A/N - thanks for the reviews. Disclamers etc in part 1.

Repentance – part 3

Wearily Minerva climbed the stairs to the Headmaster's study, pausing to collect her scattered thoughts before giving this weeks ludicrous password and proceeding inside. It had been a very long 2 days; between her normal duties and her new charge she was aware of feeling more than usually weary.

But as she stepped into the study the roaring fire, the spicy aroma of her favour tea and the sight of Albus Dumbledore placidly buttering warm crumpets calmed her as nothing else could. Gratefully she slipped into the chair opposite him and neither of them spoke until she had taken her first sip of tea and eaten one of the crumpets he offered her.

"So, how is Mr Snape faring?" Dumbledore asked, his eyebrows raised as though he was perfectly aware just how, challenging, Snape was proving.

"Well, it turns out hating everyone is an excellent basis for a career as a spy," she began acerbically, before adding with grudging approval, "he's making progress, in his own unique fashion. We certainly won't have to worry about him being too trusting of others."

"My dear I seem to remember that you were extremely cautious about who you chose to trust. Is it possible that you and he are more similar that you wish to admit?" She was surprised that he had so easily summoned the spectre of her spying activities; it was the one area they had resolutely avoided talking about over the years. In fact, she was still cautious – she kept her feelings closed off behind walls that had only seemed to grow taller and stronger over the years and she thought they both knew it. She glanced away from him, until she had found an answer that would not betray either of them too much.

"You're quite right – I was naturally rather reserved and cautious, that instinct served me well, when I needed it to. But there's quite a difference between taking care who you allow to get close and resolutely despising everyone you come into contact with."

"I can only imagine what could have led him to develop such an attitude." She snorted and decided it would be charitable not to debate the issue further. Instead she asked,

"And how is he picking up Occulmency?"

"Rather well, in fact he seems to have something of a natural aptitude for it."

"How very Slytherin of him."

Dumbledore didn't respond, although he noted her tone and couldn't help but recall that she hadn't enjoyed Occulmency at all. It would be quite a stretch todescribe her as having natural aptitude for it. Her attempts to master the subject had been extremely frustrating and she had triumphed in the end only because of determination and discipline – both of which she possessed in spades.

As soon as Dumbledore had pronounced himself satisfied with her motives Moody had arranged for her to be moved to a 'safe house'. With only a week to prepare they had then launched into an extensive training programme – not at all dissimilar to the one Severus Snape was now being put through. One of them had been with her constantly during her waking hours, the house was heavily warded to prevent attacks – and she wasn't allowed to go outside unescorted.

It was he supposed, one way to get to know someone. Certainly it was during that week that he had mentally acknowledged that she was no longer the child he had taught, but instead a young woman of ability and determination. No doubt it was that period which cemented the basis of their successful partnership here at Hogwarts, as well as building the foundations of their long friendship. But he conceded, at least privately, that other feelings had swirled around them as well – taking him at least completely by surprise.

It was during a break from one of her Occulmency lessons that he had returned to the subject of her father. He had been rooting around inside her mind, since she still couldn't stop him and he had seen images of her recent conversations. When the connection had at last been repelled, the memory of what he had seen and felt prompted him to say, "you still love your father."

She had looked up from the chair she was curled in, her face registering nothing more than a mild surprise that he had made a statement – rather than asked a question.

"One can love someone without agreeing with what they believe in." Anxiety had flickered through him at her tone and for the first time he realised that she had an ulterior motive – and he was afraid of where it would lead her.

"But I'm not sure it is wise to hope to save them, especially when trying to do so may put the lives of others at risk." Her expression had been grave, she'd looked away, biting her lip for a moment and he had tried to apologise. She'd brushed his words away, as though they were of minimal importance. As the moment had threatened to become strained she had said quietly,

"I want to save him, but I know I may not be able to. I know I may have no choice but to betray him. If it comes to that I won't put the lives of other people at risk in a foolish attempt to change something I have little control over."

Watching her now – decades later, it was possible to see vestiges of the young woman she'd been once upon a time. But, they were carefully tucked away, tempered by lessons learnt the hard way, by damage inflicted through impossible choices. He didn't blame himself, entirely; and even if he did he'd had no choice – but the echo of old feelings stirred within him along with the ever-present sadness at what had been lost.

With some difficulty he returned to the subject at hand. "I have to confess I am facing something of a dilemma about Mr Snape. We can certainly hide his presence here for the time being, but he will need to contact us, he may need to return here on frequent occasions and I am not sure we can disguise that. My inclination is to let him claim that I am concerned for his well-being, that I am attempting to rescue him. But, if I do, it is very likely that he will capture Tom's attention, catapulting him to the centre of the death eaters – adding to the danger he faces."

"Because 'you know who' will want to use him against you, as a spy at the very least?" As he'd expected his Deputy grasped his point immediately and turned her considerable intelligence to the task of finding a solution. "It's a situation that we could make use of," she mused, "it would be an opportunity to lay false trails, transmit all kinds of information that misdirects attention concerning our activities. But he's untested – I'm not even sure we can trust him." At his expression she held up a hand, "I know you trust him Albus, I know you're mostly right about these things. But I'm maintaining a healthy scepticism."

"You don't trust my judgement?" His smile told her that he was teasing her.

"Certainly not on whether food needs additional sweetener." He tipped his head, conceding her point. "I don't have your capacity to look at someone and believe in them. I require some element of proof, empirical evidence. Perhaps I should have studied legilmency – I have had one of the world's foremost experts at my disposal all these years. I suppose I could have mastered it if I'd been so inclined. That way we wouldn't even have to converse – all of our discussions about the school could have been conducted simply by exploring each other's mind."

"But I would miss your wry observations on my follies." She smiled a little at the compliment, even though she doubted that he really had any follies.

"I have a suggestion about young Mr Snape. I was going to talk to you about this anyway – I don't wish to undermine a collegue - but I believe we would benefit from having an assistant Potions master. My recollection is that Potions was his strongest subject. If he were to apply for the post, I have a feeling his application would be successful. Of course, that might also bring him to the attention of his master, but perhaps in a less dramatic way."

"An elegant solution, how very Slytherin of you Minerva." She tutted at him, but his smile told her the suggestion was a good one – and would likely be acted upon.

They sipped their tea companionably for a while, the silence comfortable and familiar, though when she glanced at him she was certain he still had something on his mind. Long experience told her that he would discuss it with her when he was ready, that trying to drag it forth would serve no purpose. She was just about to suggest a game of chess later – a sure way of stopping him brooding for a couple of hours when he said,

"I am sorry if this situation is forcing you to relive painful memories." Minerva sighed, not at all surprised at the apology, but not inclined to allow the assumption behind it to go unchallenged either.

It was going to be complicated unravelling the past from the present, teaching Snape what she had herself been taught was bringing up old memories. More disturbingly, it seemed to be retrieving feelings she was sure were dead and buried.

Just for a moment she indulged herself with a memory from her past, a moment etched in her consciousness. She had been struggling with Occulmency again and Albus, as she had still been trying to remember to call him, had been pulling memories of her school days out of her mind. He had just been about to get to a very embarrassing incident – which she had never shared with anyone, when a voice she just about recognised as her own had seemed to shout out, "no!"

The connection between them came crashing down and as she reeled from the impact of repelling him she'd stumbled. His arm had shot out to steady her, catching her by the wrist and in that moment of contact, a pulse of electricity had hit her almost sending her staggering again. His grip on her wrist had tightened and as she felt his thumb move on the soft skin, her breath had caught. She'd looked up to see a mystified expression on his face, his gaze riveted on the only place where they were touching. And as his thumb turned a small circle, almost as though he were experimenting with the effect, she'd had to bite her lip to prevent the groan that welled up within her from escaping.

The moment was ended as abruptly as it had started. He'd dropped his hold on her, taken a step back and in a perfectly level voice congratulated on her first success in Occulmency. But he'd avoided meeting her eyes for the rest of the afternoon. It had been the first time she'd really thought of him as a man instead of her teacher, the first time she had acknowledged that he had a magnetism that belied his appearance, the first time she had felt its pull.

Dragging her attention back from what was clearly ancient history she set her cup down smartly on the table and leaned forward so he had no choice but to meet her eyes.

"Albus, I am not the young woman you sent off to spy on Grindelwald. I haven't been for a very long time. I think you worry about what happened to her far more than I do."

TBC