[From Samhain to the Solstice]: Chapter Five of 'Adagio'- Rumors of Power

[lomonaaeren]

“Professor Snape? Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Severus concealed a frown as he saw Draco lingering behind his classmates. He almost never came to speak to Severus anymore. Severus had made it clear in his first year that he would not listen to baseless bragging or spite against other Slytherins.

But now, Draco looked almost frightened. Severus nodded and spelled the classroom door shut. He had lunch next, so he would be able to speak to Draco without interruption.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy?” Severus asked, when almost a minute had passed and Draco had maintained his silent, pensive, wide-eyed stare.

Draco snapped up to his full height, unimpressive though that was at the moment, and took a deep breath. “I—I saw what Potter did to Professor Lockhart in class the other day. And he came back to the dormitory saying that it was accidental magic?”

“Yes, it was.” Did Draco doubt Potter? Severus could not decide whether that would be a good thing or not.

Draco shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. “He—he’s scary,” he said, so quietly that Severus almost could not hear him, despite listening intently. “Potter, I mean.”

Perhaps that will make you leave him alone. But Severus only asked, “Has he threatened you? Done anything I should know about?”

“No.” Draco bit his lip.

Severus simply waited. Draco had learned young that nothing and no one could ever truly threaten him. The privilege of being Lucius Malfoy’s son, a rich pureblood in a society that celebrated such things as worthy of protection.

Severus had thought once that nothing sooner than adulthood would shatter the glass Draco had been caged in. But it seemed that he was coming face-to-face, for the first time, with a Dark wizard more powerful than himself, and had the wits to recognize it.

That last part is perhaps the most unexpected.

Draco shivered again and lifted his eyes to Severus’s. “Professor Snape, can I ask you something as—as the Head of Slytherin?”

I thought we were already having this conversation under those auspices, Severus thought, but saying that would only discourage the boy’s unanticipated burst of intelligence. He nodded. “You may.”

“Do you think it would be a good thing to make friends with Potter? Despite his blood and his—reputation?”

It took Severus a moment to realize that Draco meant Potter’s reputation as the Boy-Who-Lived, rather than as a powerful wizard for his age. It had become so easy to forget that in the last year and a half.

But he took a step forwards now, looked down, and asked, “What do you think, Draco?”

“I think—I think this is sort of the way my father felt when he met the Dark Lord in school.”

Severus restrained his shock. Draco was making the comparison on the basis of Potter’s power, he reminded himself. It wasn’t because the Dark Lord had made a habit of tying up his professors in silver wire. In fact, all the stories of the Dark Lord Severus had heard when he was a student were about a polite, helpful young man who had managed to fool all his professors into liking him.

Except Albus.

“I would not repeat that to Potter, Mr. Malfoy,” Severus said, the only warning he felt he could give. “He might take offense, given that the Dark Lord killed his parents.”

“He wouldn’t like the implication that he’s powerful?”

Draco’s eyes were wide and wondering. Severus felt, for a moment, a jolt of amusement. Draco might be smarter than Severus had thought, but he was still very young.

“Yes, he would probably prefer to stand on his own and receive comparisons he found more favorable.”

Draco nodded studiously. “Thank you, sir. I think I’ll be able to share a bedroom with Potter without fear now.”

“I thought you said he had not threatened you, Draco.”

“Oh, he hasn’t. But being that close to that much power can be hard unless you’re able to flatter them, you know?”

Draco left, Severus unlocking the door for a moment, but Severus did not immediately proceed to the Great Hall. He stared after Draco, instead, and wondered whether he had simply made it possible for Draco to flatter Potter more effectively.

In the end, he shrugged off the suspicion. What of it? Potter was not the Dark Lord, and he had shown no sign of the ambition that would have responded to flattery such as Draco could give him by growing stronger.

Only later, long after, did Severus think that that simply meant Potter’s ambition had grown in a different direction.

*

“They all think I’m the Heir of Slytherin.”

Severus snorted, concentrating more on the potion he was brewing while Potter brooded in a chair in front of him than the boy’s words. “That is self-evidently ridiculous.”

“Why? Do you think I’m not powerful enough?”

Severus raised his head, blinking, and focused on the young man. Potter was leaning forwards in his chair, his green eyes ablaze, and there was a coiled readiness in him that made Severus wonder how often he had had to attack people to make them take him seriously in the Muggle world.

“I think that you would not Petrify a ghost, a cat, and a random Hufflepuff and Gryffindor,” Severus said dryly. “You would Petrify people who had caused you some irritation or hurt. Witness Professor Lockhart.”

There was a long moment when Potter stared at him and Severus did wonder if he should have spoken so carelessly. And then Potter relaxed and laughed despite himself.

“What do you think is happening, sir?”

Severus added a final stir to the potion and moved away from the cauldron. Merlin knew why Albus wanted the Draught of Clarification—it was only used, most of the time, to aid in clearing one’s mind, a task Albus had no difficulty with—but there were many sorts of questions he did not ask. “I think that a student has discovered their own blood connection to the Slytherin lineage and is attempting to avenge petty slights.”

“Petty slights?”

“Perhaps they are a Slytherin themselves, but I would tend to think not. If so, they could simply have revealed themselves as a Parselmouth and claimed their heritage that way. No, my bet is on someone in another House who knows they would have prejudice against them if they showed their Parseltongue and is doing this in some misguided attempt to show they are Salazar’s true descendant.”

“What’s a Parselmouth, sir?”

Severus nearly missed his reach for the stirring rod that he was about to pick up. But he managed to complete the gesture naturally and said, “Someone who can speak to snakes. It is a rare sort of magic, and supposedly carried only by those related to Salazar Slytherin by blood.”

“Supposedly?”

“Our House’s founder had to spring from somewhere,” Severus said dryly as he lowered the stirring rod to the potion and swirled it carefully. The Draught of Clarification would be perfectly fine if he brewed with split focus, but his mind was tumbling, turning over the conclusions, and coming to…

It would make sense of some things, and add a question mark behind others.

“Someone told me that the Dark Lord descended from Salazar Slytherin. Is that true?”

Severus nodded to Potter as he shook the last drops off the rod, making sure they landed in the cauldron. “It is.”

“And so it could be someone related to him who’s doing this?”

“It could. But as I explained, that does not mean they are in Slytherin House itself.”

He looked over his shoulder when he heard nothing other than the soft bubbling from the potion in front of him. Potter—Harry—was glaring at his clenched hands.

Severus followed his intuition, which had saved his life so many times when he was a spy. “Are you a Parselmouth, Harry?”

Silence, so deep and profound that Severus could hear the sound of Harry’s indrawn breath as clearly as a shout. Then Harry said, “I thought you didn’t believe I was the Heir of Slytherin, sir.”

A speech like that is as good as an admission. Severus fought back the gooseflesh that wanted to break out on his skin. “I do not.”

“Then why ask me the question?”

“From your tone of voice as you spoke. And it is true that I do not believe the Potters have any descent from Slytherin.”

“I—could my mother have been from that line?”

Severus swallowed. “I was not aware of it, if so. And we were close enough friends that I think she would have told me were she a Parselmouth, even if she had to keep it concealed from others in her House.”

Harry leaned forwards. “Will you tell me the stories of your friendship that you implied you have, sir?”

Severus straightened his shoulders. He had brought this burden, if burden it was, on himself.

And he would not turn away.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “For instance, the first time I met her, she was flying off a swing in the park, and ignoring the way that her sister yelled at her not to do such a freakish thing…”

The words were unexpectedly easy to find, to pour into Harry’s wide eyes and straining ears. And their discussion of the Heir of Slytherin passed into peaceful darkness, like so many of the discussions Severus had had with people who were not Lily.