One to Task
"Anything."
The old man's eyes gleamed. "You will report to me Voldemort's plans. All of them. His targets, his movements."
"You are mad!"
The old man's blue eyes were as cutting as the wind that whipped the hillside. "No sooner have you promised me everything than you would crawl back to your master, tail between your legs?"
"No! No, I mean, you expect me to betray the Dark Lord? No one can lie to Him!"
"Haven't you already, by coming to me?" the old man's gaze probed at him. "I believe you had that intention from the start, but you managed to fool him. You were confident of it, am I right? How did you do it?"
Albus Dumbledore's head jerked, breaking eye contact. A look of incredible disgust filled his face. "You are truly vile," he murmured softly. He looked down again, relentless. "Yet you are skilled. Perhaps ... too skilled."
"Are you a spy, Severus?" the old man asked quietly, "Is this all Voldemort's trap?"
"No!"
"Then convince me. How can I believe your story? You have already lied to Lord Voldemort many times and escaped detection, I am sure of it.
"Ah yes, I see. You have calmed and detached your thoughts, that much is usual. But only the ones you want to hide. You have agitated other thoughts that are also true, or half-true that you give a veneer of realism with your emotion. All of them are only diversions to cover your true intent, am I right?" Albus Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with triumph. "Thus, I uncover one truth. Then, another. Oh, here's another. How long can I keep peeling, I wonder? How many layers are there in this onion?"
"As many as dreams in human minds!" He retorted, glaring at the old man in fury.
He immediately broke his gaze and hung his head, letting the dark curtain of his hair hide his expression. He realised then why the Master feared this old man. This was the equal power, but also the greater intellect. He too feared the old man, and not just for his life.
"Then leave me my secrets," he said sullenly, "if you can find no persuasion in my thoughts, leave them be. Let me convince you with reason."
"Very well, I'm listening."
"I care nothing for Potter or his brat. Or your Muggles and mudbloods. Or you. But I ask you to believe - I - I beg you to believe - please - that I want Lily Evans to live.
"The Dark Lord has promised to - to give her to me. But I know Him. I know Lily will never back down before Him. She has never backed down. He - He will kill her. It is certain.
"So - please - He must never find her."
He raised his head and met the old man's eyes. "If you cannot believe me, then let us continue. Slay me now and complete the deed."
Albus Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. So that was it. I'm sorry, Lily, he thought as he closed his eyes and waited.
"Severus Snape, look at me. I will speak in the language you can understand." He was startled. Was this a death sentence, or a reprieve?
"You have served Lord Voldemort poorly by coming here. You will serve me better.
"Your services will continue until the time I choose to release you. In exchange for them, I will hide the Potters from Voldemort. If you fail me, or betray me..." The old man's voice trailed off.
"I will not," he said harshly, "I promise you this. I have said I will give you anything."
"Then we are agreed," said the old man briskly, "It will be too risky to meet like this. The job application, that was his intent, wasn't it? Consider this an interview; you're hired. In fact, your appearance is most opportune. Professor Slughorn has voiced his intention to retire. Or rather, his intention not to get between Lord Voldemort and me."
The old man smiled at his confusion. "Not Defense against the Dark Arts. You topped your class in Potions, I recall. Yes, I remember Ministry officials wrote in, looking for the student whose submission for his practical caught their attention, offering a job at their prestigious Controlled Substances Unit."
"Why did you quit your job, Severus?"
He did not answer. He looked away.
"When you work in Hogwarts, you will not cross any lines with the students," the old man stated quietly. "You will not practice Dark Arts in the premises. You will not deviate from the syllabus. Is that clear?"
"Yes."
"I will ask Professor McGonagall - you will remember her, I'm sure - to sit in during your classes. You have requested her help in developing your pedagogical skills, being painfully aware of your lack of it. This will almost double her workload, but she would enjoy helping a new colleague and former student. You will be respectful towards her, and take her suggestions into careful consideration. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly."
"Then go and report back to Voldemort. Move into Hogwarts within a week. Your services to me begin now."