It was the week before Christmas, and Snape was in the midst of training with Neville. He had purposely left the sword out, and wondered how long it would take the boy to notice. The original was of course already taken to Potter, but he wanted to train Neville with it as well. Snape knew the implications of this sword, and he figured the more the Gryffindors knew about it the better. But the boy seemed a bit off today. Severus tried not to care at why he seemed different, but he knew something was different and that bothered him.
Snape felt a bit off as well that day. He had happened upon a first year being actively hexed by the female Carrow that morning at breakfast, and it had turned his stomach. Of course the stinging hex she had been using was the same one he was now blasting into Neville's shields, but the fear in the girl's eyes had cut him to the quick. He had of course lied smoothly, removed the girl from the situation and set up the scene that everyone thought he had disciplined her, but still the situation rankled. He had seen Poppy's cold set of her jaw when he took her to her afterwards, and he knew that Poppy thought he had inflicted all of the damage on the girl's hide. Of course he let her believe that, it solidified his reputation. Snape knew very well the limits of his power, and he knew he could not protect every first year from every bump and bruise. But surely there had to be something else . . .
For the first time in weeks, a stinging hex got through Neville's shields. Snape had long ago given up pulling his punches, and the stinging hex hit Neville's thigh harshly.
"Ouch!" Neville yelled, grasping his thigh.
Snape's instinct was to let the boy recover from the blow, but he knew that was foolish. He had to capitalize on the opportunity. He sent another hex, equally harsh, to the other leg. Neville, beginning to have the instincts that Snape had tried to drum into him, managed to shield that hex. Snape almost allowed himself a smile in pride at the boy, he had improved rapidly.
"You need to stop earning detentions from me," Snape told him sarcastically. "But at least your behavior seems to not be earning quite the ire from the Carrows recently."
"I've tried to obey you, headmaster," Neville told him politely. "And you have certainly provided me with enough incentives to avoid them."
"I told Dumbledore that the warm and fuzzy approach was not always the most effective," Snape told him, assessing. "You do have a new gouge on your cheek."
"Apparently I am not very good in muggle studies," Neville admitted, looking away.
"School your emotions!" Snape snapped at the boy. "You know better."
"I do," Neville admitted. "I'm sorry, professor."
"Do you notice anything different in this room, Longbottom?" he drawled expectedly.
"I, I saw the sword," Neville commented. "I thought it might be rude to comment."
"Finally, he learns discretion," Snape snapped. "What did you observe about the weapon?"
"It's large, with jewels on it," Neville told him.
"Go and heft it," Snape told him.
Neville obeyed, walking over to the sword and lifting it off of the table it rested upon. "Heavy," Neville commented.
"It is, of course, a copy," Snape told him, watching the boy with it. "It is a copy of the sword of Gryffindor, the whereabouts right now is unknown. I show you this to keep you alert. If you find this sword in the school, then give it to me and you will be rewarded. The Dark Lord fears this sword because it can harm things precious to him."
"Can't a sword harm most things?" Neville asked, incredulously.
"This can harm things that cannot be harmed otherwise," Snape told him. "So if you would like to get into the Dark Lord's good graces, you will bring this to me should you find it."
"I will keep an eye out for it, sir," Neville answered in the manner they had adopted to communicate. Neville still wasn't sure about Snape's loyalties, but he had found that issues he raised with the headmaster were often quietly addressed, bruise balm and pain draughts delivered. And though the headmaster had been true to his word to giving him a caning whenever the Carrows caught him, Neville had developed strategies that had made that a more rare occurrence.
"Now, perhaps it is time to end your detention . . ."
"I have a question, sir," Neville asked nervously.
"Yes?" Snape asked, but inside he felt his nervousness rise. There were a whole host of questions he did not want to field with this boy.
"Where is Nina Smith?"
Like that one. "Is she missing?"
"She is," Neville told him. "Her father is a muggle, sir, so she's on the Carrow's torture list. She's a second year Hufflepuff, and the Carrows have caught her twice this month. They caught her again yesterday and nobody has seen her since."
"I do not know where she is," Snape lied smoothly. "Perhaps she was sent home."
"Perhaps," Neville wanted to agree. Snape could see him wish it, but he that wasn't the case. "But sir, her things were not removed from her room. Her dorm mates say that all of her things are still there."
"I see," Snape answered. He saw the earnest face of the boy asking him, and he wanted to do anything but answer truthfully. He could barely stand the truth himself, how could he inflict it on this boy? Though part of him wanted to use it as another method to toughen the young Gryffindor, he found himself unable to do so.
"Perhaps she was whisked away to safety without her belongings," Snape answered. "I do not know."
Suddenly, Snape's body went rigid and he looked around in sudden fear. He felt the Dark Lord approaching, and he had under five seconds to ready himself. He quickly banished the sword, and looked at Neville dead in the eye.
"Don't draw your wand or cast a shield," he told the boy harshly, and then let off a harsh stinging hex at his face. Neville fell, crying out in pain as the Dark Lord apparated.
"My Lord," Snape bowed his head in submissiveness, ignoring Neville's cries. "What an unexpected pleasure."
"I see I have interrupted your work," Voldemort observed, a menacing hiss in his voice. "You know how much I value your work, Severus."
"I am gratified, Milord," Snape told him with another nod. "I am just finished with this student's detention, so I will send him away and then you will have my full attention."
"Thank you, Severus," Voldemort nodded.
Snape kicked a bit at Neville, and ordered, "Get up, boy. Now I trust you remember your lesson?"
"Yes, sir," Neville replied, ducking his swollen face.
"You will go straight to bed, no seeing Madame Pomfrey," he ordered.
"Yes, sir," Neville agreed, practically sprinting to the door.
If Snape were not a master of occlumency, he would have breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind Neville without the Dark Lord asking about him. Snape wasn't sure what Voldemort would consider fun to do to the son of Frank and Alice Longbottom, but it would not be to give him ice cream.
"I have some disturbing reports about Hogwarts," the Dark Lord sighed. "And I thought to bring them straight to you, Severus. Do you know what they are?"
"No idea," Snape replied, fully composed.
"I have reports of students running amuck," Voldemort told him. "Of students mounting a rebellion, of the students actually organizing to fight back."
"And who sent you these reports?" Snape scoffed. "They are people looking to make trouble for me."
"Are the reports false, Severus?"
"They are," Snape replied with confidence. "It is possible that a few of the younger students think to rebel, but I have quite squashed it from the older ones."
"Yes, I hear about your methods," Voldemort chuckled. "Have you actually brought back the cane in lieu of the cruciatus?"
"I felt it unworthy to crucio a pureblood," Snape explained. "I know you wanted hostages, and they rather lose their value when they are dead or permanently disabled. The cane causes no permanent damage, but does serve as an effective deterrent."
"Nevertheless, I want these students cowed properly," Voldemort told him, drawing close to Snape. "They will live in fear so their families submit. Am I clear?"
"Of course, Milord," Snape answered.
"Legilimens," Voldemort cast, his wand pointed directly at Snape.
Snape had been expecting this intrusion, and had set up the trap for him already. He had many scenes Voldemort would approve of easily accessed, and a few darker memories buried a little lower to make Voldemort think he had dug them up. Disposing of the girl's body was one of those.
"Enough!' Snape begged, sounding desperate. "Please, Milord!"
"Your work pleases me," Voldemort said, withdrawing slowly. "I see you take pleasure in your work."
"Most of it, sir."
"It must have done you good to cane that Weasley blood traitor," Voldemort purred, recalling the memory of that. "Wasn't she Potter's?"
"Teenage romances shift so often, Milord," Snape replied. "One can never really tell. But she was . . . enjoyable. She had spirit."
"Then Crucio her next time!" the Dark Lord hissed. "I will not have this place turning into a muggle boarding school."
"Yes, Milord," Snape answered. "Then it is your intention to begin turning on the purebloods?"
"Maybe not," Voldemort considered.
"Milord, you saw the memory of the girl that had been crucio'd too much," Snape told him. "You will lose the only thing making some of these families submit if we are too harsh."
"Do you think so?"
"I do," Snape told him. "Please believe in my ability to terrify the student body without actually killing them. Fear is far more effective than brute force, Milord, as you've demonstrated."
"Some of the parents are becoming difficult," Voldemort admitted. "We may need to take drastic actions with some of them or their children."
"I'm sure you will know best what to do, Milord," Snape answered him.
"You know, for punishments you could use blood quills," Voldemort considered. "Less muggle."
"Excellent idea," Snape replied. "I shall order some tonight. But I did want to tell you that I had a particular . . . affinity for the cane."
"You can use that too as needed," Voldemort waved his hand. "Whatever makes you happy."
"It makes me happy to serve you, Milord."
"I still think you are too calculated," Voldemort told Snape. "Don't you ever just want to let loose with passion and kill? Rather than all this calculated playing around?"
"Of course," Snape answered. "But I also know what is going to get you power, sir, and I believe the long game is important."
"You're right, of course, Severus," Voldemort told him. "And you will share that glory when we enter it. Now, do you have the sword of Gryffindor yet?"
"The search continues, Milord," Snape told him. "Hogwarts isn't working for me properly, yet. I need more time."
"We need that," Voldemort insisted.
"Surely one thing of metal cannot harm you," Snape told him.
"You would think not," Voldemort told him. "But I did not get where I am today by not looking at all the angles. Do you have my potions?"
"Yes, right here, sir," Snape handed him a small case full of vials of different colors. "Everything you need."
"Thank you, Severus," Voldemort nodded, then apparated.
Snape reached for a drink of firewhiskey, knowing he would order a hot bath that evening. That man made his skin crawl.