The Price You Pay
Part Two -- Crossing the Rubicon
In the final days of Lord Voldemort's rise, a younger Severus Snape is about to learn that in the dangerous game he's playing, betrayal can come from anywhere.
A/N: Okay, here's the next part of my Snapefic, my first fanfic. Again, half is post-GoF, half is flashbacks to Voldemort's first rise. One more part to go after this, I think, if I end up writing it. Not sure whether to put this in Drama or Mystery, it's really both.
Ick, I REALLY don't like this story, but oh well. I don't think anyone's ever done quite this take on Snape's past, though, so we'll see. I'll finish it IF I get enough reviews. Thanks to those who reviewed the first part, and also the introduction when it was posted back in August or whenever--reviews mean a lot to me!
For back chapters, click on my pen name (obviously)!
NOTE: Of course, Hogwarts and the characters and concepts in Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling, and I make no claims to own them. I'm not making any money off this story, obviously. The title of the first part belongs to William Shakespeare, not me, but I'm sure everyone realized that!
Part Two -- "Crossing the Rubicon"
Severus felt strangely like the whole world had just dropped out from underneath him and he was in free fall, helpless to do anything. His stomach was somewhere north of where it was surely supposed to be, and his head spun just looking at her.
"What?" he asked finally, the words sounding hollow in his ears.
Very gently, Erin touched his hand with hers, giving him a puzzled look. "You ran out of here so fast, I just wondered if you were okay," she said questioningly.
"What?" Snape repeated, feeling like a complete idiot at his sudden inability to process the English language. "Oh. Yeah. Fine. Meeting. Urgent," he stuttered haltingly. He couldn't even remember what the meeting had been about. His entire vocabulary had evidently been reduced to one-syllable words and one-word sentences.
Erin gave him a puzzled smile, the kind of look you give a lost puppy. Severus knew he should be offended by the condescension, but instead his heart just melted further. "Have you talked to Charles?" he heard her ask.
Charles? Oh yeah. His brother. Her fiancée. The word slammed him back into consciousness with all the force of a freight train hitting him. "No," he managed in a strange, semi-strangled voice.
She smiled again, and Severus had to swallow very hard to keep himself from breaking down and shouting to the world that he was in love with her, that he never wanted to leave this room, this moment, because if they did then she would be his brother's fiancé again and he would be...well, he would be himself. That was self-explanatory enough, as far as Snape was concerned. He would be himself, and he would still be in the mess his life had become.
"Well, he was going to find you and ask you a question, but I guess since I found you first, I get to ask," she said lightly, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at Charles's forgetfulness. The expression on her face at that moment, a look of simple, uncalculated happiness and love, felt like a dagger being driven through Severus's heart.
Erin didn't seem to notice. "Anyway," she said, pausing dramatically, her eyes sparkling. "We were wondering....Will you be best man at our wedding?"
The dagger in Snape's heart twisted, driving in further.
It was a long moment before he could breathe again, find enough air to answer her question. If she had asked him to perform the Cruciatus curse on himself at that moment, he would have done so willingly. Maybe even topped it off with Avada Kedavra, just to prove his love. But this request, asked so innocently, was much harder to bear.
He must have looked shocked, because Erin took his hand again with a concerned look. Her mere touch sent shock waves rippling through his body, and he caught his breath sharply. She was so innocent, so blind in her love for his brother that she must not have noticed the look in his eyes. She didn't mean to be cruel, she thought her gesture was made out of the kindness of people who are soon to be family. Erin couldn't know that it almost killed him.
Snape was saved from answering by his brother's voice from the doorway.
"Erin, darling, please tell me you haven't gone and asked him for me," Charles Snape drawled, leaning against the doorframe casually.
Charles was smiling at his brother and fiancée, but Severus had known him too long to miss the sharp suspicion in his brother's eyes as he looked between the two. Severus yanked his hand away from Erin's, and Charles walked over and wrapped his arms around her possessively. He never broke eye contact with Severus, and the look in his eyes made Snape shiver involuntarily.
Severus, pining away with love for Erin, was in a position to see the bitter truth that Erin regarded him as nothing more than a little brother, someone to be concerned about, friendly with...nothing more. Charles, however, obviously was concerned about his soon-to-be-wife's fidelity already. He doesn't deserve her, Severus thought harshly, interpreting correctly the look on his brother's face.
Charles may not have been a Death Eater, but in some ways he was a better Slytherin than Severus ever would or could be. He was handsome, and funny, and had all the outward appearances of a normal person. But Severus knew another side to his brother existed. Charles at heart was the perfect Machiavellian: cunning, amoral, oppurtunist, and, above all, manipulative. The ends justify the means, it is better to be feared than loved, Realpolitik to the end.
But Severus had never seen this suspicious, mistrusting side of his brother turned against him, and in some ways it cut deeper than anything Erin could ever make him feel.
Charles gave Erin a quick kiss and a whispered "I love you," then smiled at her. "Listen, I want to talk to Severus alone for a minute. Wait for me and we'll go back to London afterwards, okay?"
Erin nodded, returned his kiss with one of her own (Severus was turning slightly green by this point), and waltzed out of the room after a quick, sisterly smile at Severus.
As soon as she was gone, Charles turned to face his younger brother. There was a tense moment of silence before Charles asked, "What exactly do you think you're doing, Severus?"
"Am I doing something, Charles?" Snape asked in an attempt at innocence.
"You know perfectly well you've been acting strangely," Charles responded. He was examining Severus severely, his frown suspicious and thoughtful.
Severus said the only thing he could think of that would get his brother off his case. Worrying about Erin's love for him was ridiculous--she was obviously devoted to Charles. That was the problem, as far as Severus was concerned, but Charles evidently didn't see it. "Listen, congratulations," he said lightly. "I'd love to be your best man, it's an honor to be asked." Even Snape was surprised at how sincere he sounded. The last month trying to appear like he was still on Voldemort's side had obviously taught him something about acting.
And it worked, or so Snape thought at the time. A tragic mistake, but to blame Snape is to blame him for trusting his own flesh and blood. Charles visibly relaxed, the tension going out of his shoulders. He smiled, his old self again. "Glad to hear it, thanks, man."
Then all of a sudden, the frown returned to Charles's face. "You know, I wasn't kidding when I said you've been acting strangely," he said, his voice concerned. "Anything you want to talk about?"
It never failed. Charles was Severus Snape's only confidant on earth, they had been closer than most brothers since their days in Slytherin together, those endless late-night hours spent curled up in the common room armchairs teaching themselves the Dark Arts from old books smuggled from home, more out of pure fascination than a plan to use them. And so Severus found himself completely disarmed again, and he sighed in frustration.
"You know what I've been doing, right?" he asked, feeling very tired all of a sudden.
Charles nodded, a grin flashing across his features for a brief instant. "Plotting revolution," he replied in a light tone. "War. Overthrow of the Ministry, takeover of the Muggle world." Then the smile was gone, as fast as it had come. "I've heard you're getting to be a big-shot, too. Severus Snape, Lord Voldemort's trusted advisor." He paused, regarding his brother thoughtfully. "But there's more to this than that, I think. You can tell me, Severus. You can trust me, you know."
"Of course," Snape replied, never questioning this statement for a moment. He looked at his older brother, and all of a sudden everything that had happened in the last month came tumbling out. His disillusionment with Voldemort's cause, his painful meetings with Dumbledore and the mistrust and disappointment that constantly invaded the old headmaster's gaze, his continued acceptance into the Death Eaters' inner circle. And most of all the constant, nagging self-hatred that he was revealing more to Voldemort than Dumbledore knew just to stay alive.
It took over an hour for Snape to finish his story, during which time he poured out his heart and soul to his brother. Charles was sympathetic in all the right places, caring and brotherly and concerned, and by the end of the tale Severus was devastatingly guilty that he had ever caused Charles to question his own fiancée's loyalty.
Charles took his leave, explaining that it was late and he had to be at work in London in the morning. He stopped in the doorway and looked around at Severus for a moment before disappearing, a strange look in his eyes that Snape couldn't interpret, but would remember for the rest of his life.
A faint hint of suspicion had returned to Charles's eyes, but the overpowering expression on his face was something much closer to triumph.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Professor Snape, still sitting in the deserted Slytherin common room on the armchair where he had once spent countless hours with his older brother practicing spells he now tried every day to forget he knew on innocent spiders and flies, folded the letter again. This was the last time he would ever read it. The promise contained within its simple text had come full circle. He no longer needed the reminder. The letter was a weight he had carried for over a decade, and he would bear the burden of it for the rest of his life. But the physical object no longer had any significance.
Snape walked over to the fireplace, knelt down, and set the letter on the cold stone. Then he stood up and took a few steps backward, taking out his wand. He pointed it at the parchment and at his quiet "Incendo," the little slip of paper burst into flame.
He turned around and walked to the door, leaving the fire to burn itself it. Before he closed the door to the common room behind him, however, Snape turned around one more time to scan the room. He could still remember the feeling of wonder and delight he'd had as a student, as his power at Dark magic grew with each hour of practice, as he realized that he was a better wizard than his brother, a better wizard than most of his Housemates.
At that instant, as he locked the door to Slytherin House, Severus Snape would have given it all up without a moment's hesitation.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
A week passed, and then a month, and young Severus Snape was still caught in the hell of his own making. Every meeting, Dumbledore pressed him for the name of the traitor set to betray James and Lily Potter, and every meeting Snape had nothing more to offer. He could see Dumbledore's urgency growing, tension and worry replacing disappointment now in the headmaster's eyes.
Severus imagined the stress he must be under, with new stories surfacing every day of Aurors and other wizards known to be sympathetic to the Ministry found dead, usually in horribly violent ways. Often nowadays there was nothing left for the families to bury...just a pool of deep red blood soaking through the leaves in a clearing in the woods or decorating the carpet of a home, an unmarked grave except for the Dark Mark hovering in the air as a warning to those who continued to resist the Dark Lord's rise.
In these dangerous and swiftly-changing times, the Dark Mark's presence was becoming the only constant.
Time was running out for the Resistance, and both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore knew it.
Severus saw little of his parents and sister, home from Hogwarts for the summer, and even less of Charles and Erin. Every moment now seemed to be taken up by Death Eater meetings, or tense conferences in Dumbledore's office, or other tasks for Voldemort that Snape came to regret more every day but couldn't stop, couldn't risk incurring Voldemort's suspicion.
His drive came now from more than a desire to stay alive. He truly and fervently loathed his master and everything Voldemort stood for now, and his hatred only grew with each passing day and each passing murder. If he died in the cause of the Resistance, Severus knew his death would have been justified. But he also recognized that his continued service as a spy was crucial to whatever small chance of victory Dumbledore's side had. He couldn't get himself killed.
So he was forced to continue his dangerous game of playing both ends against the middle, going behind Dumbledore's back and feeding Voldemort more information than the headmaster knew. He always tried to give up only the least crucial elements, the things Voldemort could probably find out other ways. But it was impossible to always guess right, and in this particular game the margin of error was zero.
And so some Resistance plots were inevitably blown wide open by the Death Eaters, almost always resulting in yet more blood gracing the soil of Britain, as it had frequently since the beginning of time. Severus knew he would feel guilty for those deaths for as long as he lived. Which, at least, was a length of time he was fairly convinced would be blessedly brief.
This particular day, Severus apparated from the edge of Hogwarts property directly to a Death Eater meeting, a security risk that wasn't made any more pleasant-feeling by the fact that it was unavoidable.
After the usual pomp-and-circumstance, ceremony, and robe-kissing that had once seemed exciting but now sickened Snape, the Dark Lord dismissed the meeting. Before anyone could even move, however, he turned abruptly on Severus, hissing at him quietly, "Nothing to report again today, I suppose?"
Snape cowered away from Voldemort in a gesture of fearful loyalty. Like a dog, he thought, hating himself for his weakness. But servitude to this evil wizard was so ingrained in Severus Snape by now that in Voldemort's presence he was still never anything but a loyal servant. His stomach turned every time he had to say the words "master" or "my lord", but they were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
"My lord, I--"
"If what you're about to say is an excuse of any sort, Severus, I would wipe the thought from my mind if I were you," Lord Voldemort cautioned in a quiet voice that chilled Snape to the bone. "Now I will ask you one more time. Do you have anything to report, or are you proving yourself once again to be completely worthless as a spy." It wasn't a question; rather, Voldemort's voice made it clear he was stating a fact.
This time, Snape promised himself, he wasn't going to say anything. He would not betray Dumbledore's trust anymore. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he knew was coming.
Sure enough, Voldemort's limited patience reached its end. "Very well," he said coolly, raising his wand. The last thing Snape saw was the flicker of cruel amusement in the Dark Lord's eyes as he hissed out the curse.
"Crucio."
Every time, Snape thought he wouldn't be able to bear it, would surely die from the pain. Every nerve in his body exploded, he felt like he was being consumed by fire and ice at the same time. Had Severus been able to form a coherent thought, he would have wished and prayed for death to come swiftly and end the pain. But for the few moments the spell was on him, he didn't even know he was human. All he was aware of, the focus of his entire world, was reduced to an acute awareness of his own suffering.
Snape had no grasp of the span of time the spell lasted, except that it seemed like an eternity. It must have been relatively short, however, because when Voldemort finally lowered his wand Snape was still hanging on to the last shreds of consciousness. It took a long time before he recovered enough to breathe, and when he did it was with a great, rasping gasp. He lay prone on the hard ground, unable to move.
Voldemort, looking quite satisfied, stared down at him with contempt. "You have until tomorrow to bring me something I can use. Now get up!" he snapped.
His defenses still down from the lingering remnants of the Cruciatus curse, the Death Eater Severus Snape still had buried in him kicked into autopilot. A worshipful look in his eyes that he would later remember with scorn and self-hatred, he reached out and took the edge of Voldemort's robe to kiss it. "Yes, master."
Voldemort smiled coldly. "Better." And he turned to go.
Somehow, Severus managed to draw himself to his feet. "There is one thing," he said hesitantly.
Voldemort turned back, the smile turning from cold to calculating. He stood silent, waiting.
"The Potters," Snape said quickly. "They've chosen a Secret Keeper." He grimaced, knowing this was bad news for Voldemort indeed. "I don't know who it is."
He prepared himself for another outburst of anger from the Dark Lord, but to his surprise his statement was met with nothing but silence. He looked at Lord Voldemort in surprise. There was a look of secret triumph on his face, and instead of punishing his failed spy, Voldemort laughed suddenly, a cold, cruel laugh.
"Well, Snape, you're lucky this time," Voldemort pronounced in measured terms. From the look on his face, he was enjoying this deliciously, and Snape couldn't understand it.
"You don't know, but I do." With that, Voldemort disapparated with an audible *pop*.
Snape immediately collapsed onto the ground, unable to move. Had his brain been functioning properly he would have been horrified at what he had just done, and even more horrified at Lord Voldemort's response. But he had temporarily lost his ability to think and rationalize with Voldemort's Cruciatus curse, and Severus completely missed the obvious conclusion that he should have drawn: Whoever the traitor was, that very person was acting as the Potters' Secret Keeper.
Snape lay in the clearing for a long before he was strong enough to apparate back to his home. By that time he realized that he'd once again given more information than he should have, and he felt sick with the self-hatred that was becoming almost as familiar to him as breathing. But he still missed the significance of Voldemort's parting comment.
He apparated out just as the sun was beginning to rise over the trees to the east, thinking only that if Voldemort didn't execute him as a spy, the continued Cruciatus curses would surely kill him just the same. Snape didn't know at the time that he'd just attended his last Death Eater meeting for more than a decade.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Professor Snape paused outside the door to Dumbledore's office, suddenly struck by the feeling of familiarity. He'd stood right here so many times in his life, steeling up the courage to knock on the door and face the aged headmaster. Shaking away the powerful sense of déjà vu, he raised his fist and rapped on the door briskly.
He heard Dumbledore's voice through the wood asking him to come in, and he pushed open the heavy door. The headmaster looked up as he entered. His face was grim and worried, but there was no disappointment in his eyes. Only concern, and a bit of something Snape couldn't figure out. He didn't know it, but it was respect.
There was a long moment of silence as the two men stood facing each other, broken by Dumbledore. "Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes piercing.
Snape nodded wordlessly.
"You know the risks better than anyone," Dumbledore pointed out, his voice heavy.
Snape looked down for a moment. "You once told me," he replied. "That the price I paid weighed not nearly so heavy as what I would feel had I never tried at all."
For a brief instant all the worry disappeared from Dumbledore's face, replaced by a look of pleasant surprise at this lesson well learned.
But he questioned Snape once more. The commitment had to be freely made...the costs were potentially too high for it to be otherwise. Dumbledore would have trusted the man in front of him with his life, but when the lives of mankind as well are in your hands the stakes are infinitely higher. And though it had been a credit to himself, Severus Snape had proved once in his life that he was willing to betray his allies. So the question was posed again, the phrasing harsher now.
"I want to believe that what worked once can work again," the headmaster said. "That Voldemort will believe you have...reformed," Dumbledore didn't quite succeed in keeping a note of bitterness out of his voice at this, but he continued, "That you've seen the error of your ways and are fully on his side. Of course you won't be trusted as you once were, but quite possibly you can still be useful to us. But I can't lie to you and say I truly believe what I just described is a likely scenario. If you can't convince Voldemort of your loyalty, your life is worth about as much as if you walked out of this office and were hit by a bus."
Snape accepted this pronouncement in silence, without so much as a flinch. It was a conclusion he had reached long before.
"So," Dumbledore finished, watching him carefully. "This is it, Severus. You're sealing your fate. That's the way it has to be."
Severus Snape drew himself up to his full height and faced his old headmaster squarely. "This is crossing the Rubicon," he said firmly, as convinced of his decision as he'd ever been of anything. "And I cross."
And as simply as that, he willingly signed his life away to this man for the second time in his life.
__________
A/N: So....what do you think? Should I continue, or let this fic die the miserable death it probably deserves right now? PLEASE review this if you've made it this far, even flames will be welcomed! This is my first fanfic, so any and all advice, suggestions, comments, etc will be HUGELY appreciated!
Hmm...should Snape trust his brother like Charles assures him he should? What did the mysterious letter Snape destroyed say, and who was it from? What was the promise? Only time will tell, so review if you want the next part!
Thanks again to everyone who reviewed Part One, you know who you are! Mordra, I'm glad you like the historical references, that was actually what I was most unsure about in the whole story, so I'm glad someone enjoyed the little random tangent about Rommel! I've always seen a lot of parallels between Snape and a few of Hitler's more conscientious generals. :-) And I thought I'd throw it in, since I'm trying to do something different with this one, though it's hard since Snapefics have been done so often by now.
So! REVIEW please, because otherwise I won't take the time to continue with this!