The Time For Silence

Characters and main events leading to this story belong to JK Rowling.

My characterisation of Slughorn was very much inspired by The Real Snape's story, 'Subtlety Personified'.

ooo

8.

"Girls on the Slytherin team", remarked Pomona, pouring hot milk on her porridge. "Good one, Minerva."

"I did nothing," said Minerva.

"But why," slurped Rolanda, between rapid mouthfuls of egg, "did Severus wait till he was dead before he changed the rule? Was he afraid of the pureblood parents?"

"The pureblood parents, as you call them, were not to be trifled with when Severus was in charge," said Horace, leaning back to admire his full plate.

"And," added Aurora, "he had other priorities."

For Aurora, Severus could do no wrong. In her favour, she had been the only one to support him during his year as headmaster. She had humbled the rest of the staff by being right, but that was little comfort to her. Severus was dead now. Aurora only ever wore black. Some nights, the wind on the Astronomy Tower made her robes billow ominously and, if her hair had been lank and greasy instead of frizzy, she would have looked like Severus' ghost.

"Mmm..." mumbled Rolanda, wiping her mouth hastily before jumping up.

"Wait," said Minerva.

"Yes, Headmistress."

Rolanda plonked herself down again, with something like a smirk on her face.

"As you know, I have ordered a second portrait to be made for the Slytherin common room," began Minerva.

"Oh yes, and the Malfoys are having a third portrait made..." added Horace, who was now meticulously slicing his food in mouthful sized pieces.

"But you are not off the hook."

"Off the hook?" repeated Pomona.

For the first time, Minerva smiled.

"Severus is not content with having spoken to every single student in the school, including the first years who have never known him alive..."

"And having had about six conversations with Miss Granger..."

"Seven, but who's counting?"

"She tried to speak to him seven times," corrected Minerva. "But that is not the point. Severus wants to talk to you."

"Who?"

"All of you."

"Does Severus ever do anything but have private conversations?" muttered Rolanda.

"Of course not, he's a portrait."

"Sorry."

"And you, Horace, are first."

"But I have already spoken to Severus, many times. And I will again, if he is going to spend time in the Slytherin common room."

"Severus wants to talk to you. To all of you," said Minerva, turning to Filius who was contentedly sipping pumpkin juice.

"Of course, Minerva. I have been wanting to visit him for a long time. If he has finished with his students..."

"He will never have finished with his students, I'm afraid."

"Of course. Of course they come first. Well, I certainly would be happy to talk to Severus."

"Hagrid, Pomona, all of you."

Pomona choked on her porridge. Hagrid stared at his feet.

"O' course, Minerva. We owe 'im. Daft of us not to have known, really."

"Yes," agreed Pomona, as soon as she had stopped coughing.

"Severus was never a great talker. What has come over him?"

Horace was fidgeting with his neatly cut morsels.

"No offence to Severus, Headmistress," said Rolanda, " but we don't have to hop up as soon as he opens his heroic dead mouth."

"What do you have against Severus?"

Aurora was in shock.

"Nothing, of course. I might go and pay my respects. After all, the team is much better off with Miss Parkinson and Miss Bulstrode."

"Are we scheduling meetings?" asked Horace.

"They are already scheduled."

Minerva had hoped having a second portrait of Snape in the Slytherin common room would keep her office looking less like Platform Nine and Three Quarters, but it seemed the staff room might be needing one too.

ooo

"Severus," said Horace, settling himself as comfortably as possible in Minerva's hard chair. He really regretted he hadn't invited her to the Slug Club. Now she was making him pay.

He had been right to admit Severus, though. Brilliant student, perhaps even better than Lily, lovely Lily. If Lucius Malfoy, that good for nothing brat, had noticed Severus, how could Horace Slughorn have done less?

But Severus was incorruptible. Never a favour for his old teacher. He had never agreed to postpone any of Harry Potter's detentions to let the boy come to Horace's evenings, and now he was summoning him over, to give him a lecture, Horace was sure. Once a headmaster, always a headmaster.

"Headmaster", he added.

"Professor McGonagall is the headmistress."

"Severus, then. You want to talk? Haven't we talked already?"

"Not enough."

Horace sighed. He really wished he could get a more comfortable seat, but somehow, he felt bringing it up would be innappropriate.

"I am listening."

"I hope you are. The Headmistress says you wish to leave Hogwarts."

"As soon as I can. I am getting old, Severus."

"Horace, do you care about Slytherin?"

"How dare you! Of course I care about Slytherin."

"You are the only Head of Slytherin the world will respect. You fought Voldemort."

"Well, I couldn't let him... you know..."

"Quite. Slytherin needs a politically correct Head of house."

"Well, I..."

"And a strong Head of house."

"Horace helped me duel Voldemort, together with Kinglsey."

Horace turned abruptly. He had forgotten Minerva was in the room. He had forgotten this was her office.

"No other Slytherin volunteered," she was saying.

"And no one else is volunteering to be Head of Slytherin," added Severus.

"Who would want that job?" sighed Horace. "All right, all right... Is that all?"

"This is only the beginning. The world respects you. The students need to respect you too. I don't like hearing Zabini say he didn't listen to you because..."

Snape interrupted himself.

"Because?"

"Because you were not Professor Snape," completed Minerva.

"Well, I'm not. I never will be. You might as well forget it."

"The Slytherins need a Head of house they can look up to, especially the eighth years."

"You are being unfair, Severus. These children have known you and trusted you for seven years. You earned their loyalty."

"Do you know how I earned it? By not favouring a small group of well-connected brats. You liked Blaise, but he despised you."

"Severus!"

"Forget about your connections. Or rather use them wisely. You have a gift for understanding people, for seeing their potential."

"No, I don't."

"What are you talking about? Many students would never have made their way in the world if it weren't for you."

"One of them was called Tom Riddle."

"What?"

"Tom Riddle would have killed Kingsley and myself had you not fought him," said Minerva quietly.

"Just trying to... well, you know..."

"I know," said Snape. "You should be more concerned than anyone that none of your students should become a second Voldemort."

"Certainly..."

"We all make mistakes. The fact remains that you have helped many students who deserved it. Now if you took advantage of your connections to help Miss Parkinson, for example..."

"You mean I should introduce her to Gwenog Jones, as I did Miss Weasley?"

"I am sure you did. No, I don't mean Madam Jones. Miss Parkinson will quickly get bored with Quidditch. I was thinking of the editor of the Daily Prophet."

"Barnabas? Miss Parkinson at the Prophet? You can't be serious. Barnabas will never hire a girl who joined the Dark side."

"He might, if you ask him. Tell him Miss Parkinson is the most inventive gossip in the school. She is intelligent enough to write what people want to read and use a pen name."

"Severus, do we really want that type of journalism?" groaned Minerva.

"Whether we want it or not, we'll have it."

"Indeed, indeed. I'll take care of it, Severus."

Horace was in his element.

"While you're at it, you might find something for Goyle too."

"Goyle? Severus, the boy has no talent whatsoever."

"No academic talent, you mean. I myself have lacked patience with him more than once. You are probably the only person who can help him."

"Certainly, Severus, but..."

"The boy will be grateful to you."

"Hum..."

What was to be gained form Goyle's gratefulness, Horace was not sure. Well, at least, there was nothing to lose.

"It's Malfoy I am worried about," continued Snape. "He has only ever respected three people: his parents and me."

"Your idea of getting him back on the team was a good one. I hadn't really seen him play before, though of course, I knew the Malfoys were always good flyers."

"Yes, well, that won't make him respect Urquhart, who is younger than him, or stupid Rolanda - sorry, Minerva."

"Or me," added Horace. "I am not introducing Malfoy to anyone."

"It's better that way. Draco needs to adjust to the new reality, to the fact that his name now closes doors instead of opening them."

"It does him good to be interested in something else than being sorry for himself," said Minerva. "And I must admit he is a good flyer."

"Oh well, if you admit... Anything else, Severus?"

"You can't wait to get away from me, I see."

"If you and Minerva cared more about comfort, if we could have a friendly chat in a good armchair with chosen refreshments..."

"I am not interested in friendly chats."

"No, you never were. Except... a long time ago."

"A very long time ago."

"It's a sad story, Severus. Who might have thought I would outlive so many of my students?"

"And I," added Minerva.

"There are plenty more to keep you busy. They are the ones who need you," said Severus.

"Indeed, indeed."

"Maybe you have something to say to Severus, Horace?"

"I think we have covered it all. Severus doesn't enjoy tearful apologies."

"Certainly not."

"So have a good night, my dear boy."

Horace got up stiffly.

"I'm getting too old for this, mark my words. My back is killing me. Wait till you're my age, Minerva."

He traipsed out, muttering to himself.

"That man will teach, conspire and enjoy life until the age of a hundred and fifty at least," observed Severus.

They exchanged a look - a smile - of complicity. It was the first time Minerva was able to look at Severus without being torn with guilt.

This, of course, made her feel very guilty.

ooo

There was no doubt the Headmaster's office looked like Platform Nine and Three Quarters when Filius, Pomona, Rolanda, Aurora, Sybill, Septima, Batsheba and Hagrid stepped in that evening. Some embarrassed and some eager, all stood in front of him as they had on that first morning of school in September 1997.

"Severus..." began a few voices.

"I know," said Snape's portrait in the low voice he had always used in class, and, as in class, all listened silently. "You're all sorry and you all apologise. Enough of that. I have no patience for it. We all make mistakes. If you feel you owe me something. I just ask one thing: don't make the same mistake with my students. That's all I have to say."

There were a few hushed gasps as he got up and turned his back on them in a dramatic swish. Then Rolanda called out,

"Hey, Sev! Thanks for the girls!"

His head turned slowly.

"NO ONE is allowed to call me Sev."

"I know, Headmaster. I just thought you were in a hurry."

"I am."

Another swish and he was gone.

"I'm sorry..." began Minerva.

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

"It's his way of saying he forgives us."

"He's just being his good old narkey self."

"I would have preferred something more personal, though."

"But he is right. There's work to do."

They filed out, until the spiral staircase looked like an Underground escalator at rush hour.

"Headmaster Snape doesn't lack style either," remarked Phineas Nigellus Black.

"Pip," called Minerva. "Please bring me a cup of tea."

.

Blaise started, then grinned as the familiar voice sounded across the common room.

"I am still waiting for your essay, Zabini."

ooo

Author's Note : This is not the end, but it's a good place to stop. For now. Until the Muse presents me - or you - with More.

Thanks to all of you for your helpful comments.