Hope is the thing with feathers. –Emily Dickinson

Never show any weakness. You never know who may be watching.

His father had pounded those two sentences into his head so many times that a half-thought of his father in the back of his mind brought the message back. He never knew nor cared, when the thought occurred to ask, whom his father feared may be watching. He was already in school for a few years and had found why his father would find this particular piece of advice useful. There are always people whom one would not want to see at weaker moments.

So, with one smooth motion he rose from his bed and donned his robe. He strode across his bedroom, ignoring the pain in his chest and the pounding in his head. In the hall way he opened his cabinet where he kept his stores. He took out a small vial with an opaque blue liquid inside. Whoever was watching would have to begrudge him a pain-relieving potion.

He resisted the urge to wince at the less than pleasant aftertaste of the potion, but felt himself relax when the ball of pain dissolved in his chest and his vision stopped blurring at every heartbeat. Relaxing wasn't really showing a weakness, merely showing that he felt more confident in his surroundings.

He suddenly felt disgusted with himself. He was trying to convince himself that he did not show weakness when there was no one to show weakness to. He allowed himself to frown and drop the vial on the counter instead of carefully placing it back in its proper place. To his dissatisfaction, the vial did not break.

He glanced out his window, to see if anyone was coming up the walk, and then around to the fireplace. Both were devoid of people. He thought of Goyle's remark that the fact that he was paranoid didn't mean that no one was watching. Probably the only intelligent utterance to come from the man in his twenty-five years of existence. It had received a few patronizing and perhaps surprised smiles when he at first said it, and, like the dolt he was, repeated it whenever he thought it would work. By now, everyone was extremely sick of it, and some had half-jokingly pretended to hex Goyle behind his back.

He tapped the side of a cup and steaming water appeared in it. He dropped a tea bag in. He pressed a spoon against the bag and tendrils of brown grew from it. He placed the spoon on the table and eased into a chair. Regardless of the pain-relieving potion, the night before had not been pleasant and the effects of the curses he had endured would not be swept away with a potion.

He passed a bezoar over his tea to draw out any poison that might have been in the tea bag. When nothing arose from his cup, he began to drink his tea. Anyone who had been in Slytherin with him at Hogwarts would have known his schedule. He always skipped breakfast and drank tea without any milk, sugar, honey, lemon, or any of that foolishness. Many who were with him at Hogwarts were now with him serving the Dark Lord, and Slytherins turned Death Eaters were ruthlessly ambitious and, not occasionally, stupidly so. Stupid enough to try to poison a potions master.

He was in the Dark Lord's inner circle. He and the Lestranges were on equal footing, status wise, along with Rosier and Rockwood. The only person above them was Lucius. Lucius had the connections and smoothed things over when one of the inner circle was close to being directly tied to Death Eater activity. The Dark Lord had no qualms about punishing his faithful, but he did recognize that they were necessary. Lucius was the one that was never punished, though. Lucius was a member of a high profile family and had a high profile career and the high profile "friends" that went with it. Lucius had the same control over his emotions and pain that he did, but some things couldn't be hidden, and the Dark Lord knew it.

Everyone knew that the Lestranges were Death Eaters, that Goyle, Crabbe, and Nott, and Rosier were Death Eaters, that he himself was a Death Eater. The only reason why they weren't rotting in Azkaban at the moment was sheer luck, and, in the case of himself, Rosier, and the Lestranges, through the efforts of Lucius. But Lucius…people had their suspicions about him. Most of the population didn't. They went along like sheep, believing that Lucius couldn't—couldn't­ be a Death Eater. After all, he was appointed to his job by the Minister himself. How could the Minister appoint a Death Eater to anything? The few sheep that culled themselves from the flock had nothing solid to go on, and no one with any power to go to. The Minister himself believed his own propaganda, and that he was infallible. It was all a game of who you knew, and through this game, Lucius had become untouchable. The inner circle, by association, became nearly untouchable. The Dark Lord had a lot of power but Lucius could control your life.

Lucius had been the one he was expecting to be coming up the walk or stepping out of his fireplace. Lucius had the…bad luck…to come see him after he had a particularly bad night. It was his way of seeing them at their weakest to make sure they didn't have any ideas of switching loyalties.

When Lucius came he would have to be courteous. He would have to remain on Lucius's good side and pretend that he was not unhappy to see him. He would have to remain calm and with a not-displeased look on his face while Lucius made insidious remarks about the night before and his wonderfully subtle digs on his well-being. He would have to remain on Lucius's good side. He would always have to remain on Lucius's good side, because Lucius was on the Dark Lord's good side, and was likely to remain there for a long time. Lucius would always have control over him. For now he offered protection from the threat of arrest and imprisonment. If (and it was still an if, he refused to believe in guarantees) the Dark Lord came into power, Lucius was sure to become second in command, which meant there would be no escape when the time came.

It was hard to believe that Lucius was someone that he would have called friend not too long ago. In school, Lucius had been the person to look up to. He came from one of the oldest families, and he always received the highest marks. He was Quidditch captain and led the Slytherin team to the House Cup in only his fifth year. In Lucius's seventh year and in his fifth year, Lucius always made sure he was next to him in the Great Hall, effectively making sure that someone he considered adequate was taking his place. Lucius, however, made sure that everyone knew, before he left, that no one could surpass him, especially his replacement.

When he had graduated from Hogwarts, the next day there had been a knock on his door. Sure enough, it was Lucius. He had already been recruited while he was in Hogwarts, of course, but he hadn't expected to be called up so soon. As it turned out, he wasn't, but nearly every week afterwards, Lucius, if not one of his stooges, would turn up, poking around. He didn't know if the others had to put up with this, or if he was the only one that posed an actual threat. Frankly, it was tiresome, and he was amazed, even with his ingrained sense of control, that he hadn't hexed Lucius into oblivion by now. He had never wanted control; he wanted to work behind the scenes. If he were front and center, like Lucius was, it just wouldn't work. Merlin knew he wasn't good at diplomacy, nor did he ever care to be diplomatic. Didn't the fool realize that?

He would always have to put up with this. As far as he could see, his future could go two ways: he would be sent to Azkaban eventually, or, even if the Dark Lord was defeated, Lucius would continue to control his every move. He had too much information on him to not use it if it served his interests.

His tea had grown cold. He picked up his wand to reheat it when an owl flew in through a window, dropping a roll of parchment onto his hand.

Lucius must be starting to less worried about me, he thought wryly. He's sending letters to me instead of actually coming himself.

He picked up the letter, expecting to see Lucius's flowery script. Instead, rather plain handwriting adorned the parchment:

Mr. Severus Snape

Kitchen

14 Morai Lane

Leeds

With a carefully neutral face, he unrolled the parchment.

Dear Mr. Snape,

I am writing to you with a job proposition. As you may or may not be aware, our potions professor, Professor Topas, retired last month after some thirty years service to the school. He will be sorely missed—

He snorted. Topas was an incompetant dolt, and it was a wonder that he graduated himself.

His leaving, however, leaves a vacant position. While I was going over prospective replacements, I remembered that you had done well in teaching yourself the fine art of potions, and going beyond the requirements necessary to pass potions NEWTs. I was pleased to learn that you had achieved potions master upon leaving Hogwarts. You are beyond qualified to become the potions professor at Hogwarts.

I imagine that what you are doing right now plays to your best interests. I do believe, however, that there are aspects of this position that you may appreciate. You are the first person I have contacted in regards to this position, however, and there are others that are qualified, so there will be no problems should you decided not to accept. Should you accept, the job may be considered temporary should you so desire. I also understand that you are interested in Defense against the Dark Arts. Again, should you accept, when this subject becomes available, you may move into this position, should a suitable replacement be found for the potions class.

Please send Viola back with your response.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster

He stared at the letter. The old fool was out of his mind. He had always thought so, but this proved that the old man had finally gone off the deep end. There was no other explanation.

He couldn't be a professor. He didn't get along with children when he was one. How could he be expected to willingly spend time with them?

Him. Teach. Children. No, it just didn't work. The man had lost his marbles. He lost his mind. How had he even been coherent enough to write the letter?

He reread the letter. You are the first person I contacted…Why? Why would he be the first person he contacted? What was the old fool thinking? "Severus Snape" and "great professorial material" did not go together in the same sentence.

No, it just did not work.

He realized he was breathing heavily. He took a deep breath and calmed down.

This was a test. A test from Lucius, testing where his loyalties lie. He performed a spell on the parchment. "Originis." Some words floated up from the letter, and spelled out Albus Dumbledore in yellow in the air in front of him. All right, so it was from the old fool.

What was the old man thinking? He was a Death Eater. The old man may be a lunatic, but he was not stupid. Dumbledore would know that he was a Death Eater, despite nobody being able to prove it. Dumbledore was against the Dark Lord. People said that Dumbledore was the only person the Dark Lord was afraid of. So this was a trap from Dumbledore. He was going to lure him to the school, and there would be a bunch of Aurors there and the next thing he knew, he was going to be in Azkaban. No trial for him.

He leaned back, closing his eyes. He remembered being a student in his last year, at graduation, and seeing the old man smiling at them all, he had even met Severus's eyes. The smile hadn't flickered. Dumbledore's eyes didn't blink.

Not a trap. Whatever strange set of rules the man played with, they didn't allow for setting traps. Not like this anyway.

All right, so that must mean he was serious. The man was inviting an almost known Death Eater to teach in Hogwarts. He reread the letter again. The man was definitely mad. No doubt about it.

He stared at the parchment, starting to curl in his hands. He'd better send his response immediately. Lucius would probably turn up sooner rather than later, and he'd rather not have this foolishness in his house when he did. The insufferable git. Along with his other talents, Lucius was accomplished at Legilimency. He himself was quite adept at Occlumency, but Lucius knew him better than most. He was by no means an open book, but if anyone could read him, it would be Lucius. If he suspected something, he would find the letter in a moment. God how he hated Lucius, always showing up when Severus would rather kill him then see his smug—

He realized he was holding the parchment tightly enough to blur the ink under his thumb. Lucius was making him angry even when he wasn't there. He was almost as bad as Potter. He heard Lucius's smug yet bored drawl telling him that there was another meeting, the same drawl being used to dig into him after Lucius had steered the Ministry away from some Death Eater Activity that he had been involved in, reminding him that he was beholden to him…

He stood up and had walked to the window before he had realized what he was doing. That damn Potter had already saved his life, and he was going to pay him back if it had to kill him. He hated being in debt to Potter, could barely stand it. And the irony of it was that Potter, the textbook definition of egotistical, didn't even realize that he was indebted to him. Potter had been too worried that he would tell everyone about his precious werewolf.

Lucius had saved his sanity a couple of times by preventing him from going to Azkaban. It was only a matter of time before he was in a position where Lucius would be able to save his life. Lucius, being the textbook definition of Machiavellian, would know perfectly well what he was doing, and would use it to his utmost advantage.

He'd be damned if he had two wizarding debts on his head.

Lucius already controlled more or less every aspect of his life. If Lucius encroached on it any more, he would be no better than a house elf. It was only a matter of time really.

He stared at Dumbledore's letter again in his hand, now a damp, wadded ball. If he took this position, this Potions professorship, he'd be away. If he continued with his official job of potions research at the Ministry, where Lucius could check in on him whenever he pleased, the best he could expect at this point next year would be an ulcer.

But this teaching job, at Hogwarts, he could be away. The Dark Lord would let him, he was almost sure of that. Having someone in the inner circle that close to Dumbledore, he'd practically be drooling at the prospect. Lucius, on the other hand…

Lucius's father was one of the student governors. It was almost certain that the position would be handed down to him, especially now since he had a son that would be attending the school when he was of age. With all his connections, it was a sure thing. Lucius would still be able to check up on him. But Lucius still had to answer to the Dark Lord. And Lucius's usefulness came mostly from his post at the ministry and the connections that came with it. No matter how much of a smooth talker Lucius was, he would still need to show up to work to keep the position. He would still have to deal with Lucius, but Lucius would have to have him on a much loser tether.

From the way things looked now, it was in his best interests to accept. But that still left the question of what the old fool was thinking when he asked him to take the position at Hogwarts. The old man had to have heard the rumors. He led the opposition to the Dark Lord. He had spies working for him. Even if he couldn't prove anything, he had to at least know. Dumbledore may have what he thinks is the students' best interests at heart, and that's why he wanted the most knowledgeable person for the position, but common sense had to factor into his strange set of rules, and hiring someone from his enemy's inner circle certainly did not make sense. Why would Dumbledore even think that he would accept? Why did he ask? It was almost inviting the Dark Lord to send a spy in. Dumbledore may be a foolhardy Gryffindor, but he did defeat Grindelwald. He had to understand smart defensive tactics.

Maybe the man thought that he wouldn't give any information to the Dark Lord, or maybe he thought that he could plan things so well that there wouldn't be any information to give. But why would he take such an awesome risk?

Perhaps the old fool thought that he could turn him against the Dark Lord. But that in itself was laughable. He hadn't joined the Dark Lord's side for any serious agreement with his…politics, but because of an intense repulsion for the idealism of those working against the Dark Lord. Ignoring the fact that he was a Slytherin, and those of his house were prone to support the Dark Lord, the qualities that he possessed that put him in Slytherin had immediately predisposed him to be against those who fought the Dark Lord. The recklessness needed to fight, when there was such a high likelihood of being killed or failing, and nothing to be gained in winning. No power, nothing. Things would be like the way they were before this had all started. Some animosity between families over differing politics, but most people existing in a quiet neutrality.

Had things been different, he supposed, he could be in that quiet neutrality. The only reason he wanted the Dark Lord to win was because he despised those who worked against him. Had he been in a different house or had his mentality been different, he could have been in that quiet neutrality. But he was in Slytherin, and it was neither honorable nor possible to be a spectator. To be against the Dark Lord in the Slytherin house meant to keep quiet, and such quietness immediately made a person a social outcast in a world where connections meant everything.

When he had left Hogwarts, he had already become too intertwined with the movement to bow out and take a less active role. At the time he had not cared to. Since he had come in under Lucius's advisement, this already placed him at a prominent position in the movement. He had enjoyed the power, reveled in it, even. He never would have had this power had he been quietly neutral. The idea of working against the movement had never occurred to him.

Eventually, it became apparent to him that he had no real power. The only power he had was the power that Lucius or the Dark Lord told him to use. He had wondered if this had occurred to anyone else. He doubted. The Lestranges and the others in the inner circle were still too power-mad to understand it, and those under them had been fed promises of advancement within the movement. After a few short years, though, he realized he had no chance of advancement and never any chance of freedom. To give himself up meant either being put in Azkaban or being under the thumb of those insipid Aurors, which really wasn't an improvement over Lucius. So he stayed where he was, doing what he was doing, because there was no alternative.

Because there was no alternative…

…There are aspects of this position that you may appreciate… Maybe the old fool did want him to come over to his side. If he became a spy, and his work was secret…there was no chance of him going to Azkaban…Supposing Dumbledore was the only one who knew he was a spy. Everyone else would just assume that the Dark Lord wanted him to spy on Dumbledore. Dumbledore's choice of hire would raise protests, but most people would bow to his judgment. Dumbledore was, after all, the only person the Dark Lord was cautious of. Some people even said afraid of. And Dumbledore had more connections then Lucius did…

No. What was he thinking? If the Dark Lord even had an inkling of what Severus was even thinking about considering, he'd be dead before he took his next breath. No, death would be too painless for that type of treason. Lucius would probably be his personal torturer. There'd be nowhere to hide, no one to take him in. No safe house, if there was such a thing…

Hogwarts was a safe house. The Dark Lord hadn't touched it yet. Although he had talked about attacking it, he had been doing so since Severus was in the Death Eaters. The situation didn't show any signs of changing. There had never been a discussion to make a plan to attack it. Hogwarts wouldn't go down without a plan. There was no sign of anyone being assigned to make a plan to attack it.

Lucius would be able to visit the school, would be expected to once he made school governor. He'd be able to keep an eye on him. But as long as Severus only answered to Dumbledore, he wouldn't be found out. Lucius was a man of many talents, but being unobtrusive wasn't one of them. The man practically had to have trumpets blare and a drum roll when he entered a room. He wouldn't be able to sneak around Hogwarts, even if he could be quiet about it. When Severus was a student, he often had the uncomfortable feeling that Dumbledore knew everything that went on in his school, with circumstantial evidence presenting itself on several occasions.

If he worked for Dumbledore, there'd be a better chance of him being able to pay his debt to Potter. He could do it only until he'd accomplished this. Dumbledore had said the position could be considered temporary.

He did owe Lucius, though, as much as he hated to admit it. He would have been put into Azkaban several times over if it hadn't been for his efforts. Fine then. He would never give Dumbledore information on Lucius. The old man had to respect that. If he had already thought that Severus might take the position, he must have expected that there would be restrictions on what he would do. And it would pay off any debt that he owed to Lucius.

He felt his stomach relax. He hadn't realized it had tensed up and wondered how long it had been like that. He felt like laughing. He was going to do something and Lucius and his precious Dark Lord would have no idea what he was doing. He was going to be doing something out of their control. He would be able to do something on his own terms. Dumbledore would accept it. The Dark Lord would accept him becoming a professor. He'd love the idea. Probably would be so gleefully salivating over the idea that he wouldn't be suspicious. Lucius wouldn't be so happy to have Severus out from under his thumb, but he would have to accept it because the Dark Lord did.

This time Severus did laugh. As if this was some sort of signal, the owl that had delivered the letter flew down from where it perched on top of his cabinet and landed on a chair. Severus glanced at the blurry writing on the parchment.

"I suppose you're Viola, then," he said to it. The owl hooted. Severus got out a blank piece of parchment and a quill.

Dear Headmaster,

I have carefully weighed the options and have come to the conclusion that it would be in my best interests to accept the offered position. If you feel that any responsibilities should be added to the position, we may discuss them at a later date.

-Sincerely

Severus Snape

The owl took it and flew out the window. She clipped the window frame with one of her wings, and a few feathers fluttered down to the floor.

Severus contemplated his tea, now stone cold. He imagined the next Death Eater meeting, where he would explain to the Dark Lord his ingenious plan of getting close to Dumbledore. The old fool won't have any clue what's going on. You know that he's mostly out of his mind these days. He imagined Lucius's smug look being replaced by one of surprise intermingled with frustration. His lips curled up into a sneer as he contemplated the mental image.

He went over to pick up the feathers. If Lucius saw them he'd want to know from whom he had gotten a letter from. He started to throw them out, but then stopped. There'd be a day not too far away when he wouldn't have to worry about what he had on his person. Severus smoothed out the feathers and put them in the pocket on the inside of his cloak. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost time for dinner. He began to prepare some soup he had left over from the night before, when he had been interrupted by the call to the Death Eater meeting. Reflectively he glanced at his left forearm, where the Dark Mark would turn up sooner or later, and he felt himself grin all the more when he thought again of the scene that would follow its appearance. He pushed at the skin where it would appear. "I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you," he whispered, and then stirred the soup with his wand to reheat it.

--This would be present day Goyle's father, obviously. The same with the Crabbe, and anyone else I may have mentioned.

--I called lunch dinner because for some reason I can't really picture Snape saying "lunch."

A/N: This takes place in the summer before Lily and James's deaths. The way I see it was that Voldemort worked out his plan to kill them after Snape had left for school. He also says in GoF that they wore hoods at the meetings so they never knew who exactly was there. So Snape wouldn't know that Peter was the traitor.

Yes, I know that Fudge is not the Minister of Magic back then, but I didn't mention names. Politicians are pretty much the same when they reach that level of power. I had whoever was minister at the time act like Fudge.