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Different Endings	By : sshgdifferentfan Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 8217 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of

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SEVERUS LANDED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PARLOUR

…with much ease. There was no fumbling with his steps, no landing on his arse or face as many did when portkeying. There was nothing but a soft thud as his feet touched the floor, a barely audible shushing sound as his robes settled around him and his graceful self, settling into his new surrounding as if he didn’t just travelled from Hogwarts to Wiltshire in less than a blink of an eye.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” greeted the laughter of Antonin Dolohov who, Severus notice, was only a feet or so to his right, perched up on a comfortable looking armchair. Dolohov had the same nasty smirk he always wore around Severus, the one that said 'I'm loads better than you and you know it', the one that usually made him want to throttle the idiot. “Nice work Lucius! Haven’t seen his sorry arse in a while, now.”

“Yeah, Severus,” said Nigel Yaxley lazily from Severus’s other side. “You, too important for us mere mortals, now that you have free reign of that school of yours?”

“Accio! Accio!” Severus heard Lucius’s summoning charms and suddenly panic flowed through his veins. He turned around, his wand falling into his palm and a curse half way to his lips, when the sight before him made him stop.

There, hovering mid-air before him, was an empty tumbler being brimmed with rose coloured liquid from a half full bottle of Quintin Black. He discreetly slipped his wand back up his sleeve and with something akin to a smile – not that he ever smiled – and a nod towards Lucius, took the offered drink and sunk into one of the parlour’s many old fashion armchairs.

Severus took a sip of the drink while regarding the other occupants of the room with narrowed eyes. To anyone looking he was simply enjoying his drink – to himself or someone with a trained eye he was scanning the room at large, taking in all with clear interest. There were many faces around the parlour – some he recognised and some he didn’t – all gathered in groups, no larger than six or seven members, none interacting with anyone except those in his vicinity.

His own group was not so much different: six members in total – Lucius and Draco Malfoy, Rabastan Lestrange, Nigel Yaxley, Antonin Dolohov and himself – all talking and drinking and having a good time, none showing even the slightest interest in those outside of their group.

“What should we be drinking to this time?” asked Draco Malfoy dragging his attention back to those around him.

“To the Dark Lord’s victory!” offered Lestrange lifting his half empty glass into the air, high above his head, some amber liquid – apparently they weren’t all drinking Quintin Black – spilling over the rim of the glass in the process.

“To treason!” guffawed Yaxley. One by one they raised their glasses and drank a good mouthful of their drink, making different faces as the liquor made its way down their throats.

“To spies!” stated Lucius with a nod towards Severus who returned the gesture forcing a smile – well, maybe more of an upper lip curl – on his face. The others raised their tumblers and drank yet again.

Severus did neither. He needed a clear head and even though his robe’s inner pocket held three Sober-Up Potion vials – he had been prepared to leave Hogwarts immediately after dinner even before Lucius’s toy interfered in his plans – he knew the best way of achieving it wasn’t with the help of a potion, but by abstinence or when that wasn’t an option – like tonight – moderation.

“Speaking of which,” said Lestrange and took another mouthful of his firewhiskey. “How’s the old man doing these days? Plotting anything new from behind your chair?”

“I wouldn’t know,” replied Severus his eyes on his tumbler and a nastily smirk on his lips. “He’s not very talkative nowadays.”

“Spares you a lot of head-aches I imagine,” said Yaxley finishing his drink in one gulp. He got up and made his way to the liquor cabinet for a refill. When the glass was full again, he didn’t return to his seat on the couch, but turned back towards the others, leaned on the cabinet, his legs crossed at the ankles and stared at the glass in his hand deep in thought – or what passed as ‘deep in thought’ when it came to Nigel Yaxley.

“He was a right idiot,” Yaxley went on. “thinking he could defeat the Dark Lord from the grave with Potter running around the country searching for Merlin knows what. Like that boy could defeat our Lord! Ha – as if.”

They all laughed and Yaxley, loving every minute of the attention he was getting – not something he usually got – continued after a sip of his drink. “And you! You showed him, didn’t you! Showed him you were never his pet. Good for you! Liberating eh – blasting that Mudbloods and Muggles lover off the tower?”

“Indeed,” sneered Severus, a measured look in his eyes.

“Maybe that’s why he’s so silent, you know! Finally gotten in to that thick painted skull of his that no one – not even the Chosen One – is a match for Lord Voldemort’s powers.”

“Or still mourning Potter,” offered Draco, his tumbler balanced precarious on his knee, eyes fixed on the sloshing liquid inside. “Always did wonder about those two, if they were bum chums or something. I mean – in sixth year Potter saw more of Dumbledore than he did of Weasley and Granger put together. Oh… that reminds me: To Weasley!”

Severus watched Draco snatching the glass of his knee and raising it high above his platinum-blonde head. The others followed suit.

“Maybe that’s where Potter went wrong,” said Lucius and from the glassy look in his eyes he was mostly thinking out-loud. “Too much time spent with Dumbledore, too little with his friends…”

Lucius voice trailed off for a second, before snatching his thoughts back. “…and that’s Bilius now,” he corrected in a mock voice that imitated the Traitor almost to perfection and raised his tumbler even higher. “You know he renounced his family and name.”

“Right, to Bilius then,” Draco snorted a laugh. “Our pride and joy…”

“Nothing but a blood traitor if you ask me,” sneered Dolohov taking another sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” laughed Yaxley, “nothing but a piece of shite. Who cares what he’s called these days – once a blood traitor, always a blood traitor.”

“Still a useful one,” drawled Severus. “He did kill Potter,” - he spat the name with all the venom and disgust he still felt for the boy’s father; he didn’t hate Harry Potter, most of the time at least, but James he will hate forever - “for our Lord, after all.”

“He had some contacts in the Ministry,” added Dolohov after a few seconds of silence.

“The fuck he did!” snorted Lucius. “We had people there – He had one idiot brother and a bunch of morons that bought whatever anyone sold them. At least until they didn’t anymore.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” agreed Yaxley with a look of hatred in his eyes.

Severus had to fight back a laugh at how predictable those too were: always ranting about Weasley, never doing anything about it.

“Well, we have complete control over the Ministry, so it was worth it, right? And besides, if that was enough for our Lord,” Lestrange said sternly looking first Yaxley and then Lucius in the eye. “why isn’t it for you? Or are you two still ‘jealous’?” – he drawled the last word, smirking in his drink – “Oh, isn’t this just… - what’s that word again…”

“Crackbrained,” offered Dolohov and gave a wheezy giggle that was drowned down by Lestrange’s proclamation of: “…pathetic, just idiotically pathetic. If the Dark Lord only knew how you two regard his champion. The one who did what none of you ever could, kill Harry Potter. Tusk, tusk! He would be so disappointed.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” shriek Yaxley and Severus barley managed to control the laughter that bubbled up in his chest.

“I don’t see you getting praised for killing the boy, Rabastan,” said Lucius, his eyes filled with rage.

“Yes, well, I leave that to Bilius,” drawled Lestrange. “as I didn’t have the boy next to me in Azkaban for seven years or as my son’s class mate… unlike others.”

Severus watched Lucius sprang to his feet, his tumble crashing with a loud shattering sound on the floor, his wand ready and pointing, and sighed. It always ended this way and though it had been fun for a while watching them at each other’s throats, hexes and curses flying around, it was getting just old.

“What the fuck are you implying, Lestrange?” growled Lucius.

“I would never stoop so low as to imply, Lucius, you know me.”

“Then what the fuck are you saying?”

“What everybody thinks of you!”

“Why you – Sectu…” started Lucius, wand pointing directly at Lestrange’s chest, the Sectumsempra curse half way up his wand, when a loud clinking sound made him stop.

They all fell quiet; as quiet as people can get, with all that breathing and swishing as they took out their wands looking around frantically; Lucius and Lestrange especially. They seemed rooted to the spot; wands trailed on each other not at the room at large as others did, rage and apprehension written on their faces. They made quite a picture; one that Severus would have loved to keep on watching if his instincts wouldn’t have kicked in, forcing his attention back to the sound that still rang in his ears.

Then out of nowhere a high, cold, clear voice echoed throughout the parlour, coming from everywhere at once, as if it was the house itself that spoke. “My faithful followers!”

They all looked up, lowering their wands and beaming with excitement and delight at hearing their master’s voice. Severus did the same, except for the beaming and fixed his eyes on a spot on the celling a few feet to his left. He wasn’t looking really, just staring into nothingness, listening to the words without actually hearing them.

“On this day a year ago, we have entered a new era, an era that holds no Boys-Who-Lived, no Muggle-lover old fools and with us as its true rulers.”

The echo of his last word rang long and high as all around him people agreed with nods or whispered concords.

“A year ago today we won a battle – a great one – yet nothing more than a battle. The war is still out there, on our doorstep and still you act as if all is how it should be. I ask you know, my faithful Death Eaters, why is that? ….”

The voice rang high again and again and after a while Severus just let the buzzing of whispers, breathing and shushing drown Lord Voldemort’s voice to nothing as thoughts swirled around Occlumency walls, hiding one minute and coming to surface the next.

Suddenly there was a soft clicking sound and Severus saw the parlour doors, which had been closed ever since he first arrived, opening. The voice had stopped speaking a while now – observed Severus – and conversations had gone from whispered to shouted with excitement, but at that moment, at that new sound, all noise died down and silenced engulfed the room once again.

There was a second’s pause when all eyes stood fixed on the now opened door, before without another word one by one they all made their way down the hall to the room where was all was about to happen.

Severus was the last to move; watching them all proceed out of the parlour, noticing all that there was to notice; before taking a deep breath and following.

Author's notes: ‘Harry Potter’s Death Day’ is designed as a multi-part chapter because of how long it got when I started filling page after page with all the stuff that happens one year from the action in ‘Prologue’. This chapter will have 3 or 4 parts depending on how it feels when I’ve done editing it.

Author's PS: The length of this chapter is not the norm of this story. There will generally be somewhere around 2500 to 3500 words for each not smaller and divided as this one when longer.

Author's Request: If you got far enough to read this, use the 'Review' button below and let me know what you think.
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Different Endings