Chapter 3: Severus Snape
It's a bleak January day, so he wraps his black travelling cloak around him as he stands outside the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place, hesitating before he rings the doorbell. It's bad enough coming here for full Order meetings, when there are plenty of people around and usually the Headmaster attends, so he just sticks close to Dumbledore and then gets the hell out of the place as soon as the meeting is over, but today the only other adult in the house besides Sirius Black will be Molly Weasley. It's not that he's afraid of Black, it's more that he's afraid of what he might do to Black if Black provokes him again. If Black makes one more snide remark, calls him Snivellus one more time, he'll teach Black a lesson that he won't forget in a hurry ... he thinks, screw you, Black - Dumbledore trusts me, he trusts me – enough to give me this job, though I don't want it, I don't want to teach Occlumency to Potter, no, I didn't beg for this job.
Potter! Harry bloody Potter, it's always about Potter – because of Potter, both his masters have been running him ragged over the Christmas break, both camps have been in a major flap since Potter had the vision of Arthur Weasley being bitten by Nagini just before Christmas, and it's been absolutely frantic. Look on the bright side, the Dark Lord is starting to rely on him, starting to listen to him, because he's the one who can supply information on Potter and Dumbledore – and Dumbledore is still the only wizard that the Dark Lord fears.
Dumbledore is very anxious about Potter, anxious that Potter might find out about the prophecy – but he can't understand why Dumbledore is mollycoddling the blasted boy. Why doesn't Dumbledore tell Potter that he's the weapon, and start training him up for the job he's got to do? Potter has seen the Unforgiveables in action, even experienced crucio, so why isn't he being trained to use them? Doesn't the Headmaster know what Potter will have to do – what he'll have to become – if he's truly the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord? Oh yes, he thinks, Potter will have to become something like me if he's going to destroy the Dark Lord, and if Black pushes me today, if he pushes me too far, Potter might just find out what I'm capable of ... not that I'll kill Black, I'd like to but I daren't - I'll just knock him around a bit, show him who he's dealing with. Sectumsempra, for enemies – that would do the job ...
And then he remembers the last time he drew his wand on Black, he remembers the humiliating fiasco in the Shrieking Shack - Potter and the rest of the Golden Trio had disarmed him, he hadn't thought for a minute that they could be a threat. He'd looked like a complete idiot, Pettigrew had reported the whole thing to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord hadn't been impressed.
The Dark Lord had tormented him a little over that, had asked why he hadn't tried to help the man who the whole wizarding world thought was an escaped Death Eater ... and he hadn't known what to say, it was a more difficult situation to explain even than Quirrell, so he'd just cringed and begged and babbled something about believing that Black must have double-crossed the Dark Lord, babbled that he'd wanted revenge for Black's betrayal of his master. But the Dark Lord had only been playing with him – the Dark Lord knew well enough how much he hated Black, he'd rifled through his mind often enough, and seen the memories of the Marauders' torments. The Dark Lord had, however, rebuked him for being too caught up in his own petty little jealousies to realize that it would have been a much smarter strategy to smarm up to Potter from the beginning and gain his trust. What had the Dark Lord said? If I say it myself, Severus, I've always been able to charm the people I needed.
Oh yes, the Dark Lord could be charming alright, the Dark Lord knew how to use the carrot as well as the stick - he'd been mesmerized by the Dark Lord when he first met him, and the Dark Lord had dangled irresistible baits in front of him – power, wealth, revenge on the Gryffindors who'd tortured him at school, and a secure place in wizarding society when the Dark Lord became Minister for Magic. The Dark Lord had offered him a place in the sun – and no one needed to know that he was a half-blood, the Dark Lord had assured him that will be our little secret. He'd wanted it so much, he couldn't wait to take the Dark Mark, couldn't wait to prove his loyalty and devotion, he'd been prepared to do anything, even apply for a teaching position at Hogwarts – right up to the moment when the Dark Lord had threatened Lily.
Lily! Even if his position as a half-blood - if they ever found out about his filthy Muggle father – hadn't been too precarious for him to risk getting mixed up with a Muggle-born, he'd known that he couldn't compete with the Gryffindor Quidditch champion, he had nothing to offer her compared to handsome, popular, wealthy, pureblood James Potter. He had second-hand robes and tatty books, and Potter had the most expensive racing broom on the market and an invisibility cloak - Potter's parents actually let him bring something as rare and precious as an invisibility cloak to school! And Potter was guaranteed a good position in the Ministry – but when he left school he'd have nothing but his NEWT results and the patronage of Lucius Malfoy to recommend him.
No, he'd never been in love with Lily, but they'd become friends when Slughorn threw them together in his special advanced tutorials for his two most brilliant NEWTs students, she'd always been civil to him, even before he'd mumbled an apology for the Mudblood insult, and he liked her. And of course he'd fancied her – who didn't, she was gorgeous - and he'd indulged in some pretty lurid fantasies about her, even after she married Potter.
And when the Dark Lord had called them together and told them that he was going after the Potters, he hadn't been quick enough to hide his feelings, the Dark Lord had seen right through him, he'd said, "I can see you're … attracted … to the Mudblood witch. You can have her when I've killed Potter and the boy." The others had sniggered – they'd known what this meant – a Memory Charm strong enough to obliterate Lily's memories of James and the baby, leaving her an empty shell, it would be worse than killing her, nearly as bad as a Dementor's Kiss, she'd be just a body to use. He couldn't let that happen, and he couldn't let the brat die, not when he'd bumped into her by carefully orchestrated chance in the Leaky Cauldron not long after it was born, he'd seen the tiny, mewling lump in her arms and realised how much she loved it, she'd do anything to protect her little Potter-clone.
So he'd gone to the Headmaster, to the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared, and blurted it all out, begged Dumbledore to protect Lily ... and somehow he'd ended up spying on the Dark Lord for Dumbledore. He'd had to smarten up fast once he'd turned traitor, he'd gone through seven hells that year before the Dark Lord fell, and now he's going through hell again – for James Potter's brat, the spitting image of his revolting father, there's nothing of his mother in him except those green eyes.
And what in hell is going on between Harry Potter and the Dark Lord, it's not Legilimency, it's something else, something really weird - the Dark Lord had been furious and even a little bit afraid when he realized that Harry Potter had been seeing into his mind, and in a panic in case the Ministry connected the snake to him and shook off their complacency. And there's something else brewing up, something that's been brought forward in case the Ministry increases security at Azkaban ... he's told Dumbledore but there's nothing they can do about, Fudge won't listen to Dumbledore, and any attempt to warn him now would only get back to Lucius.
He thinks, it's Lucius' job to manage Fudge and the Ministry, and it's my job to manage Dumbledore and Hogwarts ... the Dark Lord will want a report after every Occlumency lesson, and Dumbledore will want a report after every meeting with the Dark Lord, it's going to be gruelling, keeping them both happy. And I've still got classes to teach, I'm behind with my work now because of this, I've got three dozen Potions samples sitting around waiting to be graded and that's going to chew up the rest of the day, tomorrow I have to prepare for lessons, and I'm on fucking probation – that bitch Umbridge, she might have the right idea about werewolves but she's an utter bitch. Oh, isn't it a good thing my personal life is limited to a weekly game of chess with Filius and the odd visit to a Muggle nightclub when I'm in the mood and can spare the time ...
But he knows that he's being self-indulgent, wallowing in resentful thoughts because he's tired and cranky and because he's not looking forward to dealing with Black and Potter, so he tells himself to stop pissing around and get on with it. He rings the doorbell of 12 Grimmauld Place, steps back while he waits for someone to come to the door, and braces himself to run the gauntlet of Mrs Black's portrait. He's waiting for the day when she recognizes him, when she starts screeching about Regulus to him, and he's almost – but not quite – tempted to offer to remove the portrait, he knows a few ways around a Permanent Sticking Charm, but they've never asked for his help and he's damned if he's going to offer it.
Molly Weasley opens the door, her face is flushed with excitement but when she sees that it's him, her face falls. He feels a tiny stab of disappointment, shit, not Molly too, not that he's ever deluded himself that she likes him, but he'd thought that she didn't actually dislike him, but she's not happy to see the filthy Slytherin, is she? Probably brooding over Percy - Lucius has told him all about that situation - and no doubt she's thinking that Percy has turned out to be such a rotten little bastard he ought to have been Sorted into Slytherin, the only Weasley ever to be Sorted into Slytherin. He seethes with fury at the thought, Percy is ambitious enough but he hasn't got a clue – he would have been eaten alive in Slytherin! And that's another reason for being sure that Percy Weasley is not Dumbledore's man in the Ministry, he's hashed that over with Lucius a dozen times, Percy is just a prat, an idiot Gryffindor, he's not Dumbledore's spy.
He tells Molly that he won't be staying long, he's just got to see Potter for five minutes, owls from Hogwarts are being intercepted so he had to come himself, and he follows her down the hallway. She's saying something about Arthur, he's much better, and thank you so much for spending time with Healer Smethwyck discussing Arthur's condition and does he want to stay for dinner, but he's not really paying attention to her chatter and he certainly has no intention of lingering once his job is done, he thinks, vaguely, healing potions aren't really my specialty but I do know a lot about venoms … and it wasn't as if I had anything better to do, it was either catch up on my marking or Floo to St Mungo's for some moderately interesting professional chit-chat, and I don't mind Arthur, I don't want him dead.
Then he walks into the kitchen and tenses up, because here is someone he does want dead – or at least very badly cut up - Sirius Black, the mutt, lounging in a chair, but he's pleased to see that Black is looking a bit more dishevelled, a bit more wasted, a bit more hung over than the last time that he saw him.
Molly has gone to fetch Potter, he's alone with Black, Black is demanding to know why he's here, why he wants to see Potter – so he tosses him the letter, the brief note from the Headmaster about the Occlumency lessons.
He hears the kitchen door open, hears Potter say, "Er ...", and looks around at him, tells him to sit down.
Potter sits down next to his godfather, stares across the table at him - and that touches a nerve, the boy with James Potter's face and Sirius Black, sitting together, as they always did at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, looking at him with disgust as if he was some loathesome thing that didn't deserve to exist. Oh, they'd been quite the double act, James Potter and Sirius Black, the leaders of their little gang, and they'd made his life a misery.
"You know," says Black loudly, leaning back on the rear legs of his chair and speaking to the ceiling to emphasise his contempt, "I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see."
He can feel his face flushing, turning that ugly brick colour - this might be Black's house but Potter is his student and it's a constant struggle to maintain his authority over the arrogant brat, and now Black is undermining him in front of Potter. It's unbearable, nearly as bad as Lupin's Boggart class, and the worst thing about that was Dumbledore's joke - that Christmas lunch when Dumbledore made him pull a Christmas cracker and that bloody vulture hat fell out of it, sweet Merlin that had hurt, and he'd had to pretend that he didn't care. And why is it that the Headmaster can hurt him more with a sharp word or a look of disappointment than the Dark Lord can with crucio?
He's supposed to see Potter alone, but Black is banging on about how he's Potter's godfather, and he thinks, how does it feel, Black, to be a bit player, you're only important because you're Potter's godfather, you're only being told what's going on because you're his godfather.
He says, "I am here on Dumbledore's orders, but by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel ... involved."
Black is clearly agitated, Black doesn't like that, so he presses the point, says something about Black being frustrated because he can do nothing useful for the Order, and sneers with satisfaction as Black's face turns red with rage and embarrassment. Then he turns to Potter, tells him, "The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."
"Study what?" asks Potter blankly, and he's amazed at the boy's ignorance and stupidity. The swollen-headed little bastard must have read all about himself in popular books like Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, and surely he would have picked up a bit of information about the Dark Lord, must have learned that the Dark Lord is a master of Legilimency and Occlumency.
His sneer becomes more pronounced as he explains what Occlumency is. Potter looks stunned, and blurts out, "Why do I have to study Occlu – thing?"
He answers smoothly, "Because the Headmaster thinks it is a good idea. You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?"
"Yes," says Potter. "Who's going to be teaching me?"
His stomach twists at the answer he has to give, and he thinks, does Dumbledore really know what he's asking of me? Slughorn taught me the basics of Occlumency, but the Dark Lord made me an expert – and he wasn't gentle. And I don't know what I'll see in Potter's mind, maybe myself, grovelling to the Dark Lord ... or worse, twitching and screaming under the Cruciatus Curse, yes, Potter would love that, he'd love to see the greasy git getting the crap kicked out of him by his Dark Lord. And even if I put my most ... sensitive ... memories in the Headmaster's Pensieve, there are still a few things I don't want Potter to see, and that could happen, I can't protect myself properly if I'm trying to teach him ...
He raises an eyebrow and replies, "I am."
Potter looks horrified, and then he looks round at Black for support. Black jumps in at once. "Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?" he asks aggressively. "Why you?"
He'd like to tell him, he'd like to tell Black the reason – something nasty is going on between your godson and the Dark Lord, something that isn't Legilimency, something really strange - and if Dumbledore were to teach Potter, Potter would probably try to kill the Headmaster, not that he'd succeed but it would be a pretty ugly scene.
But he's forbidden to speak of it, so he says, "I suppose because it is a headmaster's privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks. I assure you I did not beg for the job."
He gets to his feet and adds, "I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anyone asks, you are taking remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them."
He turns to leave, thinking, well, that's over – the job's done and I'm out of here, and I've been a good boy, I haven't lost my temper, I haven't hexed Black.
But Black hasn't finished. "Wait a moment," he says.
He turns back to face them, sneering, and thinking, what is it now, a demand for special treatment for the Boy Who Lived, go easy on him, Snape, or else ... well, hurry up, Black, spit it out, I've got things to do, unlike you.
"I am in rather a hurry, Black," he says. "Unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time."
"I'll get to the point," says Black, standing up.
Black is still somewhat taller than he is – he remembers how Black towered over him when they were first years, he'd disarmed Black in a scuffle and then Black had tried to punch him, Muggle-style, and he'd used a bone-breaking curse on Black – and he balls his fist in the pocket of his cloak over the handle of his wand. And he thinks, here it comes, just like the old days - first threats and then hexes – but you haven't got James Potter to back you up now, you're on your own now, Black ... and how does that feel?
Black says, "If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you'll have me to answer to."
Give Harry a hard time! He thinks, me give the Headmaster's darling a hard time – I don't think so! Potter has been breaking rules since the day he arrived at Hogwarts but he never gets into trouble, he's special. Just like his bloody father, roaming around the castle in his invisibility cloak, doing things that would get any other student expelled ... and his father was in on the plot, but somehow he managed to come out of it smelling of roses, how heroic, risking his own life to save a classmate from a horrible death – or something worse – and Dumbledore made him Head Boy!
He sneers again, "How touching, but surely you've noticed that Potter is very like his father?"
"Yes, I have," Black says proudly
"Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," he replies sleekly.
Black is pushing his chair aside, Black is striding around the table towards him, pulling out his wand – and he whips out his own wand, feeling a sense of fierce joy, because he's been spoiling for this fight for six months, and now it's going to be sorted out between the two of them, once and for all. But he's still wary, he has to let Black throw the first hex, or he'll be the one who's punished when Dumbledore finds out. His eyes dart from Black's wand-tip to his face, Black is really angry, his face is dark with fury and it won't take much to push him over the edge ...
"I've warned you, Snivellus," says Black, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better – "
"Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" he whispers. "Or are you afraid that he might not take very seriously the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months?"
Now that's really stung Black, but Black is still holding back, still using words instead of his wand ...
"Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days?" says Black. "I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?"
He knows what Black is hinting at but he could almost laugh at the feebleness of the taunt, that might have hurt years ago, but not now, now that he's outgrown his teenage insecurities. OK, he was never a pretty-boy, but he'd grown up at lot in that last year at Hogwarts, plenty of girls had noticed him, and there's been no shortage of women since then. And Lucius is having to peddle hard to regain the Dark Lord's favour, the Dark Lord had punished him very, very severely indeed for that business with the diary, and if Lucius stuffs up again, the Dark Lord will kill him.
"Speaking of dogs," he says softly, "Did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognised you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform ... gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?"
Black raises his wand and he looks into Black's eyes, sees the curse that Black is planning to use, and he thinks, go on, Black, do it – if you've got the nerve and the ability – I know a Shield Charm strong enough to bounce it right back on you, and the Headmaster will be livid if you use an Unforgiveable in front of Potter. Oh yes Black, you're going to be in every kind of trouble if you try to use crucio on me!
"NO!" yells Potter, vaulting over the table and trying to get between him and Black. "Sirius, don't!"
"Are you calling me a coward?" roars Black, trying to push Potter out of the way.
"Why, yes, I suppose I am," he says.
"Harry – get – out – of – it!" snarls Black, pushing Potter aside with his free hand.
Then the kitchen door opens and the entire Weasley family plus Hermione Granger walk in. Arthur Weasley is amongst them, wearing striped pyjamas under a mackintosh, and he announces brightly to the whole kitchen, "Cured! Completely cured!"
Black turns to look at the Weasleys, and he thinks, fucking hell, I had Black right where I wanted him, just my luck ... He turns to look at the Weasleys, too, but his wand stays pointing into Black's face.
"Merlin's beard," says Arthur, the smile sliding off his face, and he doesn't look like a mild mannered Ministry clerk any more, he looks like some kind of a tough bastard. "What's going on here?"
Black has lowered his wand and he thinks, it's over, time to go, so he pockets his own wand, turns on his heel and sweeps across the room. He's got nothing to say to the Gryffindors, what's the point, Black will make out that he's some kind of sociopath whatever he says ...
At the door he looks back. "Six o'clock, Monday evening, Potter." And then he's gone. But as he strides down the hall, he's thinking, you'll keep, Black, you'll keep, there'll be another time, and maybe next time there won't be any witnesses at all ... there'll be nothing to stop me from killing you, and what the Headmaster doesn't know about, I can't be punished for – and I can lie to Dumbledore, I can lie to both my masters, I wouldn't be much of a double-agent if I couldn't.