Chapter Seven

Severus looked up, his lank, greasy locks, falling forward, obscuring his acne-pocked cheeks.

"What do you want, Black?" he hissed, hand on his wand. Ready.

His stomach growled loudly.

"Missed breakfast, Snivellus?" Black taunted, breaking into a raucous laughter with Potter

Embarrassed, he flushed pink.

"You know very well I did, Black." Severus, through clenched teeth, spat the name...a bitter profanity on his tongue.

It had taken forty-five minutes to dismantle the wards they had erected and to do so while avoiding the jinxes and hexes Black, no doubt, had thrown in to torment him further. By the time Severus had made it to the Great Hall, breakfast was over, and the students were filing out, preparing to leave for Hogsmeade.

Lupin placed a hand on Black's shoulder, "C'mon, Sirius."

"Having an attack of conscience, Lupin?" Snape sneered, eyes narrowed. "Silence makes cowards out of men." Snape looked down his nose at him. "But, you wouldn't know anything about that, now would you, wolf?" The dig was below the belt, but he didn't care.

Resignation flashed in Lupins' eyes, his shoulders slumped, and he pulled Black back, trying to defuse a situation that was swiftly becoming volatile.

"James..." Lily grasped his hand in hers, tugging him away from the fray, not once sparing a glance in Severus' direction. Pettigrew, beady-eyed little rodent that he was, was still egging Sirius on, eyes showing a lust for malice.

"Boys." There was an underlying tone of warning in the Scottish brogue.

"We were just leaving, Professor McGonagall," Remus offered as explanation.

"See that you do. I would hate to deduct points when Gryffindor is close to attaining the House Cup."

"Off with you, Snape." She dismissed the dark-haired boy.

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded, eyes trained on the gang of Gryffindors until they were out of sight, dipping into Honeydukes.

His stomach growled again.

Dejected, he trudged to the Three Broomsticks, the freshly fallen snow crunching under his boots. He slipped into a chair at a vacant table against the farthest wall, his back pressed against the varnished wood paneling. From this vantage point he was able to observe the entrance and those coming to and from the loo. Book opened on his lap, quill in hand, Snape continued his amendments to his Potions book.

A half hour into his revisions, the hunger pains began, cramping his abdomen. His concentration disturbed, he covertly surveyed the students. A group of Ravenclaws, three tables down, threw a Galleon and a few Sickles on their table in payment. Patiently, he waited for them to gather their winter coats and down their last few sips of butterbeer. Anticipation buzzed in his system.

Scanning the room, the patrons all appeared to be in their own worlds, conversations abounding, gossiping about Yule Ball dates. Inhaling deeply, Snape pushed himself away from the wall and made his way to the empty table.

Bunched up paper napkins, empty mugs, a half-eaten basket of fried cod, and soggy, vinegar-drenched crisps littered the table.

Perspiration dampened his palms; tentatively, he reached for his prize.

A hand locked on his wrist. "Stealing, Mr. Snape? One hundred points from Slytherin. We will see what the headmaster has to say about this." Professor McGonagall tutted.

"Professor, please... I wasn't..." Snape silenced his protests as he noticed the onlookers starting to huddle, taking in the scene.

"Come now, it is back to the castle for you."

Head lowered, he trailed behind McGonagall back to Hogwarts.

The headmaster was looking at him over his half-moon spectacles, the infamous twinkle in his azure eyes gone.

"Mr. Snape, this is the fourth time you've been sent to my office, and the school term is only two months in. Three times for fighting and now stealing. What do you have you have to say for yourself?" Fingers steepled, he waited for his charge's response.

"I did not steal, Headmaster," he whispered, eyes and head downcast.

"Please pick your head up, Mr. Snape. I cannot hear you."

"I did not steal, Headmaster." He spoke firmly, black eyes meeting blue.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Please do not lie to me. Professor McGonagall caught you. Now, how about we try the truth this time, hmm...?"

Severus did not answer. He had only meant to take the discarded food. He'd had no money with which to purchase lunch and since he was forced to miss breakfast, had been unable to eat. He would let the headmaster believe what he wanted; his precious Gryffindors could do no wrong. Potter was his Golden Boy, and Black merely 'horsed-around.' Apparently, attempted murder didn't amount to anything, and why should it? He was, after all, a dark, mistrusted, and unpopular bastard of the House of Slytherin.

"Very well then." Dumbledore stood up, pushing his chair away from his desk. "In addition to the loss of house points, you will write a letter of apology to the Three Broomsticks in regards to your thievery, and you shall abstain from the evening meal. To steal money from the pocket of a man takes food from his mouth. You are dismissed, Mr. Snape. Please return to your common room."