A/N: At the prodding of my beta, Nalaniekiela, I've agreed to make this a full-fledged story, of histerical proportions. Enjoy.
p.s. Reviews make my day...week...and year. (A sad little thing, aren't I?)
Prologue
I had to escape.
As soon as the meeting had ended, I left as fast as I could without seeming suspicious. Gods-be-damned, my name was on his list and I'd be a fool to stand there and let him ask that of me, even though I knew that I was doomed the moment he looked my way.
I Disapparated to my dilapidated hovel, Spinner's End, as I had no desire to meet up with him or my other master any time soon. Revolting as this refuge is, no one would think to find me here. After all, who would think that I, the proud Potions Master of Slytherin, would live within such Muggle filth?
I rummaged through my well hidden stores, looking in vain for that bloody bottle of Calming Draught. Dragon's blood… it had gone rancid. I hastily began throwing together a new batch but my cursed hands were shaking too much to even measure out the ingredients properly.
Why did he ask this of me? Have I not done enough? Have I not been—to all appearances—loyal?
I slammed the now useless cauldron back onto its shelf and reached for my favourite panacea. Picking up a tumbler of questionable cleanliness, I hastily poured in a stiff shot of Ogden's Old and downed the brew. Hopefully, it would calm me enough to think rationally.
Why did he ask this of me? Have I not served faithfully for over a decade, committed subterfuge of every sort, committed atrocities of every nature? Yet it wasn't enough for the slippery bastard.
What more could I possibly give to this futile conflict? Is my life not enough? No, he must have my sanity as well.
"Argh!" I let out a scream of frustration that any banshee would have been proud of, and threw the empty tumbler against the hearth. The glass shattered and the flames leapt up to hungrily consume the remaining drops of firewhiskey. My lips curled into a fierce sneer that was more akin to a snarl and I paced in circles, my feet wearing the already tattered carpet thinner.
My calloused fingers unbuttoned the top of my robes; the atmosphere was stifling in the best of times, even though the wind seeped through the house like fingers of ice. There was a rickety chair in front if the hearth; I winced at the horrid creak it made as I sat down to think. There had to be a way out of this horror.
How could he make me do such a thing? My iron nerves were in worse shape than that blasted tumbler; a Jobberknoll would die silently before I would even dream of committing such a crime.
I stood and turned irritably away from the hearth. This time he had gone too far, and by the Serpent, I would not go through with this travesty. He would see me turn to the other side, therefore losing his kicked-around unappreciated spy before I agreed to such madness.
My eyes grew wide when I saw a fatal green flash appear behind me, and I backed away like a caged beast. He was here. I had been found.
"Severus…"
"Goddamn it, Albus; I AM NOT WEARING PINK!"