Chapter 4: Return of the Potions Master

It was pure and unadulterated spite, of that Severus was sure, yet he couldn't say he felt the smallest twinge of guilt as he added in a few extra ingredients to Bridden's final batch of potions. He couldn't resist smiling as he imagined his former housemate turning several shades of purple when he realized what Snape had done. Over the past year, Severus had made Bridden a rich man with his potions. The idea of taking advantage of a man who had literally lost everything but the clothes on his back was quite Slytherin….but so was this. How odd it was to think that this was all thanks to a bloody Gryffindor! The bag of money Harry had given him to start his experiments was more than ten times what it would really take to do the job, and he wasn't sure if Harry was aware of that. Severus Snape was not going to bemoan the boy's ignorance. He would accept money from one enemy if it meant proving another enemy to be a fool before one and all. Bridden's reputation would never recover from this, but it was no more than he deserved.

By the time Severus had shrunken all of the potions and wrapped them safely, he was nearly late for his meeting. Nothing had changed in The Leaky Cauldron since his last visit. Every eye stared at him with absolute hatred. Only Bridden didn't seem incensed by his very presence.

Bridden smiled with false friendship at the marked man. "All there?"

Severus nodded. "I made a few improvements to a few of them," he lied with a perfectly emotionless face. His years as a spy made this into child's play.

The man across the table was practically bubbling with anticipation of all of the money he was going to make off of these new "improvements." The would raise the price, but never give Severus an extra knut. "The next batch will need to be larger."

"I'm afraid there won't be a next batch."

Panic radiated from Bridden, but the greedy git managed to keep most of it under wraps. "Oh? You've found another source of income?"

"Yes," Severus said absently. "A former student….nothing much really."

"And if I doubled your current fee? Surely you new patron can't afford that," Bridden said haughtily.

It took all of Severus' will not to laugh at that statement. Harry could have bought Bridden a hundred times over with just what was in that bag, and after those potions were sold, Snape didn't think Bridden would be in much better straights than he himself had been after the war. "I will be paid well enough," he replied cryptically.

Bridden's shoulders sunk a bit. "If you change your mind, I may still be able to use you in the future," he offered trying to keep his pride.

That night, Severus still didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt for what he was doing to Bridden. There were very few things in his life that he had deemed worthy of that emotion, and he would waste an ounce on that bastard. The spaces on that short list were reserved for people who even his own twisted sense of morality couldn't fault. Most of his guilt could be summed up in one name, in fact. Albus Dumbledore. He couldn't deny that he should have found a way around his oath. He should have found a way to keep Dumbledore alive. There had to have been something that he didn't think of. True, Albus had begged him to do it, but it should never have come to that. Dumbledore was the one and only man who had ever had real faith in him. For that, Snape would have done anything Albus asked of him.

There were those who saw Snape as a man who was loyal to no one, but he was probably one of the most loyal men the world had ever known to those who earned that honor. To earn his loyalty, one must return it. Only Albus ever did that. Though the Order never really trust him, Albus knew him well enough to know that he never need doubt him. Yes, Dumbledore was the one man who had earned that kind of loyalty from the sullen potions master. Any one of the Deatheaters would have sold him out without blinking, and Voldemort was twisted beyond what even Harry knew. What had any of them done to deserve his loyal service? Nothing. Though, the Order—aside from Albus—had done little more.

Snape opened a bottle of expensive brandy. It wasn't exactly on his supply list, but Potter didn't need to know that. Good brandy was one of the few things that could draw Severus out into the muggle world. Muggles did know how to get pissed elegantly. Severus admired the amber liquid in the bottom of his glass. A bitter smile turned his lips, as he drank a silent toast to the Boy-Who-Had-Survived-By-Dumb-Luck-And-Blind-Courage. The turns of his life were nothing more than fucking ironic.

When Snape thought about the boy—which he rarely did—he couldn't help but marvel at how Potter had managed to live through it all with nothing more than a limp. As he'd said before, there were so many who didn't live through it. The Weasley boy had been only one of thousands. It astounded him that one semi-intelligent young wizard could dodge so many curses and actually kill Voldemort. There was no doubt that Harry was much more powerful that the average wizard, but to say that he was more powerful that even Dumbledore? Snape was more inclined to believe the boy was simply born with the devil's luck.

What didn't surprise Severus in the least was the boy's self-pitying attitude. Hadn't he always been like that? He had expected sympathy as a child just because he had lost his parents. Potter never stopped to think that he wasn't the only orphan. Of course James and Lily were the only parents killed by Voldemort. And Potter had such a horrible home life! Severus snorted. Everyone had some kind of sob story, Potter thought his was somehow more heart wrenching. Ironic that Potter's self-serving nature that would lead Snape to some sort of semblance of his old life. For that, Severus would almost thank him….almost.