Disclaimer: The ideas are mine, the characters are not...

I will never be defeated

I will never come undone

I will never know the way it feels to be just anyone

I will never fall just as you all fall around me so

I will never know

Welcome to the ball, by Rufus Wainwright

The Enemy Within

"I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

"No,-"

Severus didn't quite know what to say, but it was imperative that he said something, and that was the first word that came to mind. No.

He remembered the first time he saw her. It was Thursday, years ago. Severus was nine years old, then. He was running. His arms burned fromwhere his mother had slapped him, and warm tears made their way down his face, but none of those things stopped him from running away. He ran as fast and as far as he could until he simply couldn't go any further. And when he finally stopped, his legs failed him and the boy fell flat on the ground, struggling not to start crying again. He breathed heavily, wiping his face on his sleeves, and it was not until he calmed down that he heard a couple of girls arguing a few metres away.

Petunia and Lily had been so absorbed in their discussion neither of them noticed the new comer behind the willow tree. Severus took advantage of that. He finished cleaning his face and remained hidden watching them as one of the girls – the red-haired one – gave flagrant displays of magical ability as the other one cried, urging her to stop. Lily argued that it was nothing to be feared, and Severus smiled, from behind his old tree. He wasn't thinking of the pain on his arms anymore.

It had taken a few days for him to finally introduce himself to Lily, but from that moment on their lives had been interwoven. How could she suggest their paths were to take opposite ways from now on? It was unthinkable. And yet, that was what she said. There she was, the red-haired girl from his younger days... More beautiful than a flower and more terrible than an army ready for battle. She had always seemed that wayto his eyes. Never more so than right now.

All those thoughts crossed his mind like a flash, for his hesitation as to what to say next couldn't have lasted more than a fraction of a second.

"- listen, I didn't mean-"

"To call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?"

He struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look she turned to climb back through the portrait hole.

"You're my best friend," he answered simply.

She stood her ground. It took her a long time to say anything at all but when Lily finally spoke there was an anger in her words he had never heard before.

"Not anymore."

"Lily—"

"What are you going to say, Sev?" She interrupted him, endearment and pain in her voice. "Everything happened too fast? Theother boys provoked you? You said it because you were angry, and you didn't mean it?"

"I didn't mean it, Lily."

"Stop it. I'm sick of you lying to me."

"I would never-"

"You already did. You lied to me when you said it didn't matter that I was a muggle born. Because it matters to you. And you lied again when you said it didn't matter that we were on different houses, because it does."

"Lily, this is not about the houses of Hogwarts!" he was exasperated.

"Oh, but it is-" she insisted, and at that point she was barely able to stop herself from crying. "It's about courage, and courage means doing the right thing, even when everything happens too fast."

She could never forgive him. It was not about him calling her a Mudblood in front the entire school. But you don't say something like that unless it's been in your mind for a while, and she could never forgive him for thinking of her that way. For tricking her into making him the most important person in her world while he thinks so little of her. Before that, before the lake, she would have gone through anything for Severus. She would have done anything for him. For someone who thought of her as nothing more than a Mudblood. After all they'd gone through, her bloodline was all that he cared about. And that hurt.

"I'm a Gryffindor. You're not. That's never going to change."

"Lily-"

"Just leave me alone."

Then she walked away.

She was right of, course, I am no Gryffindor.

Dumbledore questions the wisdom of Sorting students at such an early age. I do not. Throughout the years I have met cowardly Gryffindors, disloyal Hufflepuffs, small minded Slytherins and Ravenclaws who were incapable of preparing even the most elementary potions. But I have never doubted where I belong.

Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends. Some might say that the qualities Slytherin valued in his students would make an excellent double agent. That may very well be. Still, I would be lying if I said I chose to become what I am now...

I am a spy. I have become a spy because that's what Dumbledore required of me. He needed an agent in The Dark Lord's lines. Someone from his inner circle, a Death Eater. Someone like me. And all those years agoI told him I would do anything. Anything. I could not have known at the time that my words would bound me to Dumbledore for the years to come, not only until the end of that war, but well into the second one. I could not have known he would not be able to honour his part on our agreement. Be that as it may, ignorance is no excuse. I do recall making that bargain and I would stand by my word.

What I do is dangerous. My work takes place in the shadows. I deal in information. In hidden plans and forbidden secrets. I must be at the right places at the right time; I must listen to the right conversations. I must know how much information to leak to the other side, so they'll go on believing I'm standing by their ideals. But that's not all... I am not a passive recipient of information, a quiet relayer of secrets. I must set things in motion as well. My words and actions must precipitate previously studied chains of events, and no one must ever realize I had anything to do with that. I must do the impossible and never, ever, claim responsibility. I shall never hold great deeds on my name.I don't suppose a Gryffindor could be so detached from credit... But then again, it's been well established that I am no Gryffindor.

Whatever is the outcome of this war, History will remain unaware of the part I play. Oh, I'm sure I will be a foot-note in some future History Book about the turmoils of the 20thcentury. "It is said that the Order of the Phoenix had a spy infiltrated in the Dark Lord's inner circle. We could not find any records of such a man."I wouldn't be much of a spy if there were records to be found, now, would I?

Be that as it may, there are things that will never be in text books... I remember the first time I stood before the Dark Lord as a man of Dumbledore. I had been given orders to spy upon the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, of course, and I had been doing so, from afar. That's how I became aware of the prophecy to begin with, I followed the Headmaster into the Hog's head. But the Dark Lord truly wanted someone to watch more closely. A man infiltrated in Hogwarts, perhaps, in the Order of the Phoenix, if possible. Now I had to tell him I had accomplished that task.

I was afraid. I can imagine Black, Potter, and all those so called Marauders laughing with superiority at such a blunt confession of fear. Gryffindors do not experience fear, they would say. Perhaps that's true, I wouldn't know. Quite frankly, I do not care. I was afraid, and I believe only a fool would not be scared of attempting to hoodwink the Dark Lord, as I was about to do. Especially with the knowledge of what he did to those who betrayed him. Fear puts a person in perspective. It reminded me of the difficult of my task. It reminded me that I was about to conceal my thoughts from the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen, and it reminded me I would only get one chance. Fear reminded me of what was at stake. My life. And hers. Am I implying that there's any value in fear? A Gryffindor might ask, and I would laugh at the confusion in his face. I'm not implying. I'm stating it outright. Without a shadow of a doubt.

I was afraid, but I did it anyway... That's a certain kind of courage, I suppose...

Of course, fear could also get in the way. Not just fear, for that matter. The excitement of doing something so dangerous, the apprehension of getting caught. The anger towards him for endangering her life. The sadness of our twisted goodbye all those years ago. The loneliness I was thrown into once she turned her back on me. My love for her... My heart... My heart could stop me from accomplishing my goal. The depth of my emotions would make it easier for the Dark Lord to penetrate my mind. Occlumency was not an art to be practised by fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who are at the mercy of their emotions and wallow in thoughts of anger and revenge. In other words, weak people. I might have been many things throughout the course of my life, but I was never week.

I mastered my fear. To do that I had to acknowledge its existence, and I did it. I controlled all those emotions and overpowered my heart. And when the time came, I looked the Dark Lord in the eye. Convinced him I had infiltrated the Order by feeding old Dumbledore a fictional story about my love for that Mudblood girl. Mudblood, I repeated. I even smiled. The Dark Lord was pleased.

Do not mistake composure, by ease. It was not simple speaking of her in such terms with the man who would come to be her murderer. But I did it, because it had to be done. I was not sad or outraged, not because I didn't feel any of that, but because I did not allow myself to experience those emotions at that time. That's the price I had to pay. That is what it takes to do what I do. What it means to be what I am. And there's nobody else who could take my place.

I risk my life every day. I'm told Gryffindors are known for riskingtheir lives to save their friends, most always to be proud. Pride. I risk my life because that's what it takes. The smallest wave of a wand, the wrong word at the wrong time could arise suspicion. It could mean my death. And it would undoubtedly affect the outcome of the war. That's why I do it. For the mission. For the job. Not to save anybody. Friends. I haven't had any friends since I was fifteen years old.

I certainly do not have any friends now. Wherever I go, my very presence spurs distrust. As I walk towards the Dark Lord I can hear the others whispering behind my back, carrying tales of my treachery, wondering how was it that I managed to trick their leader into believing my lies. I'm sure some of them must have tried to warn him about me. If nobody else, Bellatrix certainly did, fuelled by her rage and distrust of all of us who did not followed her into prison and don't share her treasured memories of Azkaban. But the Dark Lord does not listen. He trusts his own ability to detect deceit in the minds of his followers. His ability to penetrate my mind. That's fine, it's all I need. I don't really need him to trust me.

Dumbledore trusts me. He keeps a close eye on me, of course, and I'm sure he did not allow me to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts out of fear that I might fall back on my old ways. But he does trust me. Which is more than I can say for any other member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Every time I sit by Dumbledore's side at the reunion table of the Order, Black snuffs like the dog that he is. Every now and then he openly questions Dumbledore on the wisdom of trusting someone who used to fight for the other side. Molly Weasley goes along with him, especially when the boy is involved. Shacklebolt knows better than to expose himself like that, but he asks the same questions when he thinks there's no one else watching. None of them trust me. And if I ever prove myself disloyal, each and every one of them will quickly say "I told you so." Dumbledore offers them no answers. There's a reason of course, but he promised me he would keep it to himself and he stands by his word. I trust Severus, he says, that should be enough.

Most of his associates believe him to be a brilliant fool.

That's interesting. Dumbledore and the Dark Lord are very similar in many ways – more than either of them would like to the Dark Lord would never allow anybody to think of him as a fool.

Being a spy requires a certain solitary intensity. It's not at all a glamorous task. In order to set things in motion, I must get my hands dirty. And because it's a lonely occupation, I must do it alone.

Oddly enough, I was already at Dumbledore's service when I used the Cruciatus Curse for the first time. I had killed before. One does not become a death eater never having killed before. That used to be a requirement. But the killing curse is neat. Surgically precise. It requires one moment of absolute certainty by the one who casts it. The Cruciatus curse, on the other hand, requires constancy. It requires the wizard's wish to cause pain to last as long as the tortured screams of the victims. It tests one's determination. It tested me.

I passed the test. Several times. It's true that, had I refused to perpetrate his wishes the Dark Lord would have become suspicious of me, but that's hardly an excuse to torture people till insanity. It does not even matter if they were innocent or not. Innocent is such a malleable term, anyway. I had a choice. I could have left. I could have died. I chose to kill and tortured instead. And I refuse to say that "I was just following orders". That excuse has been used too many times already.

Besides, I don't always do as I'm told.

It could be said that being a spy requires daring nerve, although I would never chose such a flamboyant expression myself. It sounds Gryffindor-like, I would say. Their daring nerve and chivalry set Gryffindors apart. I'm sure. Chivalry. What does that even mean? A quality associated with the long-dead medieval institution of knighthood, made of men who took pride in a rather extensive moral code but would not hesitate to commit theft or rape when there wasn't anybody watching. Quite honourable. Not to mention hypocritical.

I do not hide behind words. I do not pretend to be a hero. I'm not always right. I make mistakes. I have made the wrong choice more than once, I'm not even sure I'm making the right thing right now. I lie on a daily basis. I have orchestrated sabotages, ambushed children, administered poison, cursed and jinxed more wizards than I can remember. I have tortured and killed people whose only crime had been that of being born in the wrong family. I don't even remember all of their faces, let alone their names, and I don't care. I have done all these things, and I would do it again, because that's what it takes.

I'm not sure what that makes me. I'm a liar, a saboteur, a killer, and a cold-hearted spy, but...

Damn it, Lily, I'm not a coward.