Capítulo 5: Death and Domain - Chapter 5
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I scraped the last of my steak and bacon from my plate and quickly stood up from the table. Beside Isaac who only gave me an inquisitive glance, people didn't even bother looking up as I left the hall. One advantage of being a social doormat like Octavian was that you were effectively invisible. A bug beneath their shoes.
So be it. For now, at least. I wasn't made to be irrelevant.
Just as I got to the doors, however, I chanced a look over my shoulder, just to be certain I wasn't going to be bothered. I would've worried about Cassius and Justin following me to exact retribution, but the talk in the Slytherin table before dinner was served was that McGonagall would keep them working on a fresh new assignment through the feast.
Violet eyes locked on my own. Celeste had me pinned with a burning intensity behind her. My first instinct, some remnant of Octavian no doubt, was to dart away and hide like a rabbit in the face of a hawk.
But I just couldn't help being contrarian, even to this body's nature. I made sure to stare back until one of the Carrow twins caught her attention on the table and she glanced away.
Plastering on a confident smile as I started my trek down toward the dungeons, I told myself I wasn't actually sweating, and that I would have done the same had she not been twenty meters away in a room full of potential witnesses between us.
I told it several times until I even believed it.
By the time I reached the main stairs that led to the dungeons, I'd managed to calm my pulse to the point where I wasn't conscious of every thump of my heart. I would have to speak to Celeste like she was a dangerous drug, always in small doses until my body got used to her. The gut reaction I got from anything related to her was frightening.
There were less and less torches the further down I went. The stones seemed to sweat, the air becoming heavy and damp. Even in spring, the dark walls of the dungeons seeped with a coldness that jarred your bones when you were just coming down from the warmth of the great hall.
The dormitory and the common room nearby were a bit more climate controlled, with plenty of candles and a roaring fire that stayed lit all year-round. But the Potions classroom enjoyed no such commodities. Any Slytherin worth their salt gets used to it by the end of their first year. You wouldn't want to be the idiot still wearing winter clothes for the day every time you had Potions on your schedule.
Naturally, I was shivering by the time I made it to the door of the classroom. God, but Octavian managed to be pathetic in every way possible. Shaking my head in quiet disappointment, I took a deep breath and fixed my expression before entering the room.
The Potions classroom couldn't be considered an inviting place by any measure. High shelves stocked with pickled animals in green-tinted glass jars lined the walls. Stone gargoyles skulked in the corners like vultures waiting for an easy meal. And, of course, the main occupant hovered over a pair of smoking cauldrons by his table as if afraid they'd run away.
Severus Snape didn't turn to greet me. In fairness, I don't think he heard me coming in. I hadn't bothered knocking. It wasn't the frame I wanted to set for this new phase of our relationship.
His face was set into a frown as he looked over the brass cauldron, a ladle hanging from his hand like a wand ready to cast. He was much less charming than Alan Rickman. Much less charming than even his book description too.
Beyond the hooked nose and the yellow teeth that peeked out when he bit his lip in concentration, he was thinner than I expected, his skin cracked around the bridge of his nose, and his greasy hair was harried and disheveled like a mad scientist's.
Still, he was the best option for what I had in mind.
"Uncle Severus."
Snape jumped in place, startled. His dark, unkempt robes turned with him, framing his pale face in a swish of shadows. Generously, I could call his expression… unfriendly.
"What do you think you're doing here?" he bit out the words with slow menace.
I smiled, putting both hands into my pockets. "I have a proposition I believe you will want to hear, uncle. It involves—"
"Silence." He raised a hand. "I do not care to hear it. Leave, so you'll stop wasting both our time."
I stood in place for a moment, staring back placidly at Snape's glower. "I'm afraid rejection is not an option at this time."
His eyes widened. "You—"
"Me, yes."
Snape's lips curled up into a sneer. He drew himself up and started walking toward me. "I do not know what's gotten into you today, Octavian," he said. "But do not think for a moment that our blood relation suggests an allowance for any sort of informal engagement outside of class hours, or that it grants you any commitment on my part."
When he stopped speaking, he stood right up against me. My breath misted just inches in front of his face. "Seeing as you've watched me being bullied into the ground for the past five years, believe me, uncle, I place far less value on our… consanguinity than you imagine."
"I am your teacher, not your babysitter," he said sarcastically. "I am not responsible for your social inadequacies."
"Oh, I know," I said. "But I'm not here to speak of the past, no. I want to discuss our relationship going forward—a relationship I'm sure you'll come to see as quite beneficial to the both of us."
The man studied my face for a long moment. "Yes," he drawled. "I would quite like that. Unfortunately I'm busy now, nephew." An ugly smile crawled onto his face. "Come back another time. Perhaps next term, in a few months."
I chuckled. I knew he would be a hard little fly to catch. The type you can't quite entice with honey alone. He has spent too long amongst men like Dumbledore and Voldemort to know better. Power is the only language he knows. And at the moment, he believes I hold no power over him.
I meant to disabuse him of that idea.
"Yes, I imagine you are busy." Nodding to the cauldrons behind him, I stepped around a furious Snape and made my way toward the front of the class. "I'm quite handy at potions, as you might know. I'm sure I could help you with your project."
A firm hand grasped my arm from behind. When I turned, it wasn't a ladle he held in his hand. His wand pressed firmly against my chin, and his eyes tried to bore into my own. On instinct, my eyes darted away from his line of sight.
"I would appreciate it if you did not violate my mind, uncle."
I saw his eyes narrowing, and suddenly his wand was moving in circles in front of me. A wave of warmth washed over my skin, the hairs on my arms standing on end, and I had to swallow a moment of panic before the feeling stopped.
"Not possessed," he muttered under his breath. "Nor under the Imperius curse."
Shit. I tried not to twitch in place. I could not forget the disparity a man like Snape had over my abilities. Not only that, but while the basilisk might not have been let loose this year, Quirinus Quirrell had been a stuttering mess the year before. Of course he would suspect some form of possession given my sudden change in demeanor.
I needed to get my point across already before Snape did something more drastic.
Pushing the tip of his wand away with a finger, I spoke with a confidence I didn't quite feel, "No, I'm not possessed. But I am under a curse, oh yes. A curse of weakness. And after being knocked on my ass earlier today for the thousandth time, I simply decided I've had enough. Enough of being pushed around, enough of having to do homework for half my house, enough of being spat on and tripped over and made to feel like an insect."
There was a moment there I thought I saw a spark of understanding in Snape, but it was just a moment. "I do not care." He pulled me closer than before, his nose almost touching mine. "Now you will leave, or I will let the headmaster know of your little bout of insubordination. And if he doesn't punish you to my liking, I will make your pathetic life in this castle worse than hell for the next you yours."
He was dead serious on this, I could see it in his eyes. Once, we had a cordial, if not friendly, relationship as uncle and nephew. Hell, I would even say he cared about me in his own way. But the deeper he dove into the art of potions, the less time he had for poor old Octavian. To the point we were barely acquaintances now.
I glanced at the cauldrons from my periphery. Their importance they had to him only reinforced my idea of what type of work this was and what it was for.
So I didn't bother separating from him. Instead, I got closer still, enough that I could smell his rotten breath.
I would jump straight at his weakness. "Severus—I can call you Severus, can't I?"
He sneered. I smiled.
"Everyone wonders about all this work you do here. Day in, day out, always skulking over your cauldrons and your fumes. There are bets going around, you know? Most people think you're just selling skelegrows to the hospital as a side job, and the Weasley twins spread a rumor you're trying to create some kind of potion-fueled monstrosity out of all the ingredients. But I… well, I just happen to know the truth."
He looked at me with the face of a disbeliever. "You have no idea what you are talking about, Octavian."
"Oh but I do." I put some teeth into my smile. "I know you go to the hospital every weekend for more than just a simple delivery of potions. I know you visit a certain someone in the Janus Thickey Ward. I know all these potions you brew here, week after week, are to try and bring her back from whatever state the Dark Lord left her."
The hand in my arm tightened to a vice. "You—" his voice caught on his throat.
I nodded. "Yes, I know," I said. "Now, uncle, will you hear my proposition or not?"
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