Scar Mates

PENSIEVE DU RENEGAT

"When the outermost props are taken away,

Will the innermost strands still hold?"

--C.S Lewis

After some preparations at the Pensieve, Snape sat down to have another brandy. He contemplated what he was about to do. His relationship with the Headmaster was complicated, a mixture of respect, fondness, and obedience. Despite suspecting that he was occasionally manipulated by the old man, he was the closest Snape had ever come to having a friend, the kind that could be trusted with knowing both the good and the bad parts of oneself. He knew that Dumbledore trusted him in the same manner, and it was this aspect of their relationship that he cherished most of all. No one, except for Lily, had ever trusted him.

Finishing his brandy, he approached the Pensieve without trepidation. He had made this solitary journey before. It served to remind him of the foundations of that trust which the two men shared, and for his part, of the debt that he felt he could never repay.

Dumbledore met Severus Snape at the Hogwart's gates, as the warding would never allow a Death Eater to approach otherwise. The two walked, not speaking, through the silent castle, as no staff or students were up and about at this hour. They stood together on the rotating staircase, then stepped into the Headmaster's office.

"May I offer you something to drink?"

"Brandy, if you have it."

The old man smiled. "I have a bottle I keep for special occasions."

Once they both had a drink in hand, Dumbledore waved Severus to a seat by the fire. "I was intrigued by your owl, Severus. It conveyed some urgency. What can I do for you?"

The young man fingered his glass nervously, and although the room was not overly warm, there was already a fine sheen of sweat above his upper lip. Looking up at Dumbledore, he met an impassive stare, with nothing there to either encourage or discourage him.

Snape groaned in sympathy as he stood watching the two men. He could well remember the waves of nausea that had rolled over him.

"You told me once, at the Potter's wedding, that if I ever needed anything..." he trailed off.

Still Dumbledore sat silent, giving only a slight nod to the struggling man.

"It's just that...well, sir....I'm in a bit of trouble. A lot of trouble," he admitted.

Snape laughed out loud. The old man had certainly not made it easy for him, knowing that an essential part of redemption was painful, gut-wrenching confession.

"Well, you know who I'm working for, don't you?"

Dumbledore did not deny it, but said, "Who are you working for, Severus?"

"The Dark Lord, sir."

"And that would be..?"

"What? What do you..?"

"Say his name, Severus."

Resignation washed over the young man's features. "Lord Voldemort, sir."

Dumbledore just nodded, and resumed waiting.

"I went to him on my eighteenth birthday, and have been doing potions research...and other things... for him since graduation."

Snape whispered to his younger self, "You thought this would be easier, didn't you? That he'd take pity on your distress, that he wouldn't require you to say the words out loud. But he knew so much better than you what an act of contrition required. You underestimated him, you poor fool. And it was the last time that you did."

There was a hint of steel in Dumbledore's eyes now. "Ah. Potions research." He paused. "What 'other things'?"

Severus' nostrils flared slightly. His pupils had dilated, and he felt his heart begin to pound wildly. Staring at the old man for a moment, he made a decision. Standing, he removed his cloak, laying it over the back of his chair. Removing his jacket, he did the same. Dumbledore did not move, his lips a grim line as he watched the young man unbutton his cuff. Severus folded the sleeve up several times, baring his left forearm. Letting it fall to his side, he walked to stand in front of the Headmaster, who looked up at him solemnly.

Without raising his arm to show it, he said in a flat voice, "I took the Dark Mark, sir."

With lightening speed, the Headmaster reached out and grabbed the young man's left wrist, twisting and wrenching it down sharply. With a cry of pain and surprise, Severus was forced to his knees in front of him.

"You fool! You idiot child! You're all of twenty-one years and have managed to not only ruin your own life, but the lives of countless others! Brainless! Thoughtless! Imbecile! You chose a master to serve, and now that you have lost your faith in him, you think you can just step away?" He flung the arm away from himself in disgust, not once looking at the Dark Mark upon it. Wearily, he waved at Severus. "Take your seat, Severus. I am not the wizard you must bow before."

Still trembling from the shock of the outburst, Severus clumsily stood to take his seat, not daring to look the old man in the eyes. His face was flushed with shame, and tears were threatening to spill over.

"Prepare yourself, young man. That was the easy part. It's going to be a very long night. Now, what do you want?" Dumbledore asked, his voice hard.

Severus' voice was trembling. "I want out, sir."

"Why?" the old man fired back, giving him no time to recover.

Severus was fighting a losing battle to keep his emotions in check. "I made a mistake, sir. I can't do this anymore. It isn't what I thought it would be."

Dumbledore's eyes were calculating now. "You are in a position of power, are you not? People look up to you, obey you without question, fear you. You are important, are you not? Isn't this exactly what you wanted?"

"Yes...and no. No! I never wanted to hurt anyone. I never wanted to be responsible for the kinds of things he's perpetrating. I never..." He could not finish, tears spilling onto his cheeks now.

"What 'other things', Snape? What 'other things' were you a part of?"

The use of his surname made him look up in fear.

Snape laughed softly. "You were afraid then, when he called you that. You lost the certainty that he would end up helping you. But that is Albus' way. He gives you a line to strangle yourself, and then reels you in."

"It's bad enough what he used my potions for, but the other things...the raiding, inflicting so much pain, using the Dark Magic to intimidate. And the...killing. I never intended to be a part of something like that."

"You did not live with your head in the sand here, Severus. You knew exactly what Voldemort required of his followers, but you chose the path in spite of it, blinded by your ambitions. I don't know what I can do to help you." He leaned over to offer his handkerchief to the man who was losing all semblance of control. When Severus made a move to stand, the Headmaster bellowed, "Sit down! I don't need to know why you decided to follow him. I know that all too well. You were not the first, as I'm sure you know. But. I need you to explain to me very clearly now, why this life has suddenly become insupportable, when you had irrefutable evidence before joining him that you would indeed be involved in such things."

Severus was fighting the urge to panic, taking small, shallow breaths. He felt his vision begin to tunnel, and a low buzzing in his ears as his hearing dulled. The Headmaster's voice was becoming fuzzy now. He swayed slightly in his chair, struggling to remain upright.

Dumbledore, realizing what was happening, came to his feet and jerked the man by both shoulders as he commanded, "Breathe, Severus. Breathe. Take a deep breath.....again.....again.....again."

Shaking violently, the young man struggled to obey, slowing his breathing in time to the Headmaster's voice. Slowly, the noise in his ears receded, and the room came slowly back into focus.

Dumbledore was once more seated across from him, his face still stern, but now betraying a twinge of concern. The young man was deathly pale, and now soaked in cold sweat, and as he watched him recover, his interrogator noticed for the first time that the usually slim man was almost skeletal. His exposed wrist was painfully thin, and the hollows in his cheeks stood out in the gaunt face.

In a shaky voice, Severus said, "Thank you, sir. I'm alright now."

The Headmaster pressed the man's brandy back into his hand, and urged him softly, "Drink up, my boy. All of it." He draped the knitted throw from the back of the chair around the man's shoulders, then retook his seat. Taking up his cup of tea, he studied the broken man before him. His face softened a bit as he did so, but the grim resolution in his blue eyes remained.

"Was it difficult, taking the Dark Mark?"

Severus looked up at him, puzzled.

"I mean the actual initiation. Was it an unpleasant experience?"

The young man nodded, wincing as he remembered. "There was humiliation, and fear, and yes, physical pain as well."

Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat, holding the man's eyes with his own. "And so there shall be, this night, if you truly choose to renounce him. This will not be a formal ritual, as was that night. But there will be humiliation, and fear, and pain, although it will not be physical. Do you understand this? The same elements that pulled you into this," he gestured at the Dark Mark, "will need to be applied to pull you out."

Severus took this in, slowly considering, then nodded his head.

"Say it, Severus," Dumbledore commanded.

"I understand. I will do whatever is necessary."

Dumbedore held his eyes for a long moment, then arose to stand before the man. "Give me your wand." Taking it from the man, he walked around to seat himself behind his desk. Summoning a clean parchment to lay before him, he instructed, " Come and sit in the chair before me."

Severus set down his glass, then stood shakily to walk to the chair, the throw still clasped around his shoulders. He had calmed considerably, and his face showed a determination not unlike the Headmaster's. Seating himself, he looked up into the shrewd, blue eyes.

"I will help you, Severus, but there are consequences of your actions from which I cannot shield you. I cannot offer you asylum here. What purpose would that serve? One does not simply defect from the ranks of Voldemort and live to walk away, especially someone as highly valued as you. You must have realized that before you came to me. What did you expect that I would do?"

Severus felt fear, and his eyes betrayed it. "Honestly,sir, I didn't think beyond just getting away. I hoped that you would have a solution as to how I could manage it."

Dumbledore smiled for the first time. "Fear, Severus. Good. You should be afraid. Welcome it, because it's going to be a bedfellow for quite some time, and will serve to keep you alive, no doubt." He steepled his fingers in front of his chest as he cast out his first condition. "You will cease your service to Voldemort from this moment on. You will answer to me, and me alone. Part of your redemption will be the service that you will perform for me...and certain others... by appearing to remain a Death Eater, while gathering information...for me."

The color had drained from the young man's face again, as it dawned on him what was going to be required of him. "A double-agent, you mean?"

"Call it what you will, Severus, a spy. You will continue to maintain your standing within the Death Eater ranks, in order to supply me with information, and likewise to channel my own disinformation when necessary. Do you understand?"

Severus unclenched his jaw with effort, trying to ignore the same sensation in his gut. "Yes, sir, I understand."

"And, you will do whatever is necessary to avoid killing innocents, Severus, even if it means that your own life is forfeit. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, sir." He struggled to control the bile rising in his throat.

"You will be in unimaginable danger. You will have to constantly be on guard, for everyone, except myself and a few others, will believe you to be what you were when you first walked into this room tonight. I will help you with this, teach you some skills that will assist you in this subterfuge. We will lay plans together. You will not be without support." Dumbldore eyed the man critically. He was taking this better that he would have thought. "You are a skilled Occlumens and Legilimens, are you not? Use them wisely and often, and maintain a constant vigilance."

"I understand what will be required," was all the man replied.

"You will report to me at least once a week, at night. You will have a portkey to my office. Come more often, if you need to do so. I will trust your judgment in this." He allowed the man time to digest this before continuing. "When this is over, your role will be revealed, and you may yet reclaim some honor. But even with me, Severus, trust must be earned. Do I make myself clear?"

"Quite clear, Professor. I...thank you, sir, for giving me a chance. I'm...well...I've been appalled by the Dark...Voldemort's plans for some time, and my own actions...have made me... frankly, sir, I couldn't have gone on much longer. The guilt has been...overwhelming, and I've not been well for months now..." he finished, his voice barely audible.

Dumbledore's face was grim once again, knowing what he was about to afflict upon the man. "It did not escape my notice, Severus, that your choices have made you unwell. It is with some regret that you will feel somewhat the worse for wear before we finish here tonight."

Severus squared his shoulders in resolution, even as he felt the growing dread inside.

Dumbledore picked up his quill and dipped it in the ink. "There is the matter of humiliation, and pain, as I mentioned earlier, and this is the form it will take. From the beginning, Severus, you are going to tell me every single thing you have done as a Death Eater, including the potions work. I will make a record here of each deed. And with each entry, I will inform you of the consequences of that deed: the people who died, the spouses left behind, the children orphaned, the livelihoods lost, the depression and suicides which followed. Humiliating and painful? Yes, but only a fraction of that which your victims suffered." Pausing to make sure the man was still with him, he said, "You may begin."

Snape could not bear to watch the litany. Having lived through it once had been enough. He turned and left, leaving the two of them to the grisly task.

Sitting before the fire, finishing up his brandy, he thought I really must lay off the brandy. It's the fourth of the day. Closing his eyes, he thought of the trust that had been forged over the past ten years between himself and the Headmaster. It had been difficult at first, accepting that he would not just be taken at his word-he himself had trusted the old man that very night so long ago. But now he knew it was returned. Dumbledore, once he had proven himself trustworthy to the man, had even embraced him as a friend. And the Headmaster had not left him completely dangling, at the end of that devastating recitation of his sins ten years before. He did not need the Pensieve to vividly recall it.

Dumbledore looked sadly down at the long list before him, the work of several hours, the discussion of which had finally pulled Severus to the floor in front of the desk. Kneeling, resting back on his heels, his head hanging to one side, the young man continued to sob. His arms crossed over his chest, as if trying to comfort himself, he no longer was aware that the old man was even there. After only several names into the list, he had begun to unravel, but Dumbledore had pressed him on, refusing even a moment of respite. When the tears had begun to flow, he had raised his voice, pushing the man to the bitter end, showing no mercy, as the man before him had shown none in these evil deeds. He did not regret breaking the man, as justice required it. And justice, he knew, was a slow fire that would continue to burn long after this night was over.

But mercy, the sister of justice, now demanded its turn. Rising from his chair, the Headmaster walked slowly around the desk. Kneeling before the anguished man, he reached out his arms and pulled him in. Holding him tight, he waited the long moments until the man had finally quieted. Brushing the hair away from the man's ear, he said softly, "Severus, my boy, this is the end...and the beginning. Welcome home."