Chapter 19 – Snape the misrepresented
I apologise for the lateness of this chapter – I have written a lot further ahead, but please be patient with me. This time I'm doing A-levels to get in Oxford university (I'm not lying, although it sounds a bit like one) so my studies are my priority, however, this is second on my ajenda, and studying is only top because………well………Oxford Uni!
Thanks everyone who has reviewed me. Oh, and keep your eye out for that other Snape clone story (I'll put the link in the next chapter), it's a different slant on the same idea, which I think is quiet healthy!
As Michael walked into the library, looking around, he began to regret shouting at Harry and Ron. Michael was very sure that they were in the wrong, he knew it, but he also knew that they didn't have a clue. He had just come from the infirmary and his bruises had been healed after a relatively quick (though complicated) spell, well, between mutterings from madam Pomfery about boys and their Quidditch. Michael made a point not to say anything on the subject, but as he walked down to his regular place in the Library, he thought about Harry and Ron, the ones here.
They didn't know what had happened. They didn't know why he was angry. All they knew was that he was the son of the miserable git who taught potions. "Well, " he mused out loud to himself as he plonked himself on a table out of the librarian's sight and next to a large window, "one things for certain; I certainly know how to burn my bridges."
He reached behind his head for a book on N.E.W.T potions which he had almost learned off by heart, and as he put it on the table, would have started reading it if it hadn't been for the fact he had only just realised there was a girl sitting opposite him.
Hermione put down her own book on unusual potion theories as she started into his face.
"I-I-I-I-i'm sorry……….." Michael stuttered stupidly, "I didn't………."
"Michael Snape, " she said, feeling the words in her mouth as if they were an unusual fruit. Michael got up to leave, when she said quietly, "Wait!"
"What?" he asked, "Don't you hate me?"
"No. Not yet." Hermione answered him.
Michael sat down very carefully. He put his hands on his potions book, and looking out of the window.
Hermione looked in the opposite direction for a moment before she coughed and looking directly at Michael's wondering face asked, "Why are you here?"
"That's a bit deep." Michael replied emotionlessly. "I don't know, " he answered with a sigh, "to be honest, the only reason I'm here is because I'm a bloody fool."
"That makes sense, "Hermione laughed quietly, "I wish Ron could be as honest about things as that."
At the mention of Ron's name, Hermione noticed the way Michael's shoulders hunched, and pretended to be concentrating on the text in front of him. Everything about his face and his stance told Hermione that the conversation was over, but she had barely begun. "What IS your problem with him, anyway?"
"His problem is that he's a bloody fool, all right?" he snapped, slamming his book closed. Michael suddenly realised that everyone in the library was staring at him. He let go of the book between his palms, smiled sheepishly, apologising generally, and let it fall open at a page about an anti-mind control potion.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I knew it went deep."
"How can you tell?" Michael exclaimed, slight sarcastically, "I only said one sentence!"
"Trust me on this, as a woman I was blessed with the power to know what a person feels by merely the way they speak a sentence. Especially if said person has an emotional capacity greater than that of a tea spoon."
Michael replied by raising his eyebrow in such a way that the term sarcasm couldn't quiet describe. Then, with a small sign he whispered, "It's nothing. Just some things done and some things said that can't quiet be forgiven."
"That doesn't sound like the Ron I know."
"True, but until recently, I wouldn't have thought of the Ron I knew like that." Then Michael did something very odd. He flashed Hermione an extremely brief smile. It was twisted, like The Potion masters own contorted grin, but instead of the usual sneer that it usually carried, there was a sense of actual emotion other than frustrated rage behind it. It wasn't a nice smile, in the traditional sense, his teeth were slightly yellowed and imperfect, but it was a smile that could intrigue a mind.
"Look, just tell me, and I'll at least stop asking about it. " Hermione whispered back nonchalantly.
"Maybe, maybe during charms. " Michael mused, looking at the clock behind Hermionie's head and putting the book back into the shelf behind him. Hermione turned around, and looking at the clock gasped and shoved her book into her bag, leaning on her chair. She grabbed it by its well-worn handles as she began to half-run, half-walk out of the library. Michael followed her outside, running at the same pace.
Ron threw down his bag on the floor and hissed at Harry, "Woah, Harry, things are getting really weird. We're here before anyone else. Including Hermione. That just doesn't happen."
"Maybe that Snape guy's kidnapped her?" Harry said jokingly.
"Yeah, taken her off to the hole in the ground he crawled out of and is forcing her to find a cure for his hair." Ron sneered. Harry laughed with him, still a little sore from this morning. The greasy haired git just lashed out at him for no reason, except for the fact he was The Boy Who Lived. Harry hated it when people, especially stupid Slytherins like Draco Malfoy and idiots like, Mitchell, Miles, Miguel or whatever his name was, thought just because he had his family wiped out by the Dark Lord and his childhood ruined by the Dursley's he thought he was better than them. Harry should have known better than to let it get to him – he dealt with twunts like that every day, but when that bigoted opinion left his mouth, it was like the first time he'd ever dealt with it in that potions room, all over again. Maybe it was the subtle nuances of Snape's voice and Snape's face that reminded him of the first time Snape had spat out the insult like a poisonous grass Snake. It hadn't even touched him at the time, but now the words were burning in his mind, almost as if the scene had been branded into his minds eye, fated to repeat itself over and over and over again for the rest of eternity. And the frustration was building, slowly, like a plugged up volcano and he knew that just one thing would set him off……….
"'Miss Granger, what an appalling potion!'" said Ron in a Falsetto Snape/weirdo accent, "'it's barely removed the first later of dirt!'"
Harry laughed cruelly, Ron's joke fuelling his righteous rage. It felt good that at least someone, even better so Ron, was on his side for this one. Harry barely looked at the slow, unwilling trickle of pupils who walked through the door, talking about a rumour from a fourth year, which suggested that one of the female teachers was having an affair with Professor MacDuff, while a couple of girls went weak at the knee's at the mention of his name, claiming that they had ownership over him because he had given them 47 out of 50 on various essays.
"Seriously, where is Hermione, "said Ron, "she's going to be late for the first time in, well, six years?"
Harry looked at the space next to him, which was heavy with an almost solid expectancy. Where could she be? Shouldn't she be trying to lose that Snape guy? She couldn't possibly like him. That boy was just……….Snape. That's all you needed to know. Harry was about to get up and look for her when he saw a flushed Hermione rush down the steps to her place next to Harry, practically crash-landing into her seat.
"DidImissanything, where'sprofessorFlitwick, hasthelessonstarted?" she shouted breathlessly as she grabbed her books and parchment out of her bag with zeal.
"First of all, no, second, don't know, lastly, where the heck have you been?" asked Ron, "you being late, well, it's like when you see a grim, it's an omen of bad times."
Hermionie rolled her eyes. "Ron, Grims don't exist, we found that out in the third year, you of all people should know that and I am technically not late if the lesson hasn't started."
"Where's that creep with the issues?" asked Harry. Before Hermionie could answer, Harry turned around to see him standing next to the door, blue eyes staring at him with a look of inquisitive rage, his hair hanging around his face like shadows. Seeing that Harry had spotted him he turned away, like one might if you didn't want to provoke an angry dog and slunk off to the back row, which was surprisingly unoccupied. Harry saw Michael flash him a look of envious hatred before he slowly took some parchment out of his pocket and put it on the table, as if it was some sort of challenge.
"Ron, I really think you're judging him before you know him." Hermione said.
Harry turned back around to see Ron reply, "I don't care, it wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so………nasty, but he's a Snape. Snape equals bad, therefore by the rules of genetics dictate that he can't be worth getting to know for any other reason that informing the ministry of You-Know-Who……….."
"Who said he was with You-know-who?" said Hermione, frustrated, "Why would he be with You-Know-Who? Even Snape isn't with - Him………"
"………now, Hermione, now, He used to be……….."
Ron was cut short by Professor Flitwick rushing into class in a flurry of parchment and blue robes. "Sorry I'm late class, "said Professor Flitwick, hurrying in, "I had to sort out some Hufflepuff's giving a hard time to a Slytherin. In all my years I've never seen a Hufflepuff gang up on a younger pupil, especially a little girl……….."
"I have, "said Harry bitterly to Ron, who gave him a sympathetic, understanding glance.
"……….but today, if Mr Potter and Mr Weasley don't mind me interrupting them, we will be learning the Charm for the multiplication of inanimate objects today, now, for five house points, can anyone tell me why you would not use a charm like this on a living object?"
The class, still half asleep, stared at him blankly. Two hands shot up, Hermione's, rather over enthusiastically and Michael's, hesitantly, but unable to stop himself. Professor Flitwick peered around the classroom like he was focusing on a badly pixilated image. "Anyone? Apart from Miss Granger?"
It was at this moment he noticed Michael's nervous hand hovering in the air. "Ah, yes………you're the new boy that I've heard about. Your name………"
"Er, Michael, Lloyd sir."
"Lloyd my green………." Hissed Ron to Harry, nudging him in the ribs. Harry smirked back.
"Ah, yes, Mr Lloyd," said Flitwick, with a very unsubtle wink towards the boy, " welcome to our class, you haven't missed too much work this term, but you may want to borrow some-one else's book to catch up on work………"
"Don't worry Sir, I think I've got all my notes already." He said, as if he disbelieved his very words.
"But I digress, why are their separate charms for animate and inanimate objects?"
"Because………animate objects are more complex………and using a less powerful charm would either not complete the charm, or would damage the cell structure of both the original and the copy, causing mutation, warping of copies or death of both." He said, as if he had learned the answer off by heart, but was desperately trying to make it sound as if he hadn't.
"Did you understand a word of that?" asked Harry.
"He's obviously reading it out of the book." Said Ron as loudly as he could without professor Flitwick noticing.
"Five points to Slytheri………what house are you again?"
"Gryffindor, sir." said Michael, his pail face flushing red with embarrassment and anger.
Professor Flitwick did a double take, as if he couldn't believe that those words could possibly exist. Then he looked at the floor, as if working something out before he stammered, "Yes, yes, that can't be ri- oh well." Shrugging he tried to ignore what had just happened and turned back to the class. "as Mr Llyoyd said, this is a less powerful and complex charm that I think you'll have come across before if you all revised for your OWL's. Now, everyone, wands out."
Everyone, including Hermione, who was looking a little put out at having someone else answer a question for a change, held their wands out in front of them. "Now, Mr Llyoyd, Miss Granger, I have some fruit on my desk, will you hand it out?" Michael wordlessly, stood up , walked to the desk, his back as stiff as a board and approached the wicker basket on the table, full of various fruit. Hermione made a point of standing next to him and whispering to him, "How did you know that?"
"I dunno, I think I read it somewhere." Said Michael vaguely, "Look, I'll carry the basket for you, you can pass out the fruit."
Hermione smiled at him, brushing some hair out of her face. Michael felt his ears and liver heating up, but tried to put it out of his mind as he followed her to the front row of desk as she passed out fruit. As Hermione and Ron approached the row where Harry and Ron were sitting, Ron hissed to Harry, "wand at the ready? Think he'll hex us?"
"Probably." Said Harry, distractedly. To be honest, the thought hadn't crossed his mind, but Ron's hatred of the boy allowed his own thoughts to slip away. Hermione took a blood orange out of the basket and gave it to Harry, who snatched it away angrily , narrowing his eyes at Michael, Michael's face barely flickered, except with a kind of resigned sadness mingled with anger. But even as Harry took another hurried glimpse at him, taking a pineapple from Hermione, he couldn't say for certain who the anger was aimed at. However, Hermione threw him a look of embarrassed frustration as she sat back down next to him, Michael returning the basket to Professor Flitwick's desk, then returning to his seat, taking a withered looking courgette with him.
"Everybody, just to remind us of what this charm is all about, everybody repeat after me, Multigei"
The class did so. Ron's blood orange started to vibrate, then began to split in two, like an amoeba. Then it exploded, covering him a red, pulpy orange juice. Harry and Hermione burst out laughing, as did Ron, after a few seconds. Harry tried the charm himself. His Pineapple started to separate into two, straining apart, but gave up half-way through the spell. Harry tried the charm again, but although the pineapple tried to separate, it didn't manage it.
"I didn't know you could get Siamese Pineapples Harry." Said Ron, sniggering to himself.
"I think you'll find they prefer to be called conjoined pineapples." Replied Hermione in a deadpan voice as Harry looked at his Pineapple quizzically. Then both Harry and Hermionie started to giggle insanely.
"I am not an animal!" said Hermione, laughing, "I am a………" Hermionie couldn't stop laughing and couldn't finish the sentence.
"Pineapple being!" finished off a voice from faraway. Harry and Ron barely noticed, but Hermione, wiping tears of joy from her eyes, looked up at Michael's lonely seat, where he was looking at them, smiling to himself, absent minded charming his courgette to copy itself for the sixth time. Hermione's giggles slowly began to stop. She looked at him, looking at them, longingly at them. She couldn't bear it. It didn't matter that he was Snape's son, it didn't matter that she didn't know him, it was that look. She'd seen it before on Harry's face, when looking at Ron's family and on Dumbledore's face when he saw his pupils laughing as if there was no more to fear in the world than Snape's wrath or another ill-planned scheme from the Ministry of magic. Hermione had to know more.
"Now we'll move on, even those who haven't quiet multiplied their fruit yet." Said Flitwick, looking at Ron's exploded orange. It was at this moment that Harry's pineapple finally struggled, like a rat in a pair of tights, and with a little musical tinkle and a burst of smoke, made six identical copies of itself.
"I am the master!" said Harry.
"Show off." Hermione joked.
"You only don't like my style." Harry joked back.
"Tell me when you get some." Replied Hermione in the same tone.
"………..Now we move on to animate objects" said professor Fltwick, "or to be more precise, rats. Now, if you can split yourself" Flitwick laughed at his own joke, "Into pairs, or I'll simply use this charm on you to do so, and get your rat we can get started."
"Herm, I'm sure we can work in a three………" started Ron.
"No, Mr Snape need's a partner, "spat Harry, "Look, I'll go, save you two the trouble………."
"It's okay, both of you, I'll work with him." Said Hermione coolly.
"No way Herm, he's a………"
"Ron, I can deal with it. Don't go on, I want to know what's going on." She was about to walk off when Harry out his hand on her shoulder. "Look, if he does anything you don't like……….."
"Harry, he won't. " she said, looking Harry in the eye, "No body would think to do anything like that to me."
"I didn't mean it like that. Snape's are all into the pureblood thing. If he gives you any shit over that, he won't live long enough to regret it."
"Thank's Harry." She answered as best as she could, before she walked over to where Michael was looking around hopelessly.
"Aren't you working with Harry and Ron today?" he asked emotionlessly.
"You said you'd tell me what happened."
"So is this what it's all about?" he asked.
"Partly. I'd also like to know about you, where you came from, your mother, all that sort of thing."
Thanks for reading this – I do appreciate it. If you want to review, so I have some feedback on it, it would be greatly appreciated.
Lots of love
Xandra the blue.