Price of Freedom
The idea comes from His Lil Half Blood Princess, who requested in her review of "He is Old" a story about how Snape was bought by Dumbledore after he turned back from Voldemort. Here you are hun, hope you like it!
He was sleeping now. Exhaustion had finally caught him. And now Albus Dumbledore was left with a decision. The things that this boy had told him—a boy, no more than twenty years old—were condemning. He deserved Azkaban.
And yet. He stared at the thin figure, collapsed on the crimson sofa in his office. The emotions that had flooded from him...such intensity and power. The boy was a mass of paradoxes; fear and strength; pain and pleasure; hate and love. He had admitted himself. He loved Lord Voldemort, and yet he hated him too. He loved the feeling of power, and yet he despised the methods. He was confused, bitter, and almost suicidal.
In his hour of need, he had turned to the great Albus Dumbledore. He had come to beg forgiveness. He needed someone to listen.
Albus Dumbledore was not, as everyone assumed, merciful. He would require something in return from the crumpled wizard. He did not have mercy in his heart for Death Eaters. People trusted him because of his rigid views on those who followed Voldemort.
And yet. This young man was forcing him to readjust these views. This boy was nothing more than a student! One of his own students. He had watched him grow through Hogwarts; he had watched the light fade and the darkness overwhelm. Another one he could not save. Was this a chance to redeem himself?
He should have done more for him.
But no. The boy had murdered, tortured, ravaged. He was not worthy of his attention. He shook his head, sat down at his desk and started to write on his parchment.
How he hoped that this would be the last time he would see Severus Snape.
Severus accepted the news with very little reaction. Arrest, and then Azkaban. Possibly the Dementor's Kiss. If he was lucky.
He simply nodded, not raising his eyes to the dominating Headmaster. "I understand."
Dumbledore folded his arms, "You have committed terrible crimes, Severus Snape. You cannot be forgiven for those."
Snape's gaze was infinitely sad. "I know. Nothing can equal the torment I cause myself, for my mistake. I should never have turned. But...only those who have been there can understand. He is intoxicating." His voice shuddered, "Sometimes he seems to be inside you, running through your veins, his evil pumped around your body. There is no escape from him."
His words were soft, genuine too. Self loathing coloured every syllable. But Dumbledore would not let it bother him. The boy had done wrong, that much was true. But he could not be responsible for every mistake of every student. Perhaps he should have seen it; but he was not gifted with foresight.
Perhaps he should have done more; but he was not gifted with time travel.
There was nothing more he could do.
He did not sleep well, that night. There had been no news of the arrest; he had tried to keep publicity to a minimum. The last thing Azkaban needed was a group of Death Eaters trying to penetrate their walls. He never had trouble sleeping.
He is intoxicating.
The words were constantly moving in his head, tormenting him. There was something about Severus Snape keeping him awake. What was it? He understood that the boy was scared, lost, alone and worried. Azkaban was no place for the sane; although quickly, it made light of that issue. No one lasted more than a month without insanity creeping in.
There is no escape from him.
Perhaps it was the similarities. Of course, he had seen them. In the final year, many of the teaching faculty had. The quiet, fierce intelligence. The darkness in the eyes. The contempt for fellow students. The loneliness.
The similarities between him and Lord Voldemort were uncanny.
He needed to save this boy.
The Minister did not look pleased to see Albus Dumbledore first thing in the morning. "Albus?"
"It's important. The boy, Severus Snape. I want him back."
The Minister stared at him, "Severus Snape has been convicted as a Death Eater Albus. You signed his warrant!"
"I did. But...I think he can be saved."
"He will not do much damage in Azkaban."
"He is only twenty years old, Minister. I have made a mistake."
The Minister shook his head, "I cannot return him to you."
Dumbledore folded his arms across his chest. "I will pay for him, if needs be."
"Buying back a prisoner? Does he mean that much to you?"
Dumbledore considered, "I feel he is worth saving."
"Worth saving?" Money corrupted even the purest of hearts. Of course, the Minister did not have a pure heart. "How much?"
Stepping into Hogwarts' main entrance hall, the boy looked nervous. Lost. Just as he had when he had been eleven years old. He had hardly spoken to Dumbledore since he had been released; something suggested to the older man that he was unhappy at his new predicament.
They walked as far as the dungeons together. The new Potions Master had little time to settle in.
"Severus," Albus said finally, "Anything is better than Azkaban."
Severus turned back to him—and for a moment, Dumbledore was staring Lord Voldemort in the face. Rage burned behind those black irises. "I have been bought as nothing more than a servant." He whispered harshly, "Tell me how that differs from being a slave to the Dark Lord."
Before Dumbledore could reply, he slammed the door to his office in his face.
Albus Dumbledore started to walk away. A small smile, exasperated but intrigued too, crossed his face. He was quite looking forward to getting to know this Dark child better—it was going to be some interesting years.
I like this one—it's a good idea, I think. Thank you His Lil Half Blood Princess for the idea...I hope you liked it!