Title: The Secret's In The Telling

Authoress: Sakuri

Rating: T

Summary: Draco Malfoy, pureblood and Slytherin prince, suffers the unthinkable when he is attacked and bitten by Remus Lupin. How is he supposed to live any kind of life afterwards, especially when Potter continues to stick his unwanted nose into things? DMHP, SSRL

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one

Chapter 14: The Disgrace of Severus Snape

xxx

It was Molly Weasley's turn, along with her husband, to spend the week inside the dark, dank building of Grimmauld Place. With Sirius Black, the only permanent resident of the house, dead, the members of the Order of the Phoenix – those not otherwise occupied – rotated themselves, making sure that there was always someone present at their headquarters.

It was a lucky thing, really, considering what was about to happen…

They'd only arrived yesterday, setting down their modest supply of clothes that would do for the next seven days upstairs in the large bedroom. Before that, she hadn't seen the inside of the grim house, true to its name, in over a month. Consequently, seeing as no one but her ever bothered to cast a few humble cleaning charms, the place was a mess when they'd arrived.

But she didn't mind. Cleaning gave her something to do, after all, rather than mope about as her husband was currently doing. He missed his muggle gadgets, which had accumulated around the Burrow, and the generally chaotic atmosphere of their family home. Here, there was very little to amuse him, much to her exasperation, and the atmosphere only served to depress him further.

Humming tunelessly under her breath, if only to add some kind of sound to the oppressive silence, she brandished her wand as she wandered into the living room. She flicked it at one of the tall, wooden-backed armchairs which sat near the fire, straightening its cushions and brushing down the dark blue material it was made of. Glancing around critically, she laid eyes on the large, ornate mantelpiece which was the focal point of the room. The dark wood had once been polished and perfected, but was now covered in a layer of silvery dust. Sighing, she cast a similar charm, and watched with satisfaction as an invisible force began dusting obediently.

It was then that the fire, previously unlit and quite cold, suddenly flared into life – blazing green life – with a dull roar and a dark figure tumbled inelegantly out of the verdant flames.

Molly shrieked in fright, raising her wand automatically, defensive spells forming on her lips.

But the person on the floor at her feet didn't move, at least not threateningly. Only a pained moan rose from the crumpled form, as it shifted slowly in a failed attempt to right itself. Black robes, for the moment, concealed any recognisable feature – except for one, anyway.

One sleeve had been rolled up, to reveal a thin, pale wrist covered in streaks of blood. That in itself was disturbing enough, but Molly was quick to find the source of the bleeding, and that was even worse.

It came from the dark, disfiguring tattoo of a skull and a snake.

She gasped, hand coming up to cover her mouth. And then she was screaming.

"Arthur! Arthur!"

xxx

An hour and twenty long minutes later, the hastily gathered members of the Order – those that could be reached, anyway – were crammed into Dumbledore's large circular office. Some had even been called from the Ministry. Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt shifted restlessly, occasionally casting Tempus charms and uneasy glances at each other. As loyal as they were to Dumbledore and the Order, his abrupt summons wasn't appreciated. Moody's magical eye spun agitatedly.

Minerva and Remus had also been called away from their Monday morning classes, and were gathered with the others, waiting to hear what was going on.

Finally, closest to his desk, were the three people who had come baring the urgent new occurrence. Molly and Arthur Weasley had been asked to leave their post at Grimmauld Place in order to attend this meeting. Their usually jovial expressions were grave. Between them sat a very battered looking Severus Snape.

No one present could remember seeing the Potions Master any more worse for wear than he was currently – though at least he'd regained some semblance of dignity since his ungraceful entrance back at headquarters. Now, he hunched over in his chair, one hand clasping his side firmly. He suspected a rib was broken. Aside from that, he was also sporting areas of serious bruising and a few burns, one particularly painful one on his shoulder, where a curse had barely missed him. A gash on his forehead still bled sluggishly.

Privately, he thought himself lucky. The list of injuries was mercifully short and generally inconsequential. Worse than any of those was the Mark, which throbbed and seared and screamed through his blood, through his magic, the fury which was being translated through it hurting more than any physical pain…

Everything had been bandaged by now, and he'd downed all the Pain Relief potions that Poppy had given him, but they'd barely taken the edge off. His pallor, already abnormally pale, was now almost grey with fatigue and fear and agony.

"Severus." Dumbledore spoke softly, his voice gentle and almost reluctant. "What has happened?"

He'd already told the Headmaster, in the briefest of terms, what had happened. They hadn't gone into detail, though, since at the time he'd been busy trying desperately not to claw at his arm, where the Mark burned steadily white-hot, while Poppy seemed determined to dose him up to the eyeballs with potions. He'd thanked her quite genuinely for that.

Raising his eyes to regard the old man – who did, indeed, look every bit his age for once – he shook his head. "I will no longer be of use to you," he answered simply, with faint bitterness, directed at himself.

"You were discovered?" That was Kingsley, his voice not quite unsympathetic, just practical.

Severus nodded wordlessly.

"Aye, well, ye lasted this long, lad." At least half the room cast odd looks at Moody, trying to recall if they'd ever heard him speak anywhere near as civilly to the Potions Master before now. Said Potions Master at least had the grace to nod, tersely, acknowledging the comment and whatever grudging respect it held.

"What tipped them off?" Tonks asked him curiously, if a bit tactlessly. Her eyes were currently a startling blue that perfectly matched the colour of her hair.

He shrugged, or tried to, hastily stopping the motion when a short jolt of pain went through both his burnt shoulder and damaged rib. "The Dark Lord, I believe, already knew of my betrayal. He's been… waiting. Merlin knows what for. Hoping I'd slip up, perhaps, or just toying with us all. They knew, all of them, that I was a spy."

There was a profound, heavy silence in the room as everyone absorbed what this meant.

"Severus," Dumbledore finally said, "how did he find this out? Did he see it in your mind –?"

"No."

A collective sigh of relief was to be heard. Everyone present knew what it would mean if Snape's Occlumency had failed him: Voldemort would, by now, know everything about the Order of the Phoenix, the war effort, Harry….

The newly retired spy shook his head again, adamant that he hadn't been incompetent in that area. "No. I think… he must have tested me at some point. Set us up. Remember the incident a few months back?"

Dumbledore frowned, but nodded. Severus had reported that there was to be an attack on a small Muggleborn family on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, a terrorist stunt of sorts, and Kingsley had made sure to post some of his best men around the area on the supposed day of the attack.

But no Death Eaters had shown – that day, or the next, or the next. All that the whole thing had resulted in was several disgruntled Aurors traipsing home after a week-long stake-out.

It had seemed suspicious at first, and Severus had been extra cautious in the weeks and months that followed, but nothing seemed to have come of it. And after receiving a credible enough explanation that the Dark Lord had once again changed his mind, prone to whim as he was, Snape had forgotten about the matter. Such a slip would normally be inexcusable, but he placated himself somewhat that he'd been suitably distracted, with Draco's curse and a few more unfriendly encounters with Lupin.

He saw his mistake now. Voldemort had tested his loyalty, and he'd failed. The information had obviously been false, meant only to see if he'd pass it on. Which he recklessly had done.

And now… now he was useless. His purpose served. Obsolete.

The Headmaster coughed softly, drawing back their wandering thoughts. He regarded them seriously with tired blue eyes. "You're all aware of what this means. We are, as of now, effectively blind in the coming war. No one else was close enough to report Tom's movements and ideas. We… we have lost a great deal today."

Severus looked down, his cheeks flaming for some reason he couldn't pinpoint. He felt suddenly ashamed, chastised that he'd been foolish enough to lose them what little advantage they'd had, and at the same time angry that the old man could make him doubt himself in such a way. It hadn't been his fault, he wanted to protest, he hadn't known! But those thoughts only brought guilt, and the creeping coldness of disdain for such excuses. He despised those who justified themselves when they'd done wrong. Intentional or accidental, it didn't matter – it still came down to stupidity. In this case, his own.

But more than anything else… Stronger than the shame, the anger, or the guilt was the sudden flood of self-loathing that filled him at the thought of his own abrupt… worthlessness. At least before, distrusted, unpopular as he was, he'd been doing something. Now…

What was he supposed to do? Sit around issuing homework essays that were never completed and insisting that Granger stop asking infuriating questions…

What a truly fulfilling existence.

Caught up in his rapidly derailing train of thought, he almost jumped out of his skin when someone laid a hand on his shoulder, too lightly to agitate any unseen wounds, though his resultant twitch of shock certainly stung.

Looking up with a scowl, he was momentarily stunned silent by the fact that Lupin had, first of all, dared totouch him, and secondly, was actually giving him a look he suspected was designed to express sympathy. Incredulous, he met the werewolf's soft amber gaze with a hard glare, trying to repel the unwanted contact through sheer silent force.

But Lupin didn't budge. In fact, the only reaction he gave was a fractional shift in expression. Anyone else might not have noticed, but Severus had only survived this long due to his ability to read people. And what he saw in the other man's face was… apology. For something he was about to do. Hesitancy. Anxiousness.

"We must regroup," Albus was saying, apparently not noticing the wordless interaction between them. "I suggest that the Order meet again when –"

"I can do it," Lupin suddenly burst out, removing his hand from the Potion Master's shoulder and ending whatever small communication he'd initiated.

The Headmaster blinked, glancing at him. "Sorry? Do what?"

The shabby, mild-mannered, all-around timid Professor squared his shoulders. "I… I can take Severus's place."

The sole Slytherin in the room immediately wanted to groan and hide his head in his hands at the unforgivable levels of stupidity that Gryffindors were known to sink to in the name of bravery. At the same time, some part of him – the part he usually repressed with unnecessary force – wanted to laugh hysterically at the thought of Lupin becoming a spy.

Dumbledore was staring at the werewolf with a sort of perplexity he wasn't normally given to showing. Snape could see the old man trying valiantly to remain patient and reasonable about the unfeasible suggestion, opening his mouth to give some gentle let-down.

"No, really, I can," Lupin assured, before anyone had the chance to protest. "Think about it, if you will. The Dark Lord, along with most of the wizarding world, considers me a Dark creature. It's practically expected for me to go running to him at the first chance I get."

Severus shook his head in disgust, closing his eyes. "This is ridiculous. Stop wasting our time so we can get on –"

"And," the man went on, stubbornly speaking over the scornful dismissal, "he'll be looking for another contact who's close to the school, and to Harry, now that Severus won't be giving him any information, false or not. He's lost the same advantage as we have, remember."

The Headmaster frowned softly, almost pityingly. Minerva's face was carefully blank. The Weasleys were trading concerned glances while the three Aurors looked impatient and annoyed.

"All well and good," Moody snapped, when no one else seemed about to speak, "but You-Know-Who ain't stupid. He's not gonna believe for one moment that you'd turn your back on Potter and Dumbledore." He held up a silencing hand when Remus tried to answer, shaking his grisly head. "And don't tell me you can lie. You ain't half as good as laddie over here at Occlumency, an even he got himself caught."

Snape gave the old Auror a sidelong glare at the continuous term 'laddie'. How patronising. He was thirty-five for Merlin's sake!

The werewolf, rather than be cowed into submissiveness, as the Slytherin fully expected, retorted strongly, looking almost defiant. "But Severus wasn't discovered through Occlumency or Legilimency! He just slipped up!"

Seeing the Potion Master's eyes flash dangerously, Dumbledore quickly asked, "What are you trying to say, Remus?"

Lupin sighed, turning his attention from Moody to the Headmaster. "We can create a cover story. It's plausible that after… after Sirius's death, I blamed you, or some such twisted logic. I blamed Harry, who led him there."

Shocked faces stared at him wordlessly. A faint line appeared between Minerva's brows as she took a step toward him. "Remus, really…"

He closed his eyes in exasperation. "Oh, honestly! I don't believe that at all! I'd never blame Harry!"

Severus growled in irritation, and spat, "And that's what makes what you're suggesting so thoroughly ludicrous. The Dark Lord would see through you in a second, Lupin. It doesn't matter what you say, it's what you believe that gives you away."

Amber eyes turned on him intently, as if he'd said something important. "But he didn't know what you believed, did he? Not for a long time."

With an uncomfortable feeling that this was leading somewhere he wouldn't like, Severus shook his head. "No, but we've been over this. I can use Occlumency. What are you going to do? Promise you're telling the truth, cross your heart and hope to die?"

"Teach me."

The two words were said so earnestly that the Potions Master snapped his mouth shut, cutting off whatever scathing comments he'd been about to voice. He stared at the other man fixedly, certain, surely, that he couldn't be suggesting what he seemed to be suggesting…

Lupin began speaking twice as fast, as if trying to make his point before the inevitable interruption when the shock wore off. "Severus, you're the only expert in something like this. Show me how to do what you did. It's not like I'm about to rush into this stupidly," he hastened to assure them, for all the world sounding perfectly reasonable. "I'm a quick study. If… if you agreed to help me, it could be possible within a few months."

Minerva was frowning, shaking her head slowly. "Remus... I think you're being a little irrational. It would be impossible to learn Occlumency – at least in any kind of detail – in such a short period of time."

Lupin sighed, looking frustrated that no one seemed to understand his idea. "I realise that, Minerva. I'm not saying I'll ever be an expert on the subject –"

"Then what good is this mockery of a plan?" Snape cut him off sharply, growing tired and angry. "Even if we were to spontaneously lose our minds and entertain this insanity, you'd have to be an expert or end up dead within seconds!" He couldn't believe he was having this argument, really. "That could take years, you moronic creature, not months…"

Desperate, the wolf turned pleading eyes toward him. "Severus, please. Just try…"

"I will not waste my time with this farce –"

"It's not a waste of time! I can do this, I swear –"

The Potions Master leaned forward with a snarl, trying not to wince at the movement. "Oh, spare me your pathetic attempts at redemption. I refuse to be a part of whatever delusions you're currently harbouring. It will not work and I have nothing further to say on the matter." Backing up his vehement words, he struggled to stand with as much dignity as he could muster, fully intending to leave the room with his customary melodramatic exit.

"Severus, my boy, wait."

Hand firmly grasping the back of the chair he'd just vacated, leaning on it slightly for support, Snape turned reluctantly and cast a short-tempered glare at the Headmaster. "What?" he snapped, annoyed at the delay. He wanted nothing more than to retreat to his dungeons, overdose on pain killers and avoid all human contact for another couple of days.

The old man was leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled in his trademark way, looking infuriatingly thoughtful. Thoughtful was never good. At least not if there was a Slytherin in the near vicinity. So it seemed as of late, anyway.

The Potions Master went suddenly cold as something occurred to him. "Oh, you are not considering this idiocy –"

"Not… exactly as Remus is suggesting. However…"

Severus gaped, barely managing to choke out a protesting, "A-Albus!"

Dumbledore abruptly waved a dismissive hand, encompassing most of the bemused Order. "This meeting is over. I had simply meant to inform you of our current situation. If any of you hears of anything –"

"Aye, we'll let you know," Moody agreed. He, Tonks and Kingsley were already moving toward the fireplace, where they'd Floo back to the Ministry. Arthur and Molly followed them, looking hesitant.

Minerva hesitated, hovering where she was. "Albus, should I –"

"No, no, my dear. Go back to your classroom."

Puzzled, most of the occupants of the room exited to their respective destinations. Snape and Lupin were the only ones not to move, one of them too horrified to twitch, the other frozen with hope.

When they were alone, Dumbledore turned his steady gaze on them. "Let me first make it clear that I entirely agree with Severus in that it would be foolish to try and learn Occlumency within a few months. Especially when something this important is depending on the Occlumens' skills."

The Potions Master looked relieved, standing a little straighter. Remus deflated.

"However," the Headmaster went on, halting their respective reactions, "something similar occurs to me."

He looked sharply towards the Slytherin. "It occurs to me, Severus, that you are also an accomplished Legilimens."

"So?" came the sharp query, as Snape tried futilely to guess where this was going.

"My dear boy, there may be more than one way to deceive the Dark Lord…"

"What are you suggesting?"

Instead of answering directly, the Headmaster looked at Remus intently. "My boy, how serious are you, exactly, about pursuing this idea? Serious enough to sacrifice your privacy? Surrender the very sanctity of your mind to another wizard?"

The werewolf nodded without hesitation. "Yes."

"Surrender it to Severus?"

The Potions Master gave an odd little twitch, seeming caught between turning on the other Professor and cringing away from him. He opened his mouth to protest, wanting to yell at the two men in the room, wanting to storm out in horror and anger, wanting to do something other than glare impotently at the werewolf, furiously willing him to back down from this ludicrous situation. Surely, surely they couldn't expect this of him. Not this final humiliation and disgrace on top of everything else. Not this…

Remus choked on the reply he'd intended to give, swallowing the quick agreement. Automatically, he turned to look at Severus, instantly wishing he hadn't. The man's eyes spat black fire with such intensity it made Remus want to run away with his tail between his legs until he found a nice little corner he could hide in.

Besides, it was more than Severus's rage that forced him to hesitate. He knew what Albus was hinting at. A magical experiment that had only been tested a few times, but which would be perfect in this situation.

The Headmaster intended for the Slytherin to use his skills in Legilimency to enter Remus's mind, and it would be him to build the shields and defences needed, instead of relying on the basic Occlumency Remus might be able to grasp in a few months.

The werewolf was fine with this in theory – when the Legilimens was someone who was nameless to him; someone unknown but vaguely agreeable.

But Severus…?

It would mean that the Potions Master would have unlimited access to his thoughts, feelings and every secret he'd ever harboured. In general, Remus wasn't a particularly secretive person. Other than the subject of his affliction – which Severus was already aware of – he was usually quite open.

But there were certain things he considered very, very private.

And obviously, the Slytherin wanted nothing to do with the plan. The hand that grasped the chair was white knuckled, and he was slowly, faintly shaking his head in warning.

But what choice was there? How could he refuse now, when this was the chance to make up for some of the damage he'd already done?

He couldn't. That was the simple answer.

"Yes," he answered finally, with an apologetic glance at Severus, and a resolute nod for Albus.