1994-10-06: Anything But Oblivious


Siobhan_icon.gif Snape_icon.gif

Scene Title Anything But Oblivious
Synopsis Siobhan seeks out her Head of House for a little session of confession.
Location Snape's Office
Date October 06, 1994
Watch For Speaking Slytherin
Logger Siobhan

Late in the evenings, once all the younger students are safe in their dormitories and the older ones reading or studying or canoodling or patrolling the halls - to each their own - the atmosphere in the dungeons tends to settle down. A lot. It is this lull in the activity that Siobhan exploits, slipping away from her usual chair by the fire to travel the short distance between her common room and Professor Snape's office door. Three short raps, a pause and two short raps signal her request to enter. That done, she falls still and silent.

The door opens without any fanfare or question as to who might be calling on the Potions Master at this time. He lifts his eyes to stare at Siobhan from between greasy, black curtains of hair - an eyebrow arching in the silent, obvious question: What do you want?

"Hullo, Professor," Siobhan greets cheerfully as she steps into the gloomy room. Casually - a little too casually - she shuts the door behind her, then seats herself comfortably in the chair opposite her Head of House. "I assume you heard the uproar over Draco the other day." She doesn't insult him by making that a question, either.

"The Grim," Snape answers, voice at its usual unperturbed and even keel - offering only that by way of a full explanation or acknowledgement of his understanding.

Siobhan nods. "Exactly. Has he spoken to you yet about his…apparition?" She fiddles with something in the pocket of her robes, brown eyes even and steady on her Professor's.

"No," comes Snape's reply, although now his eyes lift from the tome on his desk that he was previously focused upon, "Has he spoken to you?"

"He will." Siobhan's answer is decisive. Pulling that object from her pockets, she tosses a bag of crushed myrtle leaves. "I told him I was out gathering those for you. It was effective." His question however, causes a rather wicked smile to grace her features. "In a manner of speaking." Oh, the puns…

"What, exactly, are you tiptoeing toward?" Snape asks, closing the book and placing it down upon the desk, "Malfoy is having hallucinations … or telling tales. It is far from the first time either thing has happened at Hogwarts."

"But what if it was neither?" Siobhan shrugs and frowns a little. "I've known him since he started here at school." Brown eyes flick from a casual perusal of his bookshelves back to his face. "If I had to guess, I'd say you've know him longer." She shifts her weight, sliding further down into her chair to get a bit more comfortable. "He has his faults, but he isn't an idiot. What good would it do him to run in the school screaming like a madman and raving about a Death Dog?" She shrugs again and examines her fingernails casually. "He's already lost some credibility with the older years over it."

Snape shakes his head slightly, "He is hardly without his enemies. He has caused some trouble of his own in the past … do you recall that stunt with the Dementors? I wouldn't put it past certain students to take their revenge in such a manner."

Siobhan nods once deeply. "I do recall that very stunt, Professor. It is precisely /because/ of that - and other incidents like it - that I created the illusion of that deadly mutt for him." There's no remorse in her voice, only cool, calculated honesty. That said, she sits back and waits for her words to sink in.

"Forgive me if it was my understanding that punishments were to be dealt out by teachers and prefects - and you are neither," Snape replies, although he makes no effort to deduct points or bestow detention, "And your reasoning for putting the fear of death into Malfoy was not vengeance, I hope? I hardly imagined you to be one of Potter's sympathetic followers."

That last actually causes Siobhan to laugh outright, though she smothers it for the sake of possible passers-by in the hall outside. "Circe's knickers, no! It wasn't revenge or punishment, either. It was partly for fun," she admits with a bright smile, apparently unashamed of her sadistic streak. "But mostly it was insurance." She leaves it there, but watches him. It's fun, this conversational game. Not many people will play it with her, but Snape has in the past. Perhaps he will again?

"Ah," comes Snape's answer and indeed he plays the game, taking a long, staring pause before he replies slowly, "Now what would you have planned that you would need to slaughter Malfoy's credibility in order to achieve."

A little bit of a thrill runs down her spine, leaving Siobhan with a truly /wicked/ expression of mirth. "There are a couple of things to be gained, as I'm sure you know, sir." A stray bit of hair is tucked behind her ear. "With his reputation in tatters, a sympathetic ear could prove to be…just what he needs." She lets that hang in the air for a moment. "I happen to be a very good listener." And she doesn't even /bother/ with how valuable the friendship of a Malfoy could be. Snape knows. And with the kind of talk she hears from her brothers…that value just went up. "But in the immediate future, it's the Cup." One hand reaches up to rub absently at her temple, attempting to soothe the remnants of the headache left from Nigel's blunder. "I know he isn't the only one, but you have to admit he's lost us a lot of points in the past few years and I'm tired of seeing Potter and his friends with /that/ to gloat over us too. If Draco's too busy checking every shadow for the grim and no one feeds his ego by cringing or cowering, it'll go a long way towards stopping his tactless and unsubtle bids for Potter's attention, don't you agree?"

"I may be inclined to agree," Snape replies with a slight nod before he changes direction in the conversation quite deftly, "Speaking of cups, however - the Goblet of Fire. Have you given this … unique … version of the Tri-Wizard Tournament any thought?"

"Oh I tossed my name in ages back." There's playing the game and then there's fishing for compliments. Siobhan doesn't really hold with the latter, and so she can afford to be blunt in some cases. At least with certain people. "I really hoped you'd see my point. I may bring in 'the grim' at some time in the future just to drive the point home. Just fair warning." So he'll be ready with some alibi or other failsafe - just in case things go south. Sio may be sadistic, but she's not disloyal.

"I remain oblivious," comes Snape's answer in a manner that firmly suggests the opposite, "However, were I aware I'd suggest you use it sparingly … the idea may have merit in the eyes of some, but Malfoy is not as dim as the company he keeps."

Siobhan nods once. "Of course. I don't make a habit of underestimating my adversary. Rookie mistake, that." She grins cheekily over at him, but a shift in weight causes her to cringe. "Ah…you wouldn't happen to have any strong bruise ointment I could take? I don't think Pomfrey got them all…" No shame, this one. No shame at all.

Snape is silent for a long moment, an unspoken spell and a wave of his wand bringing a small and non-descript green bottle from one of the over-crowded shells to his hand. He places it on the desk between them without a word.

Reaching out for the bottle, Siobhan raises her eyes to meet those of her professor and for the first time this evening, she is completely solemn. "Thank you." With a stiff motion, she pulls it back towards herself and flinches again, using her free hand to rub at her opposite shoulder. "Do I have time before curfew to go scare the pants off a Ravenclaw? I need to know what the hell /happened/ after I passed out." She stands, leaning backwards to pop her back. "'Cause whatever it was, it /hurt/."

"I remain oblivious," Snape repeats in the same manner, reaching down to lift his tome and open it to the page he was on before Siobhan's arrival.

"Of course, sir." Even though those three words are said around the biggest grin yet, Siobhan wastes no time in reaching the door. First, some deep-fried Ravenclaw, and then some relief! Sleep might even happen tonight, who knows?

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