The Penitent

"Severus, they know."

"I believe they have known for a long time, Headmaster. I don't think it makes a difference to them any longer."

"Severus, you have sacrificed much for us. Too much, I believe. I fear we will lose you if you continue down this path."

"You know I can't turn back, Albus. I have to finish what I began."

The Headmaster cradled his head in his hands.

"But to what cost, Severus?"

A heavy silence stretched across the room, until it was taut and breakable. Severus shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"To whatever cost required, Albus," he replied. "To whatever cost is necessary."

+++

He really found these Revels loathsome.

If his status as a loyal Death Eater hadn't begun slipping so dramatically, he would have found an excuse not to come. Lucius Malfoy and his perverse thugs could perhaps find pleasure in toying with innocents, but Severus Snape found such... profanity... revolting.

"Help yourself to any one of them," Lucius had said flippantly. "There's plenty to go around."

It had taken little effort to hide his disgust; when it came to such things, Snape was a well practiced liar.

He strolled through the compound for over an hour, masking an inability to look directly at the various happenings with the cold face of a permanent sneer. Snape walked rapidly enough at this pace that most sights became vague blurs; now, with the manor cast in nighttime shadow, and little else but candlelight and the occasional scream to mark his passage making, he could almost convince himself he was at a normal house, and at a normal party. And since most of the victims were under silencing spells, he was nearly successful.

Almost. Nearly.

Not quite.

There was always a catch to everything he did.

"Severus!"

The call came from behind him. Snape did not need to turn around to recognize the silver-smooth quality of the voice, or cool arrogance: he knew instantly that it was Lucius. No one else would bother to talk to him. He felt his sneer grow into something decidedly unpleasant.

"What?" he asked curtly. "If you're going to ask me whether or not I'm having a good time, you've wasted your breath. You know I cannot stand these gatherings of yours."

"Severus, Severus," Lucius chided, shaking his head as if speaking to a child, "Will you ever learn to loosen up? To find some joy in your life?"

Snape stiffened. "I hardly think that I would find such things here, Lucius." He sneered suddenly. "Now, if you won't mind my saying, I think I've had quite enough partying for tonight, thank you." He made as if to turn away, but Lucius caught his arm.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked, his pale eyes searching. "Tsk, tsk... so early. I thought you used to enjoy parties, Severus. That they made you... ah, what was it... feel alive, or so you used to say." He suddenly pushed closer to Snape, a faint sneer flitting across his handsome features. "Has Hogwarts tamed you, Severus?"

Snape bit back his tongue, shutting his rising panic behind a cold mask, and glared.

"Don't... mix me up with yourself, Lucius. I hate parties. I hate people. Give... me... a good potion... anytime..." He could hear himself gasping for breath; Lucius's well manicured fingers had tightened around his arm, the sharp, freshly cut nails pressing into his skin. He began to suffer from the illusion that his body was collapsing beneath him.

(Too many Cruciatus's recently, he thought fleetingly.)

"Is that so," Lucius drawled. "Well then." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

(Just let go of me. Let go...)

"But listen close, Severus. Your attitude of late has been... shall we say... worrisome. I don't think I have to tell you that if you... keep it up... ah well, that you'll start to call unwanted attention to yourself." His smiled in a flash of blindingly white teeth, but the deeper meanings of his message were clear.

Snape closed his eyes and tugged at his arm. Lucius let it go abruptly.

"Thank you for the advice," Snape said. "Now that you're quite finished, can I leave?"

Lucius smiled unpleasantly and backed away, bowing with the grace of a well-muscled cat. "Why of course, dear friend. I must say that I was rather honored you chose to stop by at all."

"Wouldn't have missed it," Snape said sourly. "Goodbye."

Lucius laughed softly. It was a strangely feral sound to come from such a cultured man, and Snape felt himself instinctively grapple for his left forearm at the sound of it. As he Disapparated and Lucius's silver blond hair melted away into the dark shadows of the Forbidden Forest, he imagined that the laugh grew even louder.

+++

He was intercepted by Albus Dumbledore on his way to the dungeons.

"It was just a party," he explained once he was certain the door had closed. "He wasn't there."

"You don't look well, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "What happened?"

Snape scowled and made his way for a chair, motioning for Dumbledore to do the same. He nearly fell into the cushions. "Nothing that I'd particularly care to relate, Albus. It was difficult enough to watch, believe me."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I presume this was one of Lucius's functions?"

Snape swallowed. "Yes."

"Did he say anything to you?"

Snape stared fitfully at his hands. "He suspects me," he said, his fingers tracing invisible handprints on his arm. "He feels I've lost my touch. Perhaps I have, Albus, if it was so obvious to him where my loyalties lie."

Dumbledore looked grave. "Do you think Voldemort suspects anything?"

Snape did not answer for a moment.

"I'm sure he suspects something," he said at last. "He's much cleverer than Lucius." He shrugged. "But then again, if he were really that concerned, he'd have killed me by now."

"Severus!"

"It's true, Albus," Snape said. "That's how he works."

"I know that," Dumbledore said, glowering, "but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I'm useful to him," Snape said. "I'm the only decent potion maker in the group, and I'm at Hogwarts. He won't kill me right away."

Dumbledore's lips thinned.

"Severus...I fear that that position could be jeopardized. There is another matter..."

Snape felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck.

"Yes?" he asked sharply. "What is it?"

Dumbledore bent over and started to clean his spectacles, thick, gold-rimmed frames with half moon lenses. "It is concerning the Herbology and Dark Arts positions," he explained. "As you know, Professor Sprout is retiring, and Professor Heffler has decided to step down, thus leaving those spots empty."

Snape scowled. Heffler had been yet another victim of the supposedly cursed Dark Arts position, although his reason for leaving after a year had little to do with the actual magic itself. Heffler was stepping down because he was, in Dumbledore's words, overstressed.

Dumbledore ignored his sour expression, continuing, " I have been considering asking Draco Malfoy to take the Herbology position."

Snape's lip twitched and he shook his head once. He suddenly felt very lightheaded, as if a strange wave of dizziness was carrying him away, and making the world spin. It had became very difficult for him to speak. "Draco... Malfoy?" he asked uncertainly, wetting his lips with his tongue. Are you sure about this? he wanted to say. "He... he came to you?

"Yes, he did, Severus. He is in considerable danger from his father."

Snape was having trouble breathing. "He wishes to help the Order?"

"Yes, Severus."

"God."

"One could say so."

Snape closed his eyes, taking in several careful breaths. His fingers settled around his left forearm, and he sighed.

"You're going to give it to him, aren't you."

"Actually, I shall let the final decision rest with you, Severus. You knew the boy best, after all."

"Me?" Snape said. He supposed he knew why Dumbledore was asking him. The allowance of a renegade Death Eater onto the Hogwarts faculty was hardly of concern; what was really at stake was Snape's own status as a spy. With Draco at Hogwarts, Voldemort would believe he had someone more loyal to him than the Potion's Master to tend to his high-level spying. Snape's importance in the Dark Lord's eyes would drop inestimably.

Yet even so, Snape was certain that Draco would make a good ally. It had come across to him as a great personal failure when the young Slytherin had first been branded with the Mark; now, knowing that Draco was part of the Order, he was filled with a heady sensation of pride. Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed Draco in unless he trusted him completely, meaning that the boy had, somewhere along the line, forsaken his past.

And his father.

That was a new twist, Snape thought, running a light hand over the bruise-marks Lucius had left on his wrist. Dumbledore had said the boy was in danger from his father. That was a great understatement. Lucius would not take it well if he found out that his only son had turned against him. Of course, with the right cards played, Lucius would never know.

No, Snape thought. Lucius would instead take the news as a chance to get rid of his old rival as soon as possible.

And what was his life worth for, anyway? He made his decision.

"Ask him, Albus. He's safer here, certainly. I'm sure he will be a strong asset." He managed a small smirk in face of the rising bile. "Although I must say I am curious. What possessed you to pick Herbology?"

"It was the only position available," Dumbledore said gently. "Severus, are you certain about this? You understand the full consequences of the decision?"

Snape swallowed. "Yes."

Dumbledore smiled wearily. "Very well. I must say that I am glad to hear this, however difficult it may make things. I will owl the boy tonight."

Snape nodded, trying to check his growing unease. "What of the Dark Arts position? Have you found someone?"

"Ah," Dumbledore said, "here I must ask for your discretion, Severus. I know that there is no lost love between the two of you, but --"

For the love of Merlin, no.

"It's Potter, isn't it," he said defeatedly. "You're going to ask Potter."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. "Yes, Severus, and this time I will not be asking for your approval before sending the owl." Snape made a dismissive gesture that said he could care less, to which the Headmaster frowned. "Harry is at odds with the Ministry once again, Severus. It appears that Minister Fudge is being difficult." His voice hardened. "He is especially harsh on Harry, Severus. It seems as if he has taken a personal grudge." Snape looked up guiltily, noticing Dumbledore's warning tone. "I assure you that Harry is more than qualified for the position. However, being that he will be ending his Auror career prematurely, I think it might be... useful...for him to have the support of those more knowledgeable in the field than himself. He will need it, in the end."

Snape stared into the dying flames of his small fireplace, ignited just before he had left for the revel. "You want me to help him."

"I must ask it of you, Severus. You are the only one knowledgeable enough to give him the training."

If that had been a compliment, its effect was lost on him. "Please tell me you don't want me to train Draco and the Granger girl, as well."

"Professor Granger," Dumbledore corrected. "No, I do not think it necessary. Hermione's talents lie within her own specialty, and I do not wish for Draco to be more exposed to the Dark Arts than he already has."

"Of course," Snape said. "Very well, Albus." His silky voice became acid. "I'll... do it."

"Thank you, my friend," Dumbledore said. He leaned forward and placed a light hand on Snape's shoulder. "The war is taking its toll on everyone, but I think on you most of all. I wish I knew how to adequately repay you for all you have done." He raised a hand as Snape started protesting. "No, my friend, any debt that you ever once owed has been more than fully repaid. I only hope that I will one day find a way to fill the debt I owe you."

The look on his face was completely serious, and Snape had no idea what to say in reply. Dumbledore did not seem to expect an answer. He stood and straightened his robes, his blue eyes twinkling in the firelight.

"Until tomorrow, then, eh, Severus?"

Snape nodded dumbly, and stood up to escort the Headmaster to the door.