Chapter 14 – Tales Of A Past Future
Severus Snape, unlike his former best friend, had never been famous for his empathy and understanding. He had struggled with empathy as a child, and yet, he was not completely oblivious to people's emotions. During the course of his life, he had inevitably learnt to sense subtle changes in other people's mood, learning very quickly that it was in his best interest to pay attention to the smallest changes in people's tone of voice and behaviour. It was a skill that had served him well, ensuring his survival under his drunken father's roof, and later on in the Dark Lord's inner circle.
He'd learn to carefully conceal his thoughts and feelings with the Mind Arts, leaving people wondering what his next move would be. He looked down on fools who proudly wore their hearts on their sleeves, men easily manipulated by a few chosen words by those who knew which strings to play. Emotions could be a dangerous weakness, one that must be hidden close to one's heart and buried within. It was therefore unsurprising that Severus had died being regarded as a heartless bastard. A cold and twisted being that could murder a man who'd showed him nothing but kindness.
Unfortunately, he did have a heart; though life would have certainly been easier if he hadn't. He did not care about most people, but he did care deeply for a selected few.
He sighed; his fingers loosely wrapped around the wand in his pocket as Lily practically ran towards the portrait hole. He wondered if up until that moment, a part of her had been aware he'd been debating whether he ought to let her go with her memory still intact.
All temptation to pry into her thoughts were quickly snuffed out every time he considered betraying her trust so deeply. For some inexplicable reason, she still trusted him. She really shouldn't. He could have robbed her mind of every suspicious thought she'd ever had of him without her even noticing. Perhaps he should have. After all, what could a sixteen-year-old girl have done against the Dark Lord's right hand man? It wasn't as though she could have stopped him. The thought alone was enough to make him sick.
Such violent act of Legilimency could permanently damage the human mind and as of now Severus felt a monster to have even considered it. Merlin help him, how could she have ever trusted him? His fingers shook, for he could barely trust himself.
"You remember, don't you?"
Severus grimaced. He had changed, he knew that much, but he would have never believed Lily would fear he might be an imposter; nor that he would fail so spectacularly at impersonating himself.
He did remember, or, to be more precise, he had remembered. Of course, humiliated by the fact that she had had to pay for his food as though he were nothing but a child, he had forgotten that his teenage self wouldn't have lashed out at her for such a thing. He had been ashamed, even more so when, upon emptying his pockets, he had realised he would not have enough money to pay for the food she had kindly offered. He had glared at her, already on edge after her prying questions.
Of course, it wasn't as though he could explain how degrading it was for a man of his age to find himself with nothing but a few sickles in his pockets. He could not expect her to understand that, nor why he'd snapped at her after she'd called him "boy".
Wasn't that what he was? How could she know he had looked very different a few days before? How could she know that he hated to look at that fragile, scrawny body, the lack of hairs on his face and chest another painful reminder that he looked not a day older than one of his students? Was Lily to blame if he was unable to look in a mirror without being disgusted? He'd hated being this age. Indeed, he would've much preferred being an ugly but respected old man, rather than being laughed at by his peers for his appearance.
It had been incredibly unfair for him to blame her for pouring salt in a wound that she couldn't possibly know existed; not that Severus had ever cared much about fairness.
He ran a hand down his face, his posture deflating. He was just about to start his descend towards the Dungeons when he stopped, the hairs on his nape standing up. He turned around, his wary eyes resting on the silvering outline of a phoenix as the Patronus swept right before him. The phoenix looked at him, its light engulfing them in an eerie silence. Severus took a deep breath, Dumbledore's words coming back to his mind.
"Dark and difficult times lie ahead. Soon we must face the choice between what is right and what is easy"
He grimaced, bowing his head as he met the phoenix eyes. He was ready.
The room was quiet, rays of moonlight seeping through the tall windows and dancing lazily over the silver instruments scattered around Dumbledore's Office. Severus stood in the doorway for a moment, his face an emotionless mask, a part of him ready to accept a fate that would likely terminate with another gruesome death.
Would this Dumbledore know what Harry Potter and his friends had been entrusted to do during that past year? Was he privy to that information? Would he trust Severus with the boy's task this time? Or would he be once again sent to spy on his old Master?
Despite Occlumency, a cold shiver ran down the length of his spine, his skin crawling at the memory of the Mark that had marred his pale skin. Another sign of disfigurement, one that similarly to the scar that now twisted his neck, had served as a constant reminder that one could never truly escape their past. He had died and come back, but as he stood here, in front of Dumbledore, it was as though they stood once again frozen in time.
He thought of the sixteen-year-old girl that had smiled at him that past week, he remembered reassuring her that there were indeed still friends, clinging to every smile she had given him like a drowning man. It was all a lie, of course, his mission hadn't changed, no matter how much he'd tried, if not for a short time, to forget. He knew what he'd have to do, he had never needed Dumbledore reminding him. He'd promised himself he'd do everything in his power to make sure this girl would live a long, happy life. A life her best friend had prematurely taken away from her. It'd be the closest thing to atonement he would ever get.
Death had not made him a coward and despite all, he liked to think he was no longer the same man who had unknowingly sold her to his Master.
Fawkes gave a soft cry, raising his beautiful head from under his scarlet wings as he shifted on his perch, his black eyes fixing curiously on him. Severus forced himself to straighten his back, his cold eyes finally meeting those of the older wizard, sitting in the very chair he himself had occupied. He stifled a shudder.
'You called, Headmaster?' he said curtly, preparing himself to accept whatever Dumbledore would decide to make of him.
Dumbledore stared at him; then he sighed. It was only because of his own familiarity with the man that Severus noticed that Dumbledore looked as tired as he was, the Pensieve still shimmering eerily on his worn desk. Severus' eyes rested on it, a look of discomfort crossing his features.
So he had seen them, Severus thought. He winced as his old withered face swirled on the surface, a pair of red, cold eyes fixing on his as a snake prepared itself to strike. The memories swirled again and he saw his teenage-self waking up covered in blood, long, bloody fingers trailing down a broken mirror. Despite his best efforts, Severus found himself averting his gaze. He felt queasy as his hand found the scars on his neck, his finger shaking slightly at the memories of the snake.
Blasted snake, he thought, trying to hide his discomfort, his skin cold and sweaty.
'Is there a reason why you summoned me here?' he found himself asking impatiently, his tired face forming once again on the surface, his own miserable life staring mockingly at him as he strode in the dim lit corridors, the students' screams that he immediately associated with that memory causing his skin to crawl. Then, there was a younger Severus, crawling at his Master's feet, relaying the prophecy and then, there was Lily, dead.
Severus closed his eyes, his breaths growing erratic. There was a reason he relied on Occlumency to shut down those memories, he couldn't bear the sight of them, he thought ashamed, tightening his hands into fists so that Dumbledore wouldn't notice how much they were shaking. Why couldn't he have kept that blasted thing away?
He opened his eyes, trying to slow down his breathing, his chest tight.
'Could… could you… please,' he gestured to the Pensieve, unable to finish, but Dumbledore seemed to understand, because he tapped the Pensieve with the tip of his wand and the storm of memories quieted down, replaced by a sea of pure, silver light.
Severus swallowed, his mouth dry, his chest hurting as though sea water had been just removed from his lungs. He looked at Dumbledore, wishing the man would offer him something to drink. He was tense, ashamed for nearly succumbing to one of his episodes in front of this unfamiliar man, afraid that Dumbledore would look at him as though Severus was something broken, as though he was on the verge of insanity.
What would Dumbledore have said had he known Severus had been taking Calming Draughts behind his back? Would he trust him to fight still or would he think him mentally unstable? He could still remember his father mocking his mother for succumbing to panic when Severus had been a child. He'd said they were weak and pathetic things. But no, Dumbledore would merely look at him, worry clouding his eyes for what he was asking him to endure. Severus had hated that look. It'd always made him feel like no matter how hard he tried; the man would always be capable of seeing right through him.
Dumbledore gave him a strange look, sparing him the humiliations of having to explain. Perhaps the man was more like his older counterpart than Severus had originally thought. Either that or he had deliberately placed the Pensieve where Severus could easily see it, hoping to see whether the seemingly unemotional man in front of him would be able to watch his worst memories without an ounce of remorse.
Severus grimaced. He knew Dumbledore had had no control over the memories that had appear on the surface, but when his blank gaze rested on the Pensieve once more, he couldn't help but feel as though he'd be strangely violated.
They stared at each other for a couple of minutes, Severus' body as cold as stone before Dumbledore gestured for him to take a seat. The corner of Dumbledore's lips twitched as he automatically walked towards his favourite armchair next to Fawkes.
He sat rather stiffly. Fawkes the phoenix watched him curiously, fluttering his beautiful wings as he hedged a bit closer. Very much like his prying owner, the blasted bird had always had a knack for seemingly seeing past Severus' harsh demeanour. The bird tilted his head, soft feathers brushing his fingers as he looked as though, in spite of his Occlumency, he could still feel Severus' pain and discomfort.
He hesitated; a part of him wondering whether it was wise to touch the bird while Dumbledore was still so distrusting of him. Then, he reluctantly petted him once, the feathers feeling warm and soft beneath his fingers, before he stopped. Fawkes looked at him expectantly, nudging him to continue, oblivious to the fact that his owner might as well decide to curse Severus' hand off if he thought him unworthy of touching his precious familiar.
Severus sighed. The phoenix had always seemed to like him, but the bird seemed to be utterly fascinated by him now. Severus briefly wonder whether this had anything to do with him having experienced death.
'Fascinating creatures, phoenixes, don't you think, Severus? May I call you Severus?' Dumbledore asked, his voice evoking a scowl as Severus realised he had long since taken his eyes off the man, allowing himself to lower his guard, fooled by the familiar surroundings. Had Dumbledore been the Dark Lord, he would've already been dead.
'Of course,' he said, somehow stiffly, feeling positively moronic as he found himself soothed but that false sense of familiarity. Something had warmed in his chest at hearing Dumbledore refer to him by his first name. Was it hope? Was he so desperate to gain once again the Headmaster's approval? He grimaced. Good Merlin, he was pathetic.
Dumbledore tilted his head, staring intently at him before Severus looked away.
'Forgive me, my boy, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable, but as you said, I find myself with more than a few questions. I was wondering if we could go back to where we left,' he asked, his voice gentler.
Severus nodded, his eyes briefly wandering to Dumbledore's office. It looked mostly the same, minor a few silver instruments and books that Dumbledore must've collected in the following twenty years. Apart from that, the room looked just as he had left it. Despite having taken the Headmaster's role, Severus had never found it within himself to dispose of Dumbledore's possessions, let alone redecorate.
It had been a reminder of just how dangerous of a man he could be, a silent warning meant for rebellious students and colleagues, or so he had said to the Carrows when they had inquired on the matter. Severus closed his eyes for a moment, had Dumbledore not asked him, he would have never taken the job. Being a professor had been bad enough as it was.
For a moment no one spoke, the ripples created by Dumbledore's wand soon leaving space to a new swirl of memories as Severus' weary eyes drifted once again to the Pensieve. Lily was no longer there, nor were the screaming students, but he could now see himself, walking in that tunnel, the bloodied figure of his teenage-self stumbling towards the castle as he closed his eyes.
'Am I correct in assuming that these are your memories?'
Severus did not answer, a dark shadow falling on his face as he stared at the swirling memories. He nodded, seemingly confirming Dumbledore's unspoken suspicions.
"No need to be upset my boy. You have done well, very well indeed."
Severus' eyes darkened at that memory, his thoughts drifting back to the smile and proud look that had adorned the older Dumbledore's features. Guilt and shame overtook him. That had been a memory of a time and place that did not belong to the world of the living, a memory that he had considered too private to share.
'Yes,' he said gravelly, his eyes now fixed upon Dumbledore, a troubled look resting upon those ancient features. Dumbledore did not answer. A muscle in his jaw twitched, betraying a hint of impatience.
'Well? Am I to understand that you believe me? Do you believe I am from a time yet to come?' Severus asked at last, his finger tracing the outline of his thin lips, his dark eyes never leaving Dumbledore's.
Dumbledore sighed, leaning back in his chair as he entwined his long fingers.
'I'm afraid it's of little importance what I believe. What I know for certain, however, is that those memories have not been tampered with' he answered wearily.
'That leave us with two possibilities. Tell me, Severus, are you a seer?'
'No' he said bitterly, his mouth contorting into a sneer. And sure enough, Trelawney's magnified eyes and inane bubbling immediately came to the forefront of his mind. His eyes narrowed at the mere thought of having been compared to the woman.
Oblivious as to why Severus seemed to be mildly offended, Dumbledore merely nodded, not looking at him, his expression suggesting that Severus had only confirmed what Dumbledore himself had considered an unlikely theory.
'I thought as much, which brings us to my next question: how old are you, Severus?' Dumbledore asked contemplatively, his bright blue eyes drifting back on him as though Severus was a complicated piece of puzzle he couldn't quite figure out.
Severus' eyes narrowed.
'Older than I look,' he said darkly. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but did not press the matter any further as he patiently waited for Severus to grace him with a proper answer.
Severus crossed his arms defensively, Dumbledore's gaze making him increasingly self-conscious about his youthful appearance; an unconscious fear of not being taken seriously because of it bubbling in his stomach.
'I died one week ago, twenty-two years from now,' he added dismissively.
Dumbledore stroked his long beard, his index finger tracing his lower lip. Severus resisted the urge to shift under his gaze, scowling at the realisation that he was indeed uncomfortable.
'Which would make you thirty-eight years of age, am I correct?', Severus nodded, 'And if your Occlumency skills are anything to go by, I'd go as far as to say that you seem to have gained much more than a simple insight into your future, Mr. Snape. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you don't quite act like the boy I remember. Tell me, Severus, do you even remember being this age?' Dumbledore inquired, and Severus' face flushed as he understood what exactly Dumbledore had been asking.
Was he a sixteen-year-old boy who possessed some knowledge of the future or a thirty-year-old man who had lived his live and died to find himself once again a teenager? He glanced at Dumbledore, the man's head still slightly tilted to one side, his piercing blue eyes looking right through him.
Severus swallowed, his lips thinning with the effort of restraining an outward display of annoyance.
'Not any more than I suspect you remember being this age, Headmaster,' he said smoothly, praying Dumbledore would stop staring at him as though trying to determine whether he was still in full possession of his mental faculties. He looked at the older wizard, his face sudden veiled by Occlumency as he straightened his back.
'I would not have offered my services if I thought myself incapable of living up to the task. I am not a child. Which brings us to my first request. I would like to be put to some use, I believe my talents and knowledge would be of better use in the war rather than wasted in repeating my O.W.L.s. If I may, I believe we could use my knowledge to terminate this war before it furthers escalates,' he said stiffly.
'And if you…' he took a deep breath, gritting his teeth, 'And if you believe I would be of greater use as a spy, I shall resume my role. I will regain the Dark Lord's trust and work from within his ranks to ensure his defeat,' he added; and despite his best efforts, his face went rather pale at the thought of having to take the Mark once more.
Another life ruined in the name of the greater good. Another life made of hatred and lies, another life as a murderer. Severus took a deep breath, his eyes burning as he met Dumbledore's gaze, a strange look crossing the older man's features. Was that surprise on his face? Did Dumbledore believe him to be such a coward? Did he not think Severus would have the strength to do what was necessary?
"Knowledge is a powerful tool, as well as a great burden. You'll have to be very careful, 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 said brusquely. Dumbledore smiled warmly at him, looking as though he had known the answer all along.
"I had my hopes, I'll admit as much," he said with a smile, twiddling his thumbs together, his expression slightly amused. Severus let out a frustrated hiss, a snarl playing on his lips.
"Then, you do not know me as you claim you do, Dumbledore. If you did, you'd know I find myself with no choice in the matter!"
"I believe we always have a choice, my boy. But yes, I think I understand what you mean. As long as Lord Voldemort is alive Lily is hardly safe."
As much as collaborating with Dumbledore could be infuriating, Severus knew an alliance with him would greatly enhance his chances to successfully take down the Dark Lord. If the Dark Lord were once again to gain the level of control he had had during the second war all would be lost. How many people would have to die now that his forces outnumbered the Order twenty to one once more?
He grimaced. As far as he knew there hadn't been a single living witch or wizard able to lie to that monster's face and survive to tell the tale. Indeed, the Dark Lord's arrogance and power had never led him to suspect that Severus Snape might succeed where they had all failed. Severus had only been another poor and ugly young man, talented and desperate to please.
Severus took a deep breath.
'I only have two more requests. If I am unable to stop the war from escalating and die in the process, you must promise me you will do everything in your power to ensure Lily Evans' safety. My third and last request is that you share everything you know about Horcruxes. I wish to be actively part of your plans, Dumbledore. These are the conditions for my loyalty,' he finished.
Dumbledore stared at him for some interminable moments, a look of pity flashing in his eyes as he exhaled deeply, his gaze briefly wandering to the shimmering Pensieve. Fawkes gave a soft cry and Dumbledore sighed, some strange emotions shining into his eyes as he looked once again at the younger wizard.
Severus felt himself stiffen and it was a couple of seconds before he understood the reason behind his increasing discomfort. The mistrusting and wary look had long disappeared from Dumbledore's eyes, replaced by the same sad look that had adorned his counterpart's features.
"I did everything you asked of me. I gave him my memories, sending him to his own death. Potter is probably as dead as I am by now … or as I was, if, somehow, you have miraculously managed to bring me back," he said, his words heavy with irony.
"I know what you want me to do, Dumbledore and I cannot. Take a look at me, I can barely stand. How am I to protect the students or provide the necessary aid to the Order? Why bring me back if I am hardly any use to anyone?" he said, his voice shaking.
For a moment Dumbledore merely stared at him, then he sighed, a sad smile stretching on his lips.
"I keep underestimating you, Severus. But no, you misunderstand me, you do not need to do anything you don't want to."
'Is it your life you are offering me, Severus? Do you not care whether you live or die?' Dumbledore asked gravely.
Severus flinched, Dumbledore's words hitting him like a jet of ice water. That was not what he had meant, nor what he had expected Dumbledore to say after putting forward his requests. And yet, the cowardly implications and sad look in the other man's eyes immediately caused a rush of anger.
'I am not suicidal!' he snarled, annoyance twisting his young features when, despite all, he realised that he sounded almost defensive. There had been another time when the man had feared Severus would take his own life. For the matter to be brought up once again…
Dumbledore averted his eyes.
'No. However, it deeply troubles me how a man who has just been through a gruesome death could be so willing to forsake his freedom once again and resume from where he left. Are you alright, Severus? I must say, you look exhausted,' Dumbledore said, a worried look crossing his features.
Severus' eyes widened ever so slightly, taken aback by the change of subject as Dumbledore patiently waited his reply. Was Dumbledore questioning whether his wounds would impair him in a fight? Severus clicked his tongue in annoyance, forcing himself to give an honest answer.
'I- ' he started, then hesitated, 'I have not experience any lasting damage and have nearly recovered all my strength. Speaking of which, Headmaster, if you grant me permission to make use of the Potions Lab, I would replace everything I have unrightfully taken from Horace Slughorn and the Hospital Wing, it was unbecoming of me to-'
Dumbledore shook his head.
'No need to apologise, my boy, I should have never allowed you to leave my office without inquiring whether you were in need of a Healer. I'm afraid I allowed myself to forget that despite everything you were still a student in my care.'
Severus scowled, biting back a snarky reply about how Dumbledore had never cared when Severus had been sixteen the first time around.
'You know very well I cannot storm in the Hospital Wing and demand Pomfrey's assistance. You know the procedure, she would be forced to notify the Ministry if you refused to tell her how a student came by and let alone survived such disfigurement,' he said curtly, gesturing quite pointlessly to his neck.
'All the same, I should have offered. I know a bit of healing magic myself, and while I do not believe we can do anything to heal those scars, I might be able to help with the pain' Dumbledore said kindly.
'Enough of my health, Dumbledore. We were discussing your plans!' Severus snapped. Truth be told, he had not expected Dumbledore to be so overbearing, the sudden care in the man's voice another reason why he was eager to move past the subject. He wondered if it was merely the fact that he looked like a child that had Dumbledore feeling suddenly remorseful about his treatment.
For a moment Dumbledore looked uncertain, then he nodded reluctantly.
'We are, and while I understand your desire to help, Severus, I find myself unable to grant your first request. You can probably foresee that a talented Slytherin's early departure from Hogwarts and in particular one that had shown interest in his cause might attract unwanted attention. I would rather have you at Hogwarts, away from Lord Voldemort's clutches. I trust you can easily see why it would be disastrous for us to have the information you possess fall into the wrong hands. I am afraid that at this stage of your life you would make for a lousy spy,' Dumbledore said, a small smile touching his lips.
"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!"
'I understand,' Severus said darkly, despite all a hint of annoyance touching his features.
It appeared that he had become a basket too full of secrets for Dumbledore to risk losing. He should have been expecting that answer. Of course, Dumbledore would not take such a risk. And yet, his mind was now torn between being denied the familiarity of his role and the relief he felt at being spared a second life of hatred and mistrust. Additionally, a part of him couldn't help but feeling mildly offended at the reprehensible adjective Dumbledore had used to describe him.
No, "lousy" wasn't exactly the word Severus would've used to describe a man who had managed to die without the Dark Lord being any wiser of his true allegiance.
Alas, one look at Dumbledore told him that this past version of the Headmaster would never take such a risk. "I would rather have you at Hogwarts", Severus gulped, that was a harder blow to take and yet what had he been expecting, really? Had he hoped that Dumbledore would ignore the Slytherin badge on his chest? That in a time where the Dark Lord was becoming bolder and bolder in trying to recruit promising members of his old House they would simply ignore him?
Fool, Severus thought. Dumbledore himself had not been allowed to graduate earlier, so why would he? Severus' lips thinned, unable to find a reasonable excuse to push the matter any further, the utter boredom that he felt in attending his classes unable to prove itself a satisfactory reason to risk ending up in the Dark Lord's grasp, and yet…
'Isn't there anything at all you can do to make my current situation more bearable?' Severus asked quietly, averting his eyes, the thought of having to live once again through his school years a difficult pill to swallow. He could feel his mind rotting with each passing day.
'Would you allow me to re-join the Order?' he pressed on, the sigh that followed his question causing his mouth to twist in resignation.
'I'm really sorry, Severus, but I cannot accept you in the Order, as, despite your extraordinary life experience, you remain physically underage,' Dumbledore said kindly, 'However, I do not see why a brilliant student like yourself could not be trusted with a few extracurricular activities. How many years have you been Potions Master at this school?' he asked jovially.
'Fifteen years,' he said through gritted teeth.
Dumbledore took a few moments to consider him, a pensive look crossing his feature as he looked at him.
'You… entrusted me to brew potions for the Order, amongst… other things,' Severus forced himself to add, a small grimace touching his features as he realised that despite his annoyance at having his competence questioned, there still was a note of eagerness in his voice. He thought of his fifth-year classes, the chance of being granted the opportunity to brew and experiment with his own potions and spells causing a note of excitement to slip past the veil of apathy.
He looked at the older wizard, who was now stroking his beard. He was being carefully examined, as though he was a mysterious magical artifact Dumbledore didn't quite know what to do with. Those blasted, ever seeing eyes were fixed on him in a way that nearly caused him to recoil. He found himself averting his gaze and it was in that moment, upon catching his distorted reflection in one of Dumbledore's silver instruments that Severus was suddenly reminded that he didn't exactly look like a competent Potions Master.
Of course, he thought, snarling. Did Dumbledore think he was mentally damaged? He stared spitefully at his boyish appearance, humiliated by those assumptions. And then it hit him, that his appearance might have only been a part of the problem, for this Dumbledore had never had the chance to verify his skills as a Potioneer, let alone his experimental works. Did he think him an incompetent fool whose only talent lay in the Mind Arts?
'You do not trust me, do you, Dumbledore?' he said, his eyes narrowed as he fought to control his temper.
'If you think that this,' he said, gesturing to his young face, 'means I am no longer in possess of my full mental faculties then-'
Dumbledore's lips twitched and an ugly blush coloured Severus' cheek.
'Oh, I do not believe you to be mentally impaired, my boy. The fact that you have come here so willingly and after so little time speaks highly of the sort of man you have become. Alas, we find ourselves in the awkward situation where a party knows the other far better than the other knows him. I ask you to give us time. And as you gave me no reason to mistrust you, I will grant you access to the Potions Lab. In due time I trust that we could replace more than the few potions you retrieved from good Horace's Office. I would pay you of course, would that be amendable?' Dumbledore asked.
'I don't need your charity,' Severus hissed, struggling to control his frustration, Dumbledore's mistrust causing much more discomfort than he would've liked to admit.
He pushed his emotions aside, teeth gnashing as he stared at his faded robes. He had every reason to be angry, and yet… Dumbledore raised a silver eyebrow, causing him to become painfully aware of what his emotional outburst could look like, the thought of being accused of acting like a hormonal teenager causing him to Occlude at once. He had no desire to prove Dumbledore's point and of being accused of being too young to take part in a war. Surely if Potter…
Severus forced himself to take a deep breath, the redness on his face soon replaced by a familiar sneer. Dumbledore didn't understand, he thought, his eyes inevitably falling once more on the tell-tale signs of his poverty. Severus had only been paid a teacher salary and an allowance to cover the ingredients costs for whatever he brewed for the school and the Order. This was different, and a part of him could not help but question whether Dumbledore might fear he'd run to Lucius Malfoy for money. As though Severus would be stupid enough to do such thing.
Of course, Severus did not have much choice in the matter, it was either that or allowing Lily to pay for his tea, he thought, mildly mortified. It was as close to a job as he could currently get.
'I would not think of it as charity. If we are to work together it is only fair that I pay you for your services' he said, looking mildly amused when Severus narrowed his eyes, considering him for a moment.
'Very well,' he said, 'I believe you will not be disappointed, Headmaster. I shall write down some of my experimental works in the meanwhile, as well as potions and spells that are not of my own invention', he finished stiffly.
'That would be good, but it is your memories I am most interested in. Am I correct in assuming that your full collaboration depends on whether I will decide to make you an active part of my plans?' Dumbledore asked lightly.
Severus stiffened, his black eyes never leaving Dumbledore's as his face slowly became a blank mask. There was no real threat in Dumbledore's voice and yet Severus couldn't help but notice that Dumbledore's eyes were once again calculating. His fingers flexed, the urge to reach out for his wand difficult to stifle as he felt the gentle prodding of Legilimency, a subtle reminder that this Dumbledore was not his friend, that this man did not fully trust him.
'That would be correct, yes.'
Severus could feel himself tense as a dark shadow fell on Dumbledore's feature. They had reached a stalemate; Dumbledore would not be able to break into his mind, his gentle prod of Legilimency seemed to have confirmed as much. How far would Dumbledore be willing to go to obtain the information he concealed? Had he been a fool in hoping this man, similarly to his older counterpart would shy away from a more brutal approach? Even at the age of thirty-eight, he would be fooling himself if he thought he'd be a match for the other wizard. He pursed his lips, his face taut as he braced himself for a spell that never came.
How long would he be able to resist were Dumbledore to attack him with no worries of permanently damaging his mind? A shudder travelled down his spine. It would either be his memories or a life on par with Alice and Frank Longbottom. Severus inwardly shivered.
Which would it be? This was a matter of pride, it was no longer a matter of blowing his cover, the thought of losing his mind and be reduced to a vegetative state too much for him to bear. He looked at the older wizard, praying that this Dumbledore, similarly to the man he had known, would refuse to resort to torture, praying that this Dumbledore didn't know he had already chosen sanity over sheer pride.
A troubled look crossed Dumbledore's feature. Severus continued to stare at him, ready to call his bluff, until Dumbledore shook his head, his voice gentle as he spoke.
'I have no intention of harming you, Severus. Had I wanted to use such brutal force on you I would have done so during our first encounter. You are safe here. I think you'll agree when I say that we cannot hope to defeat Lord Voldemort if we do not trust each other,' Dumbledore reassured him. Severus averted his eyes and nodded, taking the next breath of fresh air as though he'd been drowning.
'I shall do my best to protect the life of young Lily Evans were she to find herself in any danger. As of Horcruxes, the book you are looking for is currently in my Office, sixth book on the right behind Fawkes. I trust you will be sensible in your reading. My future-self seemingly placed great trust in you. Once you have acquired that extra bit of knowledge, you might find that he shared with you much more than you originally thought he had. I will trust his judgment on this,' Dumbledore said, his enigmatic words causing Severus to furrow his brow.
'Thank you, Headmaster,' he said stiffly, rising from his chair, his movements deliberately slow as he walked towards Dumbledore's bookshelves, a part of him still wary of the old headmaster. It wasn't surprising that the sudden flapping of wings nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. It was a good thing he hadn't completely forsaken Occlumency or he would have embarrassed himself by displaying such levels of paranoia. Severus scowled, a part of him starting to miss having to deal only with the man's portrait.
He allowed his fingers to brush on the book Dumbledore had pointed out for him, the candlelight around them flickering as he removed it from the shelf.
'And one more thing, Severus, if you will,' Dumbledore said, his right hand stroking the phoenix's beautiful feathers as he gestured for him to approach.
Had he changed his mind? Severus thought, the Dark Magic emanating from the book he was now holding to his chest making him feel like a child who had just been caught stealing sweets. He watched Dumbledore as the man extended his arm, holding a small vial in his right hand as Fawkes flew back to his perch.
'It might not reduce the scarring, but it should ease the pain,' Dumbledore said gently.
'I-' Severus stuttered, the soft song that came out of the phoenix's beak making it clear what Dumbledore was offering. Phoenix tears. The small vial would be worth at least two hundred galleons. He looked at the phoenix, baffled when he understood that the phoenix had freely given them for him, that he had taken a liking to man who had mysteriously been touched by death and survived.
'Headmaster, I really don't-', but he did not have time to finish, because the vial slowly drifted towards him, slipping into his pocket. Dumbledore smiled, his serene expression a dark contrast with Severus' dark frown. He stared at the vial, feeling the ridges of the ribbed glass beneath his fingers.
'He gave those tears for you. It would be a waste not to use them. Have a good night, Severus, we shall speak soon.'