Kindred Spirits

- Chapter Four -

KINDRED SPIRITS

Ludere si cupias, aequos socios tibi quaeras.

WALTHER – Proverbia Sententiaeque

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Narcissa turned the page, pretty much oblivious to the turmoil around her. She disliked the Common Room for all its commotion; she'd rather sit in the library or in her dorm, but on evenings such as this, she had to content herself with the noise and trouble instead. Students weren't allowed in the library after curfew, and the other girls were having quite a ball in their joint dorm. Jeanie had brought a trunk load of new clothes from home, and they were trying them on while getting drunk on sweet liquor. De duobus malis minus est eligendum.

The book was a Christmas gift from her father and utterly fascinating, at least for someone like her. Narcissa found Arithmancy thrilling; it was her favourite subject after potion-making, in fact, and she devoured her new lecture with utmost attention.

"Ehm... Excuse me..." A shadow fell over the pages, and irritably she looked up. A skinny first year that she knew by sight from the library was standing in front of her, his face showing awkwardness mingled with curiosity. "Forgive me, but I couldn't help noticing your book..."

"Yes...?"

"This is Wildsmith's latest anthology, isn't it?"

"It certainly is," she said in mild surprise. Only the worst Ravenclaw swots in her year did know this author. It was very advanced, and she didn't expect a first year to know as much as the author's name.

"You see – I've wondered – uhm... You see, this book is not available from the library... Yet – well, at least that's what I hope – that they'll get it sooner or later, I mean, and..." Scarlet crept up his sallow cheeks; he clasped his hands but didn't appear capable to utter any other word.

"You mean – are you telling me you wish to – what – borrow it from me?"

"Yes!" he spluttered, obviously relieved, but his face only flushed more. "If it's not too much to ask, of course... I mean, I know how valuable it is, and you must be very reluctant to –"

"No problem. I've almost finished it, you know?" She was surprised with herself for that statement. She wasn't known for her niceness, and she had no wish to change this. She found other people tiresome and dull, infinitely preferring to be on her own, and consequently staying away from company. "But why the heck are you even interested in this?"

The kid was suddenly beaming, adapting an almost dreamy expression. "Oh, I've read everything from Wildsmith that I could lay my hands on – which isn't much, sadly – very expensive, naturally –"

"And very demanding to boot! You – you're a first year, aren't you? What's your name?"

There must be no blood left in his body for it had all rushed up into his head. He was purple by now, his voice becoming a mere whisper. "I'm Severus... Severus Snape, Miss Black..."

She tilted her head and took a closer look. Everything was odd about this boy, his clothes for a start. They were worn-down, cheap cotton that was thin around the elbows, not so much black but a washed-out dark grey. Unlike her dorm-mates, Narcissa was no fashion expert, but she could tell for sure that those robes must be more fifth- than second-hand. The next drawback was his appearance as such. He was meagre to a degree that looked unhealthy, and 'unhealthy' was written all over his face as well, which was gaunt and sallow, and ruled by a very prominent hooked nose. Was he ill?

The next weird thing was his address. Except their teachers, no one ever called her 'Miss Black'. 'Black', if people meant to be particularly polite, but most of the time they were more rude and creative in making up names for her. Certainly, this boy couldn't afford to be rude, because he was only a first year, because he wanted her to lend him that book, but still she was half amused, half intrigued.

"Snape, Snape... Are you American?"

"No," he whispered unhappily. "I'm from Birmingham."

"Funny. Never heard of a family by that name."

"Yes... Of course not... I – my – well –" He bit his lip, and for a second she feared that he might pass out on the spot. He opened his eyes again, announcing more boldly, "You could have heard my mother's maiden name though – she's a Prince, of the Ely Princes –"

"Ah, yes, yes. So your grandfather is the Severus Prince, right? The cauldron-maker?" He nodded feebly, and Narcissa suddenly got an unlikely idea. "So your father is Muggle-born then?"

"No..." He sounded deeply despairing, making her feel genuine pity. This was the oddest thing so far – he was a Slytherin, and Slytherin House would only take pureblood students. This boy was a half-blood, so he must have the other Slytherin qualities in abundance, or he wouldn't be here, right?

"Come on, kid. You ought to keep your head up high. What's a Muggle father when you've got talent to make up?" All right, so this was like the feeblest comfort she could have uttered. In Slytherin, pure ancestry was all that mattered, at least in the eyes of the other students. Having Muggle parents must be an awful drawback in each and every respect, for every child that'd call themselves wizard or witch. But in Slytherin House, it was socially unacceptable. Poor boy. What had that sordid hat thought, putting him here of all places? Just to say something, she uttered, "My own cauldron was manufactured by your grandfather, incidentally. That kind of quality is no longer available, you know?"

He looked confused and indescribably grateful for so much praise. "So says my mum... But..."

She couldn't account for what she said next. Was it sheer pity, or a sense of rebelliousness? In any case, she put on her best smile and said, "If you are indeed interested in Arithmancy in general, I might have something for you, Severus Snape."

She told him to wait, went to the dorm and fetched Mortimer Knightley's anthology about the influence of numerical mysticism on everyday matters. She returned, finding the kid hadn't moved an inch. "There you go. Here. Take it." He clearly was too petrified to stir, and she pushed the book into his hands. "It's very interesting, and they don't have it in the library either. Something to pass the time until I can give you this one."

His gaze alternated between the book and herself, thoroughly incredulous. "You – this – thank you so much, Miss Black, I – I don't know what to say, really, I – I am –"

"Relax, will you? Just take the frigging book and get lost." She smiled once more. "And tell me how you've liked it."

'Tell me how you've liked it?!' At first, Lucius had watched from the corner of his eye, but after a minute, he had abandoned all caution and simply stared over. What the hell was going on there?! Why was this positively ugly kid talking to Narcissa Black there? And what was more – why hadn't she just kicked his butt, like she kicked everybody else's?! But there – there – yes. She had got up and marched away. Of course. The kid had looked as if he had been struck by lightning. Well, he was just a first year; he'd have to learn things, starting with the fact that one didn't simply address Narcissa Black.

But what was this? She came back? She handed him a book, and Lucius would have given a lot if he could have read the title. One glance was enough to know that the kid was an oddball, so what did he have to do with her? Imogen must have had the same thought, for in this second she cried, "That's fitting. He's as mad as she is."

"She's not mad."

"Oh, very well. He is mad, and she's just a haughty old cow. Still, don't they make a perfect couple?"

Lucius merely shrugged. He would not discuss the subject of Narcissa Black with anyone, least his present girlfriend. He wasn't so much scared of trouble with Imogen, but he would not acknowledge for the world that he had a soft spot for her of all persons. He wasn't keen on humiliating himself. He kept on observing the two; the kid left after another minute, and under a pretext, Lucius followed him to his dorm. Two other boys were there, lying on their beds as well. The ugly kid was reading in Narcissa's book, the other two were playing chess. All three looked up in amazement when he entered.

"Bugger off and don't come back for the next half an hour." He beckoned at the chess players, and they obeyed without protest, but a visible amount of glee. The ugly kid looked scared and strangely resigned. He probably believed that Lucius was going to beat him up or something; some of the elder students did those things with juniors. The impression must have got stronger because Lucius hexed the door soundproof after the chess boys had disappeared. The kid cautiously put his book away and made a gesture as if to say, 'Go ahead, I'm ready'.

"I'm not going to harm you, keep cool. You –" He wondered what to say and narrowed his eyes. He had noticed this boy before... "Aren't you the kid who did that incredible transformation curse on that Gryffindor last week?"

"Yes," the kid muttered.

"Yes? Well, I must say... That was pretty good for a first year!"

"Thank you, sir." His uneven features reddened, and he stared at a point somewhere in the far corner of the room.

Lucius didn't get what was wrong with the child. He was being nice, wasn't he?! He had made it clear that he would not beat him, or curse him, he had even made him something like a compliment about his skills – which hadn't even been a lie. If this was indeed the student who had performed that curse in the Charms corridor, he was a diamond in the rough as far as talent was concerned!

He cleared his throat and indicated the huge pile of books on the boy's bedside table. "So – so you're a reader, eh?"

"Yes –"

"And what is it that you've been reading there?" He pointed at the book the kid had been reading when Lucius had entered the room.

"That's – that's not mine."

"I know, but that's not the answer to my question, is it?"

"Oh, the book! This is Mortimer Knightley's anthology on numerical mysticism."

That boy was an odd number! "I take it you're keen on Arithmancy then?"

"Yes, sir."

"But this – you don't have Arithmancy before your third year!"

"No, sir, but I found it interesting nonetheless."

"Aha..." He had imagined something more exciting than this, honestly! "So you've borrowed it? From Black?"

"Miss Black was so kind to lend it to me, yes."

"Miss Black was so kind, oh yeah... Friend of yours?"

The boy was briefly confused, but vigorously shook his head then. "Oh, no, no. No, I wouldn't call it that."

"So what would you call it?"

"Tonight was the first time that I've ever talked to her, sir. But she was very friendly and obliging..."

Friendly and obliging? Narcissa Black? Why would she be nice to this kid and treat everybody else like dirt under her shoes?! "Was she? I see... So what did you talk about?"

"About – books..."

Boring. On the other hand – perhaps Lucius should give it a try and talk to her about books, too? Just that he didn't have much to say on that score – he made a mental note to ask his dorm-mate Damocles; he was the cleverest of their bunch. Anyway... Maybe he should try to gain the boy's trust? No harm. "I don't think I know your name, pal."

"My name is Severus, sir."

"Severus, right. I am Lucius Malfoy."

"Yes, sir, I know. Of course."

"Quit calling me 'sir', will you. Who are your folks then? Someone I should know?"

"No, probably not. But I have heard about your family, naturally!"

Something was really weird about that boy, about the way he was looking and speaking, but Lucius couldn't point his finger at it. It didn't matter either. What mattered here was that Narcissa had been kind and obliging to him. Lucius was clever and sly, and that he hadn't got a clue yet didn't imply that he wouldn't come up with some plot to exploit this source.

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Ludere... If you want to play, look for equal partners.

De duobus... Of two evils, pick the lesser one.

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