My HP One-Shots (Boyxboy)

Friendship's Heavy Burden

This is also posted at FFN, under the same username.

It was a universally accepted truth that Severus Snape was a cold, heartless bastard who only cared about himself. It was equally acknowledged that the only real emotions he seemed capable of were irritation, annoyance, rage, and condescension -- although that last one was debatable as an emotion versus a personality trait. In sixteen years of teaching, the only time his unfortunate pupils had ever seen anything close to a smile was the malicious smirk his face twisted into when he was berating a hapless student or docking points from anyone foolish enough to not be in Slytherin. If asked, each and every person -- or near about, anyway -- would have said Snape wasn't capable of experiencing the softer spectrum of emotions. Most days, the man himself would agree with that hasty assessment.

Only a few people, intimately acquainted with him in a way he loathed and had determinedly tried to avoid, knew the truth of the solitary man. Although, after The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Bloody-Die had proclaimed the truth to a Great Hall full of various and assorted combatants for both Dark and Light, it was surprising that more rumors hadn't been bandied about during his convalescence from the brink of death's dark chasm; Merlin knew that most of the Wizarding world was usually much more inclined to latch onto the vaguest hint of salacious gossip and distort it into implausible, paper-selling drivel. No, it was still only a thankfully, relatively small handful who knew of Severus's pathetic torch-carrying for a woman long dead who, even had she been alive, would certainly not have been on speaking terms with him. She'd made that perfectly clear after his one transgression, made in the heat of impotent rage and abject humiliation.

Unfortunately enough for Severus, one of those knowledgeable people in particular refused to let the matter drop, remaining deliberately, willfully noncompliant with his wish to never speak of the matter again, in a manner most unbecoming of a supposedly cunning Slytherin. On this night, as on many others past, Severus was sitting in Lucius Malfoy's opulent, but tasteful, study. In his younger, more impressionable days as a poor, neglected half-blood being introduced into pureblood society, he had been unable to conceal his longing to read every book on the multitude of bookshelves; he had been visibly impressed by the lush rugs that covered the entirety of the otherwise cold stone floor. The grandiose fireplace, standing taller than his over-six-foot frame, had drawn his eye, thanks to its ornately carved mantelpiece; a magical hunting scene was carved in the wood, and his first few times in Lucius's inner sanctum he had been thoroughly captivated by the people on horses chasing down a fox.

Now, though, the allure of Lucius's magnificent abode could not hold his attention, because even as his friend poured him a drink, he knew this was to be one of the nights when Lucius attempted to force him into a conversation about her. And even Lucius's status as Severus's oldest friend and most trusted -- perhaps only trusted -- acquaintance would not keep him safe from a painful hex if he insisted on pursuing the topic past Severus's initial rebuttal of his inquiry.

"Severus," began the older man, "you must tell me something."

Severus knew that tone well, and it promised little peace unless its demands were met; it was the infamous, imperial 'I am above you and have the right to order you about' tone that had served the Malfoys so well for generations. He closed his eyes in an unvoiced prayer for patience before turning his blankest stare on his friend. The only sign of tension he allowed to remain visible was the grip on his tumbler of Firewhisky: The knuckles of his left hand were so white that it looked as though the skin would split if any more pressure was exerted.

"And just what knowledge could you possibly feel entitled to demand of me tonight, Lucius?" he drawled, sounding completely unconcerned with the answer to his sarcastic query -- probably because he already knew the topic at hand.