Double-crossers

Double-crossers, in her mind, had never been tolerable beings. She had always regarded them to be as bad, or even worse, than the dark wizards who freely roamed the country, evading the capture of the all too incompetent Ministry of Magic. She had lost friends, family and even her husband to such despicable cowards as those. In her lifetime, she had seen many a double-crossing, back-stabbing cad and was now faced with another.

Her closest friend of many, many years stood before her, in the knowledge of how she absolutely despised the treacherous traitors, and had the nerve to present her with one such double-crosser. She felt hatred and confusion bubbling under her skin. Confusion. She was so confused. She stared at the young man who had betrayed their cause, the young man that the person she most looked up to in the world was asking her to take 'under her wing'.

He was no longer the scared little First-year in awe of his brand new surroundings. His lank raven hair hung around his face in greasy curtains, which it had never done when he was younger. His pallid skin was sunken, no longer slightly rounded as in his childhood days. But, most noticeably of all, his blank, bottomless black eyes were no longer full of childhood dreams. They had seen. Seen things that no person should ever see. Just like hers. Severus Snape had been changed.

Albus Dumbledore, her mentor, friend and confidante, was still gazing at her expectantly, awaiting her reply. He had explained all to her: Severus' previous Death-Eater status, his new position as a spy for their side, and his wish to become Hogwarts' new Potions Master. She wasn't sure what to think.

"What do you say Minerva?"

"I-I… I'm sorry, I missed the last bit. I was miles away."

Albus looked slightly apprehensive as he repeated: "I am sure that Severus will not be needing it, but I would like you to consider taking him under your wing, as it were. I do not doubt that he will encounter countless prejudices as he begins his new post here."

"Albus, do you think it wise to let the whole staff know that he is a spy." Only on reflection did she realise that she had been talking as of the subject was not in the room.

"That is a very good point and one which I have considered. However, I think we will be safe as none of the current teaching staff, or any of their relatives or friends, are members of Voldemort's" she flinched at the name. She had never been able to get used to the ridiculous name that Tom Riddle had fashioned for himself, "supporters. If that should change, Severus will know and they will be, consequently obliviated. I take it that I have your support."

She breathed deeply. "I suppose so."

"Very good. Severus, although I am sure you will still remember, Minerva here will give you the traditional tour of the school and its grounds and introduce you to your fellow colleagues."

"Thank you, Headmaster. And thank you, Professor." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Severus, I think, since we are now working together, it would be more sensible for you to call me Minerva."

"Thank you, M-Minerva." Her Christian name sounded awkward on his tongue.

They departed from Albus' office and Severus followed her, like a lost sheep, in an awkward silence, which was only broken by her small declarations of their location, around the whole school. They finally came to a stop outside of the staffroom.

"And this is where you'll spend most of your time in the most bizarre conversations known to mankind. We call it the staffroom."

She pulled the door wide and revealed, conveniently, all of Hogwarts' staff. Albus must have called them all there.

"May I introduce you all to Professor Severus Snape," announced Albus, "I am sure you shall all make him very welcome." It was evident that the Headmaster had informed them all of his ex-Death Eater status as the entire staff joined in one piercing glare at the new Potions Master. Then the mask of composure slipped back into place and Severus was drawn into many faux-pleasant conversations.

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After around half an hour, Rolanda Hooch exited the staffroom, leaving Severus and Gareth Lanford (the Muggle Studies Professor) alone. Lanford was a tall man, at least six feet, with well-defined muscles and broad facial features. His brunette hair sat like feathers on his head and his grey eyes were dull, yet shiny like steel. He spoke in a deep, booming voice.

"So… you're the Ex-Death Eater, are you?" Gareth enquired.

"I suppose you could say that."

"Proud of it, are you? Proud that you mixed with murderers? For all we know, you could be a murderer yourself."

"People change. I've turned spy for the good."

"But how do we know that you really are spying for us? How could we tell if you were really spying on us and reporting it back to your 'Dark Lord'? How do we know that you're not just a LOW-LIFE MURDERING BASTARD?"

"I'm not!"

"I think I'll be the judge of that."

And with that, Gareth swept away. Severus stared after him. He had been so childish; he couldn't even come up with a decent argument because… Gareth really had a point. They didn't have a clue if he was telling the truth. They had a right to doubt him. They had a right to hate him.

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The next morning, at breakfast, Minerva took her seat between Albus and Severus. After her usual morning conversation with Albus over the latest articles in Transfiguration Today, she realised that Severus was just pushing his fried egg around his plate, his fork chasing it over the golden surface.

"Severus, is something wrong?"

"No."

"Look, you can call me an annoying, nosy old hag if you like, but I'm not going to leave you alone until you tell me."

"I don't want any trouble."

"So something did happen?"

He remained silent.

"Severus, I know you don't want it, but I would like to know. I could help you."

"Why do people hate me so much?"

"Who do you mean by 'people'?"

"I can see it in the way they all look at me. Like I'm scum. Like I shouldn't be here. Even you weren't exactly ecstatic upon my arrival."

"Who offended you?"

"Well, he was right. I am two-faced. I was in league with the people who are torturing and even murdering innocent people."

"Who was right, Severus?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"SEVERUS! Stop being such a child."

Silence…

"Severus, you can trust me. I promise."

"Gareth Lanford. Satisfied?"

So, that little weasel had decided to take matters into his own hands, had he? Two could play that game.

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Minerva strode towards Lanford's office on the Fifth Floor. The insensitive, scheming scumbag. He wouldn't get away with this. Hang on, was she defending the kind of person that she wished to never have to endure setting eyes on again?

She knocked far less gently than she normally would and, before waiting for permission to enter, shoved the door wide open. Gareth Lanford stood up behind his desk and instantly met her furious glare.

"Minerva, to what do I owe this pleasure?" He said sweetly.

"Don't play the fool with me, Gareth. I know what you said to Severus and you were bang out of order!" Minerva snarled.

"I am quite sure that I do haven't the faintest idea of what you are referring to."

Liar. "Well, then, let me refresh your memory." She put her wand against his throat.

"If you shout at him over nothing EVER again, I will personally hex your ass into next century and wipe that smug smile from your face. Understand?"

"What'd he do, go crying to Mummy? Can't he stick up for himself?" He spat savagely.

"Remember your first day here? The way I stood up for you when others weren't exactly welcoming you with open arms? Remember how bad you felt? That's what you're making him feel now. Not pleasant, is it? I think it would do you some good to treat others the way you would expect to be treated. Even if they are the newbie."

She couldn't believe that she had just said that. She was defending a double-crosser. She was as astounded as he was.

Gareth watched her as she stormed from the room. She wasn't exactly sure why she had felt the need to defend Severus. After all, he was the very type of person that she had hated ever since the murder of her father, when she was thirteen. Yet somehow he was different. He regretted what he had done. He felt guilty. He had changed.

Perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps double-crossers could change.

Finite Incantatem.

A/N: Remember, kiddywinks, I own nothing apart from Gareth Lanford! Reviews are appreciated! Hint, hint.