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English
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Part 2 of THC Slytherin
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The Houses Competition Submissions
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Published:
2023-07-14
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1,234
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Disappointment

Summary:

"He had never admitted it openly, but Minerva McGonagall was a true friend to Severus Snape, and since Dumbledore’s demise, losing her friendship was his next biggest grief."

Notes:

House: Slytherin
Class: Astronomy
Category: Standard
Word Count: 1234
Prompt/Prompts: [Dialogue] “Please. Please don’t. Please don’t do this. Please.”
Warnings: Mentions of violence.

My thanks to @cersxisbitch and @Sapphyre402 for their beta work!

Work Text:

“ Please. Please don’t. Please don’t do this. Please. ”

 

Severus Snape turned his eyes away from the pleading figure that stood in front of the Headmaster’s desk. In all his years knowing her, he had never heard her talk to anyone in that tone. This woman — so fierce, so proud. Sardonic, sometimes... She was an unyielding lioness, so fitting to the House she represented. She had gained his respect for that, even though he’d never expressed it. Yet, now, she sounded…broken. Humbled, even. Her voice was small, and pleading, so unlike the witch he’d known since he was a little boy.

 

“Please don’t do this. I know you’re better than that.” 

 

Minerva McGonagall, begging. What has this world come to , he thought, with a great deal of remorse. 

 

“Professor McGonagall,” he drawled, his back turned on the witch so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eye. “What is the purpose of your visit to this office? I have business to attend to, and it would be prudent for you to not waste my time unnecessarily.” 

 

The older witch huffed for a moment, ready to protest, ready to dispute whatever he said. She checked herself quickly however, and Snape could only admire how she went against her very own nature, in order to ensure this despicable conversation would carry on. 

 

“You know what I am talking about, Severus,” she replied. Her tone sounded calm and unbothered to the untrained ear, but he knew better than that: the woman was a tempest waiting to happen. 

 

“Again, Professor, I am no Seer. I cannot possibly know what is this raving of yours, or why you are bothering me, when you know very well that I have a meeting with the Board of Governors in an hour and I need to finish my paperwork beforehand. You should exit this office immediately, unless you came to assist me with this task, which I doubt. You and your colleagues seem to delight in pestering me, in hindering every task I have to do these days,” he said, his voice low and full of bitterness. He knew that people were never particularly sympathetic to him, but this infernal year, everything had taken a turn for the worse. His students hated him more than usual, his colleagues had dropped all pretenses at civility and now treated him with open hostility, and then…Having the Death Eaters in the school, pretending to be Professors when they were only competent in spreading propaganda and torturing students with the blessings of the Dark Lord was an added nail to the metaphorical cross he had to bear, since Snape had to taint his soul in the name of the Albus Dumbledore’s crusade for the Light.

 

“You bloody well know what I’m talking about!!” his —former— Deputy Headmistress said, losing the composure she’d tried so hard to maintain in front of him. “We had, not one, not two, but five students punished by the Carrows today, in an absolutely inhuman way and for no valid reason! Where were you when two of my Gryffindors and three Hufflepuffs became test subjects for Amycus Carrow’s amusement? Were you filing paperwork when our children cried and hid and struggled to be brave in the face of danger? Were you talking to the Board of Governors when the laughter died inside these walls, this year? Were you boasting to your Dark Lord, when the light and the happiness dimmed from the youth’s eyes?”

 

He should be more careful, he knew that very well. There was no reason to respond to this taunting. More than anyone, Snape knew how words could cut deeper than weapons, that they had the power to improve lives and ruin them alike, to give hope and eradicate it completely. He had tried hard, through years and years of hurtful words hurled at him and uttered from his own lips, to not react to things said in the heat of the moment. Yet, what Minerva said felt like a wound on his already shattered psyche. 

 

“Use that tone with me again, Professor McGonagall, and nothing will keep you in this school. I’m sure that your beloved cubs will miss you. How easy will it be for you to find a new occupation after so many years at Hogwarts, I wonder? I will not have a hard time finding your replacement.”

 

Snape turned to look at Minerva McGonagall. Her face had turned red, and the hands she held on her lap had now tightened, her knuckles white from trying too hard to stay still. She had tried talking to her Headmaster calmly, even pleading, and had failed to reason with him: now righteous anger was etched all over her features. 

 

In his head, McGonagall’s earlier plea played out — but this time, it was him saying those words to her: Please don’t do this. Please don’t fight me more than what is necessary. Please don’t undermine me — I can’t keep you all safe, I can’t, I’m on my own here. I need help. I can’t help you if you don’t help me. What would Snape give to have a way to share those thoughts with this witch…Would she understand? Would she feel that he was sympathizing with her cry for help, even though there was nothing more he could do about it? Would she recognize that he handed out detentions at a pace that was unacceptable even for the dunderheads, only in order to spare them from the Carrows’ unhinged cruelty, without alerting Voldemort?

 

He had never admitted it openly, but Minerva McGonagall was a true friend to Severus Snape, and since Dumbledore’s demise, losing her friendship was his next biggest grief. 

 

“You are the Headmaster. You cannot let those Death Eater grunts run our school to the ground. You can’t let them terrorize our children. They shouldn’t even be allowed near our students, let alone teaching them! How can you allow this to happen? How can you remain so apathetic to everything that’s going on around you? How—”

 

“ Enough!! ” he shouted, his hand hitting upon the hard surface of his desk. Albus’ desk . He never felt that this was his own office, his own desk, his own title. “Either tell me something of substance, witch, or be gone from my sight! I am busy and I have no time for your sentimental ramblings. Have I made myself clear, or not?”

 

When their gazes met, the Headmaster could easily read all the feelings that flitted quickly through the woman’s mind: surprise, anxiety, anger, and then — disappointment , the one feeling he hated seeing in his friend’s eyes the most. She was disappointed. She would finally give up on him. She would realize that he didn’t deserve her attempts to reach out to him, because there was nothing more he could do about this situation without compromising everything he had done so far.

 

This is what he wanted. Wasn’t it?

 

“You have made yourself perfectly clear, Headmaster. I will not take up more of your time,” she said then, her voice cold and unfeeling. She turned on her heel, and strode out of the office without a word, her head held high, as usual. He took a look at the retreating form of his last friend, now irrevocably lost to him, and then picked up his quill and that stack of paperwork he needed to review before that meeting…  

 

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