One Of Them

His position was balancing on a very thin line as it was! How could he be so foolish as to even consider… It was a ridiculous notion, and he was going to forget about it.

But he found himself unable to completely focus on what Lucius was telling him. He was listening; a spy never lets their mind wander totally.

Not a spy who has survived for as long as he had anyway. But then most spies don't actually kill the one person who-

No, Severus. Focus. What did he think of Draco's recent Quidditch victory?

"The boy has talent. It will be good for Slytherin to have a fair chance at the cup this year."

"Yes. I hear Gryffindor's team has been disbanded."

"Yes, they are resisting the new regime with their usual lack of subtlety and were punished for it."

"No matter. I don't doubt you can deal with it. Just think, soon there won't even be a Gryffindor."

Severus smiled, and the topic of conversation changed. Lucius was more than able to listen to the sound of his own voice, especially when he got into a rant about mudbloods having been actually at school with his son.

They were sitting in the well lit (so that guests could better observe the expensive nature of the décor), almost over-furnished Malfoy sitting room. In his hand the blonde man sitting across from Severus held a glass of red wine. Severus had declined, preferring to keep his wits about him.

Severus' thoughts began to wander once more as Lucius continued to rant. He couldn't get the image of her out of his mind. Huddled at the back of the cell, her dreamy vacant look was not amusing in that situation. It was worrisome.

He could admit to himself, that he'd always admired the girl. She had an intellect, to be sure, when she wasn't spouting rubbish about crumple-horned snort rags or whatever she called the things. A powerful witch too and almost adept in potions, which – at his standards – was an accomplishment. Her status as a pureblood had allowed him to forbid his house from bullying her, but that situation was now out of his control. That innocent young girl, who would smile at her peers as they laughed at her in the Malfoy dungeons.

And she'd smiled at him through the bars. It wasn't even a finally-someone's-going-to-rescue-me smile. It wasn't mocking either. It was genuine and rather sad, but not accusing. Which was very strange, she's been one of the leaders of the D.A. back at the school.

He had been worried, before winter break, about how long he could continue to give her detentions to Hagrid without others becoming suspicious, but that didn't seem to be an issue anymore either.

"…Don't you agree, Severus?"

"Yes, Potter will not manage to evade capture for much longer. Smart as Granger may be, for a Muggleborn, she will not be able to keep him from his own idiocy. He will do something rash, and be found. I give it a few days."

"His luck so far has been beyond belief…"

And when Potter gets caught – because as little as he liked to admit it, Potter would eventually slip up – the world as he hoped to know it one day would cease to exist. He wondered what he would do, if The Dark Lord won. He had a position of good standing ever since-

No point dwelling on that.

Severus knew he would never be stupid enough to confront the Dark Lord. He was a Slytherin still, and for good reason, but would he be able to live with himself, in total comfort, luxury even, if the Dark side won? While people like Miss Lovegood spent their lives as she now lived hers?

A clock chimed overhead. Nine o'clock in the evening. He had to add billywig wings to his potion by midnight.

"Ah. Time to bring our guests their dinners."

"You bring your own prisoners their meals? Why not use a house elf?" Asked Severus, genuinely surprised. In all the many years he'd known Lucius he never did anything he could make someone else do.

"Since Dobby," he spat the elf's name out. Severus smiled inwardly. He had taken a liking to Dobby; he was the elf Severus trusted with things more discrete than laundry. Granted, the elf was a bit over eager and he had Potter mania, but it was almost comforting in a strange way.

And Severus had forbidden him to say 'Harry Potter' 'the-boy-who-lived', and to in any way bring up the story behind his freedom.

"Since Dobby we do not trust the elves so much. They cannot tell the difference between a blood traitor and a true member of society. Too much compassion."

Lucius started to rise, but Severus instantly saw the pain he tried to hide. Lucius was still sore from yesterdays Cruciatus.

"Allow me, old friend. Where is their food?"

"Ah, thank you Severus. Call a house elf. He can fetch it for you."


With a tray of what can only be described as gruel floating along behind him Severus made his second journey down to the cell.

It was inescapably dark, which he cured with a quick "Lumos" but the cold, damp atmosphere was not so easily banished.

"Stand by the wall." He instructed as he unlocked the door.

The cell was small, cold and cheerless. And from someone who lived in a dungeon with pickled animals in jars for most of his life 'cheerless' was saying something.

The old wandmaker and the young girl were standing with their backs pressed up against the wall. Severus was reminded of the muggle idea of a riding squad.

"Professor Snape." She said, in acknowledgement of his presence. She said it in that same dreamy tone he heard giving (correct) answers for the last six years, whenever he'd tried to catch her daydreaming. She, however, didn't regurgitate the textbook.

"Ebony, 13 ½ inches, very bendable." Ollivander said. The old man had to be losing his mind. He was at least as old as Dumbledor…had been.

She was watching him, but it was more like she could see right through him, with that same dazed smile.

Before he knew what he was doing he pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket tapped it with his wand muttering "portus".

"Come here." He motioned at the girl. She almost skipped over, but it somehow managed to be a subdued skip. He didn't miss the slight flinch as he raised his wand either.

"Take this, and get out of Britain. Do you understand?"

"No thank you, Professor." The old man groaned.

"What are you talking about, foolish girl? Take it!"

"No, sir. You'll get found out, and if you aren't at Hogwarts no one will control the Carrows."

Severus was speechless for a moment. Then he began to splutter angrily. "Besides, I think we'll get out soon anyway."

"Miss Lovegood-"

"Professor Snape?" It was Draco, calling out from the steps outside the cell. "Father says the meeting's about to start."

"Yes Draco. I can keep track of time by myself, thank you."

He heard the boy grumbling and he climbed back up to the more habitable upper floors.

He shot Luna a glare, but there wasn't much heart to it. "If you insist, Miss Lovegood." He dropped the tray on the ground and turned to leave the wretched room.

"You aren't really one of them." It wasn't a question, it was a fact. The way she said it, anyway.

Severus didn't pause; he swept from the room, his Death Eaters robes billowing, ever bat-like, behind him. He shut the door and locked it.

Not before he transfigured their food into something remotely edible though.

When he returned to the Malfoy sitting room the light almost blinded him. His eyes adjusted, revealing about twenty men, all in identical black robes.

He looked just like them, right down to the mark on his forearm.

You aren't really one of them.

He had to be careful about thoughts like that with the 'worlds greatest Legilimens' arriving soon.

He schooled his face into its customary scowl, even behind the mask. He liked to think people could sense it somehow.

AN – it's my first fanfiction, so constructive criticism would be appreciated. And I always thought Snape and Luna would get along, to an extent.