SOMETHING WICKED / book one

A Small Scheme

She didn't even realise she'd fallen asleep.

Snape had knocked twice on the door, with such deep circles under his eyes that it gave him a haggard, ghostly appearance. "Out," he said softly, eyeing Hannah, who started awake at the sound of his voice.

Neville looked just as groggy beside her, and across the room Seamus was rubbing his eyes wearily.

The four hurriedly made their way to the door, but as Hannah tried to slip past, Snape lifted his arm, blocking the exit. She shot Blaise a pleading look, but he hastily turned his head, disappearing into the shadows of the castle.

She was so close to the headmaster that she could smell him- an odd combination of leather, parchment, and coffee, that stuck in her throat leaving Hannah feeling positively claustrophobic.

"Can I go?" She said tiredly, staring straight ahead at the open door, ignoring his arm. The talk of uprising had emboldened her, but she was careful to keep her tone calm- even she knew that Snape was a skilled Legilimens, and Hannah wasn't keen to experience that herself.

He raised an eyebrow. "You may not."

Fucking games. Hannah stifled a scowl, retreating back into the room and watching frostily as the Professor closed the door behind them.

"I expected you to have questions," Snape said quietly, his dark eyes fixed on hers.

"I have hundreds, but I know I won't get answers, so I've stopped asking." Her voice betrayed a hint of stubbornness.

Snape considered this for a moment, tapping his wand lightly on his knee. "I propose a trade, then."

Hannah wondered if she'd misheard him at first. "Sorry?" She said slowly, "a trade?"

He shifted slightly, his eyes still boring into hers. "You may ask one question, and I will give you an honest answer. In return, you will gather some sensitive information for me."

A chill had crept into the room now, dread settling in her stomach as she contemplated her answer. Perhaps it would be best not to know, to keep her head down and focus on surviving, but on the other hand, this information could prove useful. She pictured Neville's face, how fired up he'd been just hours ago, and wondered briefly whether he'd accept the offer or not himself.

"What information?" Hannah asked steadily. "And why can't you gather it yourself?"

Snape looked almost bored, sat lazily in the armchair, regarding her with disinterest. "Do you accept my offer, or not?"

"Yes," she blurted, almost wanting to stuff the words back into her mouth. "But-"

Snape raised a finger, silencing her. "You must first know that you are my assistant, so this will be strictly confidential. If you repeat what I ask of you, or your findings, you will die- and you will be sentencing your little friends to death as well."

There was an unmistakeable threat in his voice, that sent a shiver down Hannah's spine, and her heart twisted with fear. "You'll kill me?"

His black eyes flickered with an unreadable expression. "It is of the utmost importance that this stays between us."

Was that a 'yes' or 'no'?

Hannah's throat tightened, but she held his gaze. "I want to know why you're working for Voldemort."

She wasn't surprised that Snape didn't flinch at his name.

"Why did you betray Harry? Your students? They trusted you, and you handed them over to him like their lives meant nothing."

Snape's face remained impassive. "I see Mr Longbottom has thoroughly filled you in, however incorrectly."

"Answer me." Hannah felt a flash of anger at his callousness. "You promised."

"Sometimes," Snape said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "You must overlook the smaller details in order to see the bigger picture. Potter was a Horcrux, Miss Merriweather."

"What?"

"And neither could live while the other survives. He was painfully, pretentiously aware of his fate, and he gave himself to the Dark Lord to destroy what he thought was the last of Voldemort's soul."

"But everyone says you gave him up-"

"It is ignorant to assume truth in the words of those who were not there. I watched Harry Potter die, and believe me, I gained no satisfaction from it."

"And your other students? The ones who aren't Pure Blood? You're selling us like house elves, bringing us here to die!" Hannah's cheeks burned with indignation, suddenly determined to make him answer for something, anything at all.

"Have you seen any graves?" Snape's voice had dropped to a whisper, and she strained to hear him. "Have you personally observed any of these fatalities?"

"Stop talking in riddles, for Merlin's sake! You're no better than any of us, you know- you're a half blood too! Does the Dark Lord know that? Why don't you press your special Voldemort button and call him here now, I'll tell him-"

Snape was regarding her with a look of barely restrained amusement, which only infuriated her more. All pretences of control had been lost, and Hannah stalked towards the Headmaster, snatching the sleeve of his robe and dragging it up to reveal the ugly, black mark of the Dark Lord. The pale skin around it was red and raised, angry, as if his body was trying to rid itself of it, but Snape simply watched as Hannah recoiled.

"Unpleasant, isn't it?" He said coolly, as if he were simply remarking on the weather.

"Now, if you're finished acting like a child, I need you to listen to me."

Hannah slumped down onto the stone floor, still staring at the inflamed skin on his forearm.

"It is important that you remember this conversation, as after tonight I will not- an obliviate charm will be cast to wipe this from my memory. Miss Merriweather, you must find out why Lord Voldemort still lives. With all horcruxes destroyed, that should be impossible- unless he created more."

She stared at him blankly, horrified. "Why are you asking me to do this?"

"Because," Snape gave a wry smile. "As a traitorous halfblood, you are the least likely to be interrogated or tortured for information. Alongside the fact that no one knows you are here."

Despite herself, Hannah furrowed her brow in confusion. "There was a man named Wormtail, though. In the holding chambers."

"He will not be a problem for you any more. And there is a grave you may examine, should you not believe me."