Date: Tue, 23 Jun 2015 22:51:58 +0000 (UTC)
From: John Sexton <sexton1980@yahoo.com.au>
Subject: of-pride-and-prejudice-02

Author: John Sexton
Genre: Harry Potter Slash
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Chapter Two – Out of Sorts

Severus Snape looked down the Great Hall, at the young first years being
led towards the staff table by Minerva McGonagall. His gaze fell upon the
distinctive and familiar blonde head of Draco Malfoy; but, to his great
consternation, he could not make out anyone in the boy's company whom he
did not recognise.

Young Malfoy was surrounded by the faces of children whose lineage was
unmistakable; the Crabbe and Goyle boys, and a girl who had to be a
Parkinson.

If Malfoy had managed to befriend Potter, there was precious little
evidence of it. Even more disturbing was the emotional scan that Severus
was detecting from the Malfoy heir: the young blond wizard was clearly
stressed and far from happy.

Severus put this down to the strain of the Sorting ritual; though why on
earth the son of Lucius Malfoy would have cause to be anxious about that
gave Severus pause.

The Sorting Hat moved through the children efficiently enough, and Draco
Malfoy was placed into Slytherin without any hesitation. The boy's relief
was patent, and Severus scanned the remaining children with a growing sense
of unease.

He could still not identify Potter, until he saw Malfoy cast a scathing
glare at a dark-haired boy in the middle of the remaining pack. The boy
returned Malfoy's look... in spades.

Upon closer scrutiny Severus felt a pang of recognition in that face. The
glasses, the unruly mop of black hair, the stance... there was a
familiarity in those features that was both disturbing and
unmistakable. But what troubled Severus even more was the look that had
been exchanged between the boys, and the shock of red hair at the
dark-haired boy's side.

The redhead and the raven-haired boy were exchanging amicable glances and
whispering to each other. Severus began to suspect that the bespectacled
child was Potter, and the redhead could only be a Weasley; this did not
bode well.

All of Severus's fears were confirmed when he heard "Potter, Harry!" and
the boy nervously stepped up to the Sorting Hat. Potter with a Weasley?
Whatever this meant, it was not good news. What had transpired between
Malfoy and Potter on the train? Why was Potter with a Weasley, of all
people?

Severus was mystified when the Sorting Hat slipped down over Potter's eyes;
it seemed to sit there for an eternity. Severus could sense confusion,
determination, anxiety and even fear emanating from the boy.

A buzz of intense curiosity swept the hall, as the Sorting of Harry Potter
took an inordinate amount of time. Maybe it was Severus's own attitude that
made it seem so; he felt as anxious as Potter clearly was.

When the hat finally proclaimed "Gryffindor!" Severus gaped in disbelief,
before suppressing his anger and quickly regaining his composure. An
onlooker would barely have detected his reaction; he was, after all, an
accomplished Occlumens and an equally competent spy.

Severus looked directly at Dumbledore, who merely smiled with that
infuriating twinkle in his eye. What was the old man up to? Severus
swallowed his anger, then stared at Dumbledore, as the ancient wizard
winked at Potter and raised his goblet to the child in a subtle gesture of
congratulations.

When the redhead was confirmed as a Weasley, and took his place next to
Potter at the Gryffindor table, Severus was ready to flay someone, anyone,
alive. He turned back towards the Slytherin table and sought out young
Malfoy. He found the boy glaring across the room at Potter, and easily
detected the waves of animosity being projected by the young Slytherin
towards the bespectacled Gryffindor.

Malfoy looked up, just at that moment, and Severus drilled him with a look
of unmasked annoyance. Whatever had transpired between the two boys,
Severus could not tell, but there was clearly bad blood between them, and
Severus suspected that somewhere, in the midst of this fiasco, stood the
Weasley.

Dumbledore feigned being oblivious to the situation, and Severus determined
that he would have to wait until after the feast to tackle the headmaster
on the issue.

===============================================

The Welcoming Feast had barely concluded when Severus stormed into Albus
Dumbledore's office.

"Why do I have the feeling that you are not surprised by tonight's turn of
events, Headmaster?" he sneered, barely containing his anger.

"Good evening, Severus, did you enjoy the feast?" Albus smiled genially at
his Potions Master. "Have a liquorice snap?" he added, and proffered a tray
of the disgusting confections.

"Don't play games, Albus, I'm really not in the mood. We have waited years
for this night and it has all gone off the rails! How can you sit
there—"

"Then at least have a seat, Severus..." the old man interrupted him, calmly
but firmly... "and control yourself!"

Severus did as he was directed; he drew a deep breath before sighing
dejectedly.

"Severus," the old man said, affectionately, "I have found that, quite
often, when things don't go just as we planned, there is a reason; and
often that reason opens up all sorts of other possibilities."  The look
that Severus flashed at Dumbledore was positively evil; he hated the old
man's riddles. Dumbledore may well be the greatest wizard of his age, but
he could be infuriatingly obtuse when he put his mind to it.

"Spare me the misdirection, Albus!" growled Severus, before a wry smile
creased his own lips momentarily. "I do believe you could have been a
Slytherin," he added cagily.

The headmaster's eyes sparkled mischievously.

"I assume that was meant as a compliment, Severus. Though I must say: it
hardly matches your demeanour."

"Enough with the trivialities then, Albus... why is Potter in Gryffindor?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. Before he
opened his mouth, the twinkle in his eyes, that familiar infuriating
sparkle, flared.

"Why indeed, Severus!" He smiled and stroked his long white beard
thoughtfully, before he struck a more serious pose. "I had wondered the
same thing."

The headmaster inclined his head towards the Sorting Hat, which now
occupied its normal position, high on a shelf above their heads.

"It appears that the boy asked not to be placed in Slytherin!"

Severus immediately shot a venomous look of utter disbelief up at the
tattered hat, which simply inclined its peak towards him.

"That is correct, Snape," the hat confirmed the Headmaster's claim. "`Not
Slytherin, not Slytherin! Anywhere but Slytherin!' were his exact
words. Quite a spirited young whelp, that one... though I must say: not at
all surprising, when one considers his pedigree."

This latter comment drew a wicked smile from Dumbledore and a profound
scowl from Severus.

"No, I suppose I should not be surprised," Severus spat angrily, "neither
by the arrogance nor the sheer effrontery of any son of James Potter." He
turned his venom back onto Dumbledore. "So, all your scheming has come to
nought, Albus. I did try to warn you, when you first hatched this little
plot, that exposure to those Muggles would ruin the boy. A history of
childhood abuse does not automatically mark one for Slytherin; there is
more than that to being a snake! If we had placed him with one of the
pureblood families, as I had pleaded..."

The Potions Master drew a deep breath; he was just warming up. But the
Headmaster interjected.

"Enough, Severus, this is water under the bridge. The boy is not in
Slytherin and that is all that matters." Dumbledore smiled, leaned back in
his great chair, and placed his ancient hands firmly on the edge of his
desk. "The whys and wherefores will sort themselves out, most probably for
the better."

Severus sighed dejectedly.

"Does Minerva know your real motives for placing the boy with those abusive
Muggles? I know she was there when you delivered the boy, and I know that
she did not agree with your decision; but did you ever apprise her of your
little scheme? Does she know that the boy was destined for Slytherin?"

"No, Severus, she does not! And it must stay that way. I dare say that
Minerva would have always assumed that the boy would follow his parents
into Gryffindor, and, as it turns out, she would have been right. I see no
point in disavowing her of that notion. He is her charge now, let her
savour the moment."

A gruff snort was Severus's only response, until he caught the gleam in
Albus's eye.

"`Savour the moment!'" he mocked, "you don't believe that for one tick, you
old fox. My assessment of the brat is spot on. You know, as well as I do,
that he is as arrogant and self-opinionated as his father. He will probably
cause Minerva more heartache than James Potter and all of his Gryffindor
cronies rolled into one."

Dumbledore laughed.

"You're most likely correct, Severus."

"I know I am, Albus. The brat has already made at least one enemy in
Slytherin."

The old man's face grew suddenly sad.

"Yes, well don't be too hard on Master Malfoy, Severus..."

The head of Slytherin made no attempt to mask his surprise at the old man's
awareness of the Malfoy-Potter standoff; he acknowledged the headmaster's
acuity with a wry grin and a nod of his head.

The old man rose slowly to his feet.

"I'm quite sure that Draco will be worried enough about his father's
reaction to today's events, without the extra burden of your displeasure. I
suspect that what transpired today was as much out of his hands as it was
out of ours. Goodnight, Severus."

"Goodnight, Headmaster."

Despite his still simmering anger, Severus grinned wryly, as he rose from
his seat and made his way to the door. He shook his head, on the ride down
the spiral staircase; the old man may have miscalculated with Potter, then
again he may not.

A grimace warped Severus's stony visage, as he contemplated that – ever
since that day, a decade ago, when Albus had decided to send the boy to
live with those Muggles – he, Severus Snape, may have been just as much
out of the loop as Minerva. One never really knew with Dumbledore; the boy
might well be where the old fox wanted him all along... in Gryffindor.

Then the wry smile returned, albeit tempered now by his doubts. Severus
mused that, miscalculation or not, the old man had not missed anything with
young Malfoy. There was not much at Hogwarts that got past Albus
Dumbledore.

Severus strode along the corridor that led back down to the Slytherin
common room, he would talk to Malfoy after breakfast... no! Better to
square things away before the boy has another encounter with Potter, he
thought. He would speak to Malfoy before he sent the First Years to bed.

The Head of Slytherin House came to a sudden halt; he pricked up his ears
at a faint sound, which became more distinct as the echo of his own
footfalls faded. It sounded like sniffling, and it was coming from the
cupboard across the hall.

When Severus threw open the door, he was startled to discover Draco Malfoy
squatting on an upturned bucket, surrounded by an assortment of old mops
and brooms. He was clearly distressed, and his condition was now made worse
by the embarrassment of being discovered.

One look at the boy's face was enough to throw Severus into action. He
closed the cupboard door, cast "Lumos!" to light the tiny chamber, then
cast silencing wards, in a near whisper.

He was not surprised to see recognition in the boy's face; he had expected
that a Malfoy would know that spell.

Severus scanned the tiny room; it was cluttered, but not so cramped that he
was forced into the boy's personal space. He spun around to face the boy
again, his wand held just in front of his own chest. The light from its tip
cast eerie shadows up along his face, and once again the boy betrayed his
fear.

Even though Draco knew the Professor personally, he was obviously
frightened by the ghoulish features that the light and shadow brought out
in Severus's face. The boy's anxiety was no doubt exacerbated by his
embarrassment.

"You are supposed to be in the Slytherin common room, Mr Malfoy," Severus
chastened the blond, an accusatory tone in his dark, silky voice. Then he
squinted at the lad. "Explain yourself," he demanded suddenly.

The boy looked up at him, a mournful and bereft expression warping his
angular features.

"I... I'm sorry, P—Professor Snape... Sir," the boy sniffled, as he
struggled to comport himself with dignity. "I did not want to bring
disgrace to Slytherin, by showing any weakness..." he blurted, in a single,
determined breath; then he sniffled, again, and teetered on the brink of
another wave of tears and hysteria.

"It's just that..." the lad sniffled again, then drew himself up with a
jolt, and renewed his resolve... "sorry, Sir!"

"Well, at least you've shown some discretion," said Severus tonelessly, as
he waved his illuminated wand at their surroundings. "However," he drilled
the young wizard with his black orbs, "Lucius would, no doubt, expect far
more self-discipline from his son."

The boy paled, not that it was a significant deviation from his usual
complexion, and his expression descended into profound alarm.

"Oh, Sir!" the boy pleaded with his new school master.

"As a Slytherin," Severus redirected the boy's anxiety, "you are expected
to control your emotions at all times."

"Yes, Sir," the boy replied miserably, and hung his head in disgrace.

"Yes, indeed, Master Malfoy," pronounced Severus gravely, "what would you
have done, if this had occurred in the Great Hall?" he demanded of the boy,
"there are no broom closets there, to afford you sanctuary."

"No, Sir," the boy was clearly chastened; he dropped his head again in even
deeper disgrace.

"This is all to do with Potter, I presume?"

The boy jerked his head up at Severus.

"Sir?" he cried, trying to gather his wits.

Severus merely stared at the boy, until he finally relented...

"Yes, Sir," Draco admitted reluctantly. But Lucius's son was obviously
startled by his superior's knowledge of something he had considered a
well-kept secret.

"But," the boy dared to ask, "how do you—"

"Very little happens at Hogwarts without my knowledge, Master Malfoy!"
Severus drilled the boy with a no-nonsense glare, "and absolutely nothing
in Slytherin," he added quite deliberately.

"Yes, Sir," the boy repeated soberly.

"The first lesson that you will learn in Slytherin, Master Malfoy, is that
revenge is the panacea for all afflictions of the mind, body and spirit."
Severus smiled darkly at the boy, "Mr Potter has made a bad start at
Hogwarts this day, Draco. But never fear, he will reap what he has sown."

The boy's delicate features morphed into a delighted sneer.

"But remember, Draco," Severus cautioned his newest Slytherin, "revenge is
a dish best served cold. A Slytherin knows when to strike, and when to bide
his time. Mr Potter may well enjoy his first few days here at Hogwarts, but
he shares a double Potions class with you this Friday morning, and I can
assure you, he will quickly discover that one does not cross a Slytherin
lightly."

By this stage, young Malfoy's face was positively beaming.

"Now, Mr Malfoy," quipped Severus, casually, "you and I have a house
meeting to attend, and I expect you to do Slytherin and your family proud,
here at Hogwarts."

"Yes, Sir!"

Severus waved his wand over the boy, and his tear stained face looked
suddenly refreshed. They exited the cupboard, and a much more confident,
almost arrogant, Draco Malfoy accompanied his housemaster to the Slytherin
common room.

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