Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Fire & Ice: War Games	By : Anubis Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 3345 -:- 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
- 31
- 32
- 33
            The candlelight played across the boy’s face, shining against his raven hair sprawling around his head
on the pillow. The steady rise and fall of the Slytherin’s chest gave soothing comfort to the witch watching
over him from a darkened corner in Hogwart’s Hospital Ward. Through the familiar and secure form of the
her tabby cat persona, the animagus kept a safe distance from the fragile child. She didn’t know how, but she
had crossed an unseen line with the boy and it had pushed him over the shaky ledge that he had perched
precariously on.

            Minerva McGonagall was patiently waiting for the delayed shook to subside as she stood watch from
her sentry post across the room, her feline tail twitching absently at her pawed feet. Deep down inside of her
heart, she knew that Severus had been pushed by their earlier conversation. At the time, she never imagined
that he could be pushed this far beyond his limits and would attempt the unspeakable. She tried to convince
herself that she wasn’t to blame and that no one could have known what he would do. Though the logical and
strict school mistress side of her was in the right, McGonagall couldn’t shake the guilt. Thus, this would
forevermore be her heart’s secret burden alone to bear.

            Fanning the thick layer of dust and grey smoke in front of her, Minerva McGonagall cautiously
navigated her way into the rubble that had once been her bathroom. Her normally stern lips trembled as she
probed the shattered remains of the room for a hint of life amongst the debris with her wand. Splinters of
wood littered the floor and countertop, clustering together as though they were delicate threads woven
carefully in a spider’s webbing. She winced inwardly as she noticed crude wooden spikes penetrating the far
wall. McGonagall’s eyes widened in surprise briefly before narrowing sharply as she tracked the rapidly
evaporating shadow melting into the nearly invisible crevice between the wall and ceiling.

            Turning the moment’s spectacle over in her mind, McGonagall continued blindly into the thrashed
room. She stumbled and fell, flailing her arms wildly in the air as gravity pulled her down. Dust filled the
air, rising in a cloud over the place where McGonagall had fallen. Coughing uncontrollably, she fought to
push air back into her lungs as she struggled unsteadily back to her feet. Spitting portions of wood dust from
her mouth, the Transfigurations Mistress dusted her robes off. Looking down to clean the hem of her robe,
the blood drained from her face.

            Wringing out the dripping warm cloth, she mopped the Slytherin’s sweat beaded brow with motherly
care. Her heart wrenched and twisted with alien emotion as Severus moaned softly, seemingly leaning into her
touch while he slept. The moon slowly began to slip beyond the distant horizon as the night’s events seeped
back to the surface of her troubled mind.

            As she slowly raised her hand to her face, McGonogall’s heart stopped in mid-beat. Recovering
quickly, the witch frantically began searching on her hands and knees through the great pile of splinters she
had fallen into. Blood gloved her hands and covered her robe, splinters and dust clinging to the wet
material. Unconsciously, tears streamed down her face and fell onto the remains of her bathroom floor.

            She stumbled to her feet, leaving the boy lying amongst his blood as she staggered to the sitting
room and threw a pinch of powder into the cackling flames. The green flames flickered before her as she
called into them. McGonagall held her breath and prayed that she would be answered before it was too late
for Severus. “Come on,” she begged. “Come on!”

            The first crimson rays of the morning star stretched to the skies, announcing the dawn of a new day.
Snowflakes gently fell from the lightening heavens to the tranquil earth below. Slowly the winter wonderland
began to with stir life as the first notes of the waking birds’ songs wafted into the chilly air. She stared at the
serene landscape, not seeing the beauty lying before her. Her thoughts centered around the figure lying prone
on the cot just behind the screens.

            She had felt an overwhelming joy seeing the mediwitch stepping through the fireplace. At first she had
hung back, unsure what to do and not wanting to hinder her efforts. The mediwitch had quickly
commandeered her assistance in transporting the boy back via portkey. Though she had expressed
reservations with using a portkey, the mediwitch had immediately squashed them.

            “The risks to Mr. Snape are acceptable, Minerva. He will die without immediate treatment and I
know that it’s the last place we want to bring him is to St. Mungo’s.”

            “But Poppy! Mr. Snape is in no condition to travel in such a manner, how can you justify....?”

            “Calm down Minerva, for Merlin’s sake! Mr. Snape has lost only a pint of blood, he’ll soon be up
and causing mischief before you’re ready for it.” Madam Pomfrey chided as she fished in her bag of
potions.

            “But Poppy, you don’t understand...”

            The nurse quickly cut McGonagall’s tirade off, “trust me, I’ve been tending to numerous children
who all have had everything from minor scratches to needing their bones regrown.” The young nurse said
gently as she measured a fuchsia colored potion out carefully, “the only hands that Mr. Snape might better
off be in is St. Mungo’s.”

            Fear spiked McGonagall’s heart as she reached out and caught the other witch by her elbow. Pulling
the nurse around to face her, McGonagall exclaimed with a horrific look on her face “Poppy you know what
they’ll do once they catch a glimpse of what that monster did to his arm!” She inched closer to the prone
figure of the Slytherin as though to shield him from Madam Pomfrey, as well as the rest of the world at
large.

            “I know that Minerva, now will you please step back and let me tend to him?” Glaring the
Gryffindor matron down, the mediwitch brushed McGonagall to the side as she approached her patient’s
still form. Setting the potion vials down, Pomfrey clicked her tongue in disapproval. Mumbling to herself
and shaking her head, the nurse reached for the fuchsia potion. She tilted Severus’ head as she poured the
cool liquid down his throat. She paused briefly to rub his throat, encouraging the reflex muscles to swallow.

            She had long ago learned that curiosity had killed the cat, but she was never one to walk away from
an opportunity to learn something new. “Why are you doing that?”

            Patiently, as though speaking to a child, the mediwitch began to explain. “Asleep, a body functions
on autopilot. Our brain shuts down anything and everything that doesn’t contribute to the necessary life
functions such as breathing, digesting, the circulation of our blood and continued renewal of our body on a
cellular level.” Wiping Severus’ mouth where some of the potion had spilled, she continued. “Swallowing is
both a voluntary and involuntary action. We must be taught to swallow when our food is sufficiently chewed.
When a person is asleep, rubbing the throat stimulates the throat muscles to swallow the mouth’s contents
and thus preventing the person from drowning. The lungs draw air automatically, we need the oxygen it
gathers in order to function and to live. If the throat doesn’t know that has to swallow, it will instead draw
the liquid into the lungs and result in asphyxiation or drowning as a result of the liquid having filled the
lungs.”

            “I see,” McGonagall said slowly. Though the mediwitch had obviously used layman’s terms,
Pomfrey’s brisk explanation had gone into one ear and straight out the other. Feeling well out of her
element, the Gryffindor witch curled up on a chair in a far corner and continued to observe Madam
Pomfrey’s labors.

            “After a few days of observation in the hospital ward, you can move him back to your cottage,
Minerva. Don’t worry about Albus Dumbledore either, dearie,” Pomfrey said with a mischievous wink.

            He awoke in the dim light of the Transfiguration Mistress’ guest room. Turning his head, he stared at
the room’s other occupant sitting beside the bed. Resentment bubbled to the surface and slipped off the tip of
his tongue before he could catch it in time. “Why? Why did you save me? Don’t you understand, I wanted to
die. It’s the only thing left for me now.”

            “Mr. Snape, I...”

            “Meddling Gryffindors! Why can’t you stay out of my business? I’m better off, you’re all better off,
with me gone. As long as I am around, you’re all in danger. Let me do the right thing for once in my life,
please.” Tears brimmed at the edges of his beetle-black eyes as he gripped the witch’s arm. “You’re supposed
to understand, you’re a Gryffindor.”

            “Mr. Snape, I want to understand. Please help me to.” McGonagall said covering the boy’s hand with
her own, all pretense of keeping a professional distance vanished as she looked into his hopeless eyes. “Teach
me, Severus.”

            “I can’t, you just wouldn’t understand.”

            “May I be the judge of that?”

            “You’re a carbon copy of the headmaster,” Severus said as he jerked his hand back. “I’ll do both of us
a favor and release you of your obligation. You can go back to cooing over your precious Gryffindors with a
clear conscious.” Tears spilled down his sallow cheeks as he turned away from her and buried himself beneath
the sea of material. He held his breath, waiting to hear her retreating footsteps and the door closing. Anguish
twisted itself inside of him as the seconds stretched by without sound being made and he could feel her
sympathetic stare burrowing through his back. Not willing to sacrifice the last shreds of his pride, Severus
fought the sobs welling inside of his throat. If it was frowned upon to show such a weakness as crying in front
of other Slytherins, it was unspeakable to do such a thing in front of anyone else.

            Severus wasn’t aware of the sobs slipping from him until he felt his professor’s hand rubbing on his
shoulders. “Shh, it’s alright. Just let it out and you’ll feel better,” McGonagall said softly.

            He had never thought of the older Gryffindor witch of having a gentle side to her. But as he cried
softly on her shoulders, Severus felt safe and secure for the first time in his life. Years of pent up emotions
poured out, streaming down his face as the Gryffindor matron gently rocked him back to sleep.

            When he awoke later, Severus could hear the echoes of footsteps as he pulled the thick comforter
over his head. Shutting his eyes, Severus fought consciousness as the sound of voices grew louder outside the
guest room door. He sneered into the pillow as the door knob was turned. Severus curled into a ball and
feigned sleep as the door creaked slowly open, allowing the more bold strays of sunlight into the darkened
chamber. “Severus, are you awake child?” He groaned, recognizing the headmaster’s voice.

            Severus sighed inwardly, resigned to the inevitable badgering of the elder wizard and pushed the
blankets off him. Blinking, he glanced at the table next to the bed and noticed an unruly pile of empty potion
vials spread across its surface. “Headmaster.”

            “You gave us quite a scare last week,” Dumbledore said as he sat in the empty chair next to the bed.
“I hope you’re feeling better, child.”

            Severus scowled darkly, knowing that McGonagall would have told him about the previous night’s
events. Shame flared in him at the knowledge that he had allowed such a weakness to be witnessed by a
Gryffindor and spread around like a piece of idle gossip. He vowed that, at least in the end, they would be
able to say that he went as only a Snape should: head held high and proud. “I am,” Severus bit back the retort
that had been perching precariously on the tip of his tongue.

            “Tell me child, why felt it necessary to end your own life.” His blue eyes were absent of their normal
twinkle as he gazed solemnly, sadly at the raven haired boy.

            Instinctively, suspicion clouded his thoughts like a bad cold. “Why do you care? I’m a Slytherin, not
one of your precious Gryffindors. My parents are dead, my uncle would hail you as the savior of my family
name. There is no one to send you Howlers, Headmaster. Why do you care?!” He knew it wasn’t fair to be so
hard on Dumbledore, but he had learned since the time that he could walk that life wasn’t fair; just as Severus
knew that Slytherins and Gryffindors inherently loathed the other for the simple crime of existing. These facts
were familiar and comforting, what the headmaster was proposing was completely alien and nearly unheard
of.

            “Severus, I care for all my charges, regardless of House.”

            “Tell me honestly, Headmaster.” Severus’ eyes narrowed and glinted with a cunning calculation that
his House was well-known for. “Hypothetically speaking, had there been a werewolf sorted into Slytherin and
his housemates had played ‘the prank’ on a Gryffindor: what would have been your decision then? Would
you’ve been so willing to ensure his continued stay at Hogwarts then?”

            “Severus, what you must understand is.....”

            The Slytherin snorted, “save your breath and excuses Headmaster.” Turning his back to the older
wizard, he wrapped his arms around himself. “We both know the answer. The only difference between the
two of us is that you’re afraid to admit the truth out loud.”

            “Now Severus, I .....”

            “If you don’t mind, Headmaster.” Severus said in a feigned conversational tone of voice, “I would like
spend what little time there is left alone.”

            The headmaster scrunched his eyebrows together, puzzled by the boy’s words. “Severus, just what do
you expect to happen?”

            Turning to face Dumbledore, “I’m no fool. First the Aurors and the questions, afterwards it’s a quick
trip to Azkaban and if I’m really, really lucky then it’s a kiss from the Dementors.” Severus closed his lips as
a soft sigh escaped his lips before continuing in a softer voice, a resigned voice. “Let me rest in peace before
it’s completely out of my grasp.” The Slytherin rolled away from the headmaster to stare at the wall, missing
the hurt blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. Severus held no allusions as to his fate or that his ‘associates’
would risk exposure over this. It was after all, only the early stages of the game and the rules were still being
written.

            While he acknowledged the twisted fact that the Dark Lord had taken a peculiar interest in him,
Severus doubted the dark wizard would risk an armed confrontation with the only wizard to date that he truly
feared just for him. As for his other ‘allies’ assistance, it was to early for any outside forces to learn of their
existence. He understood all too well that not only was he entirely on his own, but both sides categorized him
as expendable. No, there would be no rescue party mounted for a weapon.

            “My dear child, why would you believe that the Aurors or the Dementors would be necessary?”
Dumbledore asked, wrestling to keep his voice from cracking. He bit his proverbial tongue, wanting to sternly
lecture the Slytherin. The boy would be mortified to learn just how much he did care for the raven haired boy,
that in fact he saw Severus as the son that he had never had. His late wife had gifted him with a daughter but
was told afterwards that there could never be more. Thus he had come to look upon the children admitted to
Hogwarts as his in all but name and blood. The truth be told, he had once attempted to push the sullen boy
from his heart, trying in vain to use time and distance to extinguish or at the very least decrease the affection
he felt for the Snape boy. In the end it had all been for not.

            The odd bond that had first drew him to Severus had begun years ago when his late wife’s cousin had
drug him to the then annual Snapes’ Yule Ball. Since his first encounter with the enigmatic boy, Dumbledore
had teetered on the dangerous edges of obsession . Though Julius Snape had never cared for his presence,
Dumbledore had managed to charm Zola Snape and thus procured himself invitations from then onward.
Though he supposed, looking back, it was a matter of pureblood pride. After all, it would be politically
disastrous to snub one of the most powerfully influential members of their community. He smiled to himself,
sometimes it was good to be the headmaster of one of the most prominent wizarding schools.. The more time
he had spent at the Snapes’ ancestral home and with the young Snape heir in particular, the stronger the bond
had seemed to grew.

            “I cut my wrists and they were healed.” Severus’ fathomless beetle-black eyes bore into the
Headmaster’s sapphire ones. “Professor McGonagall found me after......afterwards and she healed my injuries
from...” His voice faltered as a clear memory of the night in question surfaced. Shivering, he continued unsure
as to how much to divulge. “Between the two incidents, she must have seen it. End of story, Headmaster.”

            Dumbledore closed his eyes, in understanding. “Severus, there is much we need to discuss. However,
allow me to put your weary mind to rest, child. Aurors and Dementors are the very least we need to discuss,
should the subject be needed at all. Right now though, we have bigger issues to discuss.”

            Severus narrowed his eyes and watched silently as the elder wizard crossed the room. Ever the
personification of his house, Severus could smell the distinct scent of a trap. His mind was a whirlwind of
thoughts fluttering around in his head as he watched the headmaster open the bedroom door. Though he tried
to keep a pensive mask shuttered across his face, the Slytherin felt the excitement pulsing just beneath his
skin. If the fickle Lady Fortune was on his side, Severus was certain that he was close to grabbing the
proverbial golden fleece. He quietly watched as the Gryffindor matron walked nervously into the room and
followed the headmaster’s lead.

            “Severus, Professor McGonagall and I need for you to tell us the truth.” Dumbledore held up his
hand, temporarily squashing the beginnings of Severus’ protests. “It’s not that either of us distrust you, but
rather that we require honest answers.”

            Severus tilted his head and regarded the pair with hooded eyes, hiding the truth from their inquisitive
gazes. His lips twitched of their own accord as he fought to conceal a smirk. The raven haired Slytherin
quietly rebuilt the comforting walls around the more sensitive areas of his memories and knowledge best left
in the untold ignorance of his inquisitors, a precaution to an unexpected probing. He doubted that he
headmaster would attempt to enter his mind without permission, but he wasn’t one to arbitrarily throw
caution to the wind.

            Severus rarely allowed his defenses to lower amongst his own housemates, but never in the presence
of anyone from the other three houses. It was in the very core essence of those sorted into the viper’s nest,
before the hat’s judgement was rendered. Unfortunately, the other houses would never be able to understand
the Slytherin desire and need for privacy. Huffelpuff’s were loyal, Ravenclaws were the intellectuals,
Gryffindors were brave and Slytherins were secretive. Severus knew how their world viewed his house and
would always view those who willingly dwelled in the castle’s dungeons, away from prying eyes.

            Gryffindors were extremely predictable, Severus smirked inwardly as he half-listened to the pair
sitting in front of him. All he had to do was leave a crumb trail big enough for them to follow. After all, how
many times had his housemates joked, Gryffindors usually the brunt of course.

            “Need a fool?” Rodolphus Lestrange would often ask his twin brother, loud enough for those within
earshot to hear.

            Rabastan would always reply in the same loud voice. “Why, is there a Gryffindor nearby?”

            If they needed a complex puzzle solved, one of them would find themselves a Ravenclaw. Though
they had to admit, that Huffelpuffs were the best look-outs in the school. Now if the headmaster needed to
catch a snake, he’d have to coerce a Slytherin into it. Severus forced himself to tune the pair of Gryffindors
back in.

            “Severus?” McGonagall asked, leaning forward and rubbing soothing circles on the sallowed skinned
Slytherin’s arm.

            “Let me see if I get this straight,” Severus said. Feigning thinking over what he had heard, “you want
me to play Judas to your Pilate.” His voice was devoid of emotion, allowing the mouse to be lulled closer.

            “In a manner of speaking, yes, Mr. Snape. In exchange, we are prepared to shield you as much as
possible from the Ministry and keep you out of Azkaban Prison.” Dumbledore said, watching the raven haired
boy’s expression closely. He searched Severus’ shuttered face for any clue to his response. The headmaster
knew that it was difficult to turn one’s back on everything that one had ever known and take a giant leap of
faith. Dumbledore only hoped that Severus Snape was as strong as he always believed him to be.

            Severus quietly regarded the two Gryffindors. Though he initially agreed to play the part of the
headmaster’s spy to himself, he had no intention of letting them know that tidbit of information. In the past,
they sparsely managed to slip Dumbledore and his people snippets of information. It was mundane and taxing
with all the touch and miss chances as it was now. He narrowed his eyes at the pair, his Slytherin mind
whirling with possibilities as he studied the two adults. The cunning his house was infamous for surfaced,
whispering that as long as he appeared to be a useful weapon for them, they would provide a useful umbrella
of sorts for him.

            His suspicious nature wondered if they knew what they had done, really done. While Severus didn’t
suffer beneath the illusion that many of his housemates appeared to, he expected that the headmaster was
aware of the events that were occurring within his school. In the end, his mind decided that Dumbledore’s
monitoring only served his purpose. After all, the elder wizard would assume that his initiation to the dark
wizard’s fan club had occurred sooner then already had. Hence, the headmaster’s apparent desperation was
Severus’ coup.

            “Mr. Snape if you’re still concerned abo....”

            Severus glanced at Professor McGonagall as she faltered and glanced to the headmaster for an
indication as to how to proceed. “What we mean to say,” Dumbledore said as he crossed the room and
opened the door once again. “Atticus, if you would kindly join us now.” The headmaster said, speaking into
the hallway outside. Severus listened to the echoes of the footsteps as he waited to meet the stranger lurking
there. “Mr. Snape, this Atticus Flynn, he’s apart of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and an old
friend of mine.”

            Severus stared into the amber eyes of the auburn haired wizard framed in the doorway. The Slytherin
fought to suppress the smirk struggling to the surface. “Mr. Flynn,” he said.

The wizard barely acknowledged the boy, “Albus, perhaps it would be best if I spoke with the boy alone.”

            Like a lioness with cubs, Professor McGonagall stood up and rounded on the auburn haired wizard.
“He’s been traumatized enough already and the last thing this boy needs is to be left alone in a room with a
complete stranger.”

            Flynn raised an eyebrow as he stared at the Scottish witch, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I’m
hardly a stranger, Professor McGonagall.” Irritation sprawled across his face, replacing any traces of humor
he might have felt. He quickly schooled his features into an impassive mask before continuing, “‘sides, he
knows my name.” It’s not like I’m a complete stranger,” Flynn said as he rolled his eyes at his former
Transfigurations instructor.

            “Severus will be fine, Minerva. I trust Atticus completely,” Dumbledore said as he gently steered his
deputy headmistress from the room.

            The Gryffindor matron glared at the wizards before rounding on the young Slytherin. “If you need
anything, I’ll be right outside,” McGonagall said with a warm smile to him before she turned around and
glared at Flynn. Stalking past the amber eyed wizard she added, “remember, anything”

            The auburn haired wizard followed her retreat with his eyes, a step behind the pair. Shutting the door,
he cast a silencing charm before he spoke. “I see Minerva has taken good care of you.” Flynn said as he took
the headmaster’s vacated seat. “How did the meeting go?”

            Severus ducked his head, his raven hair falling to curtain his face. “Err....that’s to say, not too well. I
lost control and tried to stop them.”

            “You’re all heart, Shadow,” Flynn muttered dryly.

            Severus sneered, “getting soft a bit.”

            Flynn regarded the Slytherin, “cool your heels.” The older wizard sighed, “Albus won’t leave us alone
for long. Especially with old McGonagall chomping at the bit as she is.”

            He smirked briefly before becoming serious again, “they want me to spy for them Ripper.”

            He nodded his head, “and you object?”

            “No,” Severus said slowly. “I was only wondering how that would work though? Playing spy for the
three of you?”

            Flynn smiled at the raven haired Slytherin boy, “pay attention and save your questions.”

A/N

            A big thanks to my great beta, Kate who has resumed working on this story after its long hiatus and
her fantastic words of encouragement.
- 31
- 32
- 33
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

Fire & Ice: War Games