Disclaimer: Most of the characters and settings of this fic entirely belong to JK Rowling

NB: I've enabled anonymous reviews (I didn't even know they were disabled! It's the story of my life: I don't realise a half of the things that happen to me.)so, now, you don't need to log in to review(which was, of course, the only reason why did not, euh...?)

4. A hardly satisfying conversation

"We had a hell of a fun!" shouted Bellatrix when she saw him. "We were twenty to ten! Ha! They just managed to wound Marcellus and Malfoy and I have several scratches but we got them! The Lebedev-man's wife was here. You should have seen her face when she discovered the truth about her dear husband: turned so pale, and trembling, and snivelling: "Oh! How could you! Betray your friends! The Ministry!" and he was like "It was for our daughter's sake, I love you, Bladida, Bladida…" Enough to make you sick. So, we had to get rid of him. I am quite glad, he was getting on my nerves, always asking for guarantees! One doesn't haggle with the Dark Lord! (especially when "one" is a Muggle-born!) That quivering, maudlin hip of slimy gits! We're going to crush them all, despicable Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers!"

Her eyes blazed with wild excitement and she was nearly choking as she recollected with an evident, even sensual pleasure the events of the previous night. He had to admit to the fact that she was uncommonly beautiful right now, in her fit of mad fanaticism but he was as much repelled by it as he once used to be bewildered. However, he managed to look enthusiastic and to ask for details: now that he knew on whose side he was, and what he had to do, he was ready to stand anything, even to touch Bellatrix again, to lie, to feign, to pretend, even in front of the Dark Lord. He felt strong and invulnerable.

"Still, I can't understand why you didn't come." she said suddenly, scrutinising him suspiciously.

"Oh come on, Bellatrix", he crooned, embracing her waist and drawing her towards him. "You know I had to meet Dumbledore. On Master's approval, mind."

"And so? Did he rise to the bait?"

"Oh yes, he did!" Snape gave a Machiavellian smile. "I performed my little piece about the errors of youth and sincere repentance and, then, I am very good at potion-making and he lacks teachers: he engaged me, which, unfortunately, means," he softly drew a lock from her forehead. "…that I'll have to go to Hogwarts."

Gracious Goodness, how fortunate it was!

She looked at him gravely.

"If I didn't have the Master, I would be miserable but I know that we are fighting for a noble cause and no personal considerations may be placed above it. Meanwhile…" She seized him by the neck, drew his head down towards her and her mouth caught his lips impatiently.

Indeed, he had been to Dumbledore and plainly said that he was supposed to infiltrate Hogwarts as Voldemort's mole but that he was ready to do just the contrary. Dumbledore asked his reasons and Snape told him everything, he told him about the girl's eyes, he told him with the impetuosity and the pomposity of youth that, given what he had done, there was no possible redemption, no future for him anymore, that he was a dead man and that Dumbledore had now his person and his very life at his disposal. His position by the Dark Lord would be an exceptional opportunity for the Ministry as well as for the Headmaster himself, so that his life wouldn't be a complete waste.

Afterwards, he realised he had never been as sincere as he had been on that evening and regretted having been so uselessly expansive. Dumbledore's eyes behind his half-moon spectacles were unfathomable: may he have despised or mistrusted the twenty-years old young man sitting in front of him, there was no disdain or suspicion in those eyes. He refused him the DADA-teacher job but gave him Potions and accepted his collaboration as a spy. Snape thought that he could have achieved the same result without having told to the Headmaster the half of his biography and, since that evening, had always felt strangely uneasy in his presence, just like people generally feel in the presence of a person who knows an embarrassing thing about them.

Just as she was reaching the corridor leading towards Dumbledore's office, Sophia realized she had no idea of the password and felt very stupid. However, a strange surge kept pushing her towards the Headmaster's office-door. She suddenly heard soft paces in her back; she turned her head and was astonished at finding behind her the very person that she had been looking for.

"Good Evening, Miss Lebedev," the Headmaster nodded at her with a smile. "I suppose, you wanted to talk to me, didn't you? My fondness of solitaryevening walks around the castle turns out very fortunate since, I believe, you don't know the password. Apple Pie!"the gargoyle jumped aside, the stone wall behind split open and he invited her with a wave of his hand to ascend the staircase.

The study was dimly lit and silent. The portraits of Hogwarts' former headmasters and mistresses were all by now peacefully dozing in their heavy gilded frames.

"Please, Miss Lebedev, take a sit."

"Headmaster, I am sorry to disturb you, I know it is quite late" muttered Sophia, sitting down on a crimson velvet-covered chair. "but I just had to talk to somebody about…"

"Your father…" It was half a question and half a statement. Did he read her mind? "Very good. I knew you would come, one day or another. It was about time."

"Well, I have always been told that my father…, and Mum were murdered by Death Eaters."

"Indeed, they were."

"But I recently found out that I didn't really know the whole truth…" as he didn't seem willing to tell anything, she went on. "…and I wrote to my Grandmother, and she answered me that…that…" She had a lump in her throat and realised she couldn't carry on. She didn't imagine it would be that difficult.

"She answered you that your father, Alexandre Lebedev, a widely-respected wizard, devoted to the Ministry, worked as a spy for You-know-who and that he was the person who gave the Death Eaters information about that meeting during which he and your mother were killed."

"Yes. They didn't even keep their promise to let him go." She added, full of bitter resentment.

"Well, I am afraid, contracting with Death Eaters is quite risky."

"And my Mum, she was not supposed to go, of course, but, at the last, she went. That would explain why they were obliged to get rid of him. But, maybe, if she had stayed, they both would have been alive now!" she felt that she couldn't go on without bursting into tears. Dumbledore got up and paced slowly towards the window.

"Yes, they would have been alive now; and you mother would have been very, VERY upset about what Alexandre had done. She loved your father dearly. And worshipped him in compensation to all those who didn't because he wasn't a "pure". Why didn't it suffice him?" There was a pang of painful regret in Dumbledore's voice.

"Anyway," he came back to her and put his wrinkled hand on her shoulder. "What you have to remember, Miss Lebedev, is that you never knows how you would act in such a situation, what choices you would make. And, since we're all human, we sometimes make the wrong ones." He sighed. "I can imagine how difficult it must be for you, but you don't chose your parents and you mustn't blush because of what your father did.

"I know. Still, I can't disown him! And it is all so hard! It is as if all the memories I've got about him were to be rotten away by what he did. I mean, he is still my father and I still love him but it will never be the same. My parents used to be something sacred to me: they had no defects and never were wrong (well, it was easy since they were dead!) and now I see it is not exactly true."

"Dear Miss Lebedev, it is perfectly normal. As you say it, the fact you do not approve of what your father did, doesn't mean you don't love him anymore. Just think that you are to face life alone now and make your own choices."

"Yes, I know." Sophia replied tiredly. "I'd better learn from my parents' mistakes."

"Oh no!" Dumbledore laughed softly. "I gave up telling students to learn from the mistakes of others: it never works! Still, with your intelligence, your sedulity and, above all, your heart, you're pretty well armed to face life, I daresay."

"Sir, I just wandered: how do the Ministry, and my Grandmother, and... you know that my father was the person who… I mean, the Death Eaters had killed all the people who attended that meeting, hadn't they?

"Indeed, nobody survived. This piece of information was given us by a person who... used to be a Death Eater."

Suddenly, Sophia heard herself asking:

"Was that man Professor Snape?"

Dumbledore seemed a little bit taken aback.

"Why would it be Professor Snape, Miss Lebedev?"

It was easier to tell the truth.

"Well, I found out that Professor Snape used to be a Death Eater and that he then turned spy."

Dumbledore was fixing her intently.

"And, pray tell me, how did you "find out"?"

"Two years ago, I worked in the record-section of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with Helen Bennet (her uncle works there) and I came upon the summary of Professor Snape's judgement."

"You "came upon"?" Dumbledore's spectacles sparkled ironically.

"More precisely, I meant to take profit of the occasion to find something about my parents' murder but, in their file, it only said that the murderers were unknown and there was nothing about my father's betrayal."

"Well, your father had a key-position at the International Magic Co-operation Department and was considered as one of the best elements as well as one of the front-line fighters against the Dark Forces. The Ministry trusted him. So, when it turned out that he, well, had contacts with the Enemy, it would have brought a great discredit on the Ministry as soon as the whole case would become publicly known: people would become aware of the fact that the Ministry didn't even manage to control its own members properly! Thus, the matter was just closed for lack of information although that person also knew the names of several Death Eaters bound to have committed the murder."

"Yes" said Sophia dully. "because if the Ministry had caught and tried them, they would have seized the occasion to proclaim out loud that it was the Ministry itself that was responsible for those deaths because it hadn't manage to detect a spy among its own employees. It would have been a great occasion to show how the Ministry was week and how You-know-who was powerful. In a case where the Ministry's prestige was at stake, finding the culprits must have been very secondary!"

Dumbledore nodded silently. She suddenly realised that he hadn't answered her question about Snape.

"Headmaster, do you know if Professor Snape was among those Death Eaters, those who killed my parents and the other people at that meeting?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Miss Lebedev," uttered he after what seemed to be an eternity. "I don't know why you...keep asking me questions about your Potions-teacher (here, she blushed heavily) and it is certainly none of my business. As it seems important to you, I'll give you an answer. I may swear that Severus Snape… that Professor Snape was not among them on that night."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because the very evening, he was in this same office, sitting exactly where you sit now. Will this do?"

"Yes." Sophia gasped. She could hear her heart beating somewhere in her throat so loudly, that she feared Dumbledore would hear it too.

"He gave you detention last week, I understand." he asked distractedly, taking off his spectacles and rubbing them with a pleat of his robes. "The scoop of the week!" he went on in a playful tone, putting his spectacles on again. "People just aren't used to it, you know."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Your position is difficult: it is much easier to get on top than to keep there, isn't it? And all those people waiting for you to stumble."

She nodded silently.

"Professor Snape is very demanding…" he said out of the blue.

"Indeed, he is," she replied in a nearly ironical tone that, she felt, was quite inappropriate.

"But you got an "Outstanding"-OWL in Potions, and so did, I believe, a lot of others. Thus, his methods are efficient, I presume"

His eyes bored into her and she suddenly felt uneasy.

"You know, Miss Lebedev," he leant back in his chair and crossed his arms with a deep sigh. "Professor Snape is a… complicated sort of person, although, at first sight, he seems quite easy to size up, especially when one doesn't bother analysing him further, which is the case of most of the people who deal with him, but not yours, I think. You can be sure that I do not always agree with his teaching-methods, of course. HOWEVER, all this isn't as easy as it seems."

"I know," said Sophia quickly.

"As far as you are concerned, I am quite sure he doesn't dislike you as much as it may seem to you…"

Sophia's hands twisted frantically a tail of her robes.

"…and, in my opinion, YOU do not loathe him as much as you think you do or, at least, as much as you think you should do. I know what you've been thinking, Miss Lebedev," he bent towards her across the table with a friendly smile. "he is a former Death Eater and your parents were killed by Death Eaters; thus, you have to hate him, you owe it to your dead parents; it is as evident as two and two make four! At least, it used to be, whereas now, it is not."

Sophia didn't know what to answer.

"Oh, come on, Miss Lebedev, I am not suggesting you to found a Professor Snape fan-club but just to reflect on this subject, calmly, objectively, will you?"

"Yes, Headmaster." She stood up. "Thank you very much. I'd better go to bed now. I hope I didn't take too much of your time."

"Not at all." he simply answered. You'll be always welcome here, Miss Lebedev, mind it."

"Thank you." She said warmly again.