Scar Mates

DEATH EATER REDUX

Unlike other students in his house who had been summoned to his office, Draco Malfoy did not appear ill at ease. He was, in fact, so at ease, that Snape felt compelled to shake his ingratiating, eleven-year old composure.

"Mister Malfoy, although I am thrilled that you appear to be adjusting so well to life here at Hogwart's, and that you find my class to be the only one that challenges you, there is one area in which you need to make more of an effort. And as it is already apparent that your peers look to you as an example, it is imperative that you consider carefully what I am about to say to you."

The boy sat up straighter, not taking his eyes from Snape's face, but not appearing cowed in the least. As the professor returned the scrutiny, he thought to himself, So like his father. Already self-assured, overconfident, and overbearing. That same pale silky hair, aquiline nose, and cool blue eyes. Lucius in miniature. Snape had anticipated the boy's arrival at Hogwart's, having last seen him as a very small child, shortly before the fall of Voldemort. He'd watched with interest as the first years, as well as a surprising number of the second and third years, were drawn to the youngster like moths to a flame. This was Slytherin house, and the Malfoy name was known to most of them, if not revered. Although the maligning of his house for the unusual number of Death Eaters recruited from its ranks was not entirely without merit, there were still many Slytherins who would be wary of any Malfoy they encountered. But the Slytherin house as a whole kept its dirty laundry to itself, and despite any reservations they might individually entertain about this newest Malfoy, they would defend and avenge any insult or action directed against him.

"Would you care to explain to me, Mister Malfoy, the loss of fifty house points last night? Or the fact that you are responsible for the loss, in total, of 150 points since the start of term, holding the record for the most points lost by a single student in any house?"

The boy was not even mildly uncomfortable, Snape noticed with irritation. What was I expecting? He's Lucius' son. "Well?" he prodded, letting his impatience seep into the word.

The boy met his eyes, showing no fear of his head of house as he answered. "Mandy Brocklehurst refused to give me a book she had in the library. I needed it, so I spelled it with an Unopenable Charm. Madam Pince saw me do it."

Ah. A Slytherin half-truth. "The truth, Mister Malfoy, is that she caught you doing it, not only once, but twice. How regrettable that you did not learn something the first time.

The boy stared back at him. Insolent little brat. "The other points, Mister Malfoy? Care to enlighten me?"

Now the boy did look uncomfortable. "Twice I was late for Herbology, once for History of Magic. That was thirty points." A scowl darkened his pretty face. "The other times were all Potter's fault. Twenty points for throwing that sissy Longbottom's Remembrall. Ten points for getting in Potter's face in the corridor. The others were for things Flitwick and McGonagall heard me saying to him in class." He looked sullen now, remembering.

"Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall, like most of the wizarding world, will take issue with you if you insult Harry Potter to his face. The Boy-Who-Lived is above reproach, Mister Malfoy. He is a hero, you understand. You would do well to remember that when you are tempted to publicly insult or accost him. Do I make myself clear?"

The boy had gotten the none too subtle message, judging by the look on his face. "Mister Malfoy, as I have told the whole of Slytherin on occasion, do whatever pranks you will, even insult The-Boy-Who-Lived if that is your drift, but do not be caught at it. It is a Slytherin trait to plan carefully, and to be clever about it. Then you will not find yourself draining the house-counters. You must choose your battles, as well as your opponents, carefully. Have I made myself clear?"

The smirk on the boy's face told him that he had. Preparing to dismiss the child, he picked up a letter from the desk, and fingered it lightly. "I've been invited to Malfoy Manor this weekend for dinner. I'm sure your father will ask after your progress."

A moment of panic flickered across the boy's face, then he asked, "And what will you tell him, sir?"

So, he's afraid of his father. Not surprising, but useful to know. But Snape was also a Slytherin. And Slytherins handled their problems from within whenever possible.

"The truth, Mister Malfoy. That I am satisfied with your progress, and that you send your regards."

The boy nodded, unable to totally conceal his relief. "Of course. Thank you, Professor Snape."

***

Saturday evening, Snape stopped in to see the Headmaster before leaving for Hogsmeade, from where he would Apparate to Malfoy Manor. He pursed his lips as the old man fussed over his rather stunning dress robes.

"You cut quite a figure, my boy. You'll turn some young witch's head, I'll wager."

"The moon could turn to blood too, I'll wager. This is hardly a social call, Albus."

"Well, yes. I expect it is a bit much to imagine that you'd enjoy yourself. You're still cross with me for wanting you to attend?"

"No, I've been dancing for joy on the head of a pin at the prospect of fraternizing with men I've purposely avoided for the past ten years," he bit out.

Dumbledore tried to hide his amusement. "It's hardly a Death Eater meeting, Severus."

Snape curled his lip in distaste. "If I know Lucius, it will bloody well be like one. To receive an invitation after all this time is unsettling."

Dumbledore patted his arm. "It's rather in line with the re-forging of old alliances that we've suspected over this past year. If that is indeed what is happening, then this is a timely opportunity for us to discover what is afoot."

Snape was uneasy. This felt suspiciously like spying, an activity he did not relish resurrecting. I never felt sure that Lucius Malfoy had not come to suspect me in the end.

"If he'd had suspicions, Severus, he could have harmed you long ago."

"Damn it, Albus. Stay out of my head."

Dumbledore laughed. "Have a pleasant evening, and don't be out too late."

Will you rescue me, then, old man?

You'll be fine, he heard in his head as he stepped out.

****

The past ten years had been kind to Lucius Malfoy. The Manor was as splendid as he remembered it, even more so. The walls were hung with rich tapestries, and the wood floors and gilded chair rails were polished to gleam in the firelight. Walking toward the library with a drink in his hand, Snape tried not to think of the last time he had been here. There had been some unpleasantness in which he, fortunately, had not been required to participate.

Hearing voices from within, he slowed his steps as he cleared his mind. Then, taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room. The group of men stood around the fire, their attention focused on the tall, blond man who was speaking. They turned at the sound of his approach, and he thought, Albus was wrong. It is a Death Eater Meeting. Lucius Malfoy stepped out from the group to extend his hand.

"Severus, it is good to see you. I was unsure when I owled you if you would come," he paused, allowing Snape to wonder at his words, "being that it is the middle of term, and Slytherin house, no doubt, requires your full attention."

Snape shook the proffered hand, inclining his head slightly. "So good of you to have me, Lucius. My house is unaware of my absence, which I trust will serve to keep it standing until I return." There was laughter all around, the majority of the men having been in Slytherin themselves. One by one the men stepped forward to greet him and shake his hand. He knew them all, and it did not escape his notice that more than one of them had received him coolly.

Lucius waved them back to the couches by the fire. As drinks were replenished and seats arranged comfortably, Snape briefly examined each of the men in turn. Crabbe and Goyle were still obvious in their deference to Malfoy. Macnair, Avery, Nott, and a few others made up the rest of the group. This had been part of the Death Eater core, and he was not surprised to see any one of them here.

When everyone was seated, the conversation dwindled, then stopped. Lucius surveyed the group with an amused smile, then chided, "Come, come, gentlemen, we're among friends here. No need to weigh words nor measure speech. Colleagues who have...shared what we have need not be hesitant to discuss the matters at hand."

"It's not clear to me that we are all colleagues here, Lucius," Nott commented.

Lucius was still amused. "Really? Yes, I do believe there might be some unanswered questions. Do continue."

"Most of us did what we had to do after the Dark Lord fell. Those of us bearing the Dark Mark could not claim innocence, but we did the best we could to save our skins. Some professed ignorance, a lot of good it did them, and some claimed to be under Imperius, but none," he cast a withering glance in Snape's direction, "claimed to have been working as a spy, except you." He pointed at Snape. There was a murmuring of agreement among the other men, save Lucius, who was now regarding Snape with interest.

Holding up his hand to stop the murmuring, he said solicitously, "A just concern, Nott. The explanation of which we would all, I'm sure, be interested to hear."

Snape had been expecting this. He was well aware that, of all the defenses presented in the wizarding trials, his was the only one founded on the claim that an accused Death Eater had actually been serving as a spy for Albus Dumbledore.

Calmly, he turned slightly to his accuser, taking care to rest his free hand over the pocket where his wand lay. He addressed the group as a whole. "As you said, Nott, we all did what we could with the resources available to us. Some of us," he paused, looking Lucius full in the face, "had considerably fewer resources at hand. I did not have the benefit of family, influence, or money to work on my behalf, as did all of you."

The men shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"I was taken in the first Ministry sweep. The only offer made to me, once in custody, was possible leniency, if I were willing to furnish names." He stopped for a moment to sip from his drink, his hand entirely steady. Nott still had a sneer on his face, but the others seemed to be considering his response.

"I was certain that my failure to cooperate, to even speak at all, would end in Azkaban, when Albus Dumbledore came to see me in my cell."

"Yes, Severus," said Lucius, "I think I speak for all of us when I say that it was Dumbledore's involvement that piqued our interest, and naturally, our suspicions."

Macnair, who had remained silent up till now, remarked to Snape, "How is it that the lily-white Albus Dumbledore came to offer an alibi for a Death Eater, Snape? It defies belief."

Snape chose his words carefully. "He told me that he was aware of my dire circumstances, and that he had come with a proposition. He was willing to testify that my service to the Dark Lord was a sham, in exchange for my renunciation of my prior loyalties. The form that renunciation took included indenturing myself to him as Hogwart's Potions Master for as long as he saw fit, including a very modest salary. I had to submit myself to regular meetings with him to examine my conscience and evaluate my progress. It was an offer I could not refuse, as the alternative was altogether unattractive."

The others did not disagree with him, but Nott, still unsatisfied, persisted. "But why would he go out on a limb for you, Snape, and for no one else? It just doesn't ring right."

Lucius, it seemed, had figured it out. He had, after all, recruited Snape. "The revered Headmaster has always had a soft spot for hard-luck cases. Is that not so, Severus?"

Snape took up the thread. "He does indeed. He knew that I'd had an unfortunate childhood, and that my years at Hogwart's were not happy ones. I even saw him once after graduation, and he made a point of telling me that I could call on him if I needed help."

Lucius' eyebrows shot up. "He offered you help when he knew you were in the service of the Dark Lord?"

"Yes," Snape replied. "At the time, I told him I was not in need of any assistance.''

Macnair made a face. "Always sticking his big nose in wherever he's not wanted. He's lucky he's still alive."

Lucius, a wry grin on his face, said dryly, "Luck has nothing to do with it, Macnair, I assure you. You would do well not to underestimate the old man. Many who did so did not live to tell about it."

Snape spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "He did confess much later that he felt some responsibility that he did not do more for me while I was at school, that perhaps, had I not experienced such mistreatment and rejection, I might have chosen a different path. He believed I was redeemable." This revelation was, of course, true. The Headmaster had eventually made this apology to him, once his own rehabilitation was well in hand.

"So he got you off?" Nott was still not happy.

Regarding him coolly, Snape shot back, "And claiming to be under Imperius did not get you off, Nott?"

"That's not the issue here. You said you were a damned spy, you deceived us all, you..."

"I said I was a spy. It does not mean that I was. As you yourself stated earlier, Nott, we all did what we had to do to survive. That I knew for a fact that you were not under Imperius does not lead me to accuse you of betrayal because you lied and said you were!"

Lucius had stood. "Gentlemen, gentlemen. No need for such hostilities amongst us now! We all took the steps we deemed necessary to avoid Azkaban, and second-guessing now will serve no purpose. And may I point out, Nott, that although Severus professed himself a spy, he did not supply the Aurors with names as, unfortunately, many others did. However, I'm sure he was pressed to do so." He turned to Snape, a question in his face.

Snape looked down at his hands, as a memory threatened to creep around the edges of his consciousness. "It was not an easy thing. They were...persuasive, but I did not give them anyone. You all know this. And after Dumbledore came to see me, I was even more resolved not to speak. I knew there would be...reprisals if I did so." He looked at the grim faces of the men around him. He did not have to explain himself further. "Submitting myself to Dumbledore was not without its difficulties either. He was not all sweetness and light." This also was true.

Lucius laughed out loud. "I think we all know the truth of that. He can be a wolf in sheep's clothing." Slapping his knee, he moved to the reason they had all agreed to gather that night. "We all know what has brought us here tonight. We've all felt and watched the change in the Dark Marks we bear." There was murmured agreement from the men assembled. It was, in fact, the only reason that Snape had agreed, finally, to come. He'd had definite reservations about the reception awaiting him. Those questions aside, he was now curious as to what the others thought of this rekindling of the Marks. He himself had not noticed any progression of the symptoms for several months. It was now only faintly pink, and prickled only on occasion. He had decided that those symptoms were not at all related to what he felt in the presence of the boy. He wondered, smiling inwardly, what these men would make out of this connection to Harry Potter, the one responsible for the demise of their revered master.

Macnair grumbled. "Hasn't been doing much of anything lately--just pink now, and it itches sometimes. Question is, what does it mean? Why would it...do anything...after all this time?"

Nott shook his head slowly, as he finally voiced the thought with which they had all been grappling. "It can't be him. He's dead. We all know it. We felt it when he died. And after all this time...if he wasn't dead, he would have shown himself long ago. But then again...there was no body."

Lucius stroked his chin thoughtfully. "There were those of us, you know, who did look into the possibility that he was not dead. There was not much we could do at the time, being constantly under Ministry scrutiny. But knowing the Dark Lord's...obsession...

with immortality, along with Severus' alchemy research, it was perhaps hasty of us to not pursue the matter more diligently. But that is a mistake of the past. However, the alternative, that someone or something other than the power of Lord Voldemort, could be causing the Marks to come to life, in all of us, that seems equally unlikely.

Severus, ever the pragmatist, spoke up. "And yet the Marks rekindle. How it could be the Master, I cannot say. But there is not one of us here who could say with absolute certainty that it could not be him in some other form. I did not, for my part, come even close to providing him with the means to accomplish such a feat. But there was much that he did to which none of us were privy. His desires did lay in that direction, in self-preservation, and it would not surprise me to learn that he had made progress in that area and we were kept unawares."

"Immortality?" Nott asked, incredulous.

"No, not immortality per se, but perhaps something that allowed some part of him to endure."

It was Lucius turn to show surprise. "Really, Severus? I hadn't considered that possibility. But it would be so like him, to possess this potential and yet hide it from all of us."

Snape nodded. "He hid many things from us. As for this possibility, it remains for us to decide if any action is required of us."

Lucius sighed. "I can't imagine what we could do after so many years. And why would he delay returning for so many years?"

Snape shrugged. "This is mere conjecture on my part."

Lucius studied him for a moment before speaking. "Even so...it bears some looking into. As we seem to be at the mercy of it, it would be foolish not to investigate further." The group fell silent as each one mulled over the implications of what had been suggested.

"What should we do?" Avery asked.

"I think Severus should do a little research for us. I myself will consult some journals that were left in my keeping as well."

Snape stared at the man. "I'm not sure I have time to devote myself to such a project. However, I will see what I can discover in my own journals."

Lucius stood, signaling the end of the discussion. "Let's keep in touch, gentlemen, and keep me apprised of any other developments. You know your assignments, and I know I can count on each of you." Turning with a gesture to the door, he led the group back to the guests gathering for dinner. Walking to the rear of the group, Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Superb work, Severus. Just what the bloody hell did you just do?

***

Slouched in a chair in the Headmaster's office, the old man tried to comfort him. "You're not re-striking friendships, Severus. I just need for you to keep your finger on the pulse of things. Something is afoot, and we cannot afford to remain in the dark if something is indeed brewing."

The Potions Master looked up at him. "I suppose you are right, Albus. I don't even want to dwell on what might be brewing, just now."

Dumbledore patted him on the arm. "You need a little challenge, Severus. Something to keep the little grey cells working."

No, actually, I'd prefer to remain clueless.

"No, my boy, I know you better than that. I know how you despise unfinished business."

Snape shot him a sour look. "Oh, believe me, I'd prefer to leave this unfinished. I also believe Lucius knows more than he let on. He casually admitted to still having some of Voldemort's journals. Merlin knows what else he has."

Dumbledore'e eyes lost their sparkle. "Well, then, all the more reason for you to stay in touch."

They finished their drinks in silence as the fire died down in the hearth. As Snape took his leave, the Headmaster's voice caught him at the door. "And Severus, it's about time for us to continue with your Pensieve. I believe that I am ready to play that card you accused me of hiding. Next Saturday, then?"

Snape felt a flutter in his chest. "As you wish, Albus." Perfect. Something to look forward to. The Headmaster nodded in agreement as he closed the door.