"I looked in on your potions class, Severus." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. "She appears to be handling it rather well."
"She's trying to kill Malfoy, isn't she?"
"Well, I wouldn't say that, exactly-"
"And has she told Dolores to go to hell yet?"
"Again, not quite-"
"Oh yes, and is there a smoking crater where my lab is supposed to be?"
"Severus, that is rather unkind of you." Dumbledore shook a finger at him. "She's better at potions than that. Besides, I'm sure you would have felt the shock, even all the way up here. Only one potion has exploded so far, and for a Mandrake elixir that's very good."
Snape sighed, still a painful process, though rapidly becoming less so. Poppy was a wonder. "So what is she doing?"
"Well, she's got the potion up on the board, and has been answering questions without any trouble. The potions appeared to be coming along nicely by the time I left."
"Yes, other than the one that exploded, of course. Very nice," the younger man snapped, "And the bad news?"
"You are such a pessimist, Severus."
"I'm a realist." Snape rubbed his temples. "Albus, as much as we'd both like to think you're only here to exchange pleasantries . . ."
"Yes, I know." Dumbledore bowed his head and stared at his hands in silence for a moment. "Severus, why didn't you tell me you had been summoned? We could have done something."
"I know, but-"
"But you needed to make sure that they didn't suspect I was helping you. I know. I read your letter, I know that you were trying to prevent help in order to preserve your ruse. And yes, some help would have let the cat out of the bag, but at the very least we could have been waiting at the door for you."
"Yes, but I-"
"No. You very nearly died, boy. You owe your life to that girl. If she hadn't been down there, you would have bled to death, if the nerve damage hadn't finished you off first." Dumbledore adjusted his glasses and looked piercingly at the younger man. "All the information in the world is not worth your life."
"My life? Ha! My life isn't worth a thing. I'm a dirty rotten Death Eater, remember? I'm a thief and a murderer, and an ugly, greasy, cruel, vicious man. Every student in this school would love to hear that I was gone."
"Severus, if you continue to talk that way, I shall have to have Poppy come over here and sedate you." He leant forward in his chair, "And you are quite wrong. I can think of quite a few students who would be absolutely crushed if you had died. And before you ask, no, not all of them are Slytherin. You are not a thief, you are not a murderer. You are actually quite honorable, despite what you've been telling yourself. And even though you ought to work on your people skills a little, I think that rather a lot of us would miss you."
"You're giving me this lecture now because I can't get up and run away, aren't you?"
"Yes, well, I seem to remember you using the exact same tactic on Miss Harper a few weeks back." Dumbledore sighed and reached under his chair to pull out a cloth-wrapped bundle. "I hate to change the subject, Severus, but we have to know what happened at the Dark Revel." The cloth fell away, revealing the silvery glow of the Pensive. "I'm sorry, but you know that this is the only way to get an accurate account."
"I know, Albus. I've done this before." He closed his eyes and lay back on his pillow as Dumbledore carefully placed his wand against his temple. The process was simple, merely the downloading of memories that were dulled by pain or shock. Simple, at least for the one who was downloading the memory. For the owner of the memory, the experience was quite different, much like being hit with the Legimens spell. They relived the memory. Completely. Nothing, not anger, not tears, not even pain was left out. Some preferred to be sedated for such a process, but Snape knew he'd have enough nightmares as is, and felt no desire to start early.
He felt the cool, silvery touch of a thought slip through his skin. He closed his eyes and let himself fall backward into his mind.
"Severus, are you enjoying your drink?" Lucius Malfoy hovered at his elbow, ever the concerned host. "Perhaps I could get you another?"
Snape sneered. "Don't bother, Lucius. I'm afraid that my close proximity to those," He gestured dismissively at the night's entertainment -- a cage of muggles, "has rather ruined my taste for alcohol at the moment. Once they're gone, I'll take you up on your offer."
As Malfoy slithered away, Snape barely restrained a shiver of disgust. How was it that that man could act so normal with a cage of helpless human beings at one shoulder and the most vile wizard known to man at the other? The shiver quickly tuned into a mocking smile. Foolish. The same way that he managed to act totally unconcerned when he knew he was about to die. It was a bloody good thing he hadn't taken Kerri up on her offer, the girl couldn't keep up a pretense to save her life. He frowned. Now was not the time to be thinking of such things.
Despite himself, he found his eyes drawn to the throne at the center of the room. A tall, pale man sat in it, toying with his wand as if it were a knife. He ate nothing, he drank nothing, though a goblet of wine sat at his elbow. Athough the room was brightly lit, it seemed to Snape as though the Dark Lord sat clothed in shadows. Maybe he even produced them himself.
Snape shuddered and turned away, but not soon enough. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Dark Lord smile.
Several hours later, the muggles were gone, the Death Eaters were sated and Snape was worried. Why was he still alive? He has expected to be included in the nights entertainment. Perhaps his fears were unfounded? Glancing coldly and the stained floor, he felt his stomach twist. No. The Dark Revel was still in full force. He was to be . . . special entertainment.
Almost in answer to his thoughts, he found the elder Crabbe and Goyle at his shoulders. Their heavy hands wrapped around his upper arms and spun him around to face the throne in the center of the room. He noted vaguely that their fingers easily spanned the distance around his biceps. In one motion, the two hulks threw Snape at the foot of the throne.
"Hello, Severus." Voldemort tapped his wand against his pallid palm and smiled again.
Snape swallowed. Hard. No, no fear. He climbed to his feet, brushed the dust off his robes and sent withering looks at the two men flanking him before turning his attention to the throne. "My lord?"
"It has come to my attention that you may have some important information for me that you have not been as free with as I would like. Perhaps you would care to tell me? I would hate to have to force you."
With very little effort, he twisted his face into a mask of confusion. "My Lord, I don't understand..."
"For instance," the Dark Lord interrupted, "news about the Muggle-born situation at Hogwarts. Are there any who are forgetting their place? Or tell me what Dumbledore has been up to. Or about the little wench who was assigned to you as a student, hmm?" The tapping wand increased in tempo. "Are you keeping her all to yourself, Severus?"
All at once, he did understand. Voldemort was looking for new prey. And threatening half-bloods and their families were the first on his list. He wanted names of families to terrorize and kill. Maybe not now, but when his power was stronger he would strike.
Snape's mouth went dry and he had to lick his lips several times to force the next words out. "My Lord, I have told you all I know. The muggle-borns are weak, easy prey. The Ministry itself is seeing to that. You need not concern yourself with them. Potter and his lackeys are the only trouble, but that is nothing new. Dumbledore does nothing but grow old. The girl," he sneered, "is worthless. A quivering wreck who can barely operate through her own neuroses. As I have said there is nothing left to tell, let alone use."
The tapping of the wand stopped as it was leveled at him. "I'm afraid I'm having some trouble believing that, Severus."
Oh, God...
The pain wrapped around him, nearly a living thing. It crept its way into every opening, every pore. It was not gentle. It grabbed him and raped him and pulled him inside out, airing his entrails for all to see. His legs gave out and he hit the floor, clawing at it. Nothing could have kept him on his feet. The pain cared nothing for his pride. He heard himself keening like an animal.
"Tell me, Severus," The voice was soft, almost loving, "Tell me and it will all be over. We all know you have something to tell..."
One thought only surfaced in his mind. I can't tell. I'm a teacher, dammit! I will not let more of my students become orphans. On the last bit of honor that remains to me, I swear I will not tell! "My Lord," he whispered through cracked and bitten lips, "I have nothing to tell."
The Dark Lord hissed in annoyance. The wand was leveled at him again. He tried to scream, tried to run. The curse hit him again and he convulsed. Dimly, he was aware of the Dark Lord leaving his throne. Suddenly, cold fingers gripped his chin, forcing his head upwards. He looked into Voldemort's eyes, heard the hissing voice.
"There must be something you wish to tell me? Everyone has a secret. No? Perhaps you will tell me, once the pain has lowered your defenses." The icy touch of a wand against his forehead. No . . . no . . .I can't-!
"Legilimens."
Pain. He felt himself weakening. Pain. Voldemort began digging deeper still into his mind, trying to find proof of his spying. Pain. He saw blood on the floor, he must have bitten through his lip. Pain. He heard the Dark Lord snarl as nothing came to the surface, felt the wand dig into his skin, saw another Death Eater cast the Unforgivable on him. Pain. Pain. Pain fear anger hateblooddeath . . . .
Gone.
He fell to the floor again with a sickening crunch as Voldemort released him. "I suppose you may be telling the truth after all. Perhaps. Take him away. He is of no more use to me at the moment. Do what you wish." A coarse laugh behind him. More hands grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. A fist headed towards his face, a flash of a knife-
Suddenly he was pulling away, the pain vanishing. At first, he thought, mercifully, that he had died. Then, as his muddled brain cleared, he realized that he was lying back in the hospital bed. He unclenched aching fingers, looked up into Dumbledore's concerned face. He was soaked through with sweat, and breathing in great ragged gasps.
After a few moments he managed to croak out, "I hope you soundproofed this area, Albus."
The fact that Poppy hasn't come swooping down and banished me from her sight should prove that point. They are getting crueler, Severus."
"Tell me something I don't know." He began to get his breath back, noting the soreness of his throat. He must have been screaming.
Dumbledore rewrapped the Pensieve, obviously deeply disturbed. "Are you certain that you wish to keep doing this?"
Snape waved a hand in the air. "It doesn't really matter. Either way, I'll eventually end up dead, So what's the point?"
"You eventually end up dead from living. It certainly does matter. I'd rather you not get there sooner than you should." The headmaster's voice was gentle. "You've gone thorough more pain in your forty years of life than most people do in a hundred. You don't need to go through any more."
Snape frowned. "And my students...? I have to make amends for the pain I've caused. For the sorrow. For the deaths. This is the only way I can." He looked up, eyes suddenly fierce, "It's the only way I can live with myself! The only way..." He trailed off and closed his eyes. "The only way..." he whispered.
A hand rested on his forehead. "Get some sleep, Severus. I'll get Poppy to give you a potion."
Snape just lay there as the hand was removed.
Dumbledore rose, and slipped out of the curtains. He motioned to Madame Pomfrey, who nodded and went to fetch the dreamless sleep potion. It was dangerous, but just this once was fine. Just this once.
As he left the infirmary, the headmaster slipped a hand into his robes, pulling our a crumpled piece of parchment. He smoothed it out and once again, read the postscript of Snape's letter.
P.S. Albus, please, make sure nothing happens to Miss Harper.