𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 || Severus Snape x OC ||

16. THE FERAL & THE FIENDISH

The shroud of shock and grief had wrapped around Alice at the sight of Cedric's demise and her eyes followed Harry in his terrified state until he was pulled away by Mad-Eye Moody.

Dumbledore, Moody, McGonagall, and Snape had all disappeared from her view, whilst Hagrid lend a kind hand upon the shaking shoulders of Cedric's grieving father. Mere moments later, Mr. Filtch ushered the students hastily back to the castle.

No answers were given, no reason why the young man had to die like that...

It wasn't until the following days, when Dumbledore gathered every student and staff to the Great Hall, that Alice found out about the man behind Moody's disguise. The man that was now transferred back to Azkaban was no other than Barty Crouch Jr., who confessed, amongst other things, the murder of his own father. Alice knew little of senior Crouch, other than the rumours about him being very outspoken against the Dark Side. But also, that he had become as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. Little did it matter now, for he was gone, and his murderous son was to receive the Dementor's Kiss sooner than later.

Alice's hands were folded in her lap, her eyes fixed upon the wood of the large table in the Great Hall. She had glanced at the spot where Cedric used to sit with his fellow Hufflepuffs and it stung her heart as she saw the little flowers left there by his friends... The entire Great Hall seemed deprived of all colour, all life, as if it was absorbing the sorrow, absorbing death. That insufferable emptiness of one's demise.

Albus' words echoed, floating over everyone, guests and Hogwarts students alike. "Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy..."

Her jaw clenched. And her hands fisted deep in the fabric that covered them. They had turned black again since the moment she watched Cedric's body, lifeless, flat upon the ground. She hadn't noticed their change then; she couldn't look at anything other than Cedric's corpse.

"...Remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory..."

Alice hoisted her gaze to the headmaster who finished his speech. The clouds of pain collided with those of anger, a wave of subdued, restrained anger that formed a storm in her gaze.

The unfair, the irreversible, the unjust, thundered in her dark eyes. She pressed her lips between her teeth. The storm inside her turned darker. Her eyes glimmered, her expression blank, empty, empty as the feeling inside her chest where thunders broke loose. And she couldn't feel the darkness in her hands climb slowly higher, from her fingers to her knuckles, like ink spilled upon paper, reaching her knuckles, her wrists, and her forearms...

Her glance slithered across the large table of the professors until it was caught in the dark gaze of another. Her eyes stilled as they met his. His form bathed in the darkness of his cloak that embraced his shoulders. And she felt as if he could almost read her, sense the brewing storm within her, as if he knew something she knew not. As if he had already made up his mind about it.

Her brows knitted. The Dark Mark... his Dark Mark... He's one of them, too... And a part of Alice wondered if he knew this would happen. If he knew that the Dark Lord would rise again, and if there was anything he could have done to protect Cedric and Harry from it all... Wasn't he the one who suggested that things are left to unfold? She recalled when the Weasley twins had, quite literally, lend an ear at what was happening inside Dumbledore's office after the Goblet of Fire had spat out Harry's name.

She turned her gaze away from Snape.

She hated that she should despise him, should detest him if her suspicions were true, but somehow, somehow, she could not. She couldn't bring herself to hate him, couldn't bring herself to deny what her every cell knew to be true. A carnal, primal calling within her urged her towards him. Even as she was there, seated, shrouded by pain and grief, that calling lingered, pulled her, and his gaze had merely made it harder. Harder to ignore it, and a hundred times harder to resist it...