By Christine Pierson
Disclaimers: The universe and characters of Harry Potter are not mine, they belong to JKR. Neither do I own any of the concepts of the movie Underworld. I do not intend to make any money with this story, it's purely for entertainment value.
Author's note: This is the first time I am writing a story in this fandom and also the first story after a long pause of writing. With this I have picked up an old tradition of my sister and me: giving each other stories as birthday presents. We have broken it off for some time because of being too much in university stress. So: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIS!
Thanks to: My sister Cassandra Pierson for without her this story would have never been created much less posted here. I also wish to thank her for being my beta.
Chapter 1: The Mission
Glaring at the word in general, the people around him and especially the rutty, little pincher continuously trying to sniff up his leg, Severus Snape thundered down a street in the muggle city of Caen in France. After several useless tries of dislodging the pest in a civil way – walking faster, dodging and even shooing – it was still high on his heels, despite the now near desperate cries of its owner, an elderly lady, waving frantically several meters behind him.
Finally at the end of his almost non-existing patience he went on to a more effective of taking care of his problem. Whack. Snape watched with satisfaction as the yowling dog scurried away thanks to a well aimed kick with a metal capped boot. Perhaps there was even a tiny grain of truth in Voldemort's view of the world: Only inferior beings could keep such stupid creatures. Although thinking of the mangy rat the Weasley boys had owned – perhaps not. There was just no accounting for taste, be it in the muggle or wizarding community.
Looking ahead morosely he stifled the urge to rant at the powers to be for landing him in this situation. And the week had started out so well! No dreams about his 'Snakey Highness'. His spiteful mirror had for once refrained from commenting on his looks. Snape knew he wasn't a particular morning person but hearing every time he got up how absolutely loathsome he looked didn't improve his mood. And he couldn't get rid of that piece of junk either because it had been a present from the headmaster.
Then breakfast had arrived without a from happiness overflowing house-elf wanting to cheer him up. He had almost been in high spirits. Not even the arrival of the phoenix Fawkes bearing a letter from Dumbledore containing an invitation for tea could penetrate his absent gloom.
After a morning of fruitful experimentations in his lab – he had finally optimised the brewing procedure for the Wolfsbane potion - Snape had left the dungeons, almost humming a tune. Though as he reached Dumbledore's quarters he schooled his face back into his usual scowl. It simply wouldn't do to let anyone see him another way. He then knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.
Looking around Severus took in the outline of the room. It always differed from visit to visit, changing on its occupant's whims. Today it seemed rather small and dusty, which wasn't helped by the hundreds of books and trinkets stacked on shelves or lying around in disarray on the floor. The man himself was sitting behind an enormous oak desk almost hidden behind a pile of ancient looking tomes.
'Hello Severus, how was your day?' Dumbledore greeted him, looking up from the scroll he was reading. His eyes were twinkling in his patented devilishly – Snape had dubbed it – way.
'Fine,' the former Death Eater replied, while nodding his head. It was always a good advise to stick to short answers with the old wizard lest your words were turned around in your own mouth.
Putting the paper aside Dumbledore started to search his closer surrounding, leaving it in an even greater disorder. He finally procured a bowl of glass filled with yellow bonbons from under a floating quill-holder. Holding it out to Severus the expected follow-up arrived, 'Lemon drop?'
'Why yes, thank you,' Snape said and reached for one of the sweets. He had to suppress the smirk trying to steel itself on his face as the twinkle was shortly interrupted by an expression of utter astonishment. It would help him over many a lost 'discussions' between the two of them. It was even worth the gruesome taste that started to spread on his gums after popping the bonbon into his mouth. There were not many things that could surprise the headmaster but from time to time Snape managed to break through the old man's composure. Though these moments were always short-lived and too much time passed between them.
Getting up from behind his desk Dumbledore walked over to Severus and with a swish of his wand he transfigured the heavy wooden object into a tea table with two chairs. Another movement and 2 cups appeared out of thin air. 'Darjeeling, I presume,' he said and with glee Snape noticed the small note of insecurity in his voice.
As much as the Potions Teacher liked his opposite he treasured the clashing of wits. And he knew that Dumbledore enjoyed the challenge as well. Especially as in the end the old man would win, one way or another. But sometimes, like today, Snape would get him, upping his score to 23 against the headmaster's 249.
Sighing inwardly he shook his head. Snape just wasn't playing in the same league. But he didn't envy Dumbledore his life either. He could never do the things the other one had to face daily. Always in the eye of the public, no private life to speak of, responsibility for hundreds of people and having to make decisions that were essential for the continuing existence of the wizard and muggle world. No, he was definitely satisfied with just having an effect on his life, the few people around him and the one student or other.
'I think you have stirred your tea long enough now, Severus, especially as you didn't put any sugar in it.' The headmaster's voice startled him out of his reverie. Damn. The twinkle was back twice in size. 250. He should know better than to wool-gather in the headmaster's presence, he berated himself.
Changing the topic and stirring the attention away from his blunder the Potions Teacher lay down his spoon and asked, 'So, what is the reason for the meeting? Not just a mere social call, I presume.'
Intent on not making the same mistake a second time Severus Snape observed the other man, not missing the deep lines of worry that were now chiselled on Dumbledore's face. For a moment he looked really old, which in turn sent a peculiar feeling to Severus' guts.
'No, as much as one could wish, Merlin doesn't seem to grant us the time for that. It's harder than ever now . . ' He sighed.
Silence hung in the air. Ever, or better 4 years because it had been 4 years now since the fateful day as the boy-who-lived had become the boy-who-died. He hadn't wished Harry to end like that. He hadn't wished for his death, period. The boy had been needed, if not for his skills then as an icon of hope for the wizarding world. A symbol that had died together with a bright and promising student.
Inwardly Snape had never disliked Harry. True, at first he had been blinded by the fact that he was Jame's son and treated him accordingly. But as term after term flew by he had glimpsed more and more of the kind soul behind the scar and his own behaviour had turned into an act. An act he had kept until that Hogsmead weekend. Oh, it had been an all too non-dramatic scene, the final death of the boy who had defied the reaper man time and time again. One would expect a great battle, heroics, hexes and curses flying around. But no, all it took was a fast acting poison and a Potions Master who had been too slow to come up with an antidote. He had set at the bedside of the comatose boy pouring out his heart, knowing that Harry would never be able to comprehend his words. He had stayed there as long as he had dared to leave his lab where the cure was being brewed – too late. He remembered quite clearly how Dumbledore had come into his room in the dungeons, face drawn, shaking his head. He had known what it meant at once. And for the first time in his life he had seen the headmaster fall apart. He didn't remember what happened afterwards, the next thing he could recall was that they were both weeping in each other's arms.
'Much harder than ever.' The words snapped the Potions Master back into the present. 'And that's why I have called you here. We must unite our forces if we want to win against Voldemort's increasing power. The agents of the Order of the Phoenix are not enough even with the recent help of the aurors. For that alone I can't say that I feel pity for Fudge's demise.'
A weary sigh interrupted the old man's narrative, while Snape nodded thoughtfully at the last statement. It had been quite some kind of irony that the former Minister of Magic had been killed by a terrorist attack of a squad of Death Eaters against the ministry building. Killed by the same people whose existence he had denied for so long. The man had been an idiot and his narrow point of view had cost them their greatest advantage: the right time to fight, before Voldemort had gained all of his former power. At least the new Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley, had more foresight. His first act after being elected had been to mobilize the aurors and organize a cooperation with the Order.
'The war has already spilled over to the other countries of Europe and there are rumours of some activities in America. People of different nations live in fear of being the next victims of Voldemort's lackeys. Arthur has already started to negotiate with most of Europe's ministers and there's information exchange as well as teamwork between the governments' strike forces. But still we are losing more people than the other side, and not all of them as casualties.'
Again Severus Snape agreed with the other's assessment. A lot of wizards and witches were changing sides, not because of actually believing Voldemort's lies but for safety reasons. Especially those with families would do everything to keep their loved one's out of harm's way, even if it meant to go against their conscience.
'This leads me to why I called you here. I want us to establish contact with the other nation's covert ops groups. And I have chosen you as our representative to go to France. We have already established contact with their equivalent of the Order of the Phoenix, the Croc de Lion, or Lion's Fang, and they have provided us with knowledge of a group of individuals that could help us with our cause. They are actually splinter-group of their order. I want you to go to Caen, a small city in the north of France where they are allegedly located and win them over.'
Snape had to blink, took a breath, then blinked again. That had been a lot of information – and up to point – from the man who normally used to talk in riddles. A sure sign of how dire the situation was. Ordering his thoughts he again went through the monologue. Of course the Potions Professor had been aware of the official inter-nation-anti-Voldemort movement. It had been discussed at full length at the last Order's meeting. But this secret organization network was new and he had never seen himself involved in those matters anyway. He was an undercover spy, not an operative.
Voicing his doubts he replied, 'But what of my position in Voldemort's inner circle?'
An almost defeated expression crossed Dumbledore's face, giving the man a touch of frailness that sent chills down Snape's spine and at the same time stroke a protective streak deep within his heart.
'When was the last time you brought home any useful information?' he asked, locking eyes with Severus.
Snape's heart almost missed a beat as the wheels in his head started to spin at high speed. He knew at what the headmaster was playing at. The idea had crossed his mind as well but he had dismissed it as his usual pessimism. Though when even Dumbledore had noticed . . .
'He knows, doesn't he?' his own voice sounded hollow in his ears.
'I fear so my child. At least he strongly suspects you to spy for me. But he still seems to see you as useful, as long as nothing of importance gets to you in his court you are no threat to him. You surely must have come to the same conclusions.'
Leaving the end of the sentence hanging in the air he took a sip of his tea and reached for a cookie, a plate of which had magically appeared during their talk. Absently Snape followed his example, his mind still reeling from the confirmation of one of his worst fears. So much work, hardships and time down the drain. He was suddenly left with nothing, the ground having dropped away from under his feet. His usefulness had finally expired and the only thing that repeated itself in his head was, well fuck.
With the intake of sugar some of the cheerfulness had come back to the headmaster because a patronizing smile was directed at Severus. 'Don't beat yourself up, my child. You are still a valuable member of the Order. You're one of the brightest people I know, able to adapt to any situation and a Potions Master to boot. One of those qualities you would think enough in every other person. You were always stricter with yourself than anybody else.'
The words had broken Snape's thoughts out of their loop. As always the headmaster had read him perfectly right. Damn, he just knew him too well. Him and the rest of the wizarding world, Severus conceded. Just how was he able to do that? Surely he couldn't be telepathic. There had to be some kind of trick, or perhaps a spell ...
Realizing that he had watched Dumbledore's pet phoenix grooming his feathers while thinking for the last few minutes Severus fixed the headmaster once more and was astounded at the change that had come over the man. No longer was any of the worry visible in his composure, which made him look younger for at least 10 or 100 years. It was really hard not to like the wily old wizard.
This was not the time for contemplations or self repercussions. As the headmaster had stated he had other talents and now a new mission. But it wasn't easy to let the past go. Most of his life had been devoted to infiltrate Voldemort's court. It felt strange to have other duties all of a sudden.
Though he was a pragmatist and as such he'd move on. 'So I will go to Caen. Who'll provide me with the necessary information and is there any person I can get in contact with when I have arrived?'
Beaming like ten dragon's fires the twinkle returned to Dumbledore's eyes. Oh, oh. He wouldn't like the answer. No, Severus Snape wouldn't like it at all. 'Well, actually there'll be 2 old acquaintances of yours. Hermione Granger will fill you in and Ronald Weasley will be your contact. He'll be staying in Paris. They are engaged now, did you know that? Who would have thought? They always seemed to quarrel.'
Drowning out the rest of the headmaster's chit chat Snape repressed a sigh. He could live with the Granger girl, bright young witch that she was, just a little bit on the bossy side. But Weasley? That was one catastrophe waiting to happen. He really hoped one year of auror training had managed to stamp out the boy's foolish behaviour. He needed someone thinking with his actual brain, not his stomach or hormones.