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Don't Lie to Me	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 13611 -:- 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 4: SNAPE’S OFFICE

Snape’s complexion was, of course, quite sallow and sickly-looking under the best of circumstances. But as Helena gazed at him it became uncomfortably clear that even his normally waxen pallor could take on an even ashier hue when placed under sufficient duress. Of course, to be honest, there was a small bit of color to be found in his face. That is, if you counted the two small but bright red dots of anger standing out in vivid contrast at the crest of his cheekbones. And the quite prominent blue vein that had suddenly appeared in the vicinity of his left eye. She watched, fascinated, as it throbbed erratically against his temple. And his lips were beginning to take on a definite grayish hue the longer that he kept them so tightly pressed against each other.
As for his hands, they were gripping the edges of her sketchbook so firmly that the paper was wrinkling and scrunching up about his thumbs and the book itself was bending backward. And his arms were so stiffly clenched that she could swear she could see the muscles of his forearms standing out through the tight sleeves of his black frock.
After a few seconds, his right nostril became to twitch, and the syncopation between that motion and the continuing pulsation of the aforementioned vein was quite fascinating. On top of that, his glittering black eyes were taking on a decided glazed appearance. Helena wondered if she could dare to hope that he might just keel over in front her, expiring of an apoplectic fit before her very eyes.
Unfortunately, after a few moments his wildly dilated eyes snapped abruptly back to her face and the glare in them left her with the sad realization that he was once again fully aware of his surroundings and was showing no further inclination to slip off into unconsciousness.
With an effort, he drew in a deep breath through his clenched teeth and slammed the sketchbook shut, shoving it under his left arm. He strode angrily over to the door of the classroom, and pulled it open with so much force that she heard chips of stone fall away from the wall as the doorknob crashed against it. He raised his arm and pointed out at the corridor with the long, thin index finger of his right hand.
"My office. Now!" he hissed.
Without so much as another glance in her direction, he propelled himself into the hallway. With an effort, Helena ordered her benumbed limbs into movement and followed him out of the room. Her short legs would have been hard pressed to keep up with his long strides had he been merely walking. His current agitation was reflected in an extremely brisk pace and his black robes were billowing angrily out behind him like an unfurled sail. She found herself having to run after him. She could not for the life of her remember exactly how far down the hallway his office was. But if she had to keep up the current pace, she was going to be developing a stitch in her side in no time.
"Please, sir," she called out desperately.
He stopped abruptly, and she found that her momentum was continuing to drive her forward so vigorously that she barely managed to keep her nose from smashing against his back. He pivoted around and advanced toward her. Helena found herself backpedaling rapidly, for his right hand was reaching out for her, the fingers splayed and claw-like and twitching as if they would dearly love to be around her neck. At the last moment, he contented himself with clamping them down upon her shoulder in a vise-like grip.
"SHUT UP!"
Helena cowered. She was used to hearing him use exaggerated politeness and well-chosen, finely honed insults to express his anger. She had often heard him tell a student to "Be quiet", or "Be still" or to hush an entire class by calling out "Silence!" in his silkiest, most threatening tone. She had never, ever heard him say "Shut up" to anybody.
He abruptly released his hold from her shoulder, leaving behind a vague ache and tingling sensation lingering in the area where his hand had been. With difficulty, Helena restrained herself from raising her own hand to massage the outraged nerves and muscles.
Snape turned again and strode a few more steps, stopping in front of an unadorned doorway. Pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the door and muttered something under his breath. She heard the sound of a lock releasing, and the door moved slightly inward. He angrily pushed it open all the way and gestured for her to proceed through the portal.
She hung her head and walked slowly and silently by him, feeling the angry glare of his eyes every step of the way. She glanced into the room as she entered, vaguely registering that within the dimly lit chamber was a large desk, a few chairs, numerous shelves and bookcases, and a cold and empty fireplace.
"Have a seat, Miss Harrison." Snape’s inflection was once again calm, sardonic and supercilious. But she could still catch a hint of raggedness in his breath, as if it were only with great difficulty that he was controlling the volume and timbre of his voice. "And please be so good as to not touch anything."
The placidity with which he spoke was immediately belied by the loud bang of the door as he slammed it shut. This was followed by a slight clicking sound, which she supposed were the locks resetting themselves. She fought an absurd impulse to giggle. Did he really feel it necessary to lock her in? She certainly had no wish to compound her troubles by disobeying his order to remain in the room.
She sighed and advanced towards a chair that was placed in front of the massive desk. She threw herself into it and glumly reviewed her current predicament.
She guessed that Snape was probably halfway to Professor Flitwick’s classroom by now. He’d call him out into the hallway, explain her egregious behavior, show him the filthy pictures and within a few minutes she’d have to face the two of them. She shivered as she imagined the look of disappointment and mortification that would be on the face of the tiny head of her beloved house.
As the minutes crept by, she found herself becoming even more anxious and apprehensive. Surely, they should have returned by now, she thought. Or had Snape decided that her infraction was severe enough that Professor Flitwick was not the only colleague he was going to summon? Perhaps he had decided to display the pictures to Binns and McGonagall as well. Maybe he had even decided that Dumbledore should be apprised of the situation.
Her heart began to race again and a dull ache pounded in her head. She imagined Dumbledore entering the room and gravely telling her that her presence at the school was no longer desired. That he had already summoned her parents to come and retrieve her. And that she must pack up her things as quickly as possible and prepare to decamp the premises under a cloud of total disgrace. No more dreams of a Mediwitch career, no chance of a University education at all. Perhaps they’d even take her wand away from her.
She imagined the look of utter chagrin on her mother’s face. No longer would she be bragging to her friends that her daughter was an aspiring Mediwitch. No, from now on she would be: "Helena Harrison, the witch that got expelled from Hogwarts for drawing pornography."
Hot, despairing tears began to flow down her face. She buried her head into her hands and rocked back and forth, and for a long time the large, empty chamber echoed with the sounds of her uncontrolled sobbing. It was only when she heard the vague sounds of footsteps rumbling in the hallway that she was able to collect herself again. She glanced down at her watch. She had been in the office for almost two hours.
She felt a faint hope begin to flicker within her. There was no way that any of the students would have dared to leave the classroom unless Snape had been there to dismiss them. She took a deep breath and mopped at her wet face and streaming nose with the sleeve of her robe, trying to organize her thoughts into a logical consideration of her current predicament.
First of all, she sincerely doubted that Snape had any intention of letting anyone see that picture of him, no matter how angry he was. He had been infuriated when, a few years ago, it had been rumored that he had been the subject of ridicule during a Boggart-fighting session in Professor Lupin’s "Defense Against the Dark Arts" class. If the thought of students picturing him in a hat and dress was enough to enrage him, she doubted that he would care to let the details of her portrait become common knowledge. Perhaps he would be content to punish her in another way.
She shivered involuntarily. Was that supposed to comfort her? She was sure Snape was perfectly capable of devising a punishment that would be hideously unpleasant.
With that thought in mind, she raised her eyes to gaze curiously around the room. She had managed to be at Hogwarts for over six years without stepping foot into Snape’s office, and she sincerely wished the pleasure could have been indefinitely postponed
He had not left even a single candle flickering away in the dark room, and the afternoon sun was rapidly setting. The dim light meant that she could not clearly see what was in the jars that were crowded upon every available inch of space on the numerous shelves. Perhaps she should be grateful for that. For she could almost believe that within some of them were eyes peering back out at her. Along with a large assortment of disgusting objects.
She blinked, a gruesome thought thrusting itself to the front of her consciousness. "Oh, my God, maybe he’s so angry because he really does have penises hidden away in some of those jars!"
Her horrified mind seized on the grisly implication of that disturbing notion. And for a terrifying moment, she imagined seeing her own body parts, carefully sliced and preserved, softly floating inside of those jars. Maybe expulsion wasn’t so bad, after all.
It made her almost grateful to hear the loud bang of the door as Snape reentered his office.
Almost.
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Don't Lie to Me