A Merciless Affection

Chapter 21: Look at Your Face in the Mirror

"What am I supposed to do?" Sarah fretted, after telling Snape what had occurred in Umbridge's office.

"Why are you asking me?" he replied, a little sharply. Perhaps he had taken the news of the heavy involvement of his Slytherins in Umbridge's little plot badly. On the other hand, admittedly, he was busy with his own Wolfsbane Potion. She watched his confident operations with envy.

"Because you're a spy. You know how deal with this."

He looked up from his work. "You are not going to spy for Dolores Umbridge," he said flatly, in the tone she had to learned recognize as signifying an-inarguable-order-from-your-husband.

"I can't back out of this now," she protested. "If I don't do what she expects of me, I'm going to have her as an enemy. And we really can't afford that, can we?" She let her own voice creep into the you-know-I'm-right range.

He grimaced. "You should have avoided getting into this to begin with."

You're hardly one to tell me that, Sarah was on the verge of saying. But he must have anticipated her reaction, read her accusation in her eyes, and he went on before she could speak.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he said. "It means you're going to have to get your fellow Gryffindors into trouble. Perhaps a great deal of trouble. And while that does not bother me in the slightest, I wonder if you are up to it."

Sarah brought her laced fingers to her lips, let her eyes drop. "I'm not sure. That's why I'm asking you how to manage it."

His attention was drawn away at that moment by the demands of the potion. She followed along with him in her mind, trying to commit the finer details of his technique to memory. When he reached a stopping point, he turned to her, his expression dark.

"I'm assuming that you don't want Dolores Umbridge to win?"

"Of course not! Why would you think that?"

"You do have reasons to dislike Professor Dumbledore," he said smoothly. Upon her astonishment, he added, "Do you not?"

Sarah pondered this curious assertion. Professor Dumbledore had never done anything to her. Well, up until the past Christmas. He had treated her with great kindness and sympathy when her mother died. She had not really believed that he would continue to take a particular interest in her, had she? And as for what had happened on Boxing Day....

She had assumed that it was all Snape's fault, all his idea. But now, as she put together certain things he had said, certain things McGonagall had said, she wondered to what extent it had been the headmaster who had decided to use the situation to his advantage. None of this--her marriage, her living circumstances, her intended role as Snape's goodwill token to the Dark Lord--none of it could have been arranged without Dumbledore's approval.

"He did force you to marry me, after all," Snape sneered, as if she needed encouragement.

Having come to terms with her situation, it was unpleasant to be reminded of that day. The misery and despair were best forgotten if she wanted to have any happiness in the present. She could not sustain that kind of anger and still co-exist in peace with him. But if she could somehow blame Dumbledore and McGonagall for their roles in the whole fiasco....

She remembered the headmaster's duplicity, trying to get her to name Severus Snape as her accomplice before revealing that he already knew the truth. His quiet self-assurance that matters would go as he decreed. The only thing he lacked to be despicable was arrogance...and was that simply covered up by the guise of a kindly old man? And what about McGonagall, refusing to listen to Sarah's pleas? Wasn't her Head of House supposed to protect her? Wasn't it her fault that Sarah had been r--

Sarah's breath caught in her throat. No, that was unfair. The person responsible for that was standing right here.

"What are you trying to do to me?" she asked coldly. There was a bitter satisfaction in his eyes that made her doubt his motives.

"Trying to teach you that you can find a reason to hate anybody, should that prove necessary."

One of those requisite lessons in darkness. Even knowing that, her soul rebelled. "I don't want to hate anyone."

"Not even me?"

"Not even you!" If his stance had not been so forbidding, she would have been tempted to press herself to his chest, seeking solace. Or giving it. "Especially not you."

"Sarah," he said sternly, "if you are going to play at this very hazardous game, you must find sufficiently dark reasons for your actions, reasons that will drive you to carry through with the things you need to do. If you hesitate to act because of pity or mercy, you will not be convincing, and you will fail."

"Are you trying to turn me into...into you?" The idea was as distressing as it was suddenly unavoidable.

"You truly want to know the answer to that?" He stared at her until she felt compelled to look away. "No, no more than I have to. Even that is too much. But let me tell you this," his voice tightened. "It is far too easy for me to find reasons to do to you whatever I think necessary." He took a threatening step toward her, took her roughly by the shoulders and made her look into his eyes again. If she had forgotten who and what he was, that merciless gaze gave her no choice but to remember. "I could corrupt every spark of innocence left in you, Sarah, and I could enjoy doing it, too. But that isn't what I want." He let her go, almost as if in disgust, whether at her or at himself, she couldn't say. "I told you before, I don't want you turning spy for Umbridge. But if you are going to do it, I insist that you do it right."

"I've managed so far." She lifted her chin, trying to get back her self-possession.

"And when the time comes to tell Umbridge something worth knowing? Let me assure you, as eager as she is for flattery, the woman wants results, and so far she has not got enough to suit her. If you fail to bring her someone's head, or at least some other useful piece of their anatomy, she will eventually decide that you are worthless. That is, if she doesn't decide you are an outright traitor to her cause. Either way, she will despise you, and probably look for a way to punish you." His upper lip twisted, as if in sympathy to the idea. "There is some small chance," he went on, "that you can make yourself appear entirely earnest in her service but incompetent despite your efforts. However, I have no idea how she will react to that."

"You think I should give her what she wants?" Which was, of course, the conclusion she had come to herself. And the reason she had sought his advice.

"I think you have no choice except to betray your House mates, if you wish to remain in her good graces. Which, as you pointed out," he added smugly, "would be in our best interests."

"I just don't know how to do that," Sarah said.

"Whom do you dislike? Who has caused trouble for you? Who is doing something contrary to those decrees of hers?"

"You are," Sarah pointed out bluntly. The look of surprise, even of alarm--that perhaps he had convinced her so well that she would betray even him--was strangely satisfying. "Your lessons with Harry Potter are strictly against the decree she posted at the beginning of term."

"For information like that," he breathed, "Dolores Umbridge would give you anything within Cornelius Fudge's power to grant. You know that? Three heads on a very large platter: Potter's and mine and the headmaster's."

"Well, of course I can't tell her that," Sarah said. She added coyly, "Unless part of the deal I made was to clear you of any wrong-doing. Set us up with a little shop of our own somewhere." She was only half-jesting, and that half didn't seem to be coming through in her voice.

For a moment his expressions shifted like wind-blown sand, as they so often did, but then his countenance hardened to rock. "You realize, of course, what the price for that would be?"

Sarah felt ashamed of herself. "Potter expelled. Dumbledore sacked by the Ministry."

"We might be able to survive one or both of those events. Preferably Potter's expulsion," he said. "Although Fudge is not likely to stop with a mere sacking, in Dumbledore's case. This goes much deeper than that. Right down to the question of who you want to win."

She didn't think he was merely referring to Umbridge. "She isn't...working for the Dark Lord?" Sarah was shaken. And what about Fudge, and the Ministry...

"I don't know. My inquiries have been brushed aside, and I have not pressed the issue. But it does not really matter whether she is or not. Not every person in this world who means ill has taken service with him. And in the end, that only proves to his advantage. The Ministry's denial of his return makes his work easier for the present. He has much to set in place if he is to regain the power and especially the influence that he once possessed. With the Ministry in unchallenged control of Hogwarts, it would become easier to infiltrate the curriculum with ideas that will encourage acceptance of his rule."

Sarah frowned deeply. "I don't want that to happen."

"Then the best advice I can give you," he said, "is this: the main thing you must remember when you are spying for the enemy is to deliver information with the most perceived value, but that in fact causes the least real harm. House points mean nothing. Detentions mean nothing. But delivering a steady series of small victories will keep you approved-of and yet unnoticed in the larger scheme of things. And at that, as you well know, you excel."

"But she noticed me," Sarah pointed out. Then, anxiously, "Could the spell be wearing off? Did it get...broken?" By you, she meant, although she couldn't say it.

"I doubt that very much." He shrugged. "You have something she wants. As long as that remains true, she has a powerful reason to keep you in mind. If you make yourself a small but useful part of her machinations she will have less and less cause to think about you."

She looked up at him, frustrated, wishing his advice had been different, easier to live with. But she could see plainly that he had nothing more to offer on the subject. His eyes were beginning to take on that shuttered look that told her when a topic was closed for discussion.

Sarah had been compelled, many times over the last several months, to feel the difference in their ages, in their physical strength, in their potion-making abilities, in their magical knowledge and power. She had always brushed those feelings aside as quickly as possible, knowing that an outward demonstration of her strength of will was her only chance not to be utterly dominated by him. But now she wanted nothing more than to be protected by him, saved from her own foolishness, treated like a little girl. Half-blinded with sudden anxiety, and heedless of his aloofness, she sought out his embrace.

He held her close. But his voice, when he spoke, was cold. Cold enough that she knew it had been a mistake to allow herself to feel so helpless. And yet she couldn't let go. "I don't feel sorry for you, Sarah. You got yourself into this situation, and you didn't think quickly enough to get yourself out again before it was too late. And now you will have to live with the consequences." She felt his lips whispering at the top her head. "We will both have to live with the consequences."

* * *

Deciding what to tell Umbridge was even more difficult than she thought it would be. At first, she considered the possibility of revealing the hidden copies of The Quibbler. Now that everyone had read and re-read the article about Harry Potter, it wouldn't be a trial to part people from their magazines. The problem was that Umbridge had decreed expulsion as the penalty for possessing it, and Sarah had no desire to get anyone expelled...at least no one in Gryffindor House. And it wouldn't go over well to try to get a fellow Squad member--say, Draco Malfoy--expelled.

Sarah had never realized before that she typically paid as little attention to her classmates as they did to her. Now that she was trying to uncover misdeeds to report, she discovered that it simply wasn't in her nature to be nosy. When Umbridge set her Junior Inquisitors the task of going through all the owl post entering or leaving Hogwarts, Sarah found herself cringing inwardly every time she had to magically open a seal without breaking it. (It was not Severus alone, it seemed, who was teaching her Dark spells, although Umbridge was quick to bring up the necessity of the Ministry maintaining order at the school--at any cost, the woman said.)

Snooping through people's letters, however, was a fairly unproductive activity, since most students did not share their rule-breaking with their parents. Knowing that she would soon have to do something more to satisfy the High Inquisitor, Sarah settled on a plan that, while it cost Gryffindor House no direct loss of points, probably resulted in her House mates becoming so unpopular in general with Professor Umbridge that they tended to lose more points to her, here and there, than they otherwise would have in the course of their daily studies. Taking Snape's advice about maximal value and minimal damage to heart, Sarah began reporting on all the conversations she overheard in the Gryffindor common room in which Umbridge featured negatively. Umbridge could not confront her critics without revealing the presence of her spy. And while that infuriated her, she fortunately turned her invective upon the victims of Sarah's reports rather than Sarah herself. The woman seemed to take a brutal delight in knowing how unpopular she was in Gryffindor House.

Even that would not be enough for long, Sarah was sure. So, gradually she developed an ear for picking up on the plotting of minor infractions and forbidden trysts. Between those overheard conversations and her postal invasions, she learned things she had never supposed about her House mates, things that frequently aroused her sympathies. Almost from the beginning, it was as difficult to come to terms with her conscience as Snape had warned her it would be.

Worst of all, she discovered, to her dismay, that in spite of all her efforts to manage things to the contrary, it was becoming nearly impossible to make her reports at all, let alone convincingly, without telling herself--at least temporarily--that her victims were in some degree deserving of their fate. They had never even tried to be her friends, tainted as she was by her father's name. And they were breaking the rules. But the hypocrisy of using that information to protect her own far grosser rule-breaking did not escape her. And although Severus had reported the situation to Professor Dumbledore, who seemed to approve of it, Sarah had no confidence that she was learning anything truly worthwhile in return. Certainly the value of her role was not clear enough that she could use the argument of the greater good--no good, fact, beyond her own selfish self-interest--to justify her tattling. She left her sessions with Umbridge feeling dirty in a way that no amount of soap and water could wash off. And it did not help to see the mingled regret and satisfaction in Severus's eyes when he perceived the effect it was having upon her.

One piece of information that she kept completely to herself was the discovery that there was some kind of secret organization, which was meeting (naturally) in defiance of Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. Harry Potter and his friends, as well as several of her own dorm mates, were involved. It would have been a prize. And yet she said nothing about it to anyone.

Partly it was to spite Snape. Sarah had grown rather tired of hearing about the faults he saw in the young man. And although his expulsion would probably mean an end to the Occlumency lessons, the fact that even Snape considered the boy important--a fact which she discerned more from his criticisms than any outright admission to that effect--made her hesitant to get Potter into trouble.

Besides, Umbridge had other informants on that subject. One of the Ravenclaw members of the Inquisitorial Squad reported it first, and the urgency with which the Inquisitor insisted they all pursue the matter finally led Sarah to admit that she had heard vague rumors that such a group existed, although she denied knowing who among the Gryffindors might be a member.

At the Squad's last weekly Saturday meeting before the start of the Easter holidays, Morgaine Lukas, the Ravenclaw seventh year who had brought the illegal group to Umbridge's attention to begin with, announced that she might have a witness. She had overheard a girl discussing the group's activities with her best friend. The girl had denied knowing anything when Morgaine questioned her about it, but it was clear that she knew something.

"Who is this wavering child?" Umbridge wanted to know. "Perhaps she can be convinced of the error of her ways."

Sarah noted with some satisfaction that even Morgaine Lukas had to think twice before turning in a fellow student to the likes of Umbridge.

"Maybe it would be better if I keep trying to convince her myself..."

"The girl's name, Miss Lukas?"

"Marietta Edgecombe."

That horrible smile stretched across Umbridge's face until it seemed as if it might split in two. "Well, well, isn't that interesting? Well done, Morgaine. Yes, very well done indeed."

"Are we going to catch them?" Malfoy blurted out eagerly.

"Oh yes, I believe we are." She bent to open a drawer in her desk, and came up with a small box. Inside was a silvery jumble, some sort of jewelry. Umbridge reached in and brought out an individual piece: a narrow bar with crossbars at each end; as she held it up, Sarah realized that it was the letter 'I', with a pin on the back.

"I took the liberty of ordering these in advance. Once I feel comfortable with the idea of your positions being known to the student body, you'll be able to wear them openly. For now, keep them hidden, but close to your skin. Anytime I need your attendance upon me, they will buzz slightly." She distributed the pins to her Inquisitorial Squad; her smile had not faded in the least.

* * *

"There's trouble brewing," Sarah told Snape, showing him the pin that afternoon in his office. Now that she had a lab in the dungeons and a complex Potions project in progress, it was no longer suspicious for her to be seen here...as long as it wasn't too often. And this was business. "If this Edgecombe girl knows something, and if Umbridge forces her to rat on her friends...."

Snape was frowning at the silver 'I' she had placed in his palm. "What possible real harm can come from her catching students holding a secret meeting?"

Sarah gritted her teeth, but she had no choice but to tell him. "Because Harry Potter is involved in it."

"Oh, really?" Snape smirked.

Sarah growled and snatched the pin back. "You're no help!"

He really could not keep the smile off his face, although he was making something of an effort. "I'll tell Professor Dumbledore about the pins," he assured her.

Sarah stalked out of his office, disgusted. He was like...like a schoolboy trying to win a pissing contest! What business had a grown man carrying on such a petty battle with a boy of fifteen? It was ridiculous!

Her forceful strides began to drain her energy, which had become increasingly low. Naps were now requisite, and once, when she fell asleep after dinner, she had slept right through until morning, much to Severus's distress. Her frequent sleepiness had garnered a few sympathetic and commiserative comments from her dorm mates, who naturally assumed that her exhaustion was a result of the long hours she was spending on preparing for her N.E.W.T.s. There were moments when she could not help feeling that she had been invaded by some parasitic creature that was sucking out her life energy. All of this, her book assured her, was quite normal. It recommended a few mild strengthening tonics, but pointed out, rather bluntly, that she was now living for two and she was going to feel the effects of it.

What to do...? Seek out Professor Dumbledore, to tell him herself? In which case, she thought ruefully, the headmaster would question Snape about it afterward...and then Snape would know she hadn't trusted him. She could not face him after something like that. Especially if it turned out that he had intended to tell Dumbledore all along.

McGonagall, then? Sarah turned down the hallway toward her office. After only a few steps, she stopped. Even if she asked her Head of House not to tell Professor Dumbledore about what Sarah knew, no doubt McGonagall's unbending nature would compel her to do so if she thought it necessary. Sarah was not even sure that her underground membership in the Inquisitorial Squad was known to McGonagall. Given that Snape reported what Sarah told him directly to Dumbledore, it was possible that she did not. And if that were the case, McGonagall would go immediately to Dumbledore for an explanation of why one of her students--one who was already in a precarious position--was being encouraged to act as Umbridge's spy. Which left her right back where she started.

So...if she went to Dumbledore, but asked him not to tell Snape? That, however, did not cast a very good light on Snape. And as aggravated as she was with him at present, she didn't want to get him into trouble with the headmaster. Dumbledore would not have assigned him to teach Potter Occlumency if he did not believe Severus could act responsibly toward the boy. For her to express doubts in him...for her to hint that they were quarrelling over Potter...no, that did not look good at all.

The important thing, Sarah decided, was to prevent Potter from getting caught by Umbridge. The problem was that Sarah had no idea what Edgecombe knew. Nothing, maybe, in which case all this worry was for nothing. It was even possible, Sarah considered for the first time, that the Ravenclaw group had nothing to do with Potter's group. After all, it was not usual for students to cross House lines, even in making friendships, let alone in forming secret societies. Even if the Ravenclaw girl did spill her guts and did accuse Potter, it would probably be her word against his. And it wasn't as if she could go up to the boy and just vaguely say, Be careful. Umbridge suspects you. He didn't even know her. And a comment like that could well point suspicions in her direction, if anyone started to wonder who was telling on them.

Finally, Sarah decided to deal with the problem at its source: she would have to seek out Marietta Edgecombe. As the students straggled out of the Great Hall after dinner, Sarah sidled up to one of the older Ravenclaw girls, after a quick look around to make sure none of her fellow I.S. members were nearby to overhear, and asked, "Could you point out Marietta Edgecombe to me?"

"What do you need her for?" the girl, a slender redhead, asked.

She'd been afraid there would be questions. "Someone mentioned that she might know something unique about a project I'm working on. But I don't know her myself."

"Hey, Cho!" The redhead stopped another Ravenclaw, a pretty girl with straight black hair and almond-shaped eyes that Sarah recognized vaguely as being on her House's Quidditch team. "I didn't see Marietta at dinner. Do you know where she is? This--" the girl stopped short, waiting for a name to be supplied.

"Uh, Sarah."

"Sarah needs to talk to her."

Cho frowned sheepishly. "She's gone for the weekend. Her mum came and picked her up this afternoon. Wanted to take her shopping before a special family get-together or something. Sorry." She shrugged.

"Okay," Sarah said, her heart sinking. "I'll just have to ask another time. Thanks anyway," she added to both girls.

As she turned away, she saw Morgaine Lukas watching at her from across the entrance hall.

Oh, shit!

No, calm down, don't look guilty, for goodness sake. Sarah tried to move along with the crowd that was heading toward the stairs, as if she had never had any intention to do anything except go to up her own common room.
All right, how bad is this? Morgaine could not possibly have heard her question, not over the burble of noise the other students were making. But she had seen her talking to two girls in Ravenclaw uniforms. Now, if it turned out that there was any hint that someone had been forewarned, Morgaine could suggest who might have been responsible.

Sarah needed a nap. Definitely. And if she didn't wake up until morning again...well, that was the price that Severus had to pay. Damn all of it.