A Class Reunion

Sleep had its merits, but Severus Snape had had such a frustrating day, he'd decided to stay up and work on a new potion he was formulating. Most of the other teachers would have read a good book, he supposed, or confided their troubles to one another, but he found the careful but repetitive work of preparing ingredients soothing, and the complicated concepts he was combining required enough of his attention to distract him from what was really bothering him.

Of course, quite often he found himself far too stressed to sleep. His double-agent role between Dumbledore and the Dark Lord was a delicate tap-dance of subtlety, and his success in keeping both of them convinced of his loyalty was only maintained by constant vigilance. Suspicions abounded on both sides, but whilst the leaders trusted him – and oh, how skilled he had been to obtain the confidence of them both – the underlings were welcome to doubt him. He had never needed nor wanted their good will.

Setting aside the more pressing concerns of his life right then – after all, his role in this new wizard war wouldn't be resolved that night – Snape allowed himself to dwell on one of the more irritating aspects of his job, the impending OWL exams. Normally, Slytherin performed quite acceptably. One couldn't expect to equal Ravenclaw's achievements, after all, since the members of Flitwick's house were chosen on their academic merit, but Severus was accustomed to his house not putting him to shame.

Enter Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle, possibly the stupidest boys that ever managed to get their shoes on the right feet in the mornings. Severus would never have admitted it to anyone else, but even that near-squib, Neville Longbottom, was looking likely to get more OWLs than Malfoy's sidekicks. Judging from the quality of the work he'd been receiving from them lately, he wouldn't put it past those two dunderheads to receive the lowest marks ever recorded in the exams. Perhaps they'd even go into negative figures.

The two of them were unlikely to do anything to improve their performance, either. They certainly weren't interested in studying. He'd hoped Malfoy might have some influence with them, but that young man seemed far too interested in his new role as the Headmistress's lackey to pay any attention to the advice of his Head of House. The boys themselves were equally uncooperative. Earlier that evening, he'd summoned them to that very room in an attempt to impress upon them the weight of the exams they were about to sit.

"What's the point?" Goyle had shrugged insouciantly. "We don't need to do well in exams."

"Yeah," Crabbe had agreed, sneering. Malfoy's new attitude was having a bad influence on these two. "We don't want to work for the Ministry, you know."

"We'll be Death Eaters like our fathers," Goyle had chimed in. "So who cares?"

Normally, looming was something Snape reserved for his Gryffindor students, but right at that point, some intimidation had seemed to be in order. He had leaned right over the table, gripping the edge tightly with his fingers, and glared at the two boys, pausing long enough for the depth of his displeasure to sink into their thick skulls. "You're probably right," he had conceded. "The Dark Lord, I'm sure, has a use for more fools with muscles where their brains should be."

At these words, Crabbe had nudged Goyle triumphantly. They'd both looked pleased with themselves.

"The Death Eaters have a word for followers like that," Snape had continued smoothly, making eye contact first with one boy, then the other. "Do you want to know what it is?"

"What?" Goyle had demanded. "Bodyguards?"

Severus had allowed himself a snort of laughter. "No, you fool. As if the Dark Lord requires your protection! They call them 'cannon fodder'. A cannon is a Muggle device which explodes heavy balls out through a long cylinder to smash their enemies from long distances away."

The idiots had high-fived each other, chortling.

"So," Snape had continued, "'Cannon fodder' refers to troops which are expendable, thrown in front of such devices and left to take their chances. Their lives are simply not worth preserving. Most will die."

He had taken advantage of Crabbe and Goyle's shocked looks to press his point. "Most cannon fodder, of course, is far too stupid to understand the meaning of the term. If you fools don't learn to wield magic with some degree of competence, then do not expect the Dark Lord to value your worth to him. He will not protect you. He will have no pity on you. Compassion is just a three-syllable word to him. He will feed you to his enemies until you are killed, and he will not spare a thought for your death."

The boys had looked stupider than ever as they had gaped at him. What a shame that they hadn't been sorted into Hufflepuff, like most of the dregs of the student body were. It would have saved Severus the tedium of interviews such as this.

"Now get out of my sight," Snape had snarled, "and, if you value your lives, open a book before the exams. Surprise me! Read it!"

Reflecting back on that conversation, Snape mused that if his predictions of their death came true, Crabbe and Goyle would be no loss to the world. However, he wasn't going to allow even those fools the chance to make Severus Snape look incompetent.

His musings were forcibly interrupted by what sounded like a chandelier smashing in one of the upper stories. Really, how tiresome. Peeves really should get himself a new trick. Snape didn't especially object to the torture of either Filch or that Umbridge woman, but the poltergeist had no finesse. What's more, the sudden noise had interrupted his concentration, and his hand had slipped. The daisy roots he'd been systematically shredding were now crushed into a complete mess. He'd have to completely start this batch over. A quick scouring charm sufficed to clean it up, but as he fetched another bunch of roots, Snape entertained himself by contemplating in great detail just what he'd like to do to Peeves.

He'd just gotten himself set up for a second attempt, when his door opened, scraping horribly along the floor like fingernails across a blackboard. Irritably, he looked up, ready to give the intruder a piece of his mind. His scowl deepened when he realised just who had decided to pay him a visit at this hour of the night. Sirius Black was possibly the last person he wished to set eyes on at any time. Still, Severus had the peace of mind not to allow the man to see how much his presence rattled him. Instead, he relaxed the frown, settling his expression into an unconcerned sneer.

"So, Black, you've finally developed enough of a backbone to leave home," he said, allowing his voice to drip with vitriol. "Forgive me if I'm not so overcome with the joy of your presence that I embrace you, won't you?"

"I'd actually rather you didn't touch me," Sirius growled, shutting the door behind him. Both of them winced at the noise it made. "I've just bathed, you see."

"I wish I could say that this appearance of yours was a pleasure," Severus sneered, attempting to ignore the jibe. It took a supreme force of will to suppress the urge to push his greasy hair back from his face. "But although you have nothing better to do but cower behind the skirts of others in the Order, I have several pressing matters requiring my attention. I trust you'll make this brief, and then leave."

As he saw the anger dawn on the other man's face, Severus wished fervently that he'd realised whilst he was still at school how easy it was to rile up Sirius Black. Life back then would have been so much sweeter. Of course, then, Black had always had Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew to back him up, but there would have been opportunities! Snape would have made sure there would have been.

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," Sirius snapped, his face red with suppressed anger. "I'll get right to the point. You've stopped Harry's Occlumency lessons."

"Yes," Severus responded through gritted teeth. "Is that all you came to say? The way I choose to teach my students really isn't any of your concern, is it?"

"Harry is my godson," Sirius responded sharply, his eyes glinting steel at the potions master. "Everything that concerns his welfare is my concern. You know better than anyone else just how important those lessons are."

"Perhaps you might explain that to your thick-headed godson!" Snape thundered. "He makes no effort with his lessons. I've stressed over and over again the importance of practice, but he stubbornly refuses to even try. He's rude and insolent, and wastes all our time with his conceit. The idea that someone should know better than the great Harry Potter! He courts those dreams! His arrogance threatens us all!"

"Listen to me, Snivellus!" Sirius snapped angrily. "I know why Harry's lessons were stopped, and it had nothing to do with whether he practiced or not! You couldn't stand a student finding out what a greasy little git you were at school, could you? You were ashamed that he discovered just how easily James overpowered you. Harry isn't the arrogant one here, it's you!"

Snape's wand was out before he had time to think about it. "You think you're ever so clever, don't you? I would have thought that a life of cowardly skulking would have taught you some humility, but it seems I am mistaken. As far as I'm concerned, it was quite a salutary experience for Potter to see his father's true colours. He had some stupid noble ideas about the wonderful, kind man his father was. Well, at least he isn't under that illusion any more."

Sirius's wand flashed out every bit as quickly as Severus's had. "James was three times the man you are," he snarled. "We all made mistakes back then, but at least James had the sense to grow up! You're still the spiteful, nasty coward that you always were. Only you, Snape, would be low enough to disillusion an orphan who never knew his parents."

"Potter should not go sneaking in where he's not wanted!" Snape snapped. "He's a troublemaker just like his father was and every bit as devious."

"You left that memory where he could see it, though, didn't you?" Sirius roared. Pointing his wand right at Snape, he snapped, "Admit it! You did it on purpose!"

Snape didn't bother to reply. He just fixed Sirius with a disdainful smirk and allowed the man to draw his own conclusions.

Sirius snapped. He yelled out an incantation and hurled a hex at Snape. The Potions master barely had time to duck before the spell hit one of the glass jars behind him and shattered it. Tiny shards of glass, smelly green liquid, and the embalmed body parts of one of Snape's many preserved creatures rained down upon them.

Neither of them bothered with the niceties of duelling. They just began hurling jinxes, hexes and curses at one another in rapid succession. The room echoed with explosions, crashes, and the occasional expletive.

Snape sent a nasty Conjunctivitis Curse hurling towards Sirius, who blocked it with almost insolent ease, responding with an Insect Jinx, which Snape only narrowly avoided.

Snape's Jelly-legs Jinx caught Sirius just as he was about to hurl his next spell, and the resulting wobbliness of his legs was almost his undoing as the Potions master attempted to press his advantage. Somehow, he managed to duck and weave, and avoid Snape's spells, until he managed to yell, "Finite!" and his legs worked as they should once more.

Sirius growled at the Potions master, baring his teeth.

"It's no surprise your animagus form is canine," Snape sneered, pausing to catch his breath. "You're more than half animal yourself. Did the ever so pure Walburga Black deign to lie with a dog, then?"

Quite opposite to what Snape had expected, Sirius threw back his head and laughed. "Insulting my mother, Snivellus? How childish of you. Of course, if she had slept with an animal, it would have been a vast improvement over her usual tastes."

With that, Sirius swung back into action. "Engorgio!" he yelled, his wand pointed right at Snape's face.

This time, it was the Potions master who dodged about trying to avoid spells whilst he dealt with the damage done to his own body. His already large nose was swelling rapidly. He ducked behind his desk, halting the spell before his nose became bigger than a tomato.

Snape didn't immediately get an opportunity to shrink his nose however. A well-placed Reductor Curse from Sirius blasted his desk into shards of wood the size of matchsticks, the neatly piled daisy roots on its surface pelting both of them like hailstones, and the knife he'd used to cut them hurling across the room to sink, quivering, into the wall. Howling furiously, Severus hurled a Stinging Hex at the other wizard's hand, barking out a laugh as Sirius dropped his wand.

"Well, now isn't this interesting?" Snape mused. His wand was extended in front of him. Slowly, savouring every moment, he advanced upon the disarmed wizard. "Oh, no, I hardly think so," he chided as Sirius dived for his wand. "Incarcerous!" he drawled with a negligent flick of his own. Thick ropes appeared from nowhere and bound his opponent tightly. Sirius, mid-leap, crumpled to the floor.

"The fugitive, Sirius Black, in my power," Snape sneered, nudging Sirius with his foot. "And to think, with one message to the Headmistress, I could end your career forever! Oh wait, I forgot." He didn't even bother to try and keep the smirk off his face. "You don't actually do anything, do you?" Smirking, he studied his captive in a leisurely fashion whilst he casually restored his nose to its original size.

"You haven't changed," Sirius snapped, struggling furiously against his bonds. "You still retreat to the most cowardly attacks. Release me, give me back my wand, and face me like a man!"

"When I have already defeated you?" Snape snorted. "I don't think so, Black, I've waited too long for this moment." He permitted himself to deliver a good kick to Sirius's ribs, smirking with satisfaction at the groan of pain he elicited. "That, Black, was for just plain existing. I seem to recall you punishing me for the very same crime when we were both students here. Now. . . what would be the most amusing way to dispose of you?"

Pointing his wand at Sirius, Severus levitated his victim, turning him until his body was once again upright and floating a few inches off the floor. "I'd find it most satisfactory to do it myself," he hissed. "Oh yes. Dumbledore might have a soft spot for you, Black, but there's a new order in Hogwarts now, and Dolores Umbridge would be most delighted, I'm sure, if I finished you off."

"If you expect me to beg for my life, you're going to be very disappointed." Pain was evident in Sirius's voice, but he glared right at Snape, the eye-contact never wavering. "I have no intention of amusing you."

"You're amusing me already," Snape informed him, smirking. He smashed his fist into Black's face, watching with amusement as the force of the blow knocked the helpless man back against the wall. Magic was a formidable weapon, but sometimes there was nothing as satisfying as a physical attack on an enemy, even if it did leave his hand aching. To his disappointment, Black refused to make any more sound than the first gasp of pained surprise

The room had descended into near-silence. The sounds of the systematic destruction of Snape's office were replaced by the tinkling sound of tiny shards of glass settling on the stone floor. Glass jars lay shattered everywhere. Snape's desk was history. A faint purple haze was forming in the dim, sputtering light coming from the torches on the walls. The acrid scent of preservative fluid mixed horribly with the heavy perfume of floral nectar.

Snape raised his wand to finish their lifelong feud. Sirius stared right into his eyes, neither flinching nor looking away.