The castle was eerily quiet as Severus descended the spiral staircase of the headmaster's office and made his way to the astronomy tower. No sconces were alit that late into the night and the only light that reached the corridors as he walked came from the soft moonlight, trickling in here and there, through the narrow windows and open alcoves.
It didn’t bother him, though; he didn't need the light to navigate the castle. Having spent several decades moving through its nooks and crannies left him quite adept at finding his way with little or no light. He preferred the darkness actually; always had. He fit into its swallowing embrace as easily as if putting on a different, more spacious kind of a cloak. Darkness meant shelter: from the marauders, noise, obnoxious students and chatty colleagues.
Not that he had to go through much trouble nowadays, to avoid his colleagues. The whole student and professorial body were making a show out of letting him know just what they thought of his presence in the castle. It meant that he no longer had to duck into empty classrooms to avoid Minerva and her tirades about quidditch or his treatment of her precious little cubs. Nor did he have to waste time secretly rearranging the damned flowerpots in the staff room into new positions so that he could place ‘his’ armchair as further as possible from the round table that occupied the middle of the room, or the little clusters of chairs where the staff sometimes sat in cliques.
No, things were rather different now that he was the headmaster. Had the circumstances been any less severe, one or two aspects of it might have brought him some enjoyment: the much more respectful staircase, which soundlessly rearranged itself into optimal routes wherever he went; the quiet sentience of the castle and its constant, comforting presence in the back of his mind; the ability to suspend all chatter from the staffroom in a matter of milliseconds and the knowledge that he commanded their total and undivided attention the moment he set his foot into the room, despite their little theatrics of pretending not to notice him or to suddenly find some inanimate object that hasn’t been moved in decades utterly fascinating.
He never had issues with ascertaining authority over a room of students, and his colleagues had respected him well enough during the years, if nothing else than for his undisputable mastery in his field of work and his sharp mind. And sometimes, if he was in a particularly good mood, for his dry sense of humor.
But this was different. This was not the steady, well-deserved respect that fellow colleagues have for each other after years of enduring tedious meetings together and bickering over house points. This was the raw feeling of power that came with the awareness that he alone held the reins on consequences much larger than any potions accident could ever provoke. His word was the only thing standing between them and the bloodthirsty wrath of the Carrows and the Dark Lord. And much as it disgusted him to admit it, he sometimes felt its intoxicating allure.
But that was as far as it went, as he made sure never to fall into the temptation of indulging such primitive appetites. His days of dreaming of power and glory were long gone, disowned the moment he learned of Lily’s death. But his colleagues did not know that. To them, he fit the role of a unscrupulous, despotic villain perfectly, and his every word and move served to further fuel their hatred.
That very hatred, however, did not stay dormant or confined to the walls of the staff room. Oh, no. It was very much alive and busy, leaving traps and ambushes all over the castle for him to find and, hopefully, succumb to.
So far there had only been one blatant murder attempt, by way of layering poison over some paperwork that reached his office. Fortunately, having been a potion master for as long as he had, he recognized the poisonous substances within seconds and promptly disposed of the papers and any traces it might have left on Dumbledore's desk.
Yes, Dumbledore’s. Not for one moment did he considered the office, or any of its belongings, to be his. He was very much aware that the appointment was a charade, and he refused to think of it any other way.
After the poison fiasco, the staff seemingly gave up on grand acts of rebellion, instead turning their efforts to inventing countless, infuriating little ways to tire a man out or test his nerves on such a steady rate that he might begin to contemplate abandoning his appointed position, if not his life.
The paperwork was utilized once more when one of his newly acquired nemeses charmed the actual requests that were routinely delivered to the headmaster’s office regarding matters such as expenses, detentions, supply restocking and such, to multiply by several dozen, with minutely changed contents, effectively covering every inch of Severus’s desk and reaching several inches high into the air.
Leading the Great Britain's only magical school and catering to the erratic needs of a certain dark wizard had been leaving him quite stranded for time this year as it was, and he realized one night, sitting at his desk staring into nothing, that had yet to find any to figure out the counter curse for the blasted papers.
Just hours before, he had been summoned to the Manor as the-boy-who-will-hopefully-continue-to-live-long-enough-to-save-the-world-once-more had apparently broken into Gringotts with his sidekicks and, while it was it wasn't Severus the Dark Lord was furious with, he still liked to have him around for his bigger outbursts. Severus suspected it was a reminder that even though he was inasmuch good favour as a death eater might hope to be, being his right hand after Lucius's failure at the Ministry the previous summer and all, it would do well to remember what displeasing his Lordship meant.
Thankfully, this time he only stood aside and watched, face impassive but inwardly smirking, as the Dark Lord circled Bellatrix, whose wide eyes were frantically darting back and forth between his moving figure and the floor, not quite daring to look at him directly, as she struggled to form words, half furious about having been outsmarted and equally as terrified for having disappointed her beloved master.
Her punishment wasn't as long as it usually would have been for a failing of that rank, but it was no less severe. Even though he made it very clear that this was a mistake not to be repeated, the Dark Lord possessed enough strategic skill, as well as prowess in tactical thinking, to know that she was his most devoted servant who had proved herself useful on many occasions, and that getting rid of her would not be a good idea.
Severus waited for the Dark Lord to dismiss Bella before approaching to offer some empty reassurance that this mishap would not derail the main plan significantly.
After placating the surviving of his two masters to a sufficient degree, he was allowed to return to Hogwarts. Once back, however, he found it difficult to focus on administrative work that waited for him but was far too restless to go to sleep either, despite the hour. After some pacing, he resorted to making a few rounds around the castle and perhaps removing some of the latest ambushes the professors had put up for him, should he be fortunate enough to notice them before in time.
For all their intended inconvenience, on nights such as this one, the trap hunting offered a sufficient distraction from his depressing thoughts. Provided, of course, he didn't encounter either of the Carrows along the way, cornering students foolish enough to be caught out of bed, doing God-knows-what to them under the farce of ‘disciplinary measures’.
After a while, he became aware that his legs were carrying him to the Astronomy tower, most likely having synced with his subconsciousness, which knew that was the most likely place to find some surprises. The staff had felt it their sacred duty ever since that god-forsaken night, to prevent him from approaching the place in whichever way possible.
“As if I had any desire to go there…”, he thought to himself bitterly, wondering what it was they imagined he would be doing up there. Dwelling on the technical aspects of the executions and whether his wand movement might have been more precise had he raised his arm a bit higher? Assembling an army of demons? Holding council with the devil?
Now that he thought of it, he did remember Alecto droning on during dinner about some inconvenience that she discovered on her rounds around the tower. God forbid she actually do anything to deal with the issue. But having had the pleasure of attending Hogwarts at the same time as she had, and distinctly remembering her lack of skill in both charms and counter-curses, it was no surprise she took no initiative to resolve the issue. There was also the fact that he knew the only reason she told him of the issue was because both twins apparently got some perverse sort of satisfaction out of reported to him all the mutinous acts that other inhabitants of the castle were taking to make his life even more difficult. As if watching the life he had built for himself during the past decade while they were rotting in Azkaban, crumble apart around him, thus rendering his social rank to their own, brought them some particular sort of enjoyment.
Contemplating the extent of his comrades’ sadistic streak, he reached the point where the hallway started to curve, leading to the beginning of the staircase further down. His inner musings were interrupted as he caught sight of what he assumed was the scene Alecto had been describing. Starting inches away from where he was, and extending as far as he could see, the walls of the curved hallway were covered in thick, slimy and moving tentacles, most resembling those of a devil's snare. He had no doubt the pest covered the entirety of the tower, all the way to the top.
With a deep sigh he took out his wand, ready to try and Ascendio the damned thing into oblivion, when he heard a rustling sound, coming further down the hallway.
Strengthening the grip on his wand and bracing himself for a potential confrontation, he silently inched forward, his back as close to one of the rounded walls as possible without touching the spidery menace. As the sound grew louder, he could make out the rustling of robes mixed with faint exhales, followed by what he assumed was the sound of the plant’s tentacles rearranging themselves.
“No doubt a staff member. Come to perfect their little trick”, he thought darkly. He didn't want to confront them. He was too tired and not in the mood to play the evil bastard any more than he was forced to during the day, to keep their minds far away from thinking he was anything other than evil incarnate, and therefore from asking questions. But risk being seen while retreating and making them think he was shying away from confrontation would only encourage them to continue with this kind of nonsense. So he braced himself to his full height and once more fell into the soundless prowl he had used on countless occasions, sneaking up on his students in the hallways after curfew.
When he rounded the last bit of the wall that was obscuring his view, he stopped in his tracks. A staff member was indeed standing several feet in front of him. One Miranda Vector, with her back turned to him, arm raised as she snappishly flicked her wand at the plant covering the walls ahead of her. But what stopped him was the fact that new plant tentacles weren't springing into existence from her wand, but rather disappearing. “She was vanishing them…”, he realized.
She must have sensed someone watching her because she abruptly turned around, wand sharply pointed at him, looking quite ready to vanish him just as she had some plant tentacles not moments ago. But then she recognized him and, for a second, he thought she almost looked embarrassed, lips parting slightly as if struggling to formulate something, but no words came out. He didn’t get the chance to analyse the reaction, because in the next moment she got a hold of herself, closing her mouth once more, lips thinly pressed as she lowered her wand, shoulders visibly relaxing after she apparently decided that she was in no immediate danger.
Severus's brows drew even further together at this reaction, immediately recalling the usual stiffness and disdain with which the other professors carried themselves around him. Not that he could blame them. Having to watch the Carrows do all sorts of nasty things to their students day after day, it seemed an obvious conclusion that it was only a matter of time before any slim protection their age and status had so far afforded them was disregarded, and the newest additions to the staff turned on them as well.
His wand was hanging somewhat limply in his hand, nearly forgotten amid his sudden confusion. After another moment, he remembered himself and straightened out his half outstretched arm, strengthening the grip on his wand as he slowly approached the place where she was standing.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here, Professor Vector? I'm positively certain that last time I checked the patrolling schedule it was not your turn this evening. Besides, even if it were, the time for making rounds is long over, much as this evening.”, he purred silkily, eyes pointedly darting to the now barely visible moon. Raising one finely arched eyebrow, he took in her appearance, seemingly unbothered by his accusation.
She squinted her eyes at him as if calculating her next words before blinking a few times and letting out a small, barely audible sigh.
“I was vanishing the slithering ivy from the tower.”, she said simply, in much the same was as one would state that they were just in middle of making a nice cup of tea, not giving even a slight indication of guilt or panic at having been caught.
“You were…vanishing the ivy?”, he slowly repeated, briefly flicking his eyes to the wriggling monster behind her. “And pray tell, how did you know that something as uncommon as a slithering ivy has found its way into the castle and thus needed vanishing? Moreover, how did you know it could be found at this particular location?”, he asked pointedly, taking another languid step towards her.
“Because I was present when we cast the charm which put it here, of course.”, she said lightly, cocking her head to one side, as if curious about what his reaction to her words would be.
The insolence of her nonchalant tone and the open lack of attempt to deny that she was indeed involved in some scheme against him prompted a small hiss as he further narrowed his eyes.
“What do you think you're playing at, Miranda? And don't even think about wasting my time with some ridiculous decoy story. If this is a distraction for the rest of your friends to be up and doing some-“
But she cut his off with a loud huff before he could finish. “Oh, please. As if the events of the past few months have erased everything I know about you including your keen nose for sniffing out lies.”, she said, rolling her eyes. “Besides, I never knew how to tell a good lie, and everyone around here knows it. Had we really attempted to put some plan into action, such as one you are suggesting, surely they wouldn't have sent me to distract you”.
“Then why did they send you?”, he snapped back. “To add final touches to the existing work? Add another curse or two you initially forgot to cast?”, he snarled, his face twisting into an angry grimace, his eyes never leaving hers as he creeped towards her. “And perhaps, should luck be on your side, be there just in time for me to run into the trap and have some fun watching?”
He never did take well to being made fun of and his anger was slowly growing into fury over their attempt to make a fool out of him. Despite the fact that it was neither the first nor the last time they would do such a thing before the year runs out, and that in normal circumstances he wouldn’t pay it much attention and his reaction would be much more subdued, the lack of sleep combined with unpleasant memories of his school days that were somehow never far away, made him irrational and did no favours to his already short temper.
He was now standing mere inches from her, lips drawn back in a sneering grimace. He was letting his paranoia get the better of him and he knew it, but the situation brought on a painful flash of another time where he was preyed upon in this very same castle, only by a different group of people, who also did their best to hurt him, if not kill him.
But he wasn’t helpless this time. There were no rules he had to follow and no biased professors to prevent him from standing up for himself. He would not stand for it.
He kept his burning gaze on her face, watching intently for any slip up or a sign of recognition at his words. But to his mounting frustration, he found none. Now that he thought of it, her face looked tired and devoid of any traces of vengeful determination. She just blankly stared back at him with listless eyes, sides of her mouth slightly pulled downwards. She most certainly didn't look like someone who was out on a mission, hoping for a laugh or blood. Or both. She just looked…tired.
When she finally spoke, the flatness of her voice matched her expression, as if she knew that every word she were about to say could only provoke him into more paranoid rage and thus prolong this interaction, vanishing the already miniscule chance of either of them getting any sleep tonight.
“I was vanishing the thing because I assumed this would be the least likely time to be intercepted by any member of the staff, including you, and in the morning, none would be any wiser – they would think you yourself had vanished it and you wouldn’t know it had ever been there.”
Taking his silence as a sign that he was not satisfied with her answer, she continued “I haven't yet received a reply to my request for new arithmantic reference tables that I sent out some weeks ago, which tells me you either had zero free time for your paperwork during this not quite short period, or you still haven't found a counter curse for reducing its size and actually reaching the requests that need attending to. Either way, both cases have a common premise and it's that you have better things to do than walk around looking for booby traps.”
Snape just blinked at her several times, his mind working furiously. He didn’t quite believe what she was saying because, if nothing else, it was too damned misaligned with the current state of reality, but neither was he able to find any indication in her demeanor of it not being true. He didn’t bother trying to slip into her mind and dig out the truth for himself; he discovered some years back that she too was adept at occlumency. The revelation was made during one perfectly peaceful breakfast in the Great Hall, shortly after she had joined the staff, and he wanted to get a feeling of the newcomer without bothering with the nauseating pleasantries. Suffice it to say, the breakfast ended in a mood that could be described in many ways, but peaceful was not one of them.
“If you truly expect me to believe that”, he finally said, becoming aware that he had been silent for too long, “then you either think me painfully naïve or deluded. And, while our previous Headmaster’s ways might have led you to think that absentmindedness and senility were common traits to all heads of the castle, I can assure you, my mental faculties have remained as sharp as ever”.
The wrinkles around her eyes tightened slightly at his mention of Albus, but otherwise she remained motionless.
“Believe what you will”, she replied with a slight shrug. “Even if it wasn't almost morning and I had some energy to spare, which I don’t”, raising one hand to tiredly rub her eyes, further emphasizing the point, “I know better than to try and convince you”.
Severus gave her an appraising look, battling with himself on whether to let the matter go and end this ridiculously long night, possibly blowing off some steam along the way while he dealt with the remainder of the plant, or press her further and find out what exactly prompted her into this…charitable act. If he was getting careless and not keeping up his act as well as he should, he needed to know, sooner rather than later. It must have been the incident with the blasted sword and assigning detention with Hagrid. He regretted that one the moment they left his office, certain that it was only a matter of hours before one of the Carrows sniffed out that something was not right. Hopefully, the moment never came.
“I'm touched by your thoughtfulness, Miranda…”, he drawled out, his damned curiosity getting the best of him, as usual. “Tell me, am I to take this as an attempt to get into my good graces? And, consequently, into the graces of some… distinguished individuals?”, he asked arching an eyebrow, donning a mocking look of curious surprise on his face.
Her brows briefly came together in confusion, before she proceeded to give him an incredulous look.
“Are you asking me if I'm intending to join your little club??”, she asked, voice raising with the last syllable, showing her disbelief.
When he gave no answer, merely raised his other brow as well, she barked out a sharp laugh.
“Me? A death eater? Ha! Now there's material for a new Monty Python sequel…”, she snorted, turning her head to gaze out one of the windows that were now showing first traces of morning light, an amused expression on her face. However, she sobered up quickly enough and returned her attention to him.
“No, I'm not. Never have and never will. Nor did I have any other kind of ulterior motives, regardless of whether you found out that I was attempting to rid you of some of your troubles or not”.
He knew well enough that she wasn’t a scheming kind, but he was grasping for straws in trying to prompt her into talking. Realizing she wasn’t going to volunteer any of her thoughts on the whole matter, he too suddenly grew tired, feeling the weight of another sleepless night pressing on him. His arm, which had up until now been pointing his wand at her, fell limply to his side, his shoulders losing some of their previous stiffness. Turning his head slowly away from her to briefly look at the scene she had gazed at only moments ago, he added quietly “Very well... I'll leave you to it then”.
Turning around in a sweeping motion, he started back towards his office. Her soft voice stopped him mid-step.
“The seventh paper is charmed.”
There was a moment of silence as he stood in the hallway, his back to her.
“I beg your pardon? “, he asked, half-turning his head.
“The charmed paperwork”, she explained, “The seventh file, ordered by request date, is the trigger for a modified duplication charm. If you tap the first sentence with your wand three times, the pile will reduce itself back to the actual size, containing only legitimate requests”.
He stood there, seconds stretching out, the outline of his back barely discernible against the still darkened hallway. Could it be? Was the universe truly cruel enough to lead him into the temptation of entertaining the idea that maybe, just maybe, there was someone who hasn't jumped to the conclusions he and Albus had served out for them all? Despite it being the plan all along that they should do so, a small spark of something from deep within him was greedily reached out towards the idea that someone might not have given up on him so easily. That maybe… he wasn't completely alone.
Shoving back the traitorous glimmer of hope before he had a chance to outwardly react and ruin several months’ worth of planning, he turned his head back to fully face the hallway once more and set off back to his office, not seeing her soft, saddened gaze as she watched him leave.