and dressed only in a robe as he led her down the hallway.
They finally reached the staircase leading up to the main hall and she brushed past him, only to feel his hand upon her arm. She looked back at him.
"Aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight?" he asked.
She barely resisted the temptation to spit in his face and turned to go up the stairs.
"See you next Monday night," he called after her.
She stopped and turned back to face him. "No, you won’t," she replied. "I am never coming back here," she declared.
"Oh, yes, you will," he assured her. "And I’ll leave the portal open for you that night. So, if you can successfully transfigure by yourself you may come to me that way."
He turned away and smiled again as he heard her stride angrily up the stairs and open the door. A moment later, she slammed it shut with a loud BANG.
He chuckled softly as he made his way back to his rooms. Once he was back in his sitting room, he extinguished the light on his wand and pointed it at the fireplace, dousing the flames there also. Then, a small frown creased his face. He wondered if she really meant to end their affair so abruptly. He doubted it. But, if so…..
The frown turned into a small, anticipatory grin. He walked through the door of the bedroom and on into the bathroom. He paused by the sink and lifted up the washcloth that she had used to clean herself. He brought it up to his nose and sniffed gently. Yes, he could still smell her on it. That would work quite satisfactorily. Although, it would help to have a few more items, he decided. He looked back over at the floor of the shower stall. Leaning down to the drain, he plucked up a few of her long, dark strands and gently wound them around his fingers.
He went back into the sitting room, still holding the washcloth and her hair in his hands. He frowned as he looked around the room. Perhaps he should not have been so hasty in clearing the glasses away, he decided. It would have been useful to have something else that both her fingers and her lips had touched. His eyes fell upon the discarded pajama top. He smiled and bent down to retrieve it, again bringing the garment close to his nose so that he could sniff it. Yes, she had had it on just long enough to leave her scent upon it, he decided. And, probably some of her tears had fallen upon it. Yes, it quite useable for his purposes.
He walked over to the table and carefully set the items down upon it. And then he strode over to one of the bookshelves and ran his finger along the spines of the books, searching for a specific title. Finding it, he pulled it out and opened it to the back, searching through the index. He flipped back to a page near the middle of the book and scanned the directions. Yes, he had enough material for the potion he wanted to make. And plenty of time to make it before next week.
In fact, he considered, a small, satisfied smile appearing on his face, he might even be able to make it by Friday night. Helena was going to be back here sooner than she thought. And, he added to himself, she was going to be very anxious to see him. And to do whatever he wanted, including…..
He walked back over to the couch and picked up the picture book, flipping its pages over rapidly until he was at the next-to-last page. Yes, he thought, she’d even be willing to do that now, wouldn’t she?
*****
Meanwhile, Helena was just getting back to her dormitory room. She hadn’t calmed down during the journey back to the Ravenclaw dormitory. If anything, her anger seemed to have increased with every step she took and she was positively fuming by the time she was climbing up the stairs to go to her room.
She stepped into the room, and almost slammed the door shut before she belatedly caught herself. Her roommates might be heavy sleepers, but there was no need to announce to the rest of the dormitory that she had just returned.
She walked over to the bed and threw herself down upon it. She wanted to kill him, to wipe that smug, self-satisfied smirk off his face, at any rate. She hugged herself and narrowed her eyes. If he wanted her back in his bed, he better ask her nicely. No, beg her, she decided. She moved unto her back and glared up at the ceiling for a moment. And then she abruptly sat up and looked over at her desk.
It was childish, she knew, but she wanted to show him just how angry she was. Since he wanted to look at ‘dirty pictures’, maybe she should send him the drawings she had done during the week that she had been under the influence of Lover’s Weed. With a note that he better enjoy them, because he wouldn’t be getting near the real thing anytime soon.
She allowed herself a small grin as she knelt down by her desk and quietly opened the desk drawer. As a matter of fact, why didn’t she take a few minutes and redraw parts of them, emphasizing his worst features-that huge, crooked nose of his and that oily, limp hair. Might as well make him look as unattractive as possible. She pulled out the stack of papers in the drawer and began to go through them.
Five minutes later, her heart was pounding painfully against the walls of her chest, and she was fighting the urge to throw up. She went through the stack one more time, trying hard to keep her hands from shaking. Then she sat the stack on the floor and drew in a quick breath, trying to steady her nerves.
None of the pictures were there.
Suddenly, another thought occurred to her, and she thrust her hand back into the drawer, searching frantically with her fingertips for something else. She finally brought her hand out and used both hands to pull the drawer out all the way and tip it upside down.
Her socks, with Snape’s semen dried on them, were also gone.
She sat back and mechanically forced herself to replace the papers within the drawer, and to put the drawer back in the desk.
She tried for a few moments to convince herself that somehow Severus had gotten into her rooms and taken the items away.
She shook her head.
No, she was sure it wasn’t him.
She stood up and looked at the faces of her two sleeping roommates. They would seem the most likely suspects, but she found it hard to believe that they were the culprits. Ang really had been the closest friend she ever had, and she doubted Kathleen was either clever or sly enough to resort to blackmail.
And, she had no doubt, whoever did have those items had every intention of using them to blackmail either herself, Snape, or both of them.
She wandered back over to the bed and sat down. She should probably go back to Severus and warn him. On the other hand-
She sighed and slid between the sheets, fully clothed. Part of her was still pissed off at him, and she’d almost be willing to let him be caught off guard and have to fend for himself. And, at any rate, she decided, as she laid her head down wearily on her pillow, it was best that she not do it tonight. If they were being watched, it was probably not to either of their benefit for her to be seen going back down to his rooms at…..
She looked at her clock and moaned softly.
At three o’clock in the morning.
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Secretly Slytherin