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So you learn not to yearn;
you take it on the chin again
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That summer, Severus witnessed Draco being Marked. The men and women who took the Mark all thought they could handle the pain, but it was an impossible thing to prepare for. Even Severus, who at the age of seventeen had prided himself on both his Occlumency and his high threshold for pain, had felt like his entire body and mind had been ripped apart during his Marking. As Draco screamed in agony, Severus wondered if Potter was dreaming about this at the moment. He found himself hoping against it; the boy didn't need any more source material for his nightmares.
When the Marking was over, Draco was dragged to his feet by two masked Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord caressed his face, almost lovingly. "My boy," he said, "I have a wondrous task for you." And he smiled, almost serene.
Severus felt as if his legs had been hollowed out. He was glad when the Dark Lord didn't elaborate.
At the end of the night, the Dark Lord asked to have a word with Severus, so Severus lingered until all the other Death Eaters had taken their leave.
When they were alone, the Dark Lord turned to him. "Ah, at last we can speak freely."
"Yes, my Lord."
"I have tasked the young Mr. Malfoy with killing that old fool Dumbledore."
Severus couldn't help it; he froze for a moment. He thought of many things to say, and ruthlessly shoved them down for being wildly inappropriate: 'Draco is fucked,'-accurate, but a little too on the nose; 'You're a fucking coward,'-same problem; 'Finally, an intelligent delegation of duties,'-sarcasm was only tolerated in jesters and fools, and Severus was neither.
Finally, in a voice lacking inflection, he said, "A difficult task." This was true and also had the benefit of being non-committal.
"A task which will determine his worthiness. You will need to keep a close watch on him, Severus."
"I had already intended to do so, my Lord."
"He may...have difficulty succeeding in his task."
"Yes, my Lord."
"He may benefit from your...guidance."
Severus paused, as if considering the exact meaning of the Dark Lord's words, but in truth, he had expected this from the moment he'd heard of Draco's new task. There was only one reason Severus would be informed of it-because the Dark Lord wanted a backup plan. Because Draco would certainly fail, but the deed must still be done.
"Yes, my Lord." Hopefully he wasn't sealing his fate.
He reported back to Dumbledore, but only the fact that Draco had been initiated and given the task of killing him. He couldn't bring himself to speak of his own assigned role. He decided to carry the weight of it himself-it was the burden of a double agent, after all.
But after only two days had passed, he received an urgent message from the headmaster. Severus traveled by Floo to Dumbledore's office, and he found the man incapacitated. The power of the curse he was under radiated from him in waves. Severus did all he could, but the magic that engulfed Dumbledore was beyond him. At least he was able to avert Dumbledore's immediate death.
When he had done all he could and the headmaster was out of immediate danger, Severus would have liked to scold the man for all he was worth, but Dumbledore returned to his usual persona with startling quickness. In a few moments, he was cheerfully discussing his own murder and Draco's impossible task.
"In short," Dumbledore summarized, "the boy has had a death sentence pronounced upon him as surely as I have. Now, I should have thought the natural successor to the job, once Draco fails, is yourself?"
The problem with Dumbledore, Severus thought, was that he could never be wrong-footed. Just when you thought he had been, the man wrong-footed you. So much for keeping things to himself.
"That, I think, is the Dark Lord's plan," he said. I think, he scolded himself. He didn't usually cover himself with such weak lies, not when Dumbledore could surely see through them. Though instead of calling Severus out, the headmaster simply asked three favors of Severus: first, protect the students of Hogwarts when the school fell under the purview of the Dark Lord; second, watch over Draco and offer guidance; and finally, murder the headmaster at the appropriate time.
Dumbledore certainly had a way of thanking people for saving his life. Of course, Severus hadn't really been able to save the man's life-only prolong it-but wasn't that what "saving a life" always came down to?
But even after Dumbledore had gotten these assurances from Severus, he was still not done. "This curse," he indicated his blackened hand, "has clarified some things and muddied some others-a mixed bag, as it were-and we need to sort through two more things. First of all, how this should be reported to Lord Voldemort."
Severus nodded, as this had already occurred to him.
"Luckily, I am aging, and we can therefore blame any number of things on that. Slowing reflexes, longer recovery time from my duel with Tom at the Ministry...of course, I would prefer the exact nature of the curse to remain hidden."
"Yes, thank you Dumbledore, as I had already surmised as much, since to do otherwise would quite remove meaning from your murder."
"Good, then we're agreed. Also, do not mention the source of the curse. Just mention it as a serious injury, and leave it at that."
"Mm," Severus agreed. "You said there were two things?"
"Yes. The second item is a yearly problem, but I believe that this year's solution has quite simply fallen in our laps. I think you'll agree that, one way or another, Hogwarts will be quite different in a year's time, and therefore any staffing decisions made at the moment are guaranteed to be somewhat elastic?"
"...Yes..."
"Good, then. I want you to teach Defense. I believe I can easily find another Potions Master."
Severus hadn't been able to predict that turn of conversation, but to be fair, the whole evening seemed like a prolonged nightmare. He responded by putting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. "Certainly, headmaster," he said to the floor.
When Severus finally left Dumbledore's office, he reflected on his myriad assignments. The very first thing Dumbledore asked seemed monumental: he needed to protect the lives of idiots with no impulse control from a madman with no moral center. And he would have to do this without allies-for Dumbledore would be dead, any remaining staff would see Severus as an enemy, and any Death Eaters would see him as an associate. And before he could see that through, he had to protect a desperate teenager and murder his own mentor. But before all of this, he first had to lie to the madman with no moral center, who happened to be an accomplished Legilimens.
At least Severus also got to prepare an entire curriculum from scratch.
That night, Severus dreamed that his mother asked him to kill his father. "Please," she said. "You do it so that Harry Potter doesn't have to."
When he woke up, he was disgusted with the simplistic symbolism of his subconscious.
The next evening, Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange showed up on his doorstep, and Narcissa-quelle surprise-asked Severus to watch over Draco and kill Dumbledore. Severus even made an Unbreakable Vow to her. It didn't matter to him, anyway-he had already promised all she'd asked and more. In for a knut, in for a galleon.
He wasted a few hours in a snit, wondering who else would ask him to watch over Draco and kill Dumbledore. Christ, it was like the universe was sending him a message or something. He didn't need the signal repetition; he surely had understood the promise the first time he made it.
He spent the rest of the summer writing a curriculum for Defense Against the Dark Arts for students with severely stunted backgrounds in the subject. He started with the lower years, since they weren't as far behind. When he finally started planning for N.E.W.T. level classes, he had vague hopes of maintaining his usual high standards of admittance, but of the incoming sixth and seventh years, only Harry Potter had managed an O at O.W.L. Curiously, a good handful of sixth years had earned an E and even more had earned an A; but among the seventh years, only a few had earned an A and none above that.
Perhaps Potter's defense tutoring had come to something after all. However, Severus would be teaching supposedly "advanced" students who had barely scraped an A at O.W.L., and he needed to modify his expectations. After all, it was possible that some of the seventh years had never performed a single Defensive Charm in all their years at Hogwarts.
The coming year would certainly be challenging.
A week before term started, Dumbledore summoned Severus back to his office. Severus refused to panic, but he may have stumbled a bit on his way out of the Floo, and his shoulders may have sagged in relief when Dumbledore offered him a sherbert lemon. He refused the sweet.
The headmaster said, "I want to discuss your role this upcoming year."
"Which one?" Severus asked. There were so many: protector, murderer, Death Eater, professor...
"The spy for Voldemort." Severus braced himself but said nothing. Dumbledore continued, "It hasn't escaped my notice that Death Eater activity has increased."
Nor had it escaped Severus's. But of course, he didn't have prior knowledge of any of the attacks, which Dumbledore surely knew. And Severus refused to admit if he participated in the attacks or not. He wasn't sure which would be worse: if he took part in the horrors, or if he was left out of it completely. So he comforted himself with stony silence.
"Severus, we must increase security on Hogwarts for the coming school year. I regret to tell you that this will limit your ability to come and go as you please. You must not leave the grounds while school is in term."
Oh. Well.
Severus frowned as he tried to think through the ramifications. On the face of it, this did clear up some issues he'd been worried about-like how often he would have to report Draco's "progress" to the Dark Lord. However, it would certainly complicate other issues. For example-
"You say this affects my role as a spy for the Dark Lord. However, it also rather impedes my ability to spy for you. Do you no longer require my services in that capacity?"
Dumbledore hesitated, which made Severus tense further. "I admit that I think of you less as a spy, and more of an agent."
"An agent," Severus repeated sourly. "And what is the difference? A taller, pointier hat?"
The headmaster didn't respond, which was just as well. Severus knew the difference, and knew which described him best: the one reported information; the other was a weapon.
When the students finally arrived, Draco sauntered into the Welcoming Feast well after his cronies were already settled. Indeed, he was among the last of the students to arrive-but not the very last, as there was one particular Boy Who Lived still conspicuously absent from the feast. At least Minerva hadn't yet arrived with the first years, so Severus took the opportunity to slip out the side door of the Great Hall. He found her waiting in the entrance hall, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Bit behind schedule?" he asked.
She groaned. "Hagrid's running late," she said.
"He's not the only one."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Anything I need to worry about?"
"Almost certainly not," he said, and went out the front doors.
He hadn't gone far when he saw a Patronus-in the form of a werewolf, of all things-striding across the grounds. He had a good guess as to what that was about.
"Nymphadora Tonks," he said to the silver savage beast. He snorted when it turned towards him.
The Patronus was uncanny-a great slavering thing with fierce teeth, yet still somehow radiating calm. It spoke in Nymphadora's voice. "I found Harry on the train, but I'll need someone to let us in the front gates."
It disappeared, and Severus snorted again and walked toward the gates. He saw Nymphadora and Potter already waiting there for him. The boy had taken a hit to the nose, but had been healed-the blood covering his face was already dry. Still, he was a shocking sight.
He wished it was a coincidence that Draco had arrived at the Feast after all his friends. He wished that even though Draco hadn't yet started the school year, he hadn't already had such a ridiculous fit of temper as to physically attack Harry Fucking Potter.
But all the signs contradicted his wishes. At least Draco seemed to have enough decorum to attack Harry Potter without witnesses and without permanent injury.
He dismissed Nymphadora and escorted Potter to the castle.
Potter, who had watched the murder of his godfather. Potter, whose thought processes Severus was well-acquainted with. Five years ago, there had been rumors that Potter would be the next Dark Lord, but Severus had never believed them. He thought it far more likely that the boy would shit rainbows and bunnies, given all the innocent wonder that radiated from him. But now the Wizarding world was convinced of Potter's innate goodness, and Severus again doubted public opinion. How much evil could a child-and Potter was still a child-be witness to; how many people he loved could be cut down in front of him; how often could he witness the Dark Lord's madness-through the eyes of the Dark Lord himself-and still remain pure of heart?
Whatever the actual quantity, Severus was certain that Potter had comfortably passed the limits. And even if he hadn't yet, the boy would lose Dumbledore within a year. Surely the boy would eventually become closed off to his feelings-if he hadn't already. And then he would lose all sense of empathy, and then he would be as mad as the Dark Lord.
As Severus walked Potter to the castle, the boy remained disturbingly silent, but at least he didn't seem to have the flat affect he'd had when the Diggory boy was murdered. Severus finally opened the conversation by taking seventy points from Gryffindor. Potter seethed, but didn't respond verbally. He just kept walking. Severus continued to needle him, even though he never once talked back. The boy became more agitated-his face redder (underneath the blood), his steps choppier and more robotic.
Anger was good. Severus could work with it.
Severus spent the first part of term trying to keep a watch on Draco. His efforts were in vain; after years of exposing characteristics that would make any Gryffindor proud, Draco finally showed his cunning side. He effectively avoided Severus at every turn. The boy showed quite an aptitude for it, especially given that Draco was in his Defense class. After three weeks, Severus was desperate enough to ask Draco directly to come to his office.
It didn't surprise him that the boy didn't show at the appointed hour, and Severus spent the time poring over his books, looking for an effective Monitoring Charm for the situation. As Draco was not nearly as foolhardy as Harry Potter, Severus's options were not as limited. Of all the charms he could find, the Eavesdropping Charm would be best, but he had no desire to listen to every conversation the boy had. He decided to modify the Charm so that it would activate only if Draco mentioned certain words.
The next morning at breakfast, Severus surreptitiously cast an Eavesdropping Charm on Draco that would activate if the boy mentioned "Dumbledore" or "headmaster." The charm would have to be refreshed every week, but that was not a problem.
As Severus discreetly put his wand away, Minerva startled him out of his thoughts. "How is he?" she asked.
Severus looked at her stupidly. Why would she care about Draco? And then he realized: she didn't. She was asking about Harry Potter.
"He's..." but he didn't have a response. He hadn't given much thought to Potter lately. "He's good at avoiding his detentions," he finally said.
"Just as good at earning those detentions, I imagine," she said.
"Hm," was all he said. These days, when he thought about Minerva, he thought about how she would react to Dumbledore's murder. Because of this, he'd tried his best to avoid her.
Minerva didn't seem to have noticed this yet. Well, he wasn't very sociable to start with-perhaps there wasn't much to notice. She blithely continued, "He seems very...typical this term."
He huffed in agreement. "So typical I've barely noticed him, yes. All hail the savior of the Wizarding world: a perfectly ordinary teenager."
"Doesn't it bother you, Severus?"
"Bother me? No, certainly not-I've been trying to tell you that there's nothing special about Harry Potter for years."
"No-I'm not explaining myself. Last year, he was withdrawn and moody-for good reason. But he has good reason this year, too. Is he putting on a front? Is he hiding something?"
"What do you suspect him of hiding? The fact that he's a new dark lord ascendant?" He could say it so easily, of course, because the thought had already occurred to him.
Minerva scowled at him. "That boy has lived through things no one should have to live through, Severus."
"And you were comfortable with that until he stopped being an arsehole about it?" Another reason he liked Minerva was that when he argued with her, it made his own fears seem so stupid. He smirked at her, honestly pleased with his own argument.
Minerva, however, was turning beet red. "You know," she said, deathly calm despite her deep blush, "I taught a boy years ago-he seemed to hide a lot of things, and I worried about him-especially in his sixth year, when his behavior changed. He seemed to withdraw from everybody. I know what you'd say: 'Withdrawing is normal in a teenager,' but there was something wrong, I could tell. I tried to talk to him, Severus," she said, and got choked up, and poked him hard on his shoulder as she swallowed hard to kept talking, "but he would never open up to me."
She took several deep breaths, but didn't seem to want to continue.
"What happened to him?" he asked, curious despite himself.
She frowned, the type of frown that takes over the whole face, and is only one step removed from hysterical crying. "He joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, of course, then turned spy for the Order, then grew into an embittered, hateful man whose company I still sometimes seek despite myself."
It wasn't often that Severus was dumbfounded. And slightly offended. Was she comparing him to Harry Potter? Gryffindors usually spoke much more directly than this. "Me?" he asked, just to make sure.
"Yes you, you miserable old goat."
Ah, there was the Gryffindor directness. He said the only thing he could think of. "I don't recall you ever trying to talk to me."
In his sixth year, he'd already lost Lily. In losing her, he'd lost himself-he had no other close friends he was completely comfortable with. In Slytherin, he couldn't speak of the Muggle world at all, and he hadn't found anyone with whom he could spin magical theories. He'd surrounded himself with the likes of Mulciber and Avery, and never felt more alone than when in their company. The time he spent buried in his Potions book was more stimulating.
He tried to put himself back in that wretched year, trying to remember if Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, had ever tried to take him aside and ask about his feelings. He couldn't remember.
Minerva said, "I asked you to stay after class to help me tidy up a few times. I tried to ask if something was upsetting you, but you never did much more than shrug."
He looked at her. He still didn't recall it, but he was able to imagine it easily enough. "I...wish I had made better use of that opportunity."
She clenched her jaw and teared up again. "It's no matter. What's done is done. Now we can only hope to save Harry Potter from your own grim fate."
She was teasing him, but it rankled. She was only concerned with Harry Fucking Potter, when at the moment, Draco Malfoy was far more likely to suffer Severus's grim fate. Worse, he couldn't even call her on it, because he couldn't explain to her why he was concerned for Draco.
He told himself that being annoyed with her was a good thing-he was supposed to be withdrawing from her. It would help his cover later, after he'd murdered Dumbledore.