Part VIII

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit tribute to the works of JK Rowling, who created and, together with her publishers and licensees, owns the characters and settings elaborated herein.

All my gratitude to my betas and previewers DementedLeaf, Xoxphoenix and Morgaine_Dulac.

Many thanks to all my kind readers and reviewers.

*************

Part VIII

The next day, the scene seemed to be a repeat of the day before, except for a detail: the mood in the room had changed, switching from expectation to uneasiness, and the three main actors on the scene displayed a full range of expressions reflecting this transformation.

The Headmistress looked worried, and cast anxious glances to Blaise and Severus.

Zabini seemed to be expecting something. His brows were wrinkled in the disappointed frown so typical of those thinking to have been deceived. However, he behaved in cold politeness, as always.

Snape... Well, Snape was the real mystery. Going up to her office the night before, Minerva had hoped to exchange some words with him and clarify their positions: her heart had been aching the whole day for the miserable end of that so long-awaited first lesson! But Severus wasn't in his frame, and the old witch had deduced that he was deliberately avoiding her presence. That, of course, had troubled her spirit even more.

However, when Zabini announced the arrival of his best first year students, Minerva finally could see a sudden interest lightening Snape's face, immediately dissimulated under his habitual impassive mask.

This time, a not very ordered queue of miniature wizards and witches entered the room, blushing in embarrassment while scrutinizing the place. The children were voiceless in awe, and an impatient Zabini had to remind them to greet good morning to the two important people waiting for them. The tiny faces turned obediently to Minerva then up to look at the big portrait: some students smiled in embarrassment, some widened their eyes in naïve wonder, some displayed evident anxiety.

Again, names and Houses were declared, and so many of them brought back vivid memories from the past.

"Stephen Bootes, Hufflepuff... Martha Corner, Ravenclaw... Scorpius Malfoy, Slytherin... Rupert Warrington, Slytherin... Rose Weasley, Gryffindor..."

Minerva could see Severus' eyes narrow during the listing as if he were waiting for something.

When Zabini had finished his litany, the dark wizard seemed to reflect, then he asked, "What about Mr. Potter? It was my understanding that he too would be included in the course."

"You met him yesterday, don't you remember, Professor?" Zabini asked teasingly. "He incurred your wrath by not complying with your sense of time."

"We mean young Albus Severus," Minerva intervened, joining Snape in his question, in the evident attempt of preventing incensed reactions.

"Oh!" Zabini replied with exaggerated surprise. "I understand. You wanted to have both the sons of our past celebrity in your classes! But unfortunately, the boy doesn't meet with the standards required for this course."

"More reason to admit him here, then," Snape growled incongruously, and Zabini frowned, abandoning his pleasant tone.

"You asked for the best," he replied resentfully. "Here you have them."

The students were shifting uncomfortably during that skirmish, and Minerva furrowed her brows in disappointment. The awful scene of the day before was repeating itself, in spite of her warnings. No, she couldn't allow Severus to act like this, neither Zabini to provoke him continuously.

In the meantime, the dark wizard was declaring with gritted teeth, "I had asked for a..."

Intercepting Minerva's look of warning, Snape interrupted himself, clenched his fists and asked, "Could we please exchange a word in private, Headmistress?"

Keeping her eyes expressionless, Minerva replied, "I'll be happy to speak with you as soon as the lesson is finished, Professor Snape."

Zabini smiled meaningfully.

There was no escape, and Snape frowned in anger. Then he began to speak to the children. Slowly, he seemed to enter his role and forget the tension around him. This time, the children were asked to perform a very simple concoction. After all, they had only had a week or two of practice, and Snape was relieved to see that the group was promising, and their fresh abilities still not spoiled by bad habits.

Scorpius Malfoy soon took the opportunity to talk with him.

"My father sends his best regards, Professor. He said that you were always his favourite teacher. I hope I will be as good as he was."

Typical Malfoys, that suave adulation: but Scorpius was Draco's portrait, and Severus felt a strange sensation looking at him. The boy was respectful and anxious to please, yet there was something uneasy, even resentful, inside him.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," he replied automatically and then lost himself in considerations from which he was wakened by a raised hand, followed by a question. The girl who had spoken was waiting, her nice head of red-brown hair tilted in expectation, her hazelnut eyes looking straight at him. Again, he reacted automatically.

"Speak louder, Miss Granger, I didn't hear your words."

For a moment, the girl looked puzzled, then she replied.

"Sorry, Professor," and an amused smile appeared and disappeared on her lips, "my name is Weasley, Rose Weasley. Granger is my mother's maiden name."

Minerva smiled as well, and Snape felt stupid. How similar to her mother the girl was, despite the Weasley red mark on her hair! Unconsciously, he looked around, as if expecting to find Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley sitting somewhere else in the classroom: his expression changed so much in those unguarded seconds, that the girl and the other two adults exchanged a wondering glance.

"Well, Miss Weasley... I believe you had a question to ask?" Snape finally seemed to react after a long pause.

The girl asked, and hers was a question full of good sense, that revealed her bright intelligence but, alas! also the lacks of her previous teacher. Snape glanced at Zabini and replied briefly, avoiding twisting the knife. An alarming sensation was invading his heart, and he suddenly felt nervous.

Trying to keep his anxiety under control, he connected to the little frames to check the students' work. This time he had deigned to advise the class, so there was only a great expectation, and no panicked reactions at his coming and going.

The children were evidently excited, proud to be there, eager to do their best, and ready to be surprised by more and more enchanted wonders. They were only first year, of course, and the magical world was just beginning to unveil to their fresh minds. Snape felt bizarrely moved for a moment, and again, he thought how things could have been different, if he hadn't been so...

The pang in his heart was violent. He sighed, while a sudden wave of memories washed again upon him.

Hiding his pain under a frown, Snape checked, asked, commented and finally graced the students with a favourable verdict. The class reacted with a joyful explosion. An amused smile danced again on Minerva's lips, happy at the unusual sight of students enjoying a lesson, and coming from such a teacher.

The children were then dismissed and went out whispering in excitement, while the three adults faced themselves again in the empty room. But this time, Minerva surprised both Snape and Zabini by announcing that she had something to do, and that she would be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, the two professors were kindly invited to exchange their opinions.

Snape watched her going out, and his face altered in a sullen expression. This was surely a trick to force him and Zabini to confront each other. Feeling deceived, he looked at his younger colleague and Zabini looked back at him, folding his arms with a disdainful gesture. The two men kept rigorously silent for a while, each one waiting for the other to make the first move.

Snape decided to extend an olive branch.

"Mr. Zabini," he said, with his most reasonable tone, "We both are Slytherins. I was your teacher years ago and Head of the House, and you used to trust me then. Why are you so hostile to me now? What has happened that I don't know?"

Zabini clenched his fists and took a step back to contemplate better the portrait.

"Where do you want me to begin, Professor?" he asked bitterly. "Perhaps from your betrayal? Did you forget that you raised us into hate and contempt, while you were secretly devoted to a completely different mission?"

The man stopped to breathe, letting his words sink into Snape's soul.

Then he continued, his voice full of resentment, "Did you ever think of your students while you performed your double acting so well, or did you consider us just pawns that could be sacrificed for a superior reason? Did you ever wonder what would happen to us or to our families, or were you too involved in your heroic task to pay attention to such insignificant details?"

For a moment, his voice vibrated with pain, and Snape closed his eyes, hiding his anguish. Once more, his mistakes had unexpectedly come out to torture him after so many years. The wounds he had believed closed had been reopened, and by somebody he had hoped to be a friend. How many other men and women could claim to have been hurt because of his faults and of his mission? He had never thought that the consequences of his actions would be able to extend so far in the future... when, oh! when would he find a reprieve from his sins?

Zabini's voice continued implacably.

"Potter said you killed Dumbledore to save Draco. Well, then he was the only one of us you really cared about. But all the others... we have been doomed, afterwards!"

Blaise's lips twisted uncontrollably, then he recovered his control. He spoke in harsh, halting sentences, as if pain were forcing an admission from him.

"I need my employment, Professor. You have honourably died and become a hero. But I'm still living, and I need this job to survive. Do you want to prey upon the only resource I have been left?"

Zabini raised his head, and Snape could see desperation altering his features. But there was also something else, something much more alarming...

Then he heard a soft knock at the door, and Minerva entered the room, a hopeful smile on her face. Zabini closed again his emotions behind a wall, while Snape felt a bitter remorse biting his heart... followed by a cold sensation of fear.