ONE
Hogsmeade was something of a ghost town in the summer months. People still wandered in and out of the store fronts, but the activity was dulled—the patrons were older, sadder, and bored. Severus was bored, too.
He stared out the window of the Hog's Head at a graying man in an apron sweeping the front stoop of the potions shop across the street. The man stopped a moment and leaned on the broom handle, wiping his forehead and sighing. Severus wondered why he bothered sweeping at all—there were no folks around here worth trying to impress.
Except Dumbledore, he supposed. Dumbledore regarded Severus over his half-moon spectacles in his usual way. Severus was supposed to be contemplating why he wanted to be a professor at Hogwarts, but instead he was watching the old man with the broom return to his sweeping.
"Severus," Dumbledore said carefully, after too much silence had passed. "You do want to be a professor here, I presume?"
"Yes, sir."
"You have had very little to say since this interview started," Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes, sir," Severus said slowly, and paused with a slight nervous twitch. That timid and awkward boy of his youth would never quite grow out of him, would it? "I just—well, I thought my results on the written exam would speak more definitively to my abilities."
"Oh, and they do," Dumbledore said with a reassuring smile. "But you must know there's more to teaching than just your abilities. How well you work with others is one example. Discipline is another."
"I know how to discipline," Severus sneered.
A look of recollection passed across Dumbledore's face, and as it softened, Severus knew what he was remembering. All the times Dumbledore had to fend the bastards off of him on the grounds. The times Dumbledore caught him hiding in the toilets for hours on end out of fear. Showing up to class late to avoid torment in the crowded halls. He remembered. It wasn't long ago.
"I am sure you do," Dumbledore said finally.
"So then?" He was growing anxious. Severus learned forward and placed two fingers on his temple. "Do I have the job?"
Dumbledore clasped his hands together. "Well," he began, "I do think—" But then he stopped and stiffened.
Severus went pale. Shooting pain. In his left arm. It was unbearable, but he was trying with all of his might not to react, pressing his fingers more firmly into his head. With a sinking feeling he knew, though, that it was too late. The twisting and curling of the Dark Mark on his arm was peeking out above his sleeve, and Dumbledore's eyes were fixed on it.
"Not you, Severus?" Dumbledore looked at him with pity more than anything else.
Out of sheer fear and irrationality, Severus stood, his chair sliding away with a harsh screech. But before he could even raise his wand, it was out of his hand and across the room.
Dumbledore was standing now, too, with his wand casually out in front of him, as though Severus was no more of a threat than a practice dummy. The warmth in his eyes was gone, and replaced with something sad, but hard. Severus stood before him, feeling naked without his wand, his arm still burning and writhing. He clutched it, needing something to hold.
"When did you become a Death Eater?" Dumbledore asked, in a tone that sounded as casual as if he had said, "When did you get that new haircut?"
Severus shook his head, too ashamed to look directly at him. He felt like a naughty child caught by his parents for doing something stupid. "Not long ago." He twitched and held his arm tighter.
"Why?"
Severus' lip curled. "I saw…someone. And they hurt me. Deeply." Severus knew his reasons for joining the Dark Lord's forces were nothing more than an immature coward's rash decision. But he was a man that had nothing, stood for nothing, and wanted nothing. Except one thing, which would never be his. "Professor, please." Severus lifted his gaze to meet Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes, begging him to see that he would do anything to stay alive. He was desperate. Lost, and desperate.
His mind snapped back abruptly to the pain in his arm. He had to go to him, to the Dark Lord. He wouldn't be able to stay here much longer. "This is only the second time my arm—it's…" The pain was getting worse and he was having trouble making words. Twenty years old and still a baby, he sneered to himself. Pull yourself together, Severus.
As if Dumbledore were, in fact, reading his mind, he said calmly, "I know you must go to him." He paused, eyeing Severus with brief deliberation. "And I will let you."
"Sir?" Severus failed to hide his own surprise, and completely forgot to feel relieved.
"I can only assume Voldemort directed you to apply for this position." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, and Severus' expression was enough to confirm. Dumbledore took a meditative breath. "For your safety, he must not know that your cover has been blown." He continued to eye Severus carefully. "And for my safety, I must now keep a close eye on you. However, I cannot have you teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said.
Severus couldn't help but interject, "Then how—" Dumbledore raised his hand.
"You will, instead, be the new Potions Master. And Head of Slytherin House." Dumbledore said it so simply, that Severus felt an ominous lurch in his stomach. He could only assume that, since Dumbledore would not be so stupid as to allow a Death Eater free reign of Hogwarts (and the minds of impressionable students), that he must have already constructed a massive plan in his head. Severus hated feeling like a pawn.He watched as Dumbledore gave a gentle flick, and Severus' wand landed into his hand. He walked toward Severus with slow, even steps, and presented the wand to him.
Severus took the wand and immediately felt conflicted. Speaking mostly to himself, he muttered, "Who do I answer to now?"
"I do not know. Only you know that, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "What do you believe in?"
"I believe in nothing," Severus spat.
Dumbledore simply gave a halfhearted shrug. "Then I suppose it does not matter much who you answer to."
Severus raised his wand to disapparate, but Dumbledore interrupted. "I would recommend, Severus," he said, "For your own sake, try to believe in something. Anything will do."
To that, Severus could only curl his lip. And then he was gone.
