Always... Book 1 Chapter 8

The poultice worked like a dream. His leg felt much better the next morning, even if it wasn't completely healed, it still bled, and he had to replace the bandages every few hours, but at least he could stop limping.

The school was abuzz with excitement. The first Quidditch match of the season was taking place at eleven o'clock: Slytherin versus Gyffindor. Snape took his place in the staff box, between McGonagall and Sinistra.

No sooner had he sat down, than the two teams walked out on to the field, and the captains joined Madame Hooch at the center. She said something to them, and they all mounted their brooms. A moment later, she gave a loud blast on her whistle, and all fifteen brooms rose up into the air.

"And the Quaffle is take immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chase that girl is, and rather attractive, too—" Lee Jordan, a Gryffindor third year, sat in the row in front of Snape, commentating the match.

"JORDAN!" McGonagall shouted at him.

"Sorry, Professor." Jordan smiled back at her, then turned back to the match. "And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve –"

Snape stopped paying attention to Jordan's erratic commentary, and McGonagall's furious shouting, and actually began to watch the game. Gryffindor scored twice, putting them twenty points in the lead, much to the Slytherins' chagrin. Then, the seekers began to dive towards a small glint of gold.  They were practically neck and neck. Then – WHAM!

Marcus Flint, Captain of the Slytherin team, had blocked Potter on purpose, causing Harry's broom to spin wildly off course.

"Foul!" Screamed the red and gold clad Gryffindors. Madame Hooch spoke with Flint, a furious look on her face, then blew her whistle, signaling a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor.

"So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating –" Jordan resumed his commentary.

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul –"

"</I>Jordan, I'm warning you –</I>"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnett, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

Play resumed, but, this time, rather than watch the game, Snape watched Harry. Potter had just dodged a Bludger when his broom suddenly began to lurch, first in one direction, then another. It soon began zigzagging back and forth, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that nearly unseated him. His plight seemed to go relatively unnoticed as the commentary and the game continued.

Dark magic. Snape thought. He glanced around, and saw that one other person in the box had noticed Harry's broomstick difficulties – Quirrell was seated on the other side of Professor Sinistra, and had his eyes glued on the young Seeker's broomstick, his lips moving rapidly. There wasn't time to do anything; Potter could fall at any moment. Snape immediately locked his eyes on Harry, and began muttering counter-curses under his breath. He threw all of his concentration at Potter, willing him not to fall.

Potter's broom kept going higher, and higher. Snape kept his eyes glued on Potter's Nimbus Two-thousand, following it as it bucked higher, and higher, and higher.

Suddenly, there was an intense pain shooting up his wounded leg. He yelped, and his concentration was broken. He looked down at his leg and saw a singe mark on his pants leg. He frowned slightly, and looked back up at Potter.

He had regained control of his broomstick, and was speeding toward the ground. He suddenly clapped his hand to his mouth as though he were about to be sick. Potter hit the field on all fours – coughed – and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" He shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion.

Snape looked around the box, and saw that Quirrell no longer occupied his seat. Somehow, he had pitched headfirst into the front row. Snape offered his hand to the Professor, and pulled him back up. Their eyes met.

"That was a dangerous thing to do, Quirrell." Snape told him, threateningly. He saw McGonagall coming down the row to see what all the fuss was about. "You should be more careful from now on. You could get hurt." Snape raised his eyebrow, and kept his eye locked on Quirrell's. Snape saw a flicker of fear cross the other man's face.

"Y-yes, of c-course," he stammered back. "Thank you, p-p-professor." He then scurried from the stands in a manner reminiscent of a very scared jackrabbit, adjusting his turban as he went.

Snape rejoined the crowd heading back to the castle, pausing only once to frown disapprovingly at Flint.

Upon arriving at the castle, Severus directed his steps toward the third floor, and the Headmaster's office. As he walked, memories began to flood his brain.

He sat very still, concealed behind a bush. He was watching for any movement. There was none except for a large willow tree that seemed to be moving with the wind. He crept forward from his hiding place, and headed toward the tree.

He was being very careful not to make any noise, but the tree must have sensed him anyway because a branch hit him aside with the force of a very small locomotive. He landed on the ground, hard, the wind knocked clean from his lungs.

He sat there, gasping for breath, the tree still flailing about. One particularly large branch was about to descend upon his head when he felt a pair of hands grab him under the armpits and yank him backwards. The branch hit the ground exactly where Snape had just been sitting.

He fell backwards, coughing as he finally got his breath back. A tallish boy with round glasses and untidy black hair stood over him, a look of complete shock and disbelief on his face.

"Geez, Snivellus," he panted, "I didn't think you were actually stupid enough to listen to Sirius. Why on earth made you think that taking on the Whomping Willow was a good idea?"

Snape stood and glared at him. "Potter," He spat on the ground. "Always having to play the hero." He stalked off across the grounds, back towards the castle.

It was all probably his idea anyway. Potter told Black to bait Snape into going down the secret passage under the willow just so he could play the hero and win Lily over.