CHAPTER NINETY-THREE;

SNIVELLUS HAS DOUBTS

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"You really have no idea why I have called you into my office today."

"No, sir."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"No idea, sir."

Cassie held her ground firmly under the adamantine glare of Severus Snape, shaking her head no when appropriate and only speaking when spoken to.

For the first week or two, it had been difficult for her to keep her emotions in check and hold her tongue around Snape, but she slowly gained the hang of it. She still burned with anger every time she saw the man, but it was becoming easier to keep from lashing out around him.

Snape himself had not much changed since the year prior, surprisingly. Cassie had expected to return to the castle find the power-hungry man hunched over his desk in his Headmaster's office in his school, glare heavy and sneer ever-present. Cassie had anticipated and prepared for Snape's authoritarian nature to have been exponentially increased in the three months since she had seen him – not to mention his allies with the very Dark Lord Cassie was so adamantly trying to avoid.

"There's been an.. uprising, of sorts." Snape's voice was as dull as Cassie remembered it to be. Monotone and boring enough to put even a hyperactive toddler dosed with Weasley Wizard Wheezes' sweets to sleep. "I had a hunch that you may have some information, Delacour."

"No, sir," Cassie replied coolly. "I've been too busy with the monumental stacks of homework assigned to me by the Carrows."

Snape's eyes shut and opened as slowly, giving the air of a turtle in the way his blinks prolonged and lips pursed. "You haven't heard... whisperings?"

"None at all." Cassie shook her head. "May I go now? Speaking of homework, I really do have a load of it–"

"Not quite," Snape said, voice drawn out. He circled his desk, revealing the window behind it, and Cassie's gaze instantly averted to the view beyond the glass. It was grey outside; bleak and – if Cassie had to guess, as she was not outside herself – stuffy, the abhorrent type of weather wherein one was forced to carry an umbrella along with oneself in fear of rain that never actually came. It was as if the sky wished to mirror the dreary and desolate insides of the castle.

"Miss Delacour," Snape suddenly snapped, and Cassie realized he had been speaking while she had been gazing out the window, "are you listening to me?"

"No," Cassie replied plainly.

Snape's calculating eyes scrutinized her, and it felt the same as the feast, where he seemed to actually gaze into her mind and pick out her deepest secrets and darkest memories. She held back a shiver, suddenly uncomfortable.

"I said," continued Snape, "you have been extremely social amongst the Houses of Hogwarts, much unlike your other Housemates. I, or one of my other associates, have seen you with Lovegood, Weasley, and even Longbottom. I trust you to be daft enough that you're entirely oblivious of the antecedents of this group, b–"

"You've been spying on me, sir?" Cassie arched a blonde eyebrow challengingly, setting her jaw and cocking her chin in the slightest. Perhaps she was pushing her luck; Merlin only knew how much more gall Snape would allow when it came to Victoire Delacour.

   "Your imprudence is admirable." Snape's voice dripped with sardonicism. He surrounded the chair Cassie sat in slowly, taking leisure steps and eyeing her as though she were a bit of prey. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, it would do you well to cut ties between you and these volatile twits."

   "Not insulting your students, are you?" Cassie shook her head, as though disappointed in Snape. "I wouldn't've thought you to be so low, Headmaster."

   There was a moment of tense silence. Cassie was sure she had blown it by now; Snape would throw her from his office and into the caring hands of Amycus or Alecto, who would see to it that Cassie was punished sufficiently for being so headstrong.

   "I would watch myself if I were you, Delacour."

   "I think I'm doing alright on my own."

   "It would be a shame," Snape continued, as though Cassie had not even spoken, "if your cousin were to become a casualty of this exigent war. I hear she's quite active within the.. ah, Order of the Phoenix – am I correct?"

   Cassie could feel the blood rush from her face. She sat up, on the edge of her seat. "I don't associate with her, Headmaster. I haven't spoken to Fleur in–"

   "Save your lies." Snape held up a hand to keep her from continuing on. "Let me be completely clear. Go on mingling with those of the wrong crowd, and your cousin shall be added to the list of fatalities of this war. If you somehow scrape together enough brain cells to cease your acquaintanceships with those aforementioned, I, among others, may be pleased enough to look further into allowing you to be apart of our... ranks."

A chill that ran down her spine silenced the objections she had held at the tip of her tongue. Startled so badly she slumped back into her seat, Cassie looked up to Snape.

There was no way he could be serious; either continue to be friends with Neville, Ginny, and Luna, and Fleur would be the next victim of Voldemort's; or cut all ties with them, and Cassie – not Cassie; Victoire would be enlisted to join the Death Eaters: fight with Voldemort, against Harry.

And though, as Snape's stern black eyes peered down upon Cassie, she realized he was very much genuine in his offer. He would rather Fleur be killed than Victoire continue being friends with the "problem students" of Hogwarts. Furthermore, Snape somehow knew that Cassie was still on good terms with Fleur, despite Cassie's claims that she hadn't spoken to her "cousin" in Merlin knew how long.

   Cassie couldn't let Fleur be killed.

   Swallowing thickly, Cassie once again raised her eyes to meet Snape's penetrating glare. She drew in a sharp breath. "What if I don't desire a place among your – um, ranks?"

   It was Snape's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You don't want to work for the Dark Lord? What kind of disgrace to the Slytherin House–"

   "I'm not involved in this war," Cassie said over him, "and I don't want to be."

   "If you are not on the Dark Lord's side, you are on the Order's side–"

   "I don't want to fight against my family."

"How noble of you," Snape said after a heavy pause, his voice rich with resentment. "Perhaps the Sorting Hat was mistaken when it placed you in Slytherin."

"I'm not being noble, sir, I just don't want to–"

"I know what you don't want to do," he snapped. "Stop your rambling for once and listen." Cassie instantly shut her mouth. Snape paused now, clenching his jaw and examining Cassie once again with his pitch black eyes. He gave a faint, jerky nod of his head. "You have made quite an impression on the Slytherin House, I've been told."

Confused by the sudden change of subject, Cassie replied with a hesitant nod of her head. Snape pursed his lips. "Greengrass seems to enjoy your company more than she did Parkinson's. Nott and Zabini didn't hex you upon meeting, so I'd say that's a good start. Lastly, and most unsurprisingly, Malfoy says he believes you are up to no good."

Cassie's jaw clenched. "Malfoy–"

Snape held up a hand to silence her. "I was not asking for elaboration on why he thinks you are suspicious. I was merely stating your Housemates' opinions."

   There was a lull in the conversation once again; Snape seemed to want his words to sink in over a dramatic pause. Cassie shifted in her chair, clearing her throat. "The only reason I spoke to Neville in the first place was to ask for some help on an assignment that I had a hard time understanding," she said slowly. "If my attempts at succeeding in my classes in order to obtain passing marks on my NEWTs are bothering you, then by all means, throw me out or let me fail, sir."

Snape had just opened his thin mouth to reply when there came another voice from the left of his desk; eager, breathless, and gleeful: "The Weasley boy! He's run off! He's through with them! Oh, Professor, don't you just want to–" The portrait that had been speaking so joyfully only a moment before finally noticed that Snape was not alone in his office, and his eyes landed on Cassie. His mouth fell open. "Oh, my. You have a guest. I don't mean to intrude, I just couldn't help myself–"

"Phineas." Snape's greeting could not have held less enthusiasm. "You say Weasley has left them?"

"Left who?" Cassie burst out, unable to stop herself.

Phineas looked to Cassie hesitantly, then back to Snape. "I've said too much," the portrait muttered. He addressed Cassie, his brow furrowed. "Snape knows what I mean – now run along, girl."

Cassie's eyes lingered on the plaque beneath the painting; Phineas Nigellus Black, Headmaster of Hogwarts. She was related to him, because of course she was.

"No, I'm in the middle of a conversation with the Headmaster," Cassie insisted. "I can wait. Go ahead, Phineas."

"That's Former Headmaster Black to you, young lady."

"Phineas," Snape said warningly, "watch yourself."

Phineas's formidable expression fell from his face at Snape's words. He nodded, wringing his painted hands, and turned to Snape. "There was a huge row between him and Potter, sir. Weasley's left. That Mudblood and Potter are still on the run, but Weasley up and left them."

"H-he left?" Cassie could barely get the words past her lips, much less keep the surprise from her voice. She risked a sideways glance to Snape; he was watching her much too closely for her liking. "Headmaster, might I ask why Black is reporting this to you?"

"I think you've been fed enough confidential information for you to ponder on in bed tonight," said Snape decisively, gesturing toward the door, which promptly swept open wide. "Off."

"But sir, I still have–"

"Now." Snape's tone held little room for argument.

Cassie held his glare, clenching her fists, and left from his office without a second glance. So much had happened in such a short span of time; Cassie wasn't sure if she should feel relieved, furious, frightened, or something in between the three emotions. Phineas's short outburst had confirmed Cassie's greatest hopes: Harry, Hermione, and Ron were still alive; Voldemort had not found out they were hunting Horcruxes; and, possibly the best news of all, Cassie now had a link to her three old friends.

   Her mind was racing as she stormed back to the Slytherin common room, concepts bouncing around the confinements of her brain aimlessly and trying without success to connect in a formidable string of coherent thought.

   She was so far lost in her own mind that she did not realize how far she had gotten; when she looked up, she stood outside the portrait leading to the kitchens – leading to a familiar face.

   "Well," she murmured to herself, "when in Rome," and tickled the pear.

   The first house-elf to notice her was one Cassie did not recognize. It squealed upon sight of her green robes and instantly rushed off toward the tea kettle, muttering something of "Vanilla or Black? Or maybe Lemon–"

   This must have been the habitual reaction when a Slytherin student entered the kitchen, as other elves began bustling along and throwing all sorts of sweets into Cassie's hands until she could no longer see over the pile of pastries in her arms.

   "Er – thanks, you lot," she said, her voice probably muffled from the other side of the pasties, "but I didn't come for.. food." She dropped the contents of her arms onto a nearby counter, watching curiously as some elves began to eye her from a distance, as if she were a peculiar creature they had yet to have seen before. Cassie wiped her hands on her robes and turned to the nearest elf. "Excuse me," she said, tugging on its teacloth – the elf jumped nearly two feet up, toppling over a stack of pots and pans. "Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry, did I startle you? Here, let me help–"

   Cassie reached out to help the elf put his dishes back together, but he let out a great gasp and scrambled back as Cassie extended her hand, his arms covering his face protectively.

   The elves surrounding them had stopped what they were doing to watch. Cassie felt suddenly exposed, guilt creeping over her as she glanced around. She could feel the flush growing on her cheeks. "I– I'm sorry," she said, her voice low. "Did you think I was.. I was going to hit you?"

   The elf couldn't give a verbal reply; he nodded his head slowly, twisting his fingers around his long ears.

   "No!" Cassie exclaimed, causing the elves nearest her to jump. She quickly lowered her voice again, crouching so she was eye-level with him. "No, I would never. I'm so sorry for knocking over your pots. Er... what's your– your name?"

   "I-it is okay," the elf intoned, his voice squeaky. He glanced around at his fellow elves, wringing his hands. "I is Cappy."

   Cassie gave him a warm smile, trying her very best to keep from adding onto the narrative they believed her to be of a cruel Slytherin. "Hello, Cappy. I'm Victoire, it's lovely to meet you." She extended her hand – slowly, this time – and he reached out his own, taking Cassie's and shaking it hesitantly. His mouth turned up at the corners. Cassie felt a faint surge of relief. "Cappy, I have a question."

   "I can answer for you, Miss!"

   "Do you know Wipsy? She used to work in the kitchens, I'm not sure if she still does–"

   "Wipsy!" Cappy grinned, nodding his head very enthusiastically. "Yes, Cappy knows Wipsy! Wipsy is very good friend of I's. Wipsy might be sleeping, it is past Wipsy's bedtime..."

   "That's alright," Cassie said quickly. "I can come back tomorrow."

   "Oh, please do!" Another elf stepped forward, holding her hands together in a pleading gesture. "You is one of the nicest Slytherins we's have had in long, long times!"

   "Yes, you is friendly!"

   "You says 'please' and 'thank you!'"

   "Not to mention, you is very pretty!"

   Cassie looked around, startled by how many elves stepped toward her, all nodding their heads earnestly and giving her cheeky smiles. She returned the grin, though it wavered – how many Slytherins had these elves met? And they were all that bad?

   "Well, then," she said decisively, nodding her head once, "it appears I will be seeing you all in the morning."

   "Miss should takes a pastry to go!" A strawberry tart was forced into her hand and she nodded, managing a grin to whoever had put it there.

   "Have a good night," she bid, waving over her shoulder, trying to get out before the elves began shoving sweets down her throat. Once safely past the portrait of the fruit bowl, she exhaled a short breath, then began examining the strawberry tart.

   "What did the strawberry tart do to you?"

   She jumped. "Merlin, you could have announced yourself."

   "Unfortunately," said Theodore, "I am not Merlin."

   "Unfortunately," Cassie agreed bitterly. "What are you doing here, Nott?"

   "Currently, I'm hunting unicorns."

   Cassie gave him an "I'm over it" look, and he grinned.

   "Fine, you caught me." He put his hands up in mock surrender. "I come by almost every night to check up on the elves."

   Theo might as well have said he really was Merlin and was about to blast Cassie into oblivion.

   She blinked, completely taken by surprise, her jaw hanging open. "You come see the house-elves? Since when?"

   "Since.. forever," he replied with a faint hum. "What are you doing down here?"

   "I just popped in for a sweet." She held up the pastry for emphasis.

   "Ah. Not coming to entrance the elves with your mighty Veela powers, are you? I can't have you steal my job."

   "Of course not," she replied, ignoring the hint of amusement in his voice. After a moment, she held out the strawberry tart, twisting her lips to the side a bit. "Take it," she insisted, as he had merely cocked an eyebrow in response.

   Theo reached out and took the pastry from Cassie. He sniffed it, then failed to hold back a smile. "Cappy made this, didn't he?"

   Cassie's lips parted; she was, again, unable to hide her surprise. "How'd you know?"

   "He makes the best pasties in all of the Wizarding World." Theo inhaled a whiff of the sweet again, and exhaled a pleased sigh. "I couldn't not recognize the recipe."

   Cassie watched him for a moment, her head tilted partly to the side. Perhaps Theodore Nott was not as bad as he had tried to make himself out to be; here he was, spending his free time checking up on the house-elves in the kitchens and memorizing their recipes for treats. Perhaps Theo was.. softer than he let on.

   Cassie raised an eyebrow as Theo shot her a faint glare, shaking his head as if he'd read her mind. "Tell anyone about this and I'll curse you into oblivion."

   She managed a soft smirk, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Of course not, Nott."