The Worm That Turned

Chapter 9 - Spies

It was a wet January night and the gravel of Lucius' drive crunched under their feet as they plodded towards the broomshed. Severus had cast a decent rain-repelling spell over them both, and the Death Eater hoods sheltered them. Lucius was in an excellent mood, positively bouncing despite the weather. Severus was pretty sure it wasn't to do with the task in hand.

'Got some good news, old bean,' announced Malfoy gleefully. 'Narcissa's pregnant.'

'Oh, right,' said Severus, unsure of the correct social response to such an announcement. It wasn't a situation he'd ever been in before.

'Oh right?' echoed Lucius. 'Aren't you going to offer me congratulations?'

'Oh, yes, OK. Congratulations.'

'Honestly, Severus, you have no social graces whatsoever!' Lucius chuckled, unlocking the broomshed with a flick of his wand.

'Well, I mean... what are you going to do with a baby?' asked Severus.

Lucius paused midway through handing him a broom. 'What do you mean, do? One doesn't do anything with a baby. One just... has one.' He was staring at Severus as though he was mad.

'You mean like your peacocks?' said Severus, cottoning on. Lucius kept a number of horrible albino peacocks around the estate, which as far as Severus could tell served no useful purpose whatsoever. They simply existed for the sake of existing.

'What? No, not at all like my peacocks!' snapped Lucius. 'Talk about putting a damper on my news. Now hurry up, we'd better not be late.'

They were the last to arrive, the rest of the cell already gathered and trying to shelter under a tree with spreading branches. 'It's filthy weather. Do we have to do it tonight?' demanded someone belligerently.

'Yes, we do,' replied Lucius curtly. 'Unless you want to go and tell Him that you were put off by a bit of rain.'

'It's not just a bit of rain,' came the pedantic tones of Cuthbert Youdle. 'It's high winds too. Not a good idea with such a complex task as this one...'

'It has to be tonight,' Lucius insisted, pushing the broom under a bush and opening his bag of tools. 'Lots of Muggles will be crossing it tomorrow, some sort of event. So we'd better get on with it.' He threw a thaumic pinner to Youdle. 'The sooner we start, the sooner we can all go home to our nice warm beds.'

Grumbling amongst themselves, the cell set out into the night to their appointed places. Severus was working with Monty Blackwell, Lucius' old school friend. They disillusioned each other before heading out onto the bridge. They'd only gone a few steps before the noise of the howling wind picked up. He tried not to look down. The river was a very long way below them. Privately he agreed with Youdle, but there was no point in arguing when you were a Death Eater. Complaining yes, to some extent, as long as it was done carefully and quietly. But never actually refusing.

'Do you want to go or shall I?' he asked Blackwell.

'Whatever you like, old boy. Let's just get it done fast like Lew said, and get out of here. You're quicker than me, how about you go.'

'Very well.' Severus stood still whilst Blackwell tied rope securely around his waist, then began the litany of spells that would do the real work of keeping him safely attached to the bridge. Severus listened closely, ready to pick up any error in the casting that could prove his downfall. He lit his wand and closed his eyes, before climbing onto the railings at the side of the bridge and carefully lowering himself over the side.

The wind immediately whipped at him, blowing him under the structure. He swore and struggled, spinning nauseatingly on the rope until he managed to catch the underside of the bridge and apply a gripping charm. 'OK, I'm in place,' he informed Blackwell via his Mark. He worked quickly and silently, drawing patterns on the concrete with his wand, applying the charms they'd already worked up.

Some of the Death Eaters sneered at the work of D-Squad. Bellatrix never lost an opportunity to poke fun at Lucius' specialism, which she saw as a soft option. But the skill required to bring down such a large and precariously placed structure was far greater than many realised. The need for exact placement of the charms, the careful calculations required to get the timing right so it fell at just the right moment, the logistical challenge of working at height, in the dark...

The wind was strengthening, and Lucius' voice sounded over his Mark. 'Let's wrap things up as soon as we can. Looks like it's getting worse.'

'There's another hour's work to go at least,' came Youdle's reply. 'We can't afford it only half falling.'

There was a pause, then, 'OK, seconds, rope up and go down too.'

This order caused a ripple of horror and dissent from the members along the length of the bridge. 'It's too risky!'

'It will be fine. Twice the men, we'll be done in half the time.'

Five minutes later, Blackwell appeared next to Severus. He looked nervous and kept glancing at his rope as though it might snap. 'Where have you got to?' he yelled, his words whipped away by the wind.

Severus indicated with his wand, causing the marks he'd made on the concrete to glow faintly. 'Start from the other side,' he suggested, and Blackwell began to make his tentative way along the underside of the bridge.

Torrents of rain began to sweep over them with every gust of wind. Water seeped in through Severus' robes, despite the charms, and blew into his eyes. His hands were numbed with cold. He hissed the words of the incantation through chattering teeth. Grimly, he drove himself onwards, forcing himself to focus on each word of the charm at a time, not allowing himself to look further ahead.

When he and Blackwell met in the middle, he felt a surge of relief. He ran a few charges across the network of carefully placed charms, testing the connectivity. All was well. Provided it had been linked correctly to the rest, at the appointed time the whole thing would simply crumble away, sending every Muggle on it into the chasm below. 'Let's get out of here!' he yelled.

Blackwell didn't need any second bidding and was already inching back along his rope. Severus made his way back to the edge of the bridge, and clung on. The parapet was ten feet above his head, the concrete sides glistening. He tugged his rope and waited impatiently. Malfoy must be pulling Blackwell up first.

Another blast of icy rain smashed into him from the left, going straight down his ear. He shook his head to free it of the pain, and lost his grip on the side. The rope swung outwards, dragging him along the concrete, half-dazing him. Suddenly, the wind was full of stinging particles, and he realised it had started to hail. Splinters of ice drove in through the eye holes of his hood as he tried to reach up and regain his grip on the side. Damn Malfoy, why couldn't he hurry up!

Coughing as the rain seemed to be finding its way even into his lungs, he almost got his hand up, but misjudged the distance. His knuckles caught the edge of the bridge and his fingers opened. His wand fell away, down into the abyss. He yelled instinctively, feeling as though a part of himself had dropped off.

But as the wand tumbled, another problem became apparent. The spells holding him, having taken a serious pounding over the past hour, began to fail. He suddenly plummeted another ten feet, brought up short by the rope itself. Now he yelled with bowel twisting terror, as he was blown violently from side to side. He grasped the rope with both hands, even as he began to feel the knot at his waist slip. With no magic to hold it steady, it wouldn't withstand this sort of insult for long.

'Severus!' he heard Malfoy's scream from the top of the bridge, sounding almost deranged. 'Severus! NO!'

He dangled desperately, clinging to the rope, his eyes shut, his breath coming in gasps. He could feel gravity pulling him, like creatures dragging on his legs. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mixed with icy rain. Only physical strength would save him now, and physical strength was one thing Severus had always lacked. He clung on for his very life, unable to believe that he was going to die here, like this.

It felt like he hung there for eternity, his thoughts spiralling in odd directions. The thought occurred to him that maybe Lucius would name his child Severus, in memory of his dead friend. At least it would be a way to continue pissing Narcissa off long after he'd died. He sobbed at the thought. But mainly, he thought of Lily. The thoughts of her that were always there, in a small corner of his mind, expanded to fill his whole consciousness. He wondered where she was now. Sitting at home perhaps, on the sofa next to Potter. Would she feel anything, any sign that would tell her that her old friend was in mortal peril?

Maybe a shiver would pass over her momentarily. But she would shrug it away, dismiss it. It suddenly seemed incredible to him, that once they had been so close. How had it all come to this? Her at home, happily married to another man; him dangling from a bridge in a storm, moments from a watery grave? Would she ever hear the news of his death? Would she be sorry if she did? Or maybe she would wonder idly in ten years' time what had become of her old school friend, and then forget it straight away.

The knot slipped again. His muscles were ropes of agony, his lungs burned, his hands were slipping. He clung on desperately but his reserves of strength, augmented by desperation, were failing. He was too scared now to cry, to be sick, to do anything but focus on how much he wanted to survive. The wind caught him, and he felt the rope slip away, and suddenly there was nothing to hold him anymore. For a second, he thought he was suspended, then he realised he was falling.

He hit something almost at once, and for a few seconds the shock of the impact and the terror leading up to it left him senseless. He thought he was dead - he'd hit the water and now he was... what? Heading for the afterlife? It felt surprisingly chilly for hell. Then he realised fingers were gripping him, bodies were pushed up against him. He was rushing upwards through the air, borne by two figures on broomsticks. The top of the bridge was coming into view. Death Eaters stood along the parapet, staring over the side, several of them holding their own wands out.

Seconds later, the figures drew level, and then he was amongst them, landing on the bridge with a thump. Now he was shaking, heat flooding over him from the adrenaline. His arms decided now was a good time to put in an official protest about their overuse. He retched, spitting water over the side of the bridge, closing his eyes to avoid looking at the drop. He needed the toilet badly.

Lucius was just sending off the others, counting and ordering them furiously away. He felt his friend's hand on his shoulder. 'Come on, Sev, come on. Let's get out of here. I'll apparate us back.'

Back in the flat the quiet seemed almost noisy after the ceaseless row of wind. He tore off his sodden hood and fetched towels from the bathroom. Lucius was on the floor, still clutching the broom and swearing repeatedly in between choking breaths. Severus threw a towel at him and rubbed vigorously at his face. He removed his robes and wrapped the towel around his waist to disguise his frayed underwear.

Then he made his way through to the kitchen. He went to flick his wand at the kettle and realised he didn't have it any more. 'I've lost my wand,' he said out loud, looking at his empty wand hand and feeling stirrings of distress through the shock.

'We'll buy you a new one,' said Lucius in a very subdued voice, sitting up and removing his own hood. His friend was deathly pale and staring at Severus wide-eyed.

Looking at Malfoy, Severus sighed and took the man's wand. Anyone would think it was Lucius who had nearly fallen to his death. He pulled himself together and set about making tea. He missed his wand like he would a limb. Lucius' did not feel right, although he could make it do what he wanted, just about. He tried to imagine where his would be by now, washed away in the river, maybe even heading out to sea. It was like thinking of the corpse of a friend.

He added a dash of Pepper-Up potion to each mug of tea. Lucius was still shaking so much he could hardly take the cup. 'I'll have to tell people I snapped my old one. I'll say I was drunk,' said Severus, conversationally. He didn't think he'd ever known Lucius silent for such a long period of time. His friend merely nodded. 'Thanks for rescuing me,' he added, awkwardly. Again, Malfoy moved his head slightly, but gave no real sign of having understood Severus' words. 'Lucius, come on. We're alive. The bridge is done. It's all fine.'

Lucius, turned to look at him slowly. 'Is it?'

'Apart from my wand of course.' Severus felt a fresh pang of sorrow at its loss.

'I thought at first you'd fallen - all the way, I mean. You were disillusioned, remember. I just thought, he's dead.'

'Drink your tea and forget about it. It's over,' said Severus, bracingly. He was starting to feel slightly irritated with Malfoy.

'It'll never be over,' said Lucius darkly, but he did pick up his mug and take a sip. He coughed slightly, and steam rushed from his ears.

'Pepper-up,' explained Severus, refusing to look Lucius in the eye. 'I wonder what time Ollivander's opens up?'

'Nine, maybe?' said Lucius, making a visible effort to pull himself together. 'Do you want me to come with you?'

'I think I can manage on my own,' said Severus drily. 'You'd better get home to Narcissa.'

'I can't leave you here without a wand!' Lucius sounded scandalised. 'Even Cissy will understand that. You've got to come back with me.'

Severus opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired. 'Well, if you insist. But we'll go by floo. I'm not sure you're up to apparating both of us anywhere else tonight.'

*****

Severus' new wand took some getting used to, but he soon came to like as much if not more than his old one. He suspected the original had been from Ollivander's budget range rather than the absolute best match for him. He still felt a slight pang of sadness for it, but told himself sternly such sentimentality was ridiculous.

As for his other emotional weakness, he remained as hopelessly in love with Lily Evans as ever. He couldn't bring himself to call her by his enemy's name, even in his head. Even though he hadn't seen or heard anything of her since the wedding, his nerves still jangled whenever he walked the streets around Diagon, in case he came across her.

The Death Eaters meanwhile were increasingly interested in Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. The supposedly secret society continued to be a thorn in the side of the Death Eaters. Whilst individually its members were not too much of a threat, collectively with the power of Dumbledore behind them they managed to be surprisingly disruptive. Voldemort hated Dumbledore with a frightening intensity, but remained wary of confronting the man directly. Even Voldemort admitted Dumbledore was a very great wizard, and not someone to take on lightly.

Knowing what Dumbledore was up to was one of the Death Eaters' prime aims, but he was an extremely hard man to spy on. The protections around Hogwarts were formidable, and Dumbledore's staff and associates loyal to the very death. The man himself was far too astute to allow any potential spies to get close to him, at least when he was doing anything of interest. On one occasion one of Rookwood's best agents succeeded in following him on a visit, only to have to sit through a three hour session of reminiscence between Dumbledore and some decrepit contemporary. The man swore that at the end Dumbledore looked directly at his hiding place and smiled slyly.

Recruiting an Order member to turn double agent was one of Voldemort's key strategic aims. After much debate, Sirius Black was chosen as a good candidate. He was known to be impulsive and reckless, and had close relatives within the Death Eaters. His younger brother had already shown interest in joining when he left school later that year. Bellatrix, who had always been horrified at having a relative within Dumbledore's camp, was particularly keen to suggest he could be turned. 'It is just a teenage rebellion, my Lord. He is a Black by blood, and blood will always out. Now he is older, he can be persuaded back to the right side, my Lord, I know it.'

Controversially, the task of wooing Black over was entrusted to Lucius. Spying was traditionally the preserve of Augustus Rookwood, a long standing Death Eater who held a senior Ministry job. A well connected old family scion, his network extended throughout the Ministry and beyond. Most of his spies passed on information completely unwittingly, which had the additional benefit of making it much harder to catch them. Even Lucius conceded the man was a genius. Rookwood had his own small cell consisting of other key Ministry intelligence gatherers and Imperius curse specialists, and Rookwood made it clear that he did not appreciate Lucius' expansion into 'his' areas.

But the conversion of Black was a different matter, he was reassured. It was a case of persuasion, of influence. Rookwood couldn't do it, for fear of giving the game away. Lucius however was ideally placed. Charming, plausible, related to Black by marriage, of a similar age. And everyone knew that Lucius had remarkable powers of persuasion.

Severus feared that he might also be expected to participate in this endeavour, something he couldn't imagine going well for anyone. But fortunately the Dark Lord had other plans for him. Voldemort summoned him one night, and when Severus arrived, the Dark Lord was alone. 'So Severus,' Voldemort spoke softly, his voice hissing slightly on the esses. 'You haven't found a woman yet?'

Heart drumming so hard he felt sure his whole body was shaking with it, Severus shook his head. 'No my Lord,' he whispered, unable to meet Voldemort's eye. Severus knew he was good at occlumency, but he also knew the Dark Lord was a very powerful legilimens indeed.

'Not the romantic type?' There was a mocking edge to Voldemort's voice. 'Or perhaps you think I wouldn't approve of your choice?' He smiled nastily, letting the silence stretch and stretch. Severus fought the urge to break it, and finally Voldemort spoke again. 'You intrigue me, Severus. You have clearly won over Lucius, and I don't think he impresses easily. Especially not when the person in question is a nobody with an abundance of Muggle blood.'

There was another silence, while Severus tried to control himself. Voldemort continued, 'I have watched you very closely since you joined my inner circle. Of course, I knew already of your skill at healing, at innovation. But you have other talents too, I believe. I remember the day you joined me. I remember you trying to break the enchantment on the building. I thought then, here is someone who tests the boundaries. Here is someone to watch out for. Are you a man to watch, Severus?'

He didn't know how to answer, so went for honesty. 'I like to think so, my Lord. In your service, I may achieve great things.'

'Indeed. Indeed. Tell me, Severus, what other unusual skills do you possess, beyond your innovation and your healing powers?'

For a second, he met Voldemort's eyes. He found it hard to breathe. He finally said, 'I have an interest in occlumency.'

Now Voldemort's smile widened. 'And why would you be interested in such an obscure branch of magic?'

'Dumbledore once used legilimency on me, and I swore I wouldn't ever let him see my thoughts again. So I learned to block it. I do not pretend it could stand up to you, my Lord, but I believe I am sufficiently accomplished to block the efforts of most legilimens.' He held his breath, waiting for the verdict.

'Good,' said Voldemort, and Severus nearly sagged with relief. 'This is a very useful talent, Severus. Very useful indeed. It would be a great shame to allow it to go to waste. Now, you are aware of course of our efforts to infiltrate Dumbledore's camp. For some time now, it has become clear to me that we need to do more. To go further. It is one thing to turn someone within their organisation to pass information. But to really get the sort of intelligence we need, I need one of our own. Someone I can trust completely. I need a member of my inner circle there.'

'You mean me?' gasped Severus, foolishly meeting those eyes again, before quickly dropping his back to the floor.

'You are a good choice, I believe. You can block legilimency. You are young, half-blooded, and of course have your reputation as a Healer. Perhaps you now feel that you would like to have a go at teaching. The Dark Arts position at Hogwarts becomes vacant every year, thanks to a curse I placed on it some years ago. Of course, if you were successful, the curse could be lifted. I would then have a loyal lieutenant, within Hogwarts. You may not be privy to the Order itself, but you will be able to glean valuable intelligence on Dumbledore and his activities. What do you say?'

Severus bowed very low. 'It would be a great honour, my Lord,' he murmured.

'Good. I believe Dumbledore is already looking for candidates. He is considering the introduction of some new subjects to enliven his dull curriculum. I suggest that initially you offer yourself as a tutor of Healing, and if that does not take his interest, try for the Dark Arts post. You may remain at St Mungo's in the meantime. Have you any questions?'

'No, my Lord.'

'Then you are dismissed.' Voldemort waved a hand and turned away, as Severus almost tripped over his robes in his haste to back out of the room.

He returned to the flat and sat at the kitchen table, turning over his wand in his hands, mind racing. The opportunity to spy on Dumbledore, to hoodwink the supercilious old fool, was too good to be true. The thought of becoming a Hogwarts Professor, at last getting the respect he deserved. And all the while working to bring down Dumbledore, and Black and Potter by association. Here at last was his chance to get the revenge he was owed following the werewolf incident! If he could get this right, soon he would no longer need to worry about Severus Snape being overlooked in the magical world.

His first move was to visit his old school. Hogwarts was much as he remembered it, although the security was now even tighter. After passing the checks on the gates, he was escorted through the grounds by Filch the caretaker and two security trolls. Filch was just as cantankerous as he remembered, and grumbled the whole way about the extra work created by the security measures. At the doors of the castle, he went through another series of checks before being admitted. Filch led him to the fifth floor.

'Wait, this isn't the way to Dumbledore!' Severus exclaimed, as they turned right at the top of the stairs.

'That'll be 'cos you're not going to see Dumbledore,' sneered Filch, stopping at the door to McGonagall's office and knocking. He stuck his head inside and announced, 'Severus Snape to see you, Professor.'

'Thank you, Argus, do show him in,' said McGonagall.

Severus entered the room, feeling snubbed and hollow with anger. He was torn between making his disappointment clear, or playing along for the sake of appearances. McGonagall was seated at her desk, but rose when he entered and came to shake his hand. 'Do take a seat, Severus. I hope your journey was smooth?'

'I apparated,' he said, shortly, sitting to face her across the desk.

'So, I hear you are working at St Mungo's now?' she enquired.

'I qualified as a Healer in the summer. Specialising in Potions damage and non-accidental injuries.'

She raised an eyebrow at the last. 'Dark magic, you mean?'

'Reversing its effects, yes. Sadly there is a great call for such expertise at the present time. Hence my training has, of necessity, involved a greater proportion of such cases. There is not so much difference as people suppose between poisoning and the effects of curses. In a physiological sense they generally behave in a similar way.' He stopped, wondering if he had said too much.

'But you are interested in teaching here? What puzzles me is, given the present need for skilled Healers, why you would take yourself out of St Mungo's, to work at Hogwarts.' She paused significantly, and he realised it was a question.

'I see a gap where my skills could be better utilised. You would be shocked at how many of our patients arrive without even the most basic first aid having been applied. The very simplest actions, such as rapid application of dittany, can save lives. Hogwarts students learn very little medical magic, and then it is piecemeal. A more systematic approach is required. In these troubled times, I believe all students should be taught how to manage in a medical emergency.'

McGonagall seemed to give this careful thought. 'But Severus, medical magic is complex, and often dangerous. The potential to do harm if you get it wrong is massive. That is why we do not teach it more widely. In any emergency situation, the best thing that anyone can do is get to St Mungo's, and let the experts deal with it.'

'I quite agree. Unfortunately, many people do not survive the journey to the hospital. Every day we are faced with distraught relatives who splinch themselves whilst transporting the injured. That leaves us with two casualties to deal with, and a poor outcome for both.'

'I see your point,' she agreed, tapping her quill on the table. 'So Severus, what do you do outside of work? Have you hobbies? A family?'

'My work is my life,' he replied piously. 'I read extensively, and develop my own spells and potions.'

'What about friendships? I seem to recall you being close to Lucius Malfoy when you were at school.' It was a loaded question. Of course, it wouldn't have escaped McGonagall's notice that Severus remained close to Lucius.

'Lucius has been a very good friend to me,' he acknowledged with an incline of his head. 'But I don't see what relevance it has to my suitability for a teaching post.'

She raised a single eyebrow in response, but moved on to another thread of questioning. 'As you know, at Hogwarts we welcome students from all backgrounds, magic and Muggle. What are your views on that subject?'

'I would naturally obey the policy of the school,' he said shortly.

'That isn't what I asked. What are your views on the matter?' She was staring hard at him, trying to use Legilimency.

He had no fear of her mind magic. He'd been able to block her when he was a student, let alone now. But he did need to answer her question, and he had to think carefully how. 'I am half-blooded myself,' he said eventually. 'My father was a Muggle, and I was raised in a house without magic. I attended a Muggle school until I started at Hogwarts. I have known Muggleborns with great talent for magic, and purebloods with little. I believe that if people have sufficient talent, they should be accepted here.'

'I am surprised you profess to hold such views, when they are at such odds with those whose company you keep.' Her tone was icy.

'The opinions of my friends are irrelevant!' he snapped, trying to keep his temper.

'They are entirely relevant, if they give me cause to doubt the honesty of your answer.'

Now riled, he fought the tide of rage inside him. He'd forgotten, in his months of absence, how angry Hogwarts and its sanctimonious staff had made him. 'If you must know, I don't have a problem with Muggleborns, but I do believe that they should make a choice. I don't agree with Muggle customs being brought into a school of magic. If they want to be a wizard, they should adopt our habits, and renounce their Muggle ways.'

'And if they do not? What then?'

'Then they have made their choice, and can give up their wands and live as Muggles.'

Colour was rising in McGonagall's lined face. 'And if they persist in mixing magic and Muggle ways? You'll step in to stop them?'

'It is an opinion. I am entitled to my opinion. I never said anything about acting on it. You asked my views, I gave you an honest answer. I already told you I would obey the policy of the school. What more do you want from me?'

'I want to establish if you are a suitable person to work at this school.'

He couldn't help it now. He knew he shouldn't let his feelings get the better of him, but he was just too angry. 'And what would be a suitable person? You only employ people that hold the exact same views as you and Dumbledore? What sort of school does that make this? A place where you indoctrinate children and refuse to tolerate any other points of view? And we wonder why Britain is going to the dogs!'

McGonagall was also angry, but she contained her rage, becoming more prim and rigid than ever. 'Indoctrinate children? If that was the case, we didn't do a very good job on you or your friends, did we Mr Snape? And if you want to know why Britain is 'going to the dogs' as you put it, I don't think you need look any further than the actions of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers!'

They were both on their feet now, glowering at each other. Severus realised his hand was on his wand, and removed it hastily, but he saw her eyes follow the move. He spoke again, in a heavy voice. 'Why did you even bring me here? You never intended to give me the job. You'd already made up your mind.'

'Because Dumbledore believes in giving people a fair chance.'

'Well thank you very much for this fair chance. I'm greatly obliged,' he shot back, trembling with rage. 'I'll see myself out.' He turned on his heel and strode from the room with a swish of his cloak. He almost ran along the corridor and down the stairs. Anger coursed through him with every beat of his heart. All the inequities and frustrations of his schooldays came flooding back to him. He'd been a fool to come back here, to think that anything would be different now he was older.

He slammed out of the big main doors and didn't look back once as he crossed the grounds.

Later that evening he sat in Lucius' drawing room with his head in his hands. 'He's going to kill me,' he moaned. 'Hogwarts will never give me a job now. I've failed.'

'When are you going to learn to keep your temper, old bean?' asked Lucius rhetorically, pushing another glass into his hands.

'I know, I know. But Lew, if you'd heard her! So righteous, so condescending! It was just like I was still a stupid schoolboy, that she could order around and tell was wrong! It was all I could do not to hex her ugly old face, the hag.'

'Thank Merlin you didn't, I don't fancy trying to get you out of that one.' Lucius sat down opposite him and leaned forwards, bringing his head close to Severus'. 'Listen to me now. You can still try for the Dark Arts job.'

'After I insulted McGonagall and walked out? I don't think so.'

'I said you could still try, not that I thought you had any hope of succeeding. It's better than the alternative, which is explaining to Him that you've failed.'

'You mean... lie to Him?' The idea was alien, even to someone with Severus' ability at Occlumency.

Lucius jumped violently, his hand clasping at his forearm. 'Did I use the word 'lie'?' he squeaked. 'Just... tell Him you didn't succeed, and that you'll try again.'

Severus nodded, seeing the sense in this. 'Yes, you're right Lew.'

'Of course I'm right. I'm always right.' Lucius patted his arm awkwardly and rose to his feet. 'It's for the best, Severus. You wouldn't last a week without me to keep an eye on you.'