37. Keeping Up Appearances
When Ella left, Snape allowed himself to sag in his chair. He was so tired from it all. He still ached constantly from his torment at the hands of Voldemort's executioners, there'd been at least seven attempts to kill him in the last two weeks, and he was walking a tightrope to keep some of his Slytherins from fully turning on him. Now, to top it all off, Voldemort had apparently figured out a way to intensify his summoning, for his Dark Mark had begun burning so severely that the skin around it had begun to blister.
He'd not spoken to anyone about his troubles, for there was nothing anyone could do. If he took pain potions, he would be more open to attack. If he admitted he could no longer command the loyalty of his House, he would lose what little control he had over them, and even the thought of the pity he would be subjected to, should anyone find out how bad things were, was enough to make him cringe. So he warded the doors to his office, and only then, in assured privacy, would he allow himself to relax his guard.
He carefully rolled up his left sleeve to expose the bandage he'd wrapped around the Dark Mark. The burn ointment he'd used earlier had begun to seep through the linen, so with a sigh he untied the knot with his right hand and slowly removed the bandage. His inner arm looked as though he'd splashed boiling oil over it. The skin was blistered and weeping fluid, the Dark Mark a blackened brand. He flexed his hand, watching the skin pull and crack. It was only though extreme force of will that his hand didn't shake from the pain. He reached for the bottle of ointment that sat waiting on his desk when a knock sounded on his door.
"What do you want?" he snapped at the door.
"I need to speak with you, Snape," came Mithrandir's voice.
"It will have to wait, I'm busy," Snape called back.
"It can't wait, Snape, and if you do not open the door, I will be forced to destroy it," Mithrandir said with no hint of threat, only fact.
With a growl, Snape shook his sleeve down and went to the door. He opened it enough to glare at the man on the other side.
"Destroy anything of mine, including the doors to my office or quarters, and you will not live long to regret it," he said in a deadly quiet voice.
"Let me in, Snape," Mithrandir said, his voice equally quiet. "You don't want this discussion to happen in the hall where others can overhear."
Snape turned his back contemptuously on the other man and strode back to his desk chair. "What are you blathering about, Mithrandir? What was so important that you come charging down to my dungeons like a wounded bear?"
Mithrandir slammed the door closed behind him and warded it with silencing spells. "I have come down here, to speak with you as one professional to another, giving your actions the benefit of the doubt, but should you continue to be so confrontational, I will cease doing so."
Snape rolled his eyes. "Then you're wasting your time, for obviously no one has told you that I am always confrontational. What do you want?"
Without asking for permission, Mithrandir sat in a chair facing Snape's desk. "I want you—no, I need you to stop using the Dark arts here at the school," he said quietly.
Snape felt time expand as his body stilled in preparation for an explosion. His eyes turned deadly cold. "That is an exceedingly major accusation you are making," he said very quietly. "What evidence do you think you have to claim that I am using the Dark arts anywhere, much less here?"
Mithrandir closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not here because of rumor and shadows, Snape. The school's Dark arts detectors, which I am responsible for monitoring, have registered a steadily increasing presence of Dark magic emanating from this area of the school. So unless you are allowing students to perform illegal magic in your office when you are not present, you know what I am talking about."
Snape sat back in shock. Yes, he'd been accused many times of knowing and using the Dark arts, but this was different. If it was showing up on the Dark magic detectors, something truly was going on. At that moment, he felt his Dark Mark flare with such intensity that he nearly blacked out from the pain. When his vision cleared, it was to the sight of Mithrandir's wand pointed at his nose.
"Don't even think of reaching for your wand, Snape," Mithrandir threatened.
"Damn it, Mithrandir, stop acting like a brainless Auror and think! Is that what your detectors are reading? Is it?" Snape demanded. Mithrandir nodded curtly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Snape snorted in derision.
"You Aurors are all the same: cast a spell first and ask questions later. I've had enough of you; you may leave." He stood and flung his arm out in command for Mithrandir's exit, but the Auror stood and grabbed his outstretched arm. It was all Snape could do to stay on his feet. The pain narrowed his vision to a hazy tunnel, and Mithrandir's voice seemed to come from a distance.
"What are you hiding, Snape?" he demanded. "If you're innocent, why are you being so difficult? I'm trying to help you. If I tell Dumbledore the Dark arts are being practiced in this school, and that you seem to be the one responsible, he will have no choice but to remove you. You and I both know that the moment you set foot outside those gates you life is forfeit. Help me, Severus. Help me save you."
The arrogance in the end of the statement gave Snape the strength to pull away from other man. He stood stiffly and glared at him.
"The enormity of your ignorance is surpassed only by your blindness, Alexi," Snape said in a hiss. "But that is the single greatest weakness of everyone who claims to fight for what is right and good. You don't want to get your hands dirty, but you condemn those of us who get the job done. Wake up, you fool. Standing back and shaking your finger in rebuke will get you nowhere."
Snape spun away as Mithrandir looked down at his hands, but he suddenly found himself unable to move, victim of an Auror's spell. Mithrandir walked around to face him and lifted one hand—the one that he'd used to grab Snape. There were smears of blood on his fingers.
"It would seem," Mithrandir said, all anger gone from his voice, "that I've just gotten my hands dirty. What have they done to you, Snape?" He did not allow an answer but instead floated the Potions master back to his desk chair.
"Don't bother trying to fight the spell—it's a form of the Imperius curse—a legal one. I've taken the ability to move away from you for a short time; it will return in two minutes, unless I cast the spell again. I cannot make you do anything, but I can prevent you from doing something."
Mithrandir gently peeled back Snape's sleeve to reveal his mangled arm. He hissed in reaction but worked quickly to cast healing spells on the skin he'd unknowingly torn. When he finished, the skin was still inflamed but no longer oozing blood and fluid.
Mithrandir lowered his wand and backed off, seating himself again in the chair on the other side of the desk. "How long has it been like this?" he asked quietly.
"Why the sudden concern?" Snape asked nastily.
"No one, not even you, deserves to be tortured," Mithrandir replied. "How long?"
"Does it matter?" Snape asked.
"Yes, it matters. For one thing, if that's what set off the detectors, you are cleared from using Dark magic. For another, if I know how long you put up with it, I'll know when to ambush you again to be sure you get medical treatment, even if I have to curse you from behind to do it."
"It got increasingly worse over the course of the week," Snape said grudgingly. Yes, his arm felt much better, but compassion could lead to weakness on his part, and he couldn't afford it.
"And I assume you didn't take advantage of Madame Pomfrey's care because she would insist on scanning you and would discover how unfit you are to be teaching," Mithrandir deduced. "Don't you know that martyrdom went out of fashion years ago?"
Snape stood and walked to the door, though he waited to open it. "If you are satisfied that I'm not practicing the Dark arts in my free time, I believe we are finished," he said quietly.
Mithrandir stood and faced Snape. "I meant what I said about helping you. You aren't alone anymore in your fight. Let me help you."
Snape shook his head. "This is something I brought on myself. No one can help me now." He opened the door, dismissing the other professor. Mithrandir silently shook his head and left Snape's office.