Finished 18 December 2005

Crash

When Lord Voldemort starts dinner with 'Ladies and gentlemen, I have good news for you,' Severus thought, bitterly, you just know it's going to be a long evening.

He surveyed the situation. It could almost have passed for a regular dinner party but for the faint tinge of nervousness, the smell of wet moss and sweat that seemed now to come from everywhere.

And of course if he actually looked at the guests, one of whom was a hulking figure with a name nobody except the Dark Lord could pronounce, all gutturals and aspirants, Krughug or something similar; and another which was even worse.

Something pretending to be human.

He made a mental note to tell Lucius later how impressed he was: nothing fazes you aristocratic types, does it? There'd been half a second of absolute shock and Avery had whispered, emotionally, "Merlin's beard, it's a giant," but half a second was all there'd been, and good breeding had done the rest. Avery was even now trying to make up for his error; Severus could hear him trying to converse with the creature Voldemort had introduced as the leader of the giants. "Romania," he was saying, nervously, "is a very foresty place, isn't it? Lots of... well, trees and... and other trees..."

He'd receive no answer, Severus saw that. The giant was too busy concentrating on the very fine dinner Crabbe had supplied.

Giants and werewolves. Our new allies. Severus shut his eyes momentarily, sipping at his wine. When he opened his eyes again the scene remained unchanged. Damn it. He'd been hoping that it was some kind of hallucination; wizarding aristocracy hated the half-breeds, surely everyone knew that. There was no way this could be happening.

"Severus, isn't it?" said a voice behind him, mangling his name slightly. It wasn't a name, Severus reflected, that somebody who seemed to have far too many teeth could pronounce easily.

Severus turned, expression carefully neutral, to look at Fenrir Greyback. "Yes?"

The werewolf gave the impression of uncomfortably feral power, even in human form. Severus personally preferred the giant with the unpronounceable name; Fenrir Greyback struck him as somehow obscene.

"You were in the same year as Remus Lupin, weren't you?" Greyback looked hungry, eager. "Tell me what he's grown up to be like. He was one of mine, you know."

One of –

Severus blinked. Greyback had sounded for all the world like a proud parent. For a moment he wondered if the two were related and then, with a sick lurch in his gut, understood. "Lupin was a Gryffindor," he finally replied, curtly.

Greyback actually looked crestfallen for a second, then vaguely hopeful. "Not pretending?"

Severus thought about Lupin, pale, thin, brown-haired, hopelessly spoilt by the faculty, by his friends. Lupin was a lot of things. One thing he wasn't was Fenrir Greyback. "I doubt it."

"Traitor," Greyback said under his breath, his expression darkening. "Bloody disgrace."

Severus dragged up what he knew of Remus Lupin. Bitten at age five. Almost died. Would probably have been dead ten years now but for Albus Dumbledore. Greyback had caused that; Greyback was standing with him now, toweringly angry that Lupin had failed to meet expectations. Failed to be – what? A double agent?

Like me.

Avery had given up on the giant, Severus noticed in the periphery of his vision. The man was sidling uncertainly towards Greyback and himself. "I won't interrupt you," Severus said, quickly, with a mildness he didn't feel.

He retreated, listening dispassionately as Avery spoke to the werewolf. There was a man whom Avery suspected of not cooperating fully; he had a son and two daughters, could Greyback offer a little assistance in the matter?

He could hear Greyback leering as he asked how old the children were.

Severus continued listening, less dispassionate now, and then tried to stop listening.

After another hour and several more overheard conversations he excused himself, politely, so that he could throw up in Malfoy Manor.

--

Lucius Malfoy appeared roughly half an hour later. Severus opened his eyes. Of late he'd been spending more and more time here. Ever since Lucius had let him use his home to collect himself before he returned to Hogwarts, the amount of time he needed had ballooned from a couple of minutes to nearly an hour.

It could always be worse, Severus told himself. It had been worse when Voldemort and Dumbledore were both teaching him Occlumency. Nobody really knew if Dumbledore could read minds, but Severus had to admit that it'd explain a lot if the old man could.

It had been as though they were fighting their war in his head. That was when Lucius had changed Malfoy Manor's security to let Severus in whenever he needed to.

"Better?" Lucius asked, not unkindly.

"Killing children, Lucius," Severus heard himself say, flatly.

Lucius had the decency to grimace. "I don't like it either, if that helps." He loosened his tie, breathing deeply. "Good grief, I think I've lost my sense of smell. You'd think Greyback at least could have taken a bath."

Severus shut his eyes again. Lucius clearly thought that the matter was tangential. Severus didn't like children, but there were some things that were beneath his pride, and being responsible for the murder of children was one of them.

Murdering children had only been part of what he had overheard.

Pride. Suddenly you have such a lot of pride? Who heard Sybill Trelawney predict the fall of the Dark Lord and let the information fall into Voldemort's hands?

He should have kept it to himself. Severus had been loyal to Voldemort at one point; now he didn't know where his loyalty lay. But it had been beyond his control to keep Voldemort from finding out; there had been a meeting almost directly afterwards, he knew he could have packed it neatly out of reach in his mind, if only there'd been time –

Excuses, excuses. And now Voldemort's already making plans to kill some poor sod that isn't even bloody born yet.

Trelawney seemed like a hack, now that she'd entered Hogwarts. Severus was dutifully making sure Voldemort knew this, in case it would cause him to change his mind. He personally doubted it.

"Water, Severus?" Lucius asked, from somewhere in the room. Severus nodded, weakly, and then winced as Lucius Malfoy raised his voice to call for Dobby.

When had Lucius become so unreachable? Don't you understand what it means, Severus wanted to yell at him, Voldemort won't give the giants their freedom. He won't give the werewolves anything. He'll make sure all of you are willing to die for him, and then he'll break his promises.

But likely as not Lucius would tell Voldemort. Severus didn't think he would, but he couldn't risk it. Bellatrix Black had seemed stable and sane, too, before she'd become a Death Eater.

The water arrived. Severus accepted it and sipped, gratefully. Lucius sat, watching him intently. "What did you think of those two?"

"The giants are nothing but brute strength. Greyback is – " Severus searched for the appropriate words. "Greyback is a sick monster."

"Yes, but usefully so." Lucius sighed, softly. "We have to win, Severus."

The wizarding aristocracy had risked everything they had, Severus realised. Lucius Malfoy didn't care if they won the war with the help of half-breeds, didn't care what they had to do to win. The alternative was losing, and Lucius had too much to lose. Narcissa was pregnant. Lucius would be a father soon.

And the implication of the word 'we' was clear. Severus was in on this, Severus had chosen their side, whether or not he believed in their cause, and now he would help them win.

No matter what.

--

He was sixteen again, in the tunnel under the Shrieking Shack. A huge dusky wolf was standing over him, smiling Fenrir Greyback's smile and saying, "He's one of mine, you know," like a proud parent.

And then it tore Severus' throat out.

Severus fell off his bed in a tangle of sheets.

Now would be a good time to go to Dumbledore's office, shivering with guilt and fright, and tell the Headmaster that he'd been wrong, he was sorry, he would cross over and play double-double agent for Dumbledore this time.

What am I thinking? Severus unwound himself from the covers, shakily. He'd never gone back on a decision, would never apologise. He would pay the consequences himself, had always done so.

And it was ridiculous to think it was that simple. Dumbledore had no reason to believe him; he'd simply throw him into Azkaban until the war was over. Severus shivered again. He'd been to Azkaban in seventh year, on a field trip with his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He'd returned to Hogwarts silent and thoughtful, and then spent the next two nights sitting up in bed shaking with the blankets wrapped closely around him.

Like what you're doing now?

It had been a lot more than two nights since he'd become a Death Eater. Severus stood up, gathered the sheets and dumped them back onto his bed, staring sightlessly out of the window, swaying a little, sick with longing.

I can just switch sides, can't I? Dumbledore had always thought that Severus was on his side, after all. Without telling him anything. Without running the risk of Azkaban.

But he'd given false information, left other things out; there was no way he could fill the shortfall without an explanation.

The wolf in his dream had been Remus Lupin. If Lupin had bitten him, what would Greyback have done? Been immensely proud of both of them, probably. If Lupin had eaten him Greyback would have been immensely proud.

You have no pride left, Severus Snape. You spent your student days hating some watered-down tame werewolf, and now you ally yourself with a monster.

He'd been trying to limit damage for the last couple of years. Trying, in effect, to cross over without actually crossing over.

These were consequences he could not afford to pay. What if Voldemort wins?

It might not be such a terrible thing, Severus thought, distantly, if he did die in Azkaban.

Do I mean that?

He stood for a few more seconds, listening to his own soft breathing, Then he dressed, calmly, and left his office in a silent billow of black robes.

--

They were having a meeting, Severus realised, and his sudden appearance had interrupted them. Remus Lupin was there, Lupin with his pale, tired features, who could pass for a librarian, watching him now with puzzled grey eyes.

The werewolf was a walking reminder of simpler days. There had been answers, then; he'd been so sure of himself. Now he was going to admit that he had made a terrible mistake, and there were no answers at all. It had all spiralled out of control.

Severus opened and shut his mouth, soundlessly. He could leave now, he could find something else to say when Dumbledore came to ask him about it later. He didn't have to do this.

"Yes, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, delicately.

Severus found his voice. "I need to speak with you."

He paused, and then added, quietly, "It's important."

End

Notes:

... say, does anyone know how to beat the document formatting on this site? It keeps happily ignoring my html coding. I suppose I can live with the missing double-line spacing between the title and the text, but now it's swallowing my section breaks, among other things, and I am incredibly annoyed.

Meanwhile. On my timeline at least, Severus does go to Azkaban directly after this. He does go mad. Then they bring him back and against all reason they manage to fix him and he does this double-double-agent thing for slightly more than a year.

I think that when Severus met Fenrir Greyback he probably got seriously thrown regarding his usual definition of werewolf filth.

('The werewolf' has always meant Remus. It was incredibly odd to realise that I could use this on Greyback as well.)