RP: Boys will be boys
Characters: Severus Snape, Desmond Mulciber Date: 4 September 1977 Place: Hogwarts, Courtyard Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Animal Cruelty, Death of Pigeons Spies, Language Summary: Des and Sev go on a hunt for some "specimens".
Severus found himself slinking around the edge of the school's courtyard at night during the first week of school, thinking with irony that nothing ever changed. When it was clear that he was quite alone, save for Mulciber's silhouette, he moved out into the open and approached casually. "So why do we need to meet outside to look at books when we're in the same dorm?" he asked, arching a brow.
Desmond had heard the sound of Snape's footsteps before he saw them and was leaning against a pillar, hidden from view, smoking a fag. It was late but not quite curfew. Not that it really mattered. But it was a good time of night for no one to notice them, as everyone was scrambling with last minute assignments and snogs. This was... something like that.
"Already looked at the book," he said, his lips canting to one side. "Have it for you. But we're not reading tonight. Tonight we're gathering specimens." He looked over at Snape and took a drag of his cigarette. "What do you fancy? Pigeons or owls?"
At 'specimens', Severus' attention was thoroughly captured. "Owls will be missed," he said immediately. "If this requires time, we should do pigeons."
"My thoughts too," Desmond replied. He stubbed the fag out on the pillar and flicked it into the shrubbery with a deft twist of his wrist. "Pity, really. About the owls. Wouldn't mind taking Huckleberry's cat as well. Like to see her cry a few tears over it when it went missing. Well, maybe later." He smiled coldly. "We could always blame it on Aubrey. Since it sicked up on his uniform and all. And who writes about that in their journal anyway?"
He moved out from behind the pillar and the two of them started to walk towards the section of the castle where the pigeons roosted at night.
"I want to cut off her pigtails," Severus uttered as he fell in step with Desmond. "Every time I see her. Killing her cat would be hilarious. Maybe she'd be sad enough that it would shut her up."
Desmond's eyes flicked over to Snape. "We wouldn't be so lucky. She'd probably just be louder." He pondered. "We could Silencio her first. And then kill the cat." His lips pursed in thought. "Or just shove her at some idiot bloke so she can put her mouth to better use. Or wait, does she fancy birds?"
"We should be so lucky," Severus muttered, then abruptly wondered if he should have kept that to himself. He wasn't even entirely certain what he meant by that; sexuality was still a very confusing subject for him, despite his assumptions that everyone else his age had it figured out years ago. He thought quickly. "I wouldn't wish that on any bloke."
Desmond's eyebrows went up. "Well, me either. Would be something to see though." He pondered. "You know how the athletic ones are. Can see her and one of the others in my head. Not a bad picture if she just kept her mouth shut at the appropriate times."
It was cooler than he'd expected and he remembered why he hated Scotland.
"How was summer? Glad we only have one more year?"
Severus kept his thoughts to himself regarding 'the athletic ones', focusing instead on Desmond's question. "I'd rather be here than at home," he said. "Though if I have my way, I won't be returning after school. I will definitely like being a fully qualified wizard, and people had better start treating me differently because of it. I already want to choke Dumbledore with his stupid beard for all his condescension." He eyed Desmond. "I suppose you did interesting things during summer and don't have to worry about what happens after the year is out."
"You could say that." He kept his tone light for they had reached their destination. "Worked at the Ministry some. Hope to get a well placed job there. Can come in useful to certain... parties." He stood beneath the arches where the pigeons roosted. They had their hands under their wings, some of them, others were cuddled together in pairs, like the Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs.
"But yes," he said, voice low. "I'm well placed." The mark on his arm was still new enough that occasionally it smarted. And he had, of course, learned the proper concealing charms for when it was necessary. Fortunately, the shower cubicles had sturdy doors and it was so bloody cold long sleeved shirts under robes were a necessity.
"What think you? Stun and break their necks? Or poison them? We could leave some for people to find in the morning. Get their morning off to a proper start."
"Yes, why not. I have poison," Severus said, eying the roosting pigeons but thinking about Desmond's comments about the Ministry and what certain parties his position could help. He had strong suspicions, of course - Mulciber had been dropping hints all last year that pointed to Lord Voldemort - and he couldn't imagine what else he would be speaking of. The idea sent a little shiver of excitement through him that he privately blamed on the cold, because he never admitted to being nervous or excited, but the thrill of the forbidden was as strong with Lord Voldemort as the pull of the Dark Arts was for him. "But I wonder what it would be like to snap their necks."
Desmond smiled coldly. "It's quite brilliant actually. You can feel their little hearts stop beating, and their wings still flutter for a bit after they're dead." He looked over at Snape. "We could Accio some down, but it would be far better to float up. Hold on." Instead, he accioed his broom from the broom cupboard. It arrived in a moment and he mounted it before kicking off gently and flying up to the high arched ceiling above.
The birds were confused and sleepy, and he tucked several into his coat before he flew back down, holding on only with his legs.
"Here," he said, handing one to Snape before removing the others and waiting. They struggled and tried to flap, terrified now that they were awake, but his long fingers were wrapped around their keels, trapping their wings. "You first."
Mulciber had done this, had he? Then Severus supposed that this was somewhat of a test for him. He looked down at the pigeon fluttering desperately in his grip, clenching his jaw at the little thing's panic. He slid his right hand up to the neck, squeezing his fingers through the soft feathers, and thought about his stupid classless father, slumped in his chair all evening, staring at telly and grousing when he ran out of beer. The Muggle who had polluted his genes and guaranteed that he would have none of the privileges he deserved, by right of his mother's birth and his magical heritage. He thought of Lupin, who wasn't even human, and was still allowed an education, as if he was as good as the humans. As if Severus was only as good as a beast. Yes, it would be easy to take his hatred out on the pigeon.
He felt the neck through the feathers, gripped it tightly, and dug the fingers of his other hand into the pigeon's wing for a better grip when he twisted. There was a strange popping noise, and he hissed when the beak pressed into his hand snapped at the flesh of his finger, either in defense or a reflexive action. The bird's wings jerked a few more times, and then it went limp.
A strange, heady rush filled Severus as he stared down at the lifeless bird, not quite as exciting as Dark magic, but delightful all the same. For a moment, his hatred was appeased. Pleasure rushed in. He could do that. He liked doing that. He looked up at Mulciber, wishing it had been something more significant than a pigeon.
Mulciber smiled and extended a second bird. "Want another?"
By the time they'd headed back to return his broom to the shed there were five birds in the little box that Mulciber had tucked under his arm.
"We can always come back and poison the rest," he said thoughtfully, looking over at Snape. He was pleased at how the other boy had reacted. The Dark Lord would be pleased as well. There had been a look of pleasure on his face at the death of the bird. A look Mulciber knew very well indeed.
"Will be interesting to see if we can bring them back to life," he commented, waiting to see Snape's reaction. His housemate was intelligent. They'd been practicing Dark Magic together for years, but never something as advanced as Necromancy.
Snape's eyebrows arched, but there was a knowing look in with the surprise. "You're speaking of Inferi. You found a book on making Inferi?" he asked in disbelief.
He smirked. "Amazing the things one can find when one knows the right people." He hefted his broom a little as they walked. "I learned lots of interesting things this summer."
"Apparently you did," Severus said, trying to keep the envy out of his voice. "Apparently I don't know any of the right people." His gaze flickered to Mulciber for a moment. "Aside from you. So, how long does it take?"
Desmond smiled a wolf like smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about Snape. But if I did." He looked over at the other boy. "I'd say that you definitely know the right person. And it all depends. On how much you're willing to do."