Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Hands and Face Behind the Voice	By : CalecusX Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 8178 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: Harry Potter & its characters all belong to J.K. Rowling. I make no profit from it.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Snape's Quarters - July 1, 1990

Rows of shelves, embedded in the stone walls, proudly showed off its numerous collections of books while the large fireplace vigilantly stood guard before the modest furnitures. Severus and Potter were seated on the sofa near a low table as the potions master discussed the young wizard's mobility.

He had just finished informing the boy that every piece of furniture was spelled with a cushioning charm, thus Potter could freely roam without worry. At the moment, he was explaining the use of the walking stick enchanted by Flitwick.

"Think of the destination you desire, and it will give a slight pull in that direction," Severus told the child.

"So it will help take me where I want to go?" Potter asked eagerly.

"Indeed. It also has a safety measure to ensure that you avoid anything that can trip or unbalance you," he said. Knowing the boy's luck, Severus considered that the most useful feature. "Now all that's left is for you to try it out and see if it works."

"Okay," Potter replied with a nod. Severus handed the walking stick - made from an ash tree - over to the young wizard.

Potter stood up and slowly walked around the sofa using the stick. Realising that he didn't bump into anything, the boy ventured further in the sitting room. The bright smile on the child's face as he turned to avoid the wall brought a similar expression to the potions master. Severus reminded himself to thank Flitwick on his ingenious charms work the next time they meet.

"Potter, it should be noted that you shouldn't-" the boy fell as his pace increased to a jog, "-run with it." Well, that was quick. Severus got up to help the youth.

"I'm fine! I'm fine," Potter exclaimed, standing up on his own. "Sorry, I got a little excited."

"Understandable," he said with a smirk, "your elation in being able to move around without assistance is expected." Once Severus confirmed that the boy was indeed unharmed, he suggested, "Will you like to attempt that again? Perhaps in a moderate pace this time to your room."

Potter's answer was another smile, and the young wizard quickly went off towards the bedroom. 'What was it about warnings that children never paid heed to?' Severus wondered exasperatedly.

With that thought, the potions master headed to Potter's room which was located across from his and right beside the bathroom. Severus entered to see the boy examining the clothes he had placed on the bed.

"Those are your temporary clothing that I have shrunk to fit you," he revealed. "I have sent your measurements to have new garments made, and by tomorrow, you shall have a new wardrobe."

Potter touched the cotton material one more time before setting it back down. The boy's happy demeanour from a second ago was replaced with a solemn look.

"I - I don't need a new wardrobe," Potter said quietly, "I'm fine with just any old thing."

Severus stared at the boy in confusion because he could tell that Potter was serious about not wanting anything new. To his knowledge, children were always demanding new clothes or the most expensive toys yet Potter didn't want it. What's more, the boy appeared dejected by just the mention of it.

He didn't offend the child, did he? Or was it something he said that made Potter uncomfortable? He thought back to their interactions but couldn't pick out anything abnormal that would constitute such a behaviour. Why did children have to be so illogical? The potions master could now feel the beginnings of a headache leaking in.

"Potter," Severus approached the child standing there as he clutched tightly onto the walking stick, "It is my responsibility to provide all the necessary expenses and that includes clothing. I've told you that I will care for you, and I don't give my words out lightly."

The boy's shoulders hunched forward in a self-protective gesture, a stance Severus knew quite well. "But I don't want to be a burden," Potter whispered sadly.

Burden? Where did the boy get such a ludicrous idea? Certainly not from him. Well, hopefully not from him. At least Severus knew that Potter's refusal stemmed from the boy's insecurities in the possibility of being unwanted. How such a thing was planted into the child's head, the potions master now had his suspicions, but he would have to look into it at another occasion.

"You are not a burden, Potter," he said adamantly. "That would imply that you are not wanted, and let me inform you of how wrong you are on that account."

The child's form gradually relaxed as Potter asked, "I am?"

"Completely wrong, Potter," Severus affirmed, "and I have no qualms telling you that every time you are incorrect."

The young wizard let out a small smile at that and grabbed the clothing from the bed. "Then is it okay if I wear these now?"

"Of course," he replied swiftly.

Potter's head tilted in question as the boy held the trousers up. "Um, sir, how do I put this on?"

o-O-o

British Ministry of Magic - July 3, 1990

Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the floo to the sight of wizards and witches bustling around like confused insects. Keeping the derision off his face, the Malfoy lord smoothly crossed the atrium. A swarm of people parted to let him through, and he inwardly smirked at their subservience.

He increased his stride as he passed the Fountain of Magical Brethren that paid homage to magical kind. 'More like wizarding kind,' Lucius told himself with distaste. The reality was that they were more divided than ever, and he detested the hypocritical depiction. 'Peace between our fellows is just a fool's dream,' he thought truthfully.

Lucius arrived at the end of the hall where the lifts were located, and he entered an empty one with only the handler inside.

"Afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," said the worker for the lift. "What level would it be today, Sir?"

"Level five and make it quick," Lucius ordered.

"Right away, Sir," the handler answered.

He soon exited the lift without a second glance at the man and walked leisurely through the corridors, passing offices in a hive of activity as they accomplished their daily duties.

Near the turn of the corner, he noticed two witches whispering loudly in the middle of the hallway. Lucius wouldn't even have bothered to listen if it weren't for the words 'potions master' and 'guardianship' that caught his attention. As he liked to be informed about all the events in the Ministry, Lucius soon disillusioned himself and silenced his footsteps.

He slowly approached the gossiping pair until their cheap perfume invaded his sense of smell. 'Ugh, if you can't afford to do it right, don't do it at all,' Lucius mentally sneered. One of the women turned slightly, and he managed to read the identification tag she wore; the words Department of Child Welfare blinked back at him in flashing red.

"Are you sure that's what really happened?" asked the short woman.

"Yes, I was the one to file the papers myself," insisted her red headed companion.

"It's just so odd. I heard from my niece the man hated children," the woman mentioned.

"Regardless, with his relatives dead and leaving him blind, the Boy-Who-Lived is now under the guardianship of Severus Snape."

His eyes widened at the information as shock slowly overcame his rigid body. The news of Harry Potter being blind was unexpected and sounded impossible for a boy who was the survivour of the killing curse. The wizarding world would flipped its head if they ever found out. However, what concerned him even more was that Severus not only knew of this, but also became the boy's guardian. 'I can't believe he didn't tell me,' Lucius thought with aggravation.

"But you must not speak of this to anyone else. Officially, it is still a private matter," said the red-head.

"Oh, of course not," promised the short woman, "not a word shall leave my lips."

'Fat chance of that happening,' he thought. A moment later, Lucius decided to make his presence scarce when the witches began talking about fashion.

In a rarely used corridor, he casted a finite to dispel the charms. He stood there silently as he replayed the conversation in his head. Lucius had to confirm if this information was true, and he needed to do it quick. The Malfoy lord swept a hand through his hair with a sigh. Life certainly wasn't boring when his friend was involved.

o-O-o

Harry's Bedroom - July 6, 1990

Green.

That was the only thing that existed in his world. A green light. Everything else was just a black emptiness that screamed out a terrible wail. The sad sound seemed to come from the edge of the nothingness, and it was useless trying to block the invasive noise. Harry couldn't see his body, but he knew it was there. He knew because he could still feel pain.

Without warning, the green light coiled around his body excitedly and squeezed with such a malicious glee that his heart almost stopped with fear. Harry felt it slowly tighten, crushing him. It was getting harder to breathe. How long has it been since he freely took in a breath? He couldn't even remember what air tasted like.

Potter... What was that? Potter... Who was calling him? The green light's possessive grip was loosening. Where was the voice coming from? Harry fought against its steely hold. He wanted to go to where the voice was.

Potter... HARRY!

His eyes instantly opened as he let out a quiet gasp. Harry immediately sat up from his bed, clutching on to anything within his reach.

He felt a weight on his shoulder and recognised it to be the professor's hand. The touch was reassuring and grounded him back to reality.

"Professor...?"

"It's all right, Potter. It was just a nightmare," Professor Snape said softly. "You're safe now."

Harry desperately tried to take in large gulps of air, afraid that he wouldn't get another chance. The professor's hand traveled towards his back to rub calming circles, and he concentrated on the soothing motions. It wasn't until he had his breathing under control that he noticed his face was wet with tears. Horrified, he quickly brought his arm up to wipe the offending drops away with his sleeves.

"Here, Potter," the professor pressed a handkerchief into his palm.

Once he was finished, Harry returned it to the man without a word. Now that he was composed, embarrassment flooded into him to know that the professor had witnessed such a pathetic scene.

"Do you often have nightmares, Potter?" asked Professor Snape as the older wizard retracted his hand. At the sudden loss of contact, Harry felt a small trickle of panic but ignored it.

He swallowed in an attempt to relieve the dryness in his throat and murmured, "Only once in a while, but it's usually not that bad."

"I see... would you like to discuss it?" At the shake of his head, the professor said, "That is fine, however, know that if you wish to speak of it, I won't be disinclined to listen."

"Yes, sir," he replied quietly. Harry truly didn't want the professor to worry about it. Despite the man's assurance that he was not a burden, the idea had been rooted deeply in him since he was a toddler. Complaining to the professor was the last thing he wanted.

"Would you like anything to drink, Potter?" the potions master asked. Not wanting to bother the man any further, he shook his head again in the negative. Before long, he heard the professor whisper something unfamiliar followed by the sound of a chair being placed near his bed. "Then I shall stay here until you fall back to sleep."

With surprise and relief, he said, "Thank you, Professor." A sense of gratitude gradually seeped through to know that Professor Snape chose to remain by his side. He could allow himself to accept that - allow himself to be a little selfish.

He settled back into the bed as he shut his eyes and tried to relax his body. While Harry laid there, he couldn't help but think back to the nightmare. Though he was awake, it still seemed as if the green light could crawl out of the blackness any moment to devour him. Opening his eyes again to see that same blackness staring back didn't help diminished the fear.

He felt his chest constrict with his breath coming out in short intervals. Harry needed to hold on to something... anything, to know that he wasn't alone in the darkness.

"Professor Snape?" he really shouldn't disturb the man, but the surrounding darkness was suffocating him with a deadly grip.

"Yes?" the professor voiced out curiously.

"Um, may I... mayIholdyourhand?" Harry quickly uttered the last out in a rush, hoping with all his might the man had understood that.

"Potter, you have to excuse me, but I don't speak gibberish," the professor said with a dryness that could compete with a summer drought.

Apparently, he hoped in vain.

"May I hold your hand, sir?" he repeated quietly, the embarrassment from before nothing compared to this.

"You want to hold my hand," Professor Snape stated blandly.

"I think it will help me sleep," he mumbled unsurely, losing confidence. Harry couldn't believe he asked the professor that question. Of course the man wouldn't want to hold his hand! It was a ridiculous request to even consider never mind accept.

Professor Snape didn't respond for a while, and the space between them seemed to widen further as the silence grew. Oddly, Harry wouldn't mind if the darkness would swallow him in that instant - he had to wonder when his mortification was a greater concern than his fear.

"Very well, Potter," the professor agreed, "but only for a short time."

"Wha- really?" he asked with disbelief.

"Unless you've changed your mind-"

"No!" he cried out immediately before restating in a steadier tone, "I mean, I would still like to."

Amazed that the professor agreed, Harry rolled onto his side and stretched his opened palm out. Slowly, a hesitant touch met his, and he gently enclosed his fingers over the man's hand. For some reason, all his anxieties and terrors were hardly noticeable now that he had Professor Snape's hand in his.

The professor's hand was certainly bigger, and it felt strangely natural for him to hold onto the other hand. It was nothing at all like the meaty hands of his uncle that would haul him into his cupboard nor was it like the bony hands of his aunt that loved to smack him behind the head for any mistake. It actually felt very slender to him, but more than anything, the hand radiated a comforting warmth that seemed to flow into his own.

As sleep finally begun to claim his mind, he unintentionally breathed out his last thoughts to the man, before succumbing to unconsciousness.

"You have nice hands..."

o-O-o

Perhaps he was dreaming, but Severus swore that Potter just said that his hands were 'nice'. The potions master was almost certain he misheard it, and he had been trying to persuade himself of that for a few minutes now. He was unsuccessful.

The charm he placed on Potter's bed alerted him to when the boy was in distress. It was indeed a useful charm that parents used on their young children, but one he didn't wish to have needed. To see Potter in the throes of a nightmare unsettled him more than he thought possible. The child did not scream out in fright, yet the silent tears were somehow worse.

Severus softly brushed his thumb over Potter's knuckles, remembering his own mother comforting him in a similar manner after a nightmare. He then turned the hand over and delicately traced the lines on the palm. Severus had never placed much faith in palmistry, but he wondered, none the less, what kind of future laid in the boy's hand.

With a sigh, he reluctantly released his hold on the youth's hand and stood up. The man lingered there a moment longer staring down at Potter's face. Relieved that there were no longer any visible tear tracks, he lightly caress the smooth cheek with the back of his fingers.

"Sleep well, Potter," Severus whispered in the silence and quietly stepped out.

When the potions master returned to his room, a sudden thought entered his mind that should have came to him sooner. 'Why didn't I just give him a simple Sleeping Draught?'

o-O-o

Malfoy Manor - July 10, 1990

High ceiling windows towered across walls richly decorated with paintings of old noblemen and green scenery. The crystal chandelier hanged above as it watched over a small group of four sitting at the end of a long table that stretched from one end of the room to the other. Its occupants talked softly among a bounty of food spread out lavishly.

"I hoped you enjoyed the meal, Severus," Narcissa commented.

"Dinner was splendid as always, Narcissa," Severus remarked, setting the fork down once he was done. "Thank you."

He received a letter from Lucius a few days ago inviting him over for supper. It was not unusual for them to meet occasionally during the week. They would often dine together and discuss the happenings in the wizarding world. What was unusual was the letter, since Lucius' usual methods of contacting him were through floo calls or barging through his fireplace uninvited (more often than he would like to remember).

She smiled with satisfaction. "Just remember to come next week, we've hardly seen you since the beginning of summer."

"Of course," he agreed easily.

Narcissa then placed her napkin on the table and stood up. "Come, Draco. We shall retire for the evening," she said, kissing her husband on the cheek and began walking out of the room.

"Father, Professor," Draco nodded in farewell before standing to follow his mother.

Lucius watched as their forms vanished behind the door. "Shall we move to the study?" his friend asked expectedly.

"Lead the way," said the potions master.

They entered the secured study with the fireplace roaring lightly on one side of the room. He sat in his accustomed seat as Lucius prepared two glasses of wine.

"How have you been, Lucius?" Severus asked as he accepted the glass.

Lucius reclined in the armchair across from his and took a sip of the wine. "Well, everything has gone accordingly at the Ministry, and there has been no trouble from any of my investments so far," Lucius replied. "I'm also planning on purchasing an owl for Draco."

"You're getting him an owl? I thought he wanted a cat," the potions master said, as he remembered Draco blathering on about the types of pets that he would like to receive.

"No, I hate cats; he'll be getting an owl," his friend informed. "It may be a year early, but I want him to learn some responsibilities that comes with a pet." Lucius paused a second and stared at a family portrait hanging above the mantel. "And you?"

"Just the usual potions to brew and research to study," Severus answered, watching the swirl of the red liquid in his glass.

"Hmm," Lucius hummed out noncommittally.

His mind wandered to Potter, who was staying with Pomfrey for the evening. The potions master wondered what the brat was doing at the moment and debating whether he should returned earlier than planned. Potter's nightmares, fortunately, were not a nightly occurrence, but he wanted to be back soon just in case. Severus stubbornly told himself that he wasn't being paranoid and that he was only being cautious; he had yet to convince himself of that.

"Why didn't you tell me?" the Malfoy lord asked suddenly.

He arched a brow at the question. "What are you talking about?" Severus inquired.

"About the boy," said Lucius steadily.

He instantly stilled at those words. Severus slowly directed his gaze towards his friend, and he knew that lying would be pointless. Somehow, Lucius discovered the information before it was even released to the public. He really shouldn't have been surprised since this was the man who had ears and eyes in every corner of the Ministry. The potions master was just unprepared for it to happen now.

Severus swallowed heavily and set his wine glass on the side table. "What would you have me say, Lucius?" he questioned roughly. "That I have taken guardianship over the boy who supposedly vanquished our Lord?"

"I expected you to be honest and tell me the truth," Lucius responded.

"Honest?" he scoffed out. "When was the last time you've told the truth, Lucius?"

Severus stood up and walked towards the warmth of the fireplace. His form silhouetted against the fire as he faced the man sitting in the armchair.

Lucius' eyes narrowed dangerously at the implied insult. "Deception and lies my hands may have been soiled with, but none committed towards you," his friend said quietly.

It was silent as they both stared at each other motionlessly. The light from the fire reflected in those cold, grey eyes giving the illusion of ice that burned and blackened piercingly. Yet, it was in those same eyes that he often depended on.

"I didn't know how to tell you," he spoke, breaking the thick silence between them. "You among a few had our Lord's esteem and till this day, I know you haven't given up on the old ways."

"The old ways," Lucius sighed out with exhaustion. "You knew our way of life is becoming obsolete, and the Dark Lord was the only one who had the power to force the change that we needed to preserve our heritage."

"You also knew that I never agreed with the methods of attaining that goal," Severus countered.

Lucius placed his own glass down and folded his hands. "There is no revolution without bloodshed, Severus."

"And whose blood are you willing to sacrifice, Lucius?" he looked intensely into his friend's eyes.

Lucius averted his gaze to his hands. "You know that loss lives are unavoidable and sometimes necessary."

"I had no doubt that he would bring change to our world," Severus whispered as he turned his back and stared into the fire, "but at what cost?"

He heard Lucius' footsteps approaching him from behind, but he continued to look ahead. "I knew you were a spy for Dumbledore," Lucius admitted softly, "I knew the moment that Lily Evans' life was targeted that you would have done everything in your power to protect her."

Severus' head shot towards his friend with shock and apprehension. "Why didn't you say anything?" he barely managed to get out. "If you were to informed the Dark Lord, he would have rewarded you greatly."

"Because then you would have been dead," Lucius stated simply. "You believe I don't consider the lives that could be lost, and you're partly correct; I only consider the ones I care for," his friend said before placing a hand on his shoulder. "Despite our differing views, I still see you as my equal... my brother."

Severus knew that Lucius had tried to include him in family events, but he still felt as if he was an outsider intruding from within. He couldn't help how he felt and yet, a great whirlpool of emotions seemed to spill from his chest to know that Lucius acknowledged him as a brother.

"Furthermore, you knew from the beginning what kind of person that I am," Lucius said. Relinquishing the hold on his shoulder, the Malfoy lord returned to the armchair. "If I have to kill ten muggles to save one person that is important to me, then I will do it in a heartbeat."

He remained standing, just watching as his friend relaxed back into a comfortable position.

"Think what you will of me, Severus, but I do understand love and devotion," his friend claimed and pinned him with a serious look. "I value your friendship, and I intend to maintain it for as long as possible. Besides," Lucius added with a smirk, "Malfoys guard what is theirs viciously."

Strangely, that more than anything else reassured him.

o-O-o

7 Wisteria Walk, Little Whinging - July 14, 1990

Photographs of her cats dominated the living room of Arabella Figg. Bright curtains covered the windows as floral patterns danced across the walls. The hardwood floors entertained various balls of yarn while the cat posts situated themselves in the corners. Currently, she could be found fluttering around the kitchen, opening tins of cat food for her four feline friends as they prowled hungrily.

For over a week, Arabella had left town to visit her relatives, and the woman had been impatient to return ever since. What she missed most were her beloved cats and had made certain to leave enough food out for them before she went. Arabella's part kneazle friends were her constant companions, whom she trusted and confided in more than anyone else. They didn't judge her harshly or treat her with scorn because she was born a squib. To them, she was their everything.

Other wizards and witches considered her with either disgust or pity when they see her; she was an outcast in their eyes. It was a feeling no young child should ever have to endure. Arabella knew that the wizarding world would never accept her, and she had stopped hoping less her heart shrivels further. Arabella felt a bitter resentment for them and for her predicament. It wasn't fair, but she had learned to live with it.

The only other person to treat her with any respect as a squib was Dumbledore. She was grateful towards the man when he allowed her to join the Order of the Phoenix. It was the first time she ever felt needed and useful - the first time she felt like she belonged. It was why Arabella confidently agreed to stay in Little Whinging to watch over Harry Potter when Dumbledore asked her all those years ago.

A knock from the front door shifted her attention away at once. Arabella quickly set the tin down and went to answer it.

"Ah, Professor Snape," she greeted pleasantly, "come in, come in."

"Mrs. Figg," the potions master inclined his head and entered her home.

Arabella always thought the man had a very daunting presence and seeing the dark robes cascading from his body like black smoke as he appeared to glide along just reinforced that image. She noticed that the professor barely made a sound as he moved, so silent that it reminded her of a hunting predator. Yet when she looked into his eyes, it was the gaze of a man that bore great strength and heavy responsibilities. Her vision must be failing her because it uncannily resembled Dumbledore's for a moment.

Arabella showed the professor to his seat and she sat down across from him. "I remember getting your owl, and I apologize for not being able to get back sooner," she said.

"No apologies needed," Professor Snape remarked. "I understand that you were unavailable at the time."

She nodded her head in acceptance and continued, "From the letter, it mentioned that you wanted to speak about Harry?"

"Yes, I wish to know the relationship between Potter and his relatives," he said. "You are the only one who had any close contact with them when they were alive."

"It's true. The Dursleys often left him with me when they go on their outings and such," Arabella admitted.

"They never took Potter with them?"

"No, they said that Harry didn't want to go," she replied, "but I always found that reason queer since the boy clearly wanted to join them."

The professor frowned in contemplation at that. "Was there anything else odd?"

"Well, Harry was always wearing his cousin's used clothing and these hideous round glasses that were taped together," said Arabella as Mr. Tibbles jumped on the sofa to sit on her lap. "Of course, I asked his aunt about it. She claimed that the boy played roughly and got his clothes dirty while his glasses would break multiple times."

Professor Snape's visage seemed to darken as his eyes alighted in anger. Arabella thought it was directed at her at first but then understood that the man was upset about what she said.

"And his cousin? Did Potter's cousin dressed in similar garments?" the professor questioned stiffly.

"No, Dudley would actually wear a new outfit whenever I did see him," she said cautiously.

The potions master's glower grew further if that was possible. "Then how was Potter's behaviour to you? Did he seem like the type that 'played roughly' ?"

"Oh, not at all. Though his family warned the other neighbours that Harry was nothing more than a troublemaker, which is absolute rubbish. Harry is very well behaved and nothing but polite when I watched over him," Arabella insisted while she petted her cat behind the ears.

The man was silent as he digested the information. Then his brows furrowed as he asked gravely, "Did the Dursleys ever appeared resentful of Potter's placement in their home?"

Arabella leaned back in uneasiness. "I suspected for a while that the Dursleys were never fond of Harry, but they still grudgingly took care of him," she confessed remorsefully. Mr. Tibbles meowed curiously, and Arabella looked at him sadly as she stroke his fur. She thought of Harry and how the boy never seemed happy when she saw him. "It was like... Harry was an outcast within his own family," Arabella whispered in realisation.

Just like her.

She regretted not being able to help the boy more. In any way that would have made his life better. Arabella sighed despondently. "I'm sorry, that was probably not what you wanted to hear."

"No, it was what I needed to hear..." Professor Snape said evenly and stood up. "Thank you, Mrs. Figg, but it's best that I depart now."

"Oh, of course," she placed her cat down and also got up. "Farewell, Professor and please tell Harry that he's always welcome to visit."

The potions master nodded his head before apparating away, and Arabella truly wished the man luck with his new charge.

o-O-o

Slytherin Common Room - September 9, 1971

It was getting late in the night as a dark haired boy diligently worked, secluding himself at a small table. His concentration was solely on the parchment in front of him as a few students lingered about while the rest had since retired for sleep. The first week of lessons were over, and Severus had to admit the professors' proficiency in keeping them busy with essays. A sigh of annoyance slipped out when he realised the extra ink-well he bought had been left in his dorm room. Leaving his work on the table, Severus went to retrieve the item.

The Slytherin dormitory was not something he would describe as a bright and cheerful place. And contrary to most rumours, it was not dank nor reeking of evil magic, though it was certainly dark. It exuded an allure of sweet power and a taste of opulence that only the elite could savour. But most of all, the dormitory reminded him of the coolness of a shaded glade that provided shelter from the sun's judging glare.

Upon his return to the common room, Severus spotted a tall girl standing by his chair. He only had a view of the girl's backside, and observed that she had pale, blond hair that reached a little below the shoulder blades. Severus also noticed the finely tailored robes, and he assumed her to be a seventh year.

"Excuse me, miss," he said from behind the Slytherin girl. Her shoulders stiffened suddenly, and she slowly turned around to face him. Severus instantly recognised the Prefect Badge, and he was quite surprised to discover that the 'girl' was actually a boy. The older boy possessed a lean face with a straight nose and clear, grey eyes that were currently glaring at him.

"What did you call me, brat?" the Slytherin Prefect sneered out.

Severus' lips thinned at being called a 'brat'. "My apologies. It was a simple mistake which could have been easily rectified if you have chosen a more masculine form of hair style." Severus knew that he shouldn't antagonise an upper classmen and a Prefect at that, but he never took well to insults from anyone.

The eyes of the older boy narrowed in irritation. "You obviously lack the perception to differentiate between the male and female aspects concerning the manners of hair style if you have mistaken mine."

"Pardon me, for not wasting my time learning about fashion," the spoken words soaked with his sarcastic tone. Severus should really learn to control his tongue, but sometimes it seemed to have a mind of its own - such as this moment.

"Do you know who I am? I am Lucius Malfoy, and my family has a lot of influence around here," Malfoy finished importantly and arrogantly crossed his arms. "What is your name anyway?"

Biting the reply he wanted to say, he grounded out instead, "Snape. Severus Snape."

A sharp gleam entered Malfoy's eyes, and the older boy cornered him with a calculating stare that was hard to decipher but invited interest none the less. Severus held the gaze, staring defiantly back and refusing to be intimidated by the Slytherin Prefect.

"Not a pureblood name, yet I have the feeling you're not a mudblood," Malfoy murmured thoughtfully and then released a sigh. "Get off to bed, brat," said the older boy, with a careless wave towards the dormitory, "it's passed curfew for first years like you."

Swallowing his temper, Severus quickly grabbed his books and papers before turning to leave.

"Scrawny little twerp," Malfoy muttered clearly enough to reach his ears.

'Obnoxious idiotic bastard,' he cursed back in his head, brusquely walking by several housemates loitering around. 'Hopefully, I won't be seeing too much of him.'

TBC
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Hands and Face Behind the Voice