Oh yes, Conscience
By OnyxDawn
Summary: Albus Dumbledore somehow managed to shove a conscience down Severus Snape's throat. Snape isn't too happy about it, but there isn't much he can do.
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Severus Snape's black cloak billowed behind him as he stormed down the Hogwarts Corridor, lips curled into a trademark Slytherin sneer and hair just as greasy as it had been since his youth. He passed Madam Pomfrey's intern and snarled, causing her to jump out of the way like a frightened cat. After placing his life in the hands of this old coot, he expected praise. Instead of serving the Dark Lord as he was most inclined to do, he had offered his services as spy against everything he had ever believed in.
If Dumbledore didn't appreciate this, then so help him, God, he would pay. Snape's footsteps seemed to match his temper, short and curt and quickly running out of space as he approached the stone gargoyle that led to Dumbledore's office. "Humbug," Snape growled at the statue, and it jumped out of the way. He stormed up the steps and didn't bother knocking on the wooden door. Dumbledore expected him.
The Headmaster was sitting at his desk, writing something on a piece of battered parchment when Snape burst in. He looked up, blue eyes twinkling, and nodded towards a chair. "Sit, Severus," he said, and it sounded for all the world like a request, but Severus knew it wasn't. This man was just like the Dark Lord, only sneakier and quieter about it. This was why Snape would have preferred working for him. Dumbledore was more of a Slytherin than Voldemort would ever be (in some ways). "Peppermint?"
Snape snarled, jerking his head slightly to the side in disgust as Dumbledore held out a can of sugar-coated things. Cut to the chase, old man, I haven't got all day. "I was under the impression that this was an interview, Headmaster, I am here to talk to you about my possible post as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor." Defence? Please. His voice was curt, to the point, and indicated that he wouldn't accept any nonsense.
Either Dumbledore was daft, or he enjoyed rubbing salt on Snape's wounded pride. Severus was betting on the latter. "Ah, yes, about that," said the Headmaster slowly, and Snape could have sworn there was a twinkle in his voice, "To be frank, I can hardly allow you that position at this school, it has been filled by a more experienced Professor." Liar, Snape wanted to hiss at the man. His left eye twitched, but otherwise he showed no emotion. Nodding his head slightly, he muttered something about understanding.
Damn right he understood. Dumbledore might have well as stood up and shouted to the world, "No, Severus, I cannot grant you the position as Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor because it might tempt you to your wicked ways of old!" But he would never do anything so intelligent. Snape could tell that the next few years would be laced with lies and deceit, as both of them pulled strings and cards that had been previously thought well-guarded.
"Then why," Snape said, his voice cool, calm and collected; reflecting what he felt, "Did you invite me here today? I have better things I could be doing with my time." He'd known Dumbledore wouldn't accept his offer. He'd known before he even thought about coming back to Hogwarts to teach. On the Dark Lord's orders, please - not even Dumbledore was that stupid. "You do have a heart;" the man had said once, "you just need to find it." Even Snape had to admit that he had a conscience of sorts.
"Ah," Dumbledore said, taking his sweet time as he picked out a slightly deformed peppermint and popped it into his mouth. "I fear that I have found myself short of yet another staff member this year. You see, with Professor Slughorn retired, Hogwarts has found itself without a Potions Master. And, if I do remember correctly, you are the perfect candidate for such a position. Woul you consider?"
Is my hair black? Snape nodded curtly, knowing he had no other choice. "Of course, sir," he said, allowing a hint of disappointment. Although there really was no room for him to feel disappointed; he had expected being rejected. He would try again next year, and the year after, and try though he might, Dumbledore would never trust him. Why am I spying, again? Snape thought bitterly. Oh yes, conscience. Damn it all.
"There is no need," said Dumbledore, "to call me by such titles. I am Albus to you, Severus." He twinkled. Damn him. Of course he wouldn't bother to ask to call me Severus, he just assumes it. Everything's mutual in his perfect little world. Snape nodded again, and then realized just how very much he had been nodding in the old man's presence, like a fool; a little pet.
"Have fun playing Dumbledore's pet," Bella jeered.
"Have fun playing the Dark Lord's whore," Snape retorted. And for it he earned three minutes under the Cruciatus.
Snape sneered. Dumbledore chuckled.
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Fifteen years later
The mark had been burning consistently for the past six months. Snape had been wavering for the past three weeks. It had been so easy to work as Dumbledore's pet before, when the threat of torture had actually meant something to him. But for fifteen years following his conscience had gotten him nowhere; Dumbledore still didn't trust him completely (no matter what he said to the others) and…Voldemort was most definitely returning.
After his little discussion with Karkaroff, Snape was careful to play his cards correctly. Something was definitely going on, and he didn't want to miss out on his chance to live. When Potter disappeared from the Triwizard Tournament, Snape knew this was it. The Dark Lord was returning, and Snape was put on the spot. He had three choices. He could return to his old master, but remain a spy for Dumbledore. He could return to his old master and devote his loyalties to what he belonged to: The Dark Arts. Or he could stay at Hogwarts.
The last one was off the list immediately. Snape knew he could gain the Dark Lord's trust, he simply wasn't sure whether or not he would deserve that trust. Some dying, bitter part of his soul told him that working for Dumbledore was the right thing. But Dumbledore had never trusted him to begin with. I do not think you should take the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Severus, it might tempt you. He had never said the words outright, but they were always there, a painful undercurrent to the situation at hand.
His story planned out, his actions thought through, Snape stood in his office, two hours after learning of the Dark Lord's return, and stared at the glowing mark on his forearm. Dumbledore had just ordered Severus to return to his old master; somehow Snape's plans had worked out perfectly. But there was always the nagging of his conscience, granted to him by the love of his mother. I am the Half-Blood Prince, he thought, and though he was hardly capable of sorrow anymore, he felt the bitter twinge of regret. He wanted to serve the Dark Lord. He wanted to forget about everything.
And Dumbledore's refusal to trust him spawned that desire to serve at the feet of the great wizard who would become the most powerful to ever live. Someday, Snape knew, he would get his revenge for the conscience the old man had shoved down his throat sometime in his early twenties. But for today, Severus would play his part.
Dumbledore's pet through and through.
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AN: I'm pretty pleased with the way that turned out. I think I characterized both Dumbledore and Snape rather well. I would like to write the scene that takes place in HBP, when Severus finally damns his conscience, but I haven't the heart to write what I believe is true. Because I still wish with all of my heart that Snape was a good man. -le sigh- Oh well. Tell me what you think, please!
Edit: Okay, I've gone through and edited a few things, changed a line here and there. Hopefully it's a bit less confusing now. I'm still not sure about the second part, but I'll get it eventually.