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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
- 20
- 21
- 22
Chapter 21: An Unlucky Morning
At five o’clock, Helena gave up any hope of sleeping and put her hand up to turn her alarm clock off. Every time she had been near sleep, she had found herself suddenly jerking back to full consciousness whenever she remembered her fight with Snape or began to wonder who might have gotten their hands on her pictures. She lay back on her pillow and stared up at the ceiling, wondering again if she should try to contact Severus and tell him. Well, before she did that, she decided, she might as well look through the whole pack just one more time and try to make sure she knew exactly which pictures were missing.
With a sigh, she threw the covers back and padded over to her desk. Taking the stack of papers out, she closed the drawer again and went into the bathroom. She sorted the papers into little stacks on the floor of the bathroom. Lots of innocuous drawings, of course, including several of her roommates. A few of her cousin Luke, and some unfinished sketches. Her latest sketchbook, with the recently added pictures of Culbertson seemed to be untouched. Although, if someone would look closely, they would be able to see that three pages were missing-the drawings that gotten her in trouble in the first place. But, she had sent them on to Luke. And, he had commented on them in his return letter, so she knew that they were now safely in his hands.
She frowned as she tried to concentrate. The three pictures she had drawn that she had culled from the images of her vivid dreams were certainly not there. One had depicted her in the nude and tied to the table while Snape rubbed the ‘Sensitizing Potion’ on her. The next one had shown her-naked, kneeling and blindfolded-as she sucked his large prick. The third had been set in the Hospital Wing, with Snape sitting on the side of a hospital bed with her straddling him. She had drawn his erection in all of its enormous, uncircumcised glory. And had depicted herself with one of her nipples in his mouth and his fingers thrusting up into her.
She knew that, no matter how graphic they were, they were not by themselves proof that she and Snape were actually lovers. A simple spell could prove that she had drawn them, she knew. However, should someone reveal them, she supposed that she could tearfully confess that she had merely had an adolescent crush on her unapproachable Potion’s Master, and her unfulfilled desires had sought release in her drawings. The fact that they were excruciatingly correct in every physical detail was much more difficult to explain, but she doubted that it could be as easily proven. Unless both she and Severus were stripped naked, of course. And somehow she could not see Dumbledore going to those lengths to investigate them if both she and Snape denied that the pictures had any foundation in reality. But, of course, he probably would be able to get at the truth without going to that extreme.
That thought made her shiver. She definitely hoped that the pictures had not already found their way on to the Headmaster’s desk. She had tried, as best she could, to avoid too much direct contact with him yesterday at the party. For there was still a large, and growing fear, that should he hear the slightest hint of scandal about her, she would not be able to convince him of her innocence. Besides his famous collection of "sneakoscopes", she was sure that Dumbledore had a fair amount of expertise in the area of deciding whether or not a student was lying to him.
Shaking that worry from her mind for a moment, she returned to the other, more pressing issue. Which was that it would be a hell of lot more difficult to explain away the fact that an article of her clothing had Snape’s semen’s stains on it. And she knew from the Mediwitch reading that she had already done that it would take only a simple spell to prove whether or not it had come from Snape. He could refuse to submit himself to the test, of course. But, that would be seen as tacit admission of his guilt, wouldn’t it? On the other hand, she tried to comfort herself, there wasn’t really any evidence that it was her socks. Except that they had been found in her desk, of course.
*** Let’s see…..I found this pair of knee socks in the hall, and tossed them in my drawer. Oh, they have semen stains on them? How revolting! Um, it’s Snape’s semen, and you also found these graphic pictures of him in my desk. Gee, what a coincidence, huh? ***
She shook her head in disgust.
*** Now, I might be able to invent some kind of accident in Potion’s Class that would end up with his blood getting on me. Maybe even his saliva, given his tendency to spit when he’s really upset. But, how I got close enough to get his semen on my clothes doesn’t really sound good, does it? ***
She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Even if she was still furious with him and willing to let him take the full responsibility, it didn’t sound plausible, did it?
*** Uh, you see the other day in Potion’s Class, we were making this really difficult potion, and all of a sudden, while Professor Snape was leaning over to help me, he lifted his robe up and put his hand underneath it. The next thing I knew I felt something wet dribbling on my socks. Didn’t want to embarrass him by asking if he had just jerked off on me, so I didn’t say anything. Thought I’d just save the socks for a while in my desk drawer next to my dirty pictures. Of Snape. Yeah, right. ***
She returned her attention to the stack of pictures in front of her. Something else was missing, wasn’t it? She tapped her fingers impatiently against a stack as she tried to figure out what else was gone. Suddenly, she groaned. Of course, last year she had done a full page of sketches of him. Nothing sexual or graphic, of course, but she had captured several of his expressions very well. Which, she had been proud of at the time. Now, it would only serve as additional proof that she had studied him very carefully.
She placed all of the little stacks back together into one large pile, and headed out into the bedroom again. She placed the stack back in the desk drawer and then shut it carefully. She looked back down at the drawer as she pulled her wand out of her pocket. First, she placed a sealing spell upon it. Then, frowning, she shook her head and immediately reversed the spell. If the thief came back to try and find more evidence, there was no need to let him or her know that they had already been discovered. In fact, it would be much better-
She smiled and concentrated for a moment, rehearsing the spell over and over in her mind before trying it out loud. A small, blue flash of light streaked out of her wand as she pointed it at the drawer. Satisfied, she dropped her wand back into her pocket and stood up. She glanced over at the clock. Almost a quarter to six now, might as well go in and take her shower. And hope the hell she could stay awake through her morning classes. She had already decided that there was a good chance that Professor Vector would take one look at her and see that she looked horrible. She would plead that the excitement of yesterdays’ news had kept her awake all night, and perhaps the kindly Professor would give her the afternoon off from working on her Arithmancy Project.
About an hour later she shut the door of her room behind her as she prepared to make her way to the Great Hall. The brief respite from her stupor that her shower had given her was quickly wearing off, and she felt in desperate need of a pot or two of strong tea. She stopped at the top of the stairs leading down to the Ravenclaw Common Room and readjusted her book bag over her shoulders. And debated again whether or not she should try to find an excuse for getting close to Snape so that she could alert him to the danger. She shook her head and sighed, unable to make up her mind.
Well, one thing was for certain, she decided. It was going to be a very long day.
Unfortunately, her trip down the staircase was decidedly shorter than usual. For, as she stepped down on the first step, her heel caught in the hem of her robe. For a few sickening moments she tried valiantly to recover her balance, or at least grab on to the railing that was on the opposite side of the staircase. And the next thing she knew she was tumbling, gracelessly and painfully down the hard stone steps, landing with a crash at the bottom of the stairs.
She heard cries of concern and the noise of a considerable number of feet running towards her as lay, stunned and nauseous. She had landed on her stomach, and the blow of the abrupt stop had forced the air out of her lungs in a sickening lurch.
"HELENA!"
She stared stupidly down at the floor.
*** Huh, I should know whose voice that is, shouldn’t I? Sounds awfully far away though, ***
The next thing she heard was the sound of a pair of feet pounding down the stairs.
She craned her neck and stared up at the faces of her fellow students who had gathered around her, feeling vaguely embarrassed and more than a little dizzy. She really wanted to tell them that she’d be fine, she just needed to rest. But, it seemed to be too much of an effort for her to speak right now. She was really so tired. In fact, she thought, as she blinked her eyes and the faces in front of her when in and out of focus, maybe she should just take a little nap right now. She went to put her head back down.
"Helena!"
She jerked her head back up. Whose voice was that anyway? And why wasn’t he being nice and letting her go to sleep?
As she looked up, she saw a hand appear and grab the shoulder of one of the students who was still looking down at her. A moment later, the hand had jerked the student away and she saw Lewis’ face take his place. And then he was kneeling down beside her.
"Helena, are you okay?"
She tried to smile. And found that, if she really tried, she could talk.
"Hi, Lewis," she said. *** Now, that voice I know. It’s me, right? But, why does my voice sound like it’s coming from so far away? Oh, well. ***
She tried to smile at him, noting that he didn’t look very well. He was very pale, she thought. Especially since-
"When did you grow a beard?" she asked.
He suddenly looked even more unwell.
"Oh, no," she assured him. "I like it. It looks really nice. You should keep it."
*** Oh, I am so tired. ***
As her eyes closed, she heard Lewis bellowing orders. "Des, run and get Madam Pomfrey. NOW! Ang?"
"Yes?"
Helena opened her eyes. Her roommate was bending down beside Lewis now. She also didn’t look good.
*** Hmmm, must be something going around. ***
"Hey, Ang," she murmured. And closed her eyes again.
"Get Professor Flitwick," he ordered.
She opened her eyes. Ang was no longer there. But Lewis was leaning closer to her. And holding her hand. And patting it. Really hard.
She sighed, and tried to pull away.
He let go of her hand. And started slapping her face.
"Hey," she protested weakly, opening her eyes.
"Can you hear me? Hel, can you hear me?"
"Yeah," she whispered. "Stop hitting me."
*** Why are you being so mean to me? ***
"I want you to stay awake, okay?"
She made a low sound that was something between a moan and a grumble and shut her eyes again. "I’m really tired," she protested.
"I know," he said. "Please, try," he urged.
She opened her eyes again and started to say…..something. But, she forgot what she meant to say because suddenly she was staring at the red, sticky liquid that was on Lewis’ hand.
"You’re hurt," she said, a touch of concern in her voice.
He looked down and shook his head. "Are you in pain?"
"No, I’m fine. I’m just tired," she replied, trying to nod her head yes. Which didn’t seem to make sense. And, when she did so, something warm seemed to trickle down her face and splash unto the floor.
*** More blood. Wonder where that’s coming from? ***
She looked back up at Lewis and then let her eyes drift down past him.
*** Huh, would you look at that? Someone has a broken leg. Must be broken, right? Sure looks like that’s a bone sticking out of the skin. Must be a student. She’s wearing a robe. ***
"Out of the way!"
*** She knew that voice too, didn’t she? ***
Suddenly everyone seemed to disappear. Except Lewis.
*** He’s so nice, isn’t he? He won’t leave me. He always looks after me. ***
"Hi, Madam Pomfrey," she said, as the Mediwitch joined Lewis down on the floor. "Am I late for my weekly session?"
"Just relax dear, we’re going to put you on a stretcher and take you to the Hospital Wing," she murmured, soothingly.
"Oh, that’s okay," she assured her. "Better take care of that student with the broken leg first," she added, feeling very magnanimous.
That feeling ended as Pomfrey moved her unto the stretcher. Though she did it as gently as possible, Helena still couldn’t refrain from screaming in pain as her injured leg objected to being moved by suddenly and excruciatingly losing its temporary numbness.
*****
Meanwhile, Snape was on his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He, too, had not gotten much sleep the night before. Fortunately, everyone expected him to always be frowning and in the foulest of moods, so he never had to find any special reason to explain why he was short-tempered and irritable. He strode to his place at the head table and poured himself a cup of tea. As he sipped, he allowed himself a glance down at the Ravenclaw table, to the section where Helena usually sat.
Ah, she was not there this morning? Trying to get some extra sleep, no doubt. Or, he thought, smiling to himself, she was still so upset with him that she was avoiding the Great Hall just in case he was there. Good. Then, she’d be even more surprised at how suddenly she was going to be inexplicably drawn back to him. She’d be throwing herself into his arms (or unto some other body parts, he amended) very soon no matter how much she intended to evade him.
He allowed himself another glance at the table, and then his smile turned into a frown as he looked down at his soft-boiled egg. Actually, it seemed that her spot was not the only empty one. Neither of her roommates were there. Likewise, Thurston and Crowl were also absent. Having some kind of meeting this morning? For some reason, he felt a vague feeling of uneasiness. He glanced down the table and saw that Flitwick’s place was also empty. Strange. The tiny professor was one of those infinitely annoying souls who thought that morning was the best time of the day. You could depend upon him to be excessively cheery and talkative in the morning, and he had often declared that breakfast was his favorite meal.
Suddenly, a movement on the other side of the hall drew his attention. He sighed and bit back a curse as he moved to throw his napkin unto the table. Potter and Malfoy were at it again. Malfoy was standing next to the Gryffindor table and had, no doubt, just made some kind of nasty remark about Granger’s non-magical heritage. For the girl was glaring at him, at the same time she was choking back tears and urging Weasley not to aim his wand at Malfoy’s head. Fortunately, they were on the opposite side of the table from where Malfoy was standing, and it looked as though she would be able to restrain Weasley from attacking him. Unfortunately, Potter had already stood up right next to Malfoy and was threatening to retaliate. Not, however, with his wand.
As he strode up to the group, he could see Granger’s eyes glance in his direction and grow wide and she yelled out, "Professor Snape!" Not that she was addressing him, of course. She was simply hoping the name would be enough to freeze them all into inaction.
Her cry did not seem to come quickly enough. Or perhaps, Potter was simply too enraged to allow it to dissuade him. A split second later, Malfoy was propelled backwards, and would have fallen unto the hard stone floor had Snape not been directly behind him and able to catch him.
Malfoy’s hand was wrapped around his nose and there were tears in his eyes. "Professor Snape," he said, his voice oddly muffled and congested-sounding, "look what he did!"
"Brawling in the Great Hall, Potter? My, my, you are turning into quite the little bully, aren’t you? What’s the matter," he sneered. "Haven’t been getting your usual quota of fame and glory this week?"
The boy simply looked up and glared at him, his green eyes blazing with hatred and fury. Immediately, his two friends broke in with their excited voices, babbling away excuses and trying to explain the situation. He allowed them to go on for only a few seconds before he raised his own voice.
"Silence!" he bellowed, the tone of his voice and the coldness in his eyes brooking no argument on the point.
"No matter what excuses you would like to concoct," he began, smoothly, "I clearly saw with my own eyes that the first and only punch was thrown by our glorious Hogwarts Champion."
He looked back down at the boy and smiled grimly. "Do you deny that, Potter?"
The boy contented himself with shaking his head back and forth one time.
"Good. Then I would think that fifty points and a detention is an appropriate punishment, don’t you?"
The boy narrowed his eyes and made no attempt to move or speak.
"Don’t you?" he repeated.
Still, the boy refused to give him any kind of response.
"Or shall I see that you are suspended from the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" he threatened, in his silkiest voice.
The boy swallowed and forced himself to speak. "That won’t be necessary," he hissed through his clenched teeth.
Snape raised his eyebrows and leaned over him.
"SIR," he added, pointedly.
"Good. I shall see you on Wednesday afternoon." Snape smiled nastily. That meant that he would miss his weekly practice session. And, this Saturday would be the first Gryffindor/Slytherin match of the season.
A slight hint of red colored the boy’s cheeks, and a muscle began to twitch in his jaw. "Yes, sir," he forced himself to reply.
Snape turned and gave his attention back to Malfoy. He had briefly removed his hand, and then immediately cupped it back over his nose, apparently dismayed by the flow of blood coming from it.
Swallowing his own distaste, he reached into one of his pockets and handed over a clean handkerchief to the boy. "Get to the hospital wing, Mr. Malfoy," he prompted.
"Ah, would you come with me, sir?" pleaded the boy as he packed the white fabric around his nose. Instead of stopping the flow of blood, it seemed to increase it. The handkerchief was going to be soaked through in a few minutes.
Snape drew in an irritated breath. Unfortunately Malfoy’s usual companions (and bodyguards) Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be inexplicably absent from his side this morning. He really wanted to tell him to stop making a fuss and get to the hospital wing by himself. And, to tell him that he really had been awfully lucky that his nose hadn’t already been broken in a Quidditch match. Most seekers got their noses broken at least a few times in their career. Much less ones with as many enemies as Malfoy had. But…..
He sighed. He had the sinking feeling that Malfoy Senior was going to hear about this little incident and be on the way to Hogwarts to personally investigate it. He would rather not have Draco give him the additional information that the head of his own house had refused to escort him to the infirmary.
"Very well," he growled, and gestured at the boy to follow him.
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Secretly Slytherin