Rabbit: November 1971
Title: Rabbit
Chapter Number/Title: November 1971: Partners (57/100) [[ Previous | Next]]
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1789
Workshop?: Suggestions welcome.
November 15, 1971
Partners
Injustice. That’s what it was, to have Darren and Evan partnered and then to force Rabastan to work with Severus Snape.
The half-blood was, as usual, minding his business as far from the other boys as possible. Rabastan sighed and crossed the room, past his own tidy bed, past Darren’s hurricane wreckage, past Evan’s immaculate space, to the final bed.
“Snape.”
Severus Snape did not lift his eyes from his dusty book. “Lestrange.”
“We should work on our Defence project.”
A small huff emitted from Snape’s long nose. “I already did my part.”
Rabastan’s fists clenched. “What? What part? We’re supposed to work together.”
“I’ll give you what I did. You do the other half. Or I can do that, too, if you like.”
“Together means both of us. Coming up with all the ideas, together.”
“Fine. We can do the other half together.” He made the final word sound like some kind of torture.
Rabastan knew he should be happy that Severus had given in, but his roommate’s resentment made him even more frustrated. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath-in, and out. “I know you don’t like this any more than me. You’d rather work with your Mudblood friend-”
A garbled sound came from Snape’s throat.
“What? You would, wouldn’t you? As much I as would rather-”
“Don’t.” Severus’s dark eyes finally regarded Rabastan. “Don’t call her that.”
Rabastan rolled his eyes. “Your Muggleborn friend, then. And I’d obviously rather work with Sirius than with you. But sometimes life isn’t fair.”
Severus set his book to his side, and he leaned forward in challenge. “What would you even know about that?”
“Plenty.”
“Oh, yes, poor little rich boy.” He picked his book back up and resumed reading.
Rabastan wanted to scream in frustration. What was wrong with Snape, that made him so impossible? “Come on, Snape. We have to do this. The right way.”
Severus sighed. “I did it the right way. Professor Akingbade doesn’t care about our group cohesion. He just wants to see that we can understand the alleged difference between dark magic and defensive magic. If you don’t want to finish it, leave it. I’ll do it. You can even take credit for half. But I’m not interested in working with you right now.”
“You don’t want to work with me? What did I ever do to you?”
The question was met with silence.
“I’m loads nicer to you than Avery or Rosier. Or the Gryffindor boys.”
“A potted plant would pass that test.” Rabastan didn’t know that pages could be turned with disdain, but Severus managed.
“Ugh. What do you want me to do?”
“Go. Away.”
Rabastan did. He spun around and marched from the room, slamming the door behind him. He stormed up the stairs, all the way to the common room, and scanned for a friendly face. He found Rodolphus, standing by the mantle, explaining something to Crabbe. Probably Quidditch.
Cautious of overhearing more than he should, he hovered a stone’s throw away and tried to catch his brother’s eye. Finally, Rodolphus caught sight of Rabastan and clapped a hand on Crabbe’s shoulder. He nodded his head and Rabastan approached.
“What’s going on, Rabbit? Everything all right?”
Rabastan emitted a long, slow sigh. “Professor Akingbade is making me work with Snape.”
“Oh?”
“I think he meant it to be nice. Like, make it easier to do in our Houses or something. But it’s awful.”
Rodolphus nodded. “You have to be able to work with classmates other than Sirius.”
“Well, I know that. And I’m trying, but he hates me. As if he has any right to hate me.” Rabastan knit his brow and folded his arms in frustration. “I’ve never done anything to him. He’s just bitter he can’t work with his favorite Mudblood.”
His brother pinched the bridge of his nose, looking extraordinarily like their father in that moment. “Rabbit, did you actually say that? Mudblood, I mean. To his face?”
Rabastan cast his eyes down and shrugged it away. “I didn’t say it in a cruel way. I was only saying I know he’d rather work with her and I’d rather work with Sirius, but…” He trailed off, realizing that he had, in fact, sounded plenty cruel. “How do you do it, Dolph?”
Rodolphus’s expression had softened. “Do what?”
“Make everyone like you. Not say all the wrong things. I was trying to be nice, but I don’t understand him.”
Rodolphus glanced up as he thought about his answer. “It’s… tricky,” he said slowly. “You’re young, still.” He rested a strong hand on Rabastan’s shoulder. “You’ll get better. You just need to think about your words a little more.”
“I do think about what I say! I’m not like Sirius!”
“The most important thing is that you have to think about the person you’re talking to. There are a lot of people in my class I don’t like, but I can tell what they want to hear by knowing about them. How they feel, what they want, what they can hear, or can’t.”
It seemed easier said than done. “But how am I supposed to know those things?”
Rodolphus shook his head. “I don’t know, Rabbit. Try to put yourself in Snape’s shoes.”
“Gross.” Rabastan made a face. “His shoes are falling apart and smell like feet.”
“It’s a figure of speech.”
He grinned. “I know.”
“And calling him ‘gross’ isn’t going to get you very far. He’s poor. I happen to know he’s on an allowance and he can’t buy new shoes. Remember that.”
Rabastan sighed loudly. “But he’s a half-blood,” he whined. “It’s not fair. I shouldn’t have to share a room with him.”
“Be that as it may.” Rodolphus glanced away, momentarily distracted by a loud fight breaking out amongst the fifth-years. “That boy knows a good deal about the Dark Arts, and you could benefit from learning from him. Not only to get better marks, but to become a better wizard.”
“I guess so.” Rabastan couldn’t deny Snape’s talent. It was unnatural that any first-year--much less a half-Muggle--should be so quick to master the spells they learned.
“So, go on. Help him see how he could benefit from you, too.”
Rabastan nodded. He could try to do that.
“And Rabastan?” Rodolphus grimaced. “Try not to insult him in the process. You can find allies in the unlikeliest places sometimes.”
“I’ll try.” He felt better, now. Maybe Rodolphus was right, and working with Snape would be good for him. It would probably help matters if he went in with a positive attitude, he decided. Try not to insult him.
Putting himself in Snape’s shoes was hard, though. He had no idea what it would possibly be like to be a poor half-blood with no friends except a bossy Muggleborn. How would he feel, if he didn’t have friends in Slytherin? Alone. Lonely. Rabastan could understand that, to a degree. He tried to think about what it would be like to have a family like Snape’s, but his imagination failed him. He couldn’t imagine being best friends with a Muggle either, but he did see that it wouldn’t do to insult Evans. He’d be no better than Mulciber making snide comments about Sirius being a Gryffindor.
How would he convince Snape to work with him, though? What did Severus want? Rabastan would want to be friends with his roommates, but he wasn’t sure Severus was interested in friendship. He was interested in the Dark Arts, though. And in showing off how clever he was. And, Rabastan reasoned, Snape was a Slytherin, so he must care about success.
Rabastan took a deep breath and opened the door to their room. Snape glanced over with his beady black eyes, but said nothing.
“Hullo.”
“Welcome back, Lestrange.”
“Snape, I-” Rabastan shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look as apologetic as he could. “I’m really sorry.”
That got his attention. Severus set his book down. “You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. I was upset, and I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t trying to insult your mate or say I didn’t want to work with you, only that I understand. We were both told not to work with our best friends. And we both have friends in Gryffindor. That should be, um. I don’t understand what it’s like to be you, but I know what that’s like. Avery and Rosier, always being two peas in a pod. And knowing, well, you have a friend too, but they’re off in a tower that rewards them for making fools of themselves.” Rabastan swallowed. “Not that Evans is foolish. I meant… Sirius is, though.”
“We agree there,” answered Severus.
Rabastan inhaled, exhaled. He wouldn’t take the bait. “You don’t have to like Sirius, and I don’t have to like Evans. But we live together. And we need to work together.”
Severus did not agree, but he didn’t say no, either. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on Rabastan.
“I’ll read what you did for the first part. I’m sure it’s…” Rabastan sighed. “I’m sure it’s brilliant. You know a lot, and you’re clever, and you’re ace at Dark Arts. But I think we’ll do better if we actually collaborate. You can explain your ideas, and I can tell you what I know.”
“What do you know?” His tone was more curious now than abrasive, but it was hard to distinguish.
“I do have a library back home, you know. I’d say it’s got the biggest collection of books on the Dark Arts pretty much anywhere in Britain-except maybe the library here, but they keep all those books in the Restricted section.” Sure, Rabastan hadn’t been permitted to read them yet, but Snape didn’t need to know that.
He sensed Severus’s attention sharpen: his eyes focused, his back straighter. Rabastan let the idea linger in the air, and then shifted tactics. “Anyway, don’t you want a good mark?”
Severus’s smug smile indicated that Rabastan had misstepped. “You really think one lousy project is going to drag my marks down? I’m easily three years ahead anyone else in that class. It’s a joke.”
And like, that, the opening was there. “At theory and actual jinxes, yeah, sure. But at defence? Duelling?” Rabastan shrugged. “Potter’s better.”
“Potter’s an idiot,” Severus snarled.
“Well, we’ll look like the real idiots when he wipes the floor with us next week. He’s paired with Sirius. And the two of them are going to work together. Properly.”
Severus’s eyes narrowed to slits. Rabastan folded his arms across his chest, daring him to disagree.
“All right, Lestrange. This one time.”
Chapter Number/Title: November 1971: Partners (57/100) [[ Previous | Next]]
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1789
Workshop?: Suggestions welcome.
November 15, 1971
Partners
Injustice. That’s what it was, to have Darren and Evan partnered and then to force Rabastan to work with Severus Snape.
The half-blood was, as usual, minding his business as far from the other boys as possible. Rabastan sighed and crossed the room, past his own tidy bed, past Darren’s hurricane wreckage, past Evan’s immaculate space, to the final bed.
“Snape.”
Severus Snape did not lift his eyes from his dusty book. “Lestrange.”
“We should work on our Defence project.”
A small huff emitted from Snape’s long nose. “I already did my part.”
Rabastan’s fists clenched. “What? What part? We’re supposed to work together.”
“I’ll give you what I did. You do the other half. Or I can do that, too, if you like.”
“Together means both of us. Coming up with all the ideas, together.”
“Fine. We can do the other half together.” He made the final word sound like some kind of torture.
Rabastan knew he should be happy that Severus had given in, but his roommate’s resentment made him even more frustrated. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath-in, and out. “I know you don’t like this any more than me. You’d rather work with your Mudblood friend-”
A garbled sound came from Snape’s throat.
“What? You would, wouldn’t you? As much I as would rather-”
“Don’t.” Severus’s dark eyes finally regarded Rabastan. “Don’t call her that.”
Rabastan rolled his eyes. “Your Muggleborn friend, then. And I’d obviously rather work with Sirius than with you. But sometimes life isn’t fair.”
Severus set his book to his side, and he leaned forward in challenge. “What would you even know about that?”
“Plenty.”
“Oh, yes, poor little rich boy.” He picked his book back up and resumed reading.
Rabastan wanted to scream in frustration. What was wrong with Snape, that made him so impossible? “Come on, Snape. We have to do this. The right way.”
Severus sighed. “I did it the right way. Professor Akingbade doesn’t care about our group cohesion. He just wants to see that we can understand the alleged difference between dark magic and defensive magic. If you don’t want to finish it, leave it. I’ll do it. You can even take credit for half. But I’m not interested in working with you right now.”
“You don’t want to work with me? What did I ever do to you?”
The question was met with silence.
“I’m loads nicer to you than Avery or Rosier. Or the Gryffindor boys.”
“A potted plant would pass that test.” Rabastan didn’t know that pages could be turned with disdain, but Severus managed.
“Ugh. What do you want me to do?”
“Go. Away.”
Rabastan did. He spun around and marched from the room, slamming the door behind him. He stormed up the stairs, all the way to the common room, and scanned for a friendly face. He found Rodolphus, standing by the mantle, explaining something to Crabbe. Probably Quidditch.
Cautious of overhearing more than he should, he hovered a stone’s throw away and tried to catch his brother’s eye. Finally, Rodolphus caught sight of Rabastan and clapped a hand on Crabbe’s shoulder. He nodded his head and Rabastan approached.
“What’s going on, Rabbit? Everything all right?”
Rabastan emitted a long, slow sigh. “Professor Akingbade is making me work with Snape.”
“Oh?”
“I think he meant it to be nice. Like, make it easier to do in our Houses or something. But it’s awful.”
Rodolphus nodded. “You have to be able to work with classmates other than Sirius.”
“Well, I know that. And I’m trying, but he hates me. As if he has any right to hate me.” Rabastan knit his brow and folded his arms in frustration. “I’ve never done anything to him. He’s just bitter he can’t work with his favorite Mudblood.”
His brother pinched the bridge of his nose, looking extraordinarily like their father in that moment. “Rabbit, did you actually say that? Mudblood, I mean. To his face?”
Rabastan cast his eyes down and shrugged it away. “I didn’t say it in a cruel way. I was only saying I know he’d rather work with her and I’d rather work with Sirius, but…” He trailed off, realizing that he had, in fact, sounded plenty cruel. “How do you do it, Dolph?”
Rodolphus’s expression had softened. “Do what?”
“Make everyone like you. Not say all the wrong things. I was trying to be nice, but I don’t understand him.”
Rodolphus glanced up as he thought about his answer. “It’s… tricky,” he said slowly. “You’re young, still.” He rested a strong hand on Rabastan’s shoulder. “You’ll get better. You just need to think about your words a little more.”
“I do think about what I say! I’m not like Sirius!”
“The most important thing is that you have to think about the person you’re talking to. There are a lot of people in my class I don’t like, but I can tell what they want to hear by knowing about them. How they feel, what they want, what they can hear, or can’t.”
It seemed easier said than done. “But how am I supposed to know those things?”
Rodolphus shook his head. “I don’t know, Rabbit. Try to put yourself in Snape’s shoes.”
“Gross.” Rabastan made a face. “His shoes are falling apart and smell like feet.”
“It’s a figure of speech.”
He grinned. “I know.”
“And calling him ‘gross’ isn’t going to get you very far. He’s poor. I happen to know he’s on an allowance and he can’t buy new shoes. Remember that.”
Rabastan sighed loudly. “But he’s a half-blood,” he whined. “It’s not fair. I shouldn’t have to share a room with him.”
“Be that as it may.” Rodolphus glanced away, momentarily distracted by a loud fight breaking out amongst the fifth-years. “That boy knows a good deal about the Dark Arts, and you could benefit from learning from him. Not only to get better marks, but to become a better wizard.”
“I guess so.” Rabastan couldn’t deny Snape’s talent. It was unnatural that any first-year--much less a half-Muggle--should be so quick to master the spells they learned.
“So, go on. Help him see how he could benefit from you, too.”
Rabastan nodded. He could try to do that.
“And Rabastan?” Rodolphus grimaced. “Try not to insult him in the process. You can find allies in the unlikeliest places sometimes.”
“I’ll try.” He felt better, now. Maybe Rodolphus was right, and working with Snape would be good for him. It would probably help matters if he went in with a positive attitude, he decided. Try not to insult him.
Putting himself in Snape’s shoes was hard, though. He had no idea what it would possibly be like to be a poor half-blood with no friends except a bossy Muggleborn. How would he feel, if he didn’t have friends in Slytherin? Alone. Lonely. Rabastan could understand that, to a degree. He tried to think about what it would be like to have a family like Snape’s, but his imagination failed him. He couldn’t imagine being best friends with a Muggle either, but he did see that it wouldn’t do to insult Evans. He’d be no better than Mulciber making snide comments about Sirius being a Gryffindor.
How would he convince Snape to work with him, though? What did Severus want? Rabastan would want to be friends with his roommates, but he wasn’t sure Severus was interested in friendship. He was interested in the Dark Arts, though. And in showing off how clever he was. And, Rabastan reasoned, Snape was a Slytherin, so he must care about success.
Rabastan took a deep breath and opened the door to their room. Snape glanced over with his beady black eyes, but said nothing.
“Hullo.”
“Welcome back, Lestrange.”
“Snape, I-” Rabastan shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look as apologetic as he could. “I’m really sorry.”
That got his attention. Severus set his book down. “You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. I was upset, and I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t trying to insult your mate or say I didn’t want to work with you, only that I understand. We were both told not to work with our best friends. And we both have friends in Gryffindor. That should be, um. I don’t understand what it’s like to be you, but I know what that’s like. Avery and Rosier, always being two peas in a pod. And knowing, well, you have a friend too, but they’re off in a tower that rewards them for making fools of themselves.” Rabastan swallowed. “Not that Evans is foolish. I meant… Sirius is, though.”
“We agree there,” answered Severus.
Rabastan inhaled, exhaled. He wouldn’t take the bait. “You don’t have to like Sirius, and I don’t have to like Evans. But we live together. And we need to work together.”
Severus did not agree, but he didn’t say no, either. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on Rabastan.
“I’ll read what you did for the first part. I’m sure it’s…” Rabastan sighed. “I’m sure it’s brilliant. You know a lot, and you’re clever, and you’re ace at Dark Arts. But I think we’ll do better if we actually collaborate. You can explain your ideas, and I can tell you what I know.”
“What do you know?” His tone was more curious now than abrasive, but it was hard to distinguish.
“I do have a library back home, you know. I’d say it’s got the biggest collection of books on the Dark Arts pretty much anywhere in Britain-except maybe the library here, but they keep all those books in the Restricted section.” Sure, Rabastan hadn’t been permitted to read them yet, but Snape didn’t need to know that.
He sensed Severus’s attention sharpen: his eyes focused, his back straighter. Rabastan let the idea linger in the air, and then shifted tactics. “Anyway, don’t you want a good mark?”
Severus’s smug smile indicated that Rabastan had misstepped. “You really think one lousy project is going to drag my marks down? I’m easily three years ahead anyone else in that class. It’s a joke.”
And like, that, the opening was there. “At theory and actual jinxes, yeah, sure. But at defence? Duelling?” Rabastan shrugged. “Potter’s better.”
“Potter’s an idiot,” Severus snarled.
“Well, we’ll look like the real idiots when he wipes the floor with us next week. He’s paired with Sirius. And the two of them are going to work together. Properly.”
Severus’s eyes narrowed to slits. Rabastan folded his arms across his chest, daring him to disagree.
“All right, Lestrange. This one time.”