Silence is the Price

----- Harry Potter and his wonderful world belong solely to J.K. Rowling, who has my apologies for mangling her brilliance like this.




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Henry and Amy ate their breakfast very slowly Saturday morning. They watched Snape - all the while trying to look as though they weren’t - as he finished his toast and left the Great Hall. As he exited they abandoned their plates and picked their way to the great double doors leading into the foyer, around which they watched as Snape left the castle, nodding to Filch as he went.


As soon as he was out of sight heading towards the front gates they made their way down into the dungeons once more. Henry had managed to track down Fred and George Weasley last night after leaving Snape’s classroom. As he’d expected, they knew where to find Snape’s rooms, although they’d given him an odd look when he’d asked them.


“There something you want to tell us, Henry?” Fred had asked, looking concerned.


“We’re your mates, right, -” George had said.


“-And we wouldn’t judge a paying customer, -”


“But this just isn’t healthy.”


Appalled, Henry had hastened to set them straight, explaining that Snape had confiscated something of his, and he wanted it back. Looking relieved, the twins had grinned at that. Nothing wrong with a little good-natured pilfering, after all. They’d given him directions, and even thrown in a secret passage shortcut for free.


“How do you two know all this stuff?” he’d asked, impressed. George had waggled a finger at him.


“Ah-uh. We told you about the house elf, but we can’t be giving away all our trade secrets, can we?”


Now, the twins’ instructions led them down further than they’d ever been before along unfamiliar corridors and passageways, and with each step Amy grew paler and paler. She seemed to have progressed past white to a pale green, and the only thing that kept her from bolting was Henry’s arm on hers, along with his words of encouragement and bullying. At last they came to the portrait of the stern looking wizard sitting at the oak table covered in potions of varying colors and shapes. The acid green bottle toppled when they prodded the canvas, just as Fred had said it would, and although the wizard glowered at them as though he knew they shouldn’t be there, the portrait slid to one side without a word.


Amy’s heart thundered as she entered Snape’s sitting room. Her entire body quivered with the sound and she half wondered why it didn’t echo down the hallways. The sitting room they found themselves in was sparse, neat, and cold. Henry strode in nonchalantly, but Amy hung back. She did not want to be here… of all the places she didn’t want to be, this topped the list. The room seemed to glare at her as if it could see her, as if it could burn through her the way Snape had done the night before. She took another step into the room. Henry was shuffling carefully through a pile of papers on a desk to her left, one finger pinning them to the wood to prevent them moving. Amy took a deep, steadying breath, but choked on it almost immediately. Oh God, she could smell him! Her heart rate doubled and her stomach turned over. What was she doing here? she thought wildly, Snape would come back, he would catch them, and then -


“Amy!” She started and looked over at Henry’s impatient face. “Are you going to help? The sooner we find them the sooner we can go.”


Breathing shallowly, she went to a bookshelf and began flipping through the pages of each book. She’d only been through two or three when Henry said “I’m almost done in here. Why don’t you let me finish that, and you can start in the bedroom.” He indicated a door at the far end of the room, then went back to his desk drawer. She stood, staring at him incredulously, until he looked up again.


“What?”


“Nothing,” she said softly, shaking her head. She turned and went through the door.


She’d thought she could feel Snape’s presence in the sitting room. The feeling was so strong here, in this room, it was as if Snape himself were standing next to her… touching her… She swatted irritably at the thought, calling up her anger to drown out her fear. She moved through the room, rifling drawers and trying to touch as little as possible. She couldn’t quite bring herself to poke through the clothing bureau in the corner. She used her want to poke things around, listening for the shuffle of paper. The bed, too, was difficult for her. It was unmade, and as she looked at the rumpled linens it was all too easy to picture Snape in them. She finished quickly and headed slowly back to the sitting room.


“Henry I-” she began, but the words died in her throat. Her heart lurched and she swayed dangerously, grabbing the door jamb for support. Henry looked up from the book he was flipping through. And behind him, Snape smiled mirthlessly from the open entranceway.




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Okay, this is all I have so far. Well, not completely, but the next bit is so appallingly bad that I don\'t really have the courage to post it. If you\'ve read this far (and you have my undying gratitude and respect if you have) and you\'d like to read more, e-mail me at MyFireElf@hotmail.com and I\'ll send you the next bit, or send me a suggestion on what should happen next, because I have no idea where to take it from here. Thanks for reading!