Chapter 9 – Of Old Allies

Severus woke up with a faint headache that morning. He sighed, rolling onto his side, a dark frown forming on his tired face as he opened the curtains of his fourposter bed. He stared at the faint light filtering through the window, a Grindylow floating creepily a few inches from the decorated glass, its gleaming eyes lingering on the sleeping students.

Severus stared back, unimpressed. He'd been both fascinated and disturbed by the Black Lake and its creatures as a boy, fearing he would fall into the water when he'd jumped on the rocky boat in his first year, excitement and fear mingling in his stomach.

He hadn't known how to swim; he had spent his summers in Cokeworth, the only body of water available to him being that polluted river, its smell foul enough that it had never crossed his mind to touch its waters. He'd seen the ocean for the first time only as an adult. Lily had told him stories about it, about the tide unveiling countless shells and of their different colours and shapes; she'd even brought back a few for him in the summer of their first year.

Indeed, Severus had only been taught the basics of swimming when they had practised the Bubble-Head Charm in their sixth year and dived under the surface of the Black Lake. He could still remember Potter and Black having a blast when they'd realised greasy Snivellus was afraid of getting in the water, bursting his Bubble-Head charm and nearly causing him to drown.

"Damn, Sirius, must be the first time he's washed his hair in five years!" Potter had said, the sight of his wet hair, long and tangled with seaweed causing them to burst out laughing.

Severus sneered, forcing himself to shake off those unpleasant memories. Merlin help him if he allowed himself to be treated in such manner ever again; indeed, Potter should consider himself lucky that Severus was now a grown adult and above petty comebacks.

His dark eyes slowly fixed on the empty vial of Sleeping Draught still resting on his bedside table, his mouth twisting in displeasure; so much for stopping himself from using such potion. If he was not careful, they'd notice someone had been stealing those vials. He really ought to stop relying on it.

Severus scowled, opening his nightstand drawer with a jerk, his fingers closing around one of the smallest vials he had stolen from Slughorn's Office. He stared at it, the potion inside it not a shade lighter than blood. He twisted it in his bony fingers, the greenish light coming from the window beside him illuminating the dark liquid inside. He looked at it for a moment longer, then downed it in a single gulp, his mouth contorting unpleasantly.

The metallic taste of the Blood-Replenishing Potion lingered disgustingly on his tongue. He waited, his thin lips pulling back in an anger when he realised, he didn't feel much better than before. He had slept for a good six hours and he was still exhausted. Indeed, in spite of his extensive skills in multiple branches of magic, he was forced to confront the fact that he was no healer. The truth was that the best course of action for him would have been to visit St. Mungo's.

Lily had been right in suggesting he needed a visit to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have asked him too many questions if he'd blamed his condition on physical exhaustion and sleep deprivation. And yet, aside from the risk of her discovering the wound on his neck, it was out of pride that Severus had convinced himself that he did not require anyone's help to heal.

His wellbeing wasn't worth the humiliation of going to the very place where she had told him, with no half measures, he was no longer welcome, her lips trembling when she had whispered the word "murderer". The fact that she no longer remembered did nothing to soothe his anger, nor wash away the memory of how her eyes had darted between her patients and him, her face shuddering with repressed fear.

Severus gritted his teeth, the bitterness of those thoughts putting him in a foul mood. The scar on his neck burned as he removed his nightshirt. He closed his eyes, the sight of his prominent ribs and frail body doing nothing to ease his displeasure. He ran a hand through his greasing hair, not even wincing when his feet touched the cold floor, the freezing contact giving his thoughts some form of clarity.

With a small scowl, he reinforced the charm concealing Nagini's work, his eyes drifting to the tall pendulum clock beside him. His gaze slowly wandered to Mulciber's bunk, the boy's loud snoring reverberating in the otherwise silent Dormitory.

It had been Mulciber's snoring the reason why, by their fifth year, they'd all been able to perform a perfect Silencing Charm. In fact, as their sleep had grown lighter, there hadn't been a single one of them willing to bear such unyielding snoring any longer.

Severus shook his head as Avery turned in his bed, groaning. There was a small opening between the green curtains of the boy's bed, wide enough for him to see that Avery had just buried his face under his pillow, his mouth contorted in a grimace. He had forgotten that he had indeed been the last to learn how to survive Mulciber's snoring.

Swinging his tattered bag onto his shoulder, Severus ascended the stairs leading to the Common Room. He walked towards the exit, his steps light and quiet. He was just about to place his hand on the stone passage leading to the dungeon corridor when the feeling of being watched caused him to stop in his tracks. He turned around, his trained reflexes being the only thing preventing him from falling victim of a silent hex.

'Impressive' a voice drawled, the silence that followed was broken by nothing but the crackling of the dying fire. Severus' gaze wandered to his surroundings, his eyes fixing on the slim figure of Evan Rosier. He was sitting in one of the big armchairs next to the fire, a book laying open in his lap, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns on his wand. The corner of Severus' mouth pulled downwards.

'Snape' Rosier greeted him, his cold green eyes assessing him with both annoyance and interest, that look unable to hide that he hadn't expected him to block a spell meant to taunt him. Severus didn't need to brush the surface of the boy's thoughts to notice the suspiciousness in his eyes.

'Rosier' he said, his tone not one of a person willing to indulge in conversation. Rosier smiled, his eyes narrowing as he rested his arms on the armrests of the chair, his neat robes and impeccable posture unable to hide the note of wariness in his eyes.

'I don't think that's how you address your superiors, Snape. I don't like the way you are looking at me. Let's try again' he said, gesturing to his face with his wand, his eyes narrowing even more when Severus didn't blush at those words.

Severus' mouth thinned, a spark of anger igniting inside him. Potter and his gang had relished in publicly humiliating him, but his so-called friends had always been subtler when it'd come to it, acting as though he should've been thankful they allowed him to lick the dirt off their shoes. His lips contorted in a strange smile.

'Indeed? And yet here you are, another coward who dares attack me behind my back… I thought you would have understood by now that I wish to be left alone' Severus said silkily, his voice low and dangerous.

'And speaking of manners. Forgive me, but I fail to see how anyone so easily manipulated by the likes of Mulciber could later ask to be respected…' Severus said calmly, staring at the wand held loosely in Rosier's hand.

Rosier said nothing, but his mouth visibly thinned as he fought to control his temper. There was no doubt that Rosier would've become a thorn in his side had he lived enough to become a man, but as of now he was yet to pose any real threat.

'A small favour for a younger cousin, I'm sure you understand…' he said through gritted teeth, his expression bordering on disgust and suggesting his parents must've burdened him with the task to look out for his family.

Purebloods were all related, some more closely than others. Distant relations mattered little, but in his teenage years Severus had taken great pride in discovering that he was distantly related to the Malfoys, doing his upmost to ignore the fact that there was a good chance he might also be related to Black. The thought occasionally still caused him to grimace in disgust.

'And speaking of my dear cousin, I have to say that I'm quite curious. How did you do it? The Mediwitch says the wound will take a full week to fully heal' Rosier continued; this time unable to fully hide his interest.

Severus stared at him. It was only then that he noticed three dark tomes on the mantelpiece. No doubt they had all been smuggled from the darkest corner of the Restricted Section, he considered. Either that or Rosier had managed to convince Slughorn to sign him a pass; he'd always been skilled when it came to flattering the old Potions Master, always smart enough to hide his interest in the Dark Arts.

Had Rosier spent half the night looking for the answer in those books? He doubted it, the Dormitory had looked silent when he had returned. Rosier followed his gaze, his expression hardening as his eyes fell on the boy's school bag, a brand-new copy of Confronting the Faceless poking out of it. Severus wondered whether, like the majority of his peers, Rosier had even bothered to open it.

The spell had been slightly altered, but if Rosier, very much like the rest of the student body would've bothered to read his own textbook, he would have found a very similar spell at the very beginning of the twentieth chapter. Severus' lips twitched at that notion, the Professor in him mildly amused.

If memory served him correctly, Rosier would be sitting his N.E.W.T.s the following year... The boy was in for a nasty shock if he thought his family could convince the examiners to award him any undeserving points. Not even Lucius had had that power, not that he hadn't tried, laughing at how stuck-up Severus had been when it had come to discussing the subject.

'Don't insult my intelligence, Snape, I'm not Mulciber. We both know it's not amongst those spells, I want to know what it was' he said through gritted teeth, slowly getting to his feet, mimicking a mannerism that Severus knew he must have picked up in some pureblood meeting.

Another child playing the adult…

Still, Rosier l had a long way to go before he learnt to play this game.

'Whatever it was, it does not concern you' Severus said calmly, his lips twitching when the boy blinked, this time unable to hide how taken aback he was by the answer.

Silence stretched between them as they stared at each other, Rosier's expression moving between shock and anger before his eyes became colder, his posture looking slightly rigid as he spoke, the rational part of his brain seemingly prevailing.

'Fine, it was obviously wrong of me to believe you'd be sensible enough to show some respect. How much do you want?' he drawled, his green eyes travelling down Severus' figure, his lips twitching at the pathetic state of his clothes.

Severus' mouth thinned.

'There's no point in lying to each other, Snape. It's no wonder why those Gryffindors keep making a fool out of you … You do look like you are in desperate need of money. It won't fix everything, of course', he said, looking pointedly at his face, 'but it's always a start. Slytherin is a noble House, we can't have one of our own going around looking like a beggar now, can we?' Rosier said, his green eyes falling on Severus' torn shoes and faded garments.

'I'm afraid I don't have more than a couple of Sickles at the moment. Still, enough to make a few necessary changes' he added.

Severus' mouth set in a hard line, his eyes flashing with annoyance. His robes might no longer have holes, but there was just so much spells could do, no matter how advanced they were, he thought, unable to fully hide a grimace. Indeed, Severus was ashamed to admit that had he truly been sixteen, he would've accepted Rosier's money without a second thought.

He would've overlooked the fact that a few Sickles would've been barely enough to buy a new pair of socks, failing to see the veiled mockery behind what was nothing but worthless pocket change for the boy. There was no denying what he had become: a poor half-blood with nothing more than his wand and a few worthless items to his name, his goods and possessions lost to a time yet to come. A muscle in Severus' jaw twitched.

'Spare me, Rosier. The answer is no' Severus said, his eyes fixing on the boy once more.

Money aside, there were much more important reasons why it would be an unwise choice to share his knowledge with Evan Rosier and any of his peers, the memories of how his own spells had been used by the Death Eaters haunting him to this very day.

How many people had been hurt by the spells he had created? Everything he had known and created given away for a mere Galleon or a few Sickles… At the time Severus hadn't cared, taking everything that was offered, with little to no regard for the consequences. His heart had swelled with pride when the Dark Lord himself had been eager to experiment with his darkest creations. His Master had been in the habit of leaving his followers to dispose of everyone he had grown too tired to interrogate, their minds too damaged to hope they could ever recover.

He did not want that blood on his hands, not if he could avoid it; that person, that young man so eager to please had died a long time ago. And his crimes, though yet to happen, did not weigh on his conscience any less in this past time.

'I beg your pardon?' Rosier said, his voice holding a note of warning as silence fell between them once more.

'I said no' Severus repeated, his voice as cold as his eyes.

'Apologies, I think I must've misheard. Did you say no?' Rosier said with a forced smile, a smile that caused Severus' lips to twitch, his expression halfway between annoyance and amusement.

'Oh, I'm afraid you heard me correctly, Rosier. I'm sure you are aware of the reason why I find myself no longer willing to share my creations' Severus replied, his eyes wandering pointedly to the door leading to the dormitories.

He could forget going to the Library before breakfast, he would barely have enough time to wash his face, let alone have a shower if the conversation between him and Rosier kept going.

'Don't be ridiculous, Snape. You agreed to teach that small hex of yours to Avery, and that was only two weeks ago. He showed it to me and I've been generous enough to pay you ten Sickles for it. So, what's changed? It looks to me as though you fancy yourself much more valuable to the cause than you actually are' he snapped, his voice suddenly low and dangerous, 'So, why?' he repeated.

Why? Severus sighed, a grimace forming on his lips. Of the hundreds of reasons, he could have given for refusing to share the simplest of spells there were only a few that would not cause Rosier to question his allegiance. He might have grown used to defending himself from countless hexes and curses, but it would not do to have Rosier and the others following his every step; not when he had much more important matters to attend to.

On one thing the boy was right, he wasn't Mulciber and he wasn't nearly as stupid as his cousin was. So long as he believed them to be part of the same faction, he would not publicly attack him, he would not draw that kind of attention to himself. The boy was smart enough to know that he would do him no good to have the professors watching his every move, risking that they would sense his true allegiance.

Severus narrowed his eyes.

'Ten Sickles for one of my own spells to be used against me' he said bitterly.

'I didn't share it with those Gryffindors brats, Snape. As I said, I'm not Mulciber' the boy spat, his face twisting with disgust at the mere thought of being compared to his cousin. No, he wasn't Mulciber, which only made him more predictable, for Rosier would not attack without reason; not when he knew he might need Severus as an ally in the future; today he had only been testing him. What a nuisance, Severus thought; it looked as though even this time he wouldn't be allowed to have a moment of peace any time soon.

'Which is why I trust you'll have no problem understanding why I am no longer willing to indulge in these exchanges. The spell spread around the school like wildfire, with fools trying to take credit for my work, whilst others used it against me. Surely you understand why it is not worth what you're willing to pay for it' he said coldly.

'Perhaps you should only share it with the right people' he said snidely.

'The answer is still no. Have a good day' he said, Rosier's eyes never leaving him as he walked towards the stone passage leading to the exit, leaving with a polite nod.

'Hold on, I'm not finished with you, Snape' Rosier argued.

Severus ignored him, clicking his tongue in annoyance. The less he talked to them, the better. And yet, he knew that unless he somehow managed to destroy the Dark Lord in the near future, it would become increasingly more difficult for him to steer clear of Rosier and his gang.

The time had come for him to meet with Dumbledore, he thought reluctantly, the prospect of having to endure another day of fifth-year classes doing nothing to sway his mind from those dark thoughts.

Another day had passed since Severus had promised his childhood best friend that he would no longer join the Death Eater. And while Lily had warmed up to him since that day, his promise sounded little more than a mockery to his own ears.

"I will not join the Death Eaters", he had said. And what sort of imbecile would join them again? In hindsight, not even Lucius and many others would join the Dark Lord again. And indeed, Lily's subsequent happiness and relief was almost unbearable. Severus had joined the Death Eaters and out of his own free will. He had always suspected what they were and he had not cared. Indeed, he had been barely out of school when he'd joined them without sparing a single thought for the consequences. He had just wanted the world to burn.

Perhaps he should have told her that; if the mere admission that he had been considering it had caused her to cry, he did not dare think what the truth would do to her, let alone to a friendship now based on lies. Severus distanced himself from his lunch, suddenly revolted by the smell of food, his throat hurting with each swallow. Lily looked at him, frowning, and his anger quickly morphed into guilt. He stared at her, feeling as though he was little more than a ghost living in someone else's body, clinging to a moment of time to which he did not belong.

'Are you alright, Sev?' she asked.

Severus could not even remember the last time he had been "alright", but he forced himself to nod all the same. He massaged his eyes, his ears tuning in to the chatter around him, his eyes falling on the scorching soup Lily had placed in front of him with a smile. The same soup he couldn't bring himself to swallow. There were sitting at the Hufflepuff table, where Severus was being eyed with distrust.

He knew why she'd brought him here; her eyes constantly moving between his face and the meal she had forced upon him, her persistent gaze soon causing him to grow slightly uncomfortable. He did not know whether to be uncomfortable or annoyed by the fact she had noticed he'd been skipping meals.

'Come on, stop sulking, it's getting cold' she nudged him, her smile unable to fully hide a note of apprehension.

She was worried and despite his closed stomach, it was for her sake that Severus began to swallow, the faint headache pulsing behind his temple slowly subsiding.

Lily's shoulders slumped in relief, her lips twitching when she watched him wipe his mouth with a napkin after having finished his meal. Severus felt his cheeks growing warm as he realised that his teenage counterpart had often preferred the back of his hands to a napkin. No wonder she looked amused. Had he had no better manners than the dunderheads he was so used to teaching, the ones who would ear like a horde of hicks faced with their first meal after a famine.

He took a sip of water.

'I was wondering if you still wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend' Lily said, her proposition nearly causing him to choke on his drink.

Severus's heart faltered; that was until he remembered that it hadn't been a rare occurrence for them to visit the village together. As of now, he couldn't even remember the last time he had been to Hogsmeade for… fun. She looked at him expectantly, her bright green eyes betraying an inkling of worry.

He swallowed, staring at her beautiful face and realising with shock that while he had been lost in his thoughts, she had leaned closer.

He stiffened, so uncomfortable by the close proximity that he suddenly found himself hiding behind a curtain of black hair; unconsciously reverting to a mannerism that could have only belonged to an awkward teenager. The realisation caused him to scowl with embarrassment. He averted his eyes, his heart beating shamefully fast when he found himself staring at her soft lips, her eyes looking at him with warmth instead of mistrust and hatred. Stop looking at her, he told himself.

She waited, patiently.

'Of- of course' he stuttered, the words escaping his lips before he could even think about what he was saying.

And despite the shame churning in his stomach, Severus felt the redness creeping up his sallow cheeks when she nodded, his heart faltering when she smiled.

The sun had long since set behind the tall mountains surrounding the castle when Severus found himself staring at the big Gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's Office. He stared at it, as still and cold as the statue, Dumbledore's words echoing in his mind.

"You might be aware of the possible outcomes of this future, but you have no mean to foresee how your actions will reshape it. I don't need to tell you that you are not as safe as you think you are. A war is coming"

"I know what you are implying and there is no need, you know I will find you"

He closed his eyes for a moment and grimaced. Four days had passed since he had died and yet it wasn't until this very day that he had found enough courage to confront the Headmaster. He had tried to meet those ever-knowing eyes during dinner, but he had found himself unable to stare at him for more than a few seconds. Somehow the thought of having to confront a Dumbledore that was neither dead nor a portrait was deeply unsettling to him; his last words, the flash of green light in the darkness of that night…

Everything that had happened flashed before his eyes; memories so painful and vivid that, without Occlumency that he couldn't help but feeling sick at the mere sight of him.

On top of that, he couldn't help but being frustrated by his own inability to decipher the man's last cryptic warning: horcruxes. After another fruitless night spend researching the topic, he had been forced to admit that if a book about them had ever been at Hogwarts, Dumbledore must've already removed it.

How exactly he hoped to speak to Dumbledore when he could barely look at him, Severus did not know, but what he did know was that the wretched guilt in his stomach wouldn't allow him to delay this meeting any longer. He had already wasted enough time.

Unsurprisingly, it did not take him long to guess the password; there were just so many sweets and desserts Dumbledore could use, the reoccurring pattern not obscure to a man who had spent the last seventeen years of his life walking up and down that office.

Despite being familiar with every turn and step, Severus ascended the stairs with a feeling of dread. He knocked on the heavy door and waited.

'Enter'

He stepped inside, his face pale in the moonlight as he found himself staring at another ghost. Dumbledore had the same look of wisdom and timelessness and yet, somehow, he also looked also younger, his skin not as white and frail, his back a little straighter. The eyes however had remained the same, untouched by the passing of time and ever seeing; they had never stopped making Severus uncomfortable. More often than not he'd had the disturbing feeling that Dumbledore knew him better than he knew himself.

If Dumbledore was surprised to see him in his Office at such late hour, he did not show it, instead he tilted his head, his blue eyes shining with a spark of interest. Severus' stomach twisted in a knot, his lips twisting as though he'd swallow something bitter.

'Ah, Mr. Snape, to what do I owe the pleasure?' he said, lacing his long fingers under his chin, as Fawkes too turned to look at him.

Severus tensed, looking as though Dumbledore had just slapped him. In the silence that follow Dumbledore's greeting, the sound of his own surname lingered on his tongue like the foulest of potions.

Mr. Snape. He thought, sneeringly. He looked at the familiar office, trying to fool himself into thinking that the only thing irksome about Dumbledore's greeting was the wrongness of his title. Severus' brows set in a frown, his heart faltering when his eyes rested once more upon Dumbledore, his petty annoyance quickly fading as he noticed the icy look hidden behind what had initially mistaken for nothing more than polite interest.

He took a step back and all of a sudden, as he continued to stare into those icy eyes, Severus felt lost. Had he really been sixteen, he would not have cared. In fact, he wouldn't have expected anything less by the Slytherins' least favourite Headmaster, but Severus' relationship with Dumbledore had become complicated and despite the occasional animosity and frustration, he had come to care for the Headmaster. But that wasn't exactly right, Severus was almost ashamed to admit he'd relished in Dumbledore's trust and approval. He'd been envious of how the Headmaster had doted on the boy, on Potter.

This Dumbledore did not know who Severus was, if not, that at the age of sixteen, the boy in front of him would not have cared if his lack of silence had resulted in Lupin being put down by the Ministry. A muscle in Severus' neck tensed as the old wizard continued to stare at him, a dark shadow falling on his old face. His stomach lurched. Did he think he had come there to discuss the werewolf? And indeed, what other reason could Severus have had to seek Dumbledore at this age?

Severus could remember how Dumbledore had looked at him on that day; as though Severus was something disgusting, as though he should have showed some empathy for Lupin's condition and pitied him for his struggles. His gaze hardened. Lupin, the cowardly werewolf who had allowed his friend to turn his transformation into a night of "fun".

He'd said he'd been unaware of his friends' plans in regard to Severus. Whether he'd told the truth or not, Sirius Black should have gotten more than a slap on the wrist for having showed himself capable of murder at the age of sixteen. A couple of weeks of detention and a month off the Quidditch Pitch. Severus gritted his teeth. Whether the matter had ought to remain secret or not, Dumbledore had always had a soft spot for Gryffindors and Severus would never be one of them, no matter what he did.

Of course, Dumbledore had not known his golden boys had been roaming the grounds at nights, nor had he known about their cloak and map. Lupin had broken his trust so spectacularly that nearly two decades later he hadn't been responsible enough to admit his crimes, even if that meant risking the life of his best friend's son.

He had thought Black to be guilty, refusing to spill his filthy schoolboy secrets for fear of what Dumbledore might think of him, allowing Black to enter the school and endangering them all. Had he been Headmaster at that time he would have done more than patiently wait for his resignation.

Lupin had carelessly forgotten his potion, spitting on his efforts and the safety of the entire student body, as well as his best friend's son.

Dumbledore had been a fool to trust him. He had not said a word when Severus had exposed him, his head still pounding after being released from the hospital wing. Not that Severus would have listened; but Dumbledore had let it happen. He had been disappointed, the look on his face enough for the werewolf to run away for fear of facing him.

Severus had never pretended to be good, he'd never been afraid to look at himself in the mirror. He knew what he was. He did not relish at the idea of stirring pity in his colleagues and in being told how hard his life was. Sometimes the act of the meek werewolf got on his nerves more than Black's blatant dislike and hatred for his person; at least Black had never pretended to like him, nor had he acted as though nothing between them had ever happened.

Severus took a deep breath, Occlumency filling his mind with cold lucidity as he pushed those memories away.

There was a long silence, occasionally broken by Fawkes. The phoenix who had initially eyed him curiously, was now peeling a chicken bone with its sharp beak, seemingly unconcerned by Severus' presence.

'I- I've come to offer you my services' Severus said at last, swallowing the past resentment clouding his mind and cutting straight to the point.

Dumbledore stared at him, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. A rare sight indeed. He felt the corner of his lips twitch, mildly amused by the fact that for once in his life it was now Dumbledore the one on the receiving end of cryptic statements and riddles.

Alas, his twisted pleasure did not last long. It all happened in a fraction of a second; all he could state in his defence was that he reacted out of instinct. The Muggles might have called it muscle memory, if such a thing could be used to describe the mind arts, Severus did not know, but it was too late to take it back. The subtle prodding against his mind, not only noticed, but cast away with the force of a whip.

And Severus knew, as well as the Headmaster, that Severus Snape, the boy, would have lacked the skills to realise what was happening, let alone defend himself against that subtle prodding.

Dumbledore was eyeing him carefully now, the act of playing the part of the old fool long forgotten.

Severus said nothing, but his face visibly whitened and all of a sudden, he felt as though he was staring once again at the man at the top of that hill, waiting for him to strike, waiting for the pain to take hold of his features. Dumbledore wasn't fond of violence, but he would not go gentle if he thought Severus to be a danger to his students.

He should have expected it, but it had been a long time since Severus had been wary of Dumbledore, because the Dumbledore he remembered would have never attempted it. Severus had never truly understood why, but the Headmaster had always preferred to hear his reports from his own mouth instead of his mind. Dumbledore had made a point in proving that he was not like the Dark Lord. It was a matter of trust he had said, and trust, as many other things, could not work unless freely given by both parties.

If he had once deemed the old man foolish for trusting a reformed Death Eater without any definitive proof of his loyalty, later on he had found himself desperate to prove himself worthy of that trust. Dumbledore had a way with people and to his utmost displeasure the thought of seeing the disappointment in Dumbledore's eyes had quickly become much worse than any punishment the Dark Lord might inflict on him were he to discover his betrayal.

Whatever the Dark Lord's followers said about the eccentric Headmaster, Severus knew that Albus Dumbledore was neither naïve nor a fool. Severus might've been no different than those reckless Gryffindors in trying to win Dumbledore's respect and approval, but he had never been stupid enough to believe the old man ignorant of the effect that his words had on people.

It was curious how, sometimes, trust could have more influence on people than threats and fear. In fact, Severus had spent enough time with Dumbledore to know that between the two greatest wizards of the century, Dumbledore had had a greater potential for destruction than the Dark Lord had ever had. To think that such a wizard had been drawn to power in his youth had been unsettling. He would have been worshipped like a God, protective of his subjects and ruthless in his punishment. Like the Christian God in his father old bible, who had flooded the Earth to punish humanity its misdeeds, a genocide committed for the greater good.

Severus looked warily in the Headmaster's eyes, the tears in his eyes when he had confessed his worst crimes, bringing him to question what sort of man could've stood in Dumbledore's place had his sister survived. And what of him? What sort of person would Severus had been if Lily's death had not awakened him from his slumber, if he'd been left walking deeper and deeper into the darkness?

Not that it mattered now, he thought, a cold drop of sweat gliding down his temple. Very much like he had done in his youth, Severus had underestimated him; his familiarity causing him to forget that Dumbledore had not always liked him, nor had he yet learnt to see past Severus' barbed tongue and harsh personality.

Wonderful, he thought as Dumbledore gave him a calculating look, those icy blue eyes darkening. Severus faltered, fear piercing through him, his mind drifting back to that windswept hilltop, fearing for his life as Dumbledore looked down at him, his eyes cold and calculating. The fine hairs on the nape of his neck bristled as he snapped out of trance, his fingers twitching, urging him to draw his wand. But he soon found that he could not move and a feeling of betrayal crept towards him; for Dumbledore had not looked at him like that in eighteen years.

There was no warmth, no twinkle in those lively blue eyes. Dumbledore's eyes were as cold as the stormy waters of the sea, preparing itself to strike the unfortunate people who had dared challenge it. Severus blanched. He tried to focus on Dumbledore, but he couldn't and it wasn't long before the unspoken accusations in those icy eyes pulled him back to an even worse night. His eyes widened as he saw Dumbledore falling from the Astronomy Tower, the smile slowly fading from that weathered old face as he fell, swallowed by darkness.

Murderer…

Severus flinched, his breath fast and shallow as cold drops of sweat glided down his temple. He dropped his gaze, trembling before he could find once more the necessary strength to Occlude. Dumbledore frowned, breaking eye contact as he leaned back in his armchair.

'Who are you?'

Dumbledore's voice was quiet and polite, but it still concealed an unspoken threat. He was giving him the chance to explain. Severus gave him a feeble nod, his throat feeling strangely dry when Dumbledore encouraged him to speak. Merlin help him, he was pathetic, he thought with shame. He closed his eyes, wiping the sweat from his face, hating himself for shaking. This would not do. Dumbledore… Lily… he needed to get a grip on himself if he wanted to survive. He wasn't a child.

Severus took a deep breath, forcing himself to regain some form of lucidity.

'I am Severus Snape' he said; his voice betraying a hint of annoyance as his black eyes bored into Dumbledore's, daring him to question the truth of his statement.

Dumbledore stared at him, his frown growing more pronounced.

'You are no student. Your level of Occlumency is far too advanced. I'll go as far as to say that I don't believe I've ever seen anything like it. If I were to make an educate guess, judging by what I'm sure was an instinctive reaction, I would dare say you have been using the Mind Arts for far longer than most of my students have been alive. How did you get inside this school?'

And there it was again, the unspoken threat; Merlin help him if Dumbledore thought he was going to hurt his precious students.

'I am not lying, I am indeed Severus Snape, but you are correct in assuming that I am no student' he replied, painfully aware that he was starting to try Dumbledore's patience; indeed, he briefly wondered whether this man would be as forbearing as his older counterpart had been.

'An obvious contradiction. Alas, it is a quite a powerful charm you are using to alter your appearance' Dumbledore said coldly, seeming staring right through him. Severus grimaced, his mouth thinning.

'A precaution to avoid cumbersome questions. I believe you can easily remove it, Headmaster, though I must warn you, you will find yourself most disappointed if you comply' he said bitterly.

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, seemingly taken aback by Severus' compliance; then he raised his wand. Severus pursed his lips, Dumbledore's spell hitting him like a bucket of icy water. His skin prickled, but he forced himself not to move, waiting for the powerful magic on his neck to creep away from his skin, unveiling the horror lying beneath it.

For a moment Dumbledore did not speak, his eyes shining with something akin to pity.

'That is quite an interesting scar, Mr. Snape' he said at last, laying his wand on the desk, his long fingers stroking his grey beard.

Severus grimaced, rubbing the mangled flesh, his lips twisting with revulsion as his fingers touched the scars. Blasted snake, he thought, not wanting to think for how much longer the sound of his torn flesh would plague his dreams. He glanced at Dumbledore's wand and shivered. Because there it was, the cause of his death: the Elder Wand an object that had never been his, that he had never possessed. Severus wrenched his gaze from it and forced himself to meet Dumbledore's eyes.

He looked warily at the old wizard. He knew that having silently cast more than one spell at his body, Dumbledore was now ready to listen. With a brisk movement of his wrist, Severus caused the blasted scar to disappear, feeling instantly better as Dumbledore cast his eyes away from it. Worry and pity; he'd always hated both.

'An interesting scar, indeed. One I cannot say I survived' he said darkly, his eyes wandering once more to Dumbledore's wand.

His face paled. Had he known? Had he known he would be killed for it? Severus' stomach twisted in a knot, the reminder of how much Dumbledore had kept from him leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

"… you do not trust me"

"It is not a question of trust… I prefer not to put all of my secrets in one basket, particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort"

"Which I do on your orders!"

Severus' jaw clenched, his lips thinning as though he had just swallowed something sour.

'If you would allow me' he said, gesturing to the small cupboard at Dumbledore's right, wanting nothing more than to leave that cursed place.

He hated the way Dumbledore was looking at him, blatantly unaware of how much he'd wronged him, he hated that he had to do this and he hated himself for being alive.

Dumbledore gave him an imperceptible nod, so Severus walked towards the cupboard, kneeling beside it. He could feel Dumbledore's eyes on his back. Taking a deep breath, he opened the cupboard doors, the blinding light coming from the shallow stone basin causing him to narrow his eyes.

If Dumbledore was surprised to see how familiar Severus was with the location of his most precious possessions, he did not show it; but he merely nodded when the younger wizard carefully took the Pensieve in his hands, resting the precious object on the polished table on his left. Severus occluded, unnerved by Dumbledore's gaze, suppressing his emotions until even his annoyance stared to fade away.

'May I?' Severus asked, his cold eyes resting on Dumbledore's. The Headmaster was frowning, looking intently at him, his expression as serious as his. There was a moment of silence then, Fawkes let out a soft chirp, his black eyes glistening as he stared curiously at Severus.

Dumbledore inclined his head, Fawkes' peculiar behaviour and calm demeanour in his presence not going unnoticed to his attentive eyes. He considered Severus for a few more moments, then he gestured to the Pensieve, inviting him to proceed.

Severus stared at the tiny ripples crossing the shimmering liquid inside the basin, his expression darkening. He sighed, closing his eyes as he pushed his dark wand against his temple.

'I believe, I have come across a bunch of information you will find most useful, Headmaster' he said.

When Dumbledore said nothing, Severus delved deeper into his mind, murmuring slightly as he pressed his black wand harder against his temple. After a minute or two tiny strings of silver thoughts were swirling in the shallow bowl, his whole miserable life staring mockingly back at him, his own head feeling blissfully empty.

Severus straightened up, looking at Dumbledore, his young face illuminated by the shimmering light of the Pensieve. Dumbledore frowned, tapping one long finger on the wooden desk, his eyes looking somehow darker as he stared at the shimmering memories, the Dark Lord's face and his own swimming to the surface.

When Dumbledore made no sign to stop him, Severus walked towards the door, lingering on the threshold, black strands of hair obscuring his face.

'I believe you know where to find me, Headmaster. I expect you will have questions' he said; and without waiting for an answer, he walked away from his former office, the sound of the closed door echoing behind him as he left.