Unintended Consequences 2

Chapter 4: A Tale of Remorse

It was late on Friday night, and Snape was haphazardly tossing his remaining clothing and personal belongings into a trunk. Several boxes of books were stacked near the doorway. The drinks Madam Sophronia had insisted on buying him after their last evening of work together were now making him rather more tired than lightheaded, but he wanted to finish before going to bed. Tomorrow he would be traveling to Hogwarts, and he did not want to start the day with more onerous chores.

Abruptly, Snape felt his Dark Mark burn. It was the summons he had been dreading ever since he had received the official confirmation of his appointment at Hogwarts. He Disapparated with barely a pop to disturb the nocturnal activities of the other denizens of the boarding house.

Upon arrival, he opened his eyes to discover that he was in a familiar place. The richly furnished room in which he found himself was a place he had visited on a few occasions when the Dark Lord wished to speak with a smaller group of Death Eaters privately. Snape had never so much as set foot outside the room, and had no idea where the house of which it must be a part stood.

Tonight the ornate marble fireplace was empty, which was fortunate. The heavy velvet drapes remained drawn, allowing no hint of breeze to dispel the August heat. In the dim candlelight, the room appeared empty. Abruptly, a door to his right opened, admitting the tall, skeletal form of the Dark Lord. As the door closed, becoming again scarcely distinguishable from the wood paneling that covered the walls, Snape caught a glimpse of a richly carpeted hallway, which provided no additional hint as to the location of the house.

Snape dropped hastily to his knees.

"My Lord, you summoned me?" he asked, inclining his head in a show of respect.

Voldemort regarded Snape for a moment, before seating himself in a sumptuously upholstered wingback chair. Snape rose and turned to face him.

"I would hear how you fared in your new assignment," Voldemort said.

"Master, the Defense Against Dark Arts post had already been filled-" Snape began his explanation.

"Indeed, I know all about it," Voldemort interrupted, "and about Slughorn's abrupt retirement."

The Dark Lord had heard from Lucius, then, Snape deduced. No surprise there; maybe it could be turned to Snape's advantage. It was certain Lucius would have emphasized his instrumentality to the outcome. Perhaps if he pushed enough credit Lucius's way, the question Snape feared would not be coming.

"With the assistance of Lucius Malfoy, I have gained Professor Slughorn's position, My Lord," Snape said carefully, maintaining a neutral expression as he surreptitiously sought to evaluate the Dark Lord's reaction.

"Lucius is most useful for his influence in certain circles, yes," Voldemort said. His high, cold laugh cut through the stuffy air, and Snape suppressed a shudder. "But not, I believe, with Albus Dumbledore. Yet, the old fool hired you."

Snape's heart sank at his words.

He continued softly, in a voice that seemed almost a hiss, "I ask myself...surely my servant is being too modest? Your own powers of persuasion did not play a role?"

"Master, you are too kind," Snape replied, his mind racing. The Dark Lord wanted to hear more about his contact with Dumbledore. What should he say?

"So, did he bring up the prophecy?" Voldemort asked quietly. The red glow that lit his eyes as he spoke belied the soft tone in which the words were said.

Snape paled. He had feared Dumbledore's plan of convincing Slughorn to retire would not be enough, and his every instinct now told him that he had been right. The Dark Lord had expected Dumbledore would not hire him - he had been set up to fail. If he was to conceal his ongoing betrayal of the Dark Lord, he needed a convincing explanation of how he had persuaded Dumbledore. In the days since he had secured Lucius's help, Snape had given it some thought, just in case. All he had come up with was a dangerous gamble, but, as he had walked straight into the Dark Lord's trap, it seemed his best option.

With a firm nod, he collected his thoughts and launched into his first deliberate lie to the Dark Lord. He had, he believed, gotten away with any number of misdirections and half-truths over the past year, a year in which he had worked hard to hone his Occlumency skills. He was about to see whether he had learned enough.

"Yes, my Lord," Snape answered. "I think Dumbledore only granted me an interview to question me about the prophecy. I could see that he did not want to hire me, that he mistrusted me."

"And yet, you obtained a position," Voldemort stated. "Look at me!" he ordered.

Here it was, the most dangerous moment. He had lied already, but the Dark Lord would seek confirmation of this lie. Snape met his eyes, and allowed a memory he had kept deeply hidden for nearly a year to surface. Of a meeting in Dumbledore's office in which he had confessed the crime he most regretted, and, had stunningly, been given his life back in return. However, Legilimency had limits, even the Dark Lord's. It could reveal neither the words that had been spoken then, nor the date of that meeting, Snape hoped.

"I spun for him a tale of remorse, Master," Snape responded, his black eyes glittering as he looked upon the Dark Lord, though his stomach twisted with fear. Of what might happen now, if the Dark Lord sensed the lie. Yet also of what the Dark Lord might do if he believed, for what Snape was about to confess was in itself a betrayal of the Dark Lord's secrets, if far less serious than the one of which he feared he was suspected. "I revealed my Mark. I claimed that I regretted my association with you, the crimes I committed in your service, and the trouble I caused the Potters by telling you the prophecy," he explained.

"And he believed you?" Voldemort asked, his red eyes fixed on Snape's.

"I am not sure, My Lord," Snape answered, "but he agreed to hire me."

"So simply? It would seem you have hidden talents as an actor," Voldemort said with a sneer.

"No, Master!" Snape said hastily. "We spoke for a long time. He asked why I was telling him now. I told him I have regretted my decision for a long time, but could not run, as I feared I would be killed, and knew no one to turn to for help. That I could not keep hiding what I had become, when he confronted me about the prophecy."

"Dumbledore, despite certain self-imposed limitations, has been a great wizard," Voldemort interrupted Snape's account lazily. "If he believed you, there must have been truth in what you said."

The Dark Lord's logic was inconvenient, but undeniable. Snape saw instantly that, as he could not argue with the Dark Lord's conclusion, his best chance was to confirm it, on his own terms.

"Master, forgive me!" he cried, falling at the Dark Lord's feet. "After- after our last meeting, I confess I did regret my decision to serve you. It is this, and my fear, that I believe Dumbledore sensed, and mistook. Still I have served you loyally, My Lord. I succeeded in my assignment."

Silence fell for a moment, which seemed endless to Snape as he waited for the Dark Lord's reaction. He could hear the Dark Lord standing up, and his robes brushed Snape as he strode by.

"Get up, Snape," said Voldemort softly. "Stand up. I do not forgive so easily. I would know all that passed between you and Dumbledore, before I judge."

Snape rose to his feet. The Dark Lord stood, his back to a sconce on the wall in which now burned a bright magical light, which only served to darken the shadows cast by the black hood he wore. His white, long-fingered hands idly fingered his wand.

"So, Dumbledore believed your pretty story, pitied your sorry state, and decided to hire you," Voldemort sneered.

Snape kept his eyes on the Dark Lord's face, to avoid the bright light of the magical flame. "He expressed his disappointment, at first," Snape said. "He said he had hoped I had seen through Bellatrix and her Slytherin gang at school. He didn't come out and say it, but I could see that he wanted me to confirm his suspicions about them. So I did."

The Dark Lord did not speak. The light was making it impossible to read the Dark Lord's expression, as he doubtless intended.

Snape elaborated, "I gave him the names of a pair of recently slain Death Eaters, a pair in Ministry custody...and Lucius and Bellatrix. Lucius, I claimed to only suspect. Bellatrix, I confessed, led the failed raid on the Potters in which I participated."

"You betrayed fellow Death Eaters?" Voldemort asked in a dangerous voice.

"Yes, My Lord," Snape confirmed quietly, and with all the sincerity he could muster. Best to give the Dark Lord some truths on which to hang this tissue of lies...

"And you are admitting it to me?" the Dark Lord asked. Snape thought he detected a note of incredulity.

"I could not hope to conceal my guilt from you, Master!" Snape exclaimed. "All know that you are a Legilimens without peer. My only hope was that, in the end, you might value my success enough to forgive the means I used to attain it.

"My Lord, I considered very carefully what I would tell," he continued. "I knew, for my tale to be credible, I would need to account for my own actions during my years in your service. I confessed to enough criminal activity to land in Azkaban. I named no free Death Eaters other than Bellatrix, and her only in connection to that one failed raid. I gave him nothing that could be used against others, without my testimony."

"And he accepted this?" Voldemort asked.

"He is familiar with the precautions we take to preserve our secrecy, My Lord," Snape replied. "I gather he has learned that the recently captured Death Eaters know few of their fellows by name."

"So, he questioned none of the story?"

"On the contrary, he asked for some details about the raid, questions which showed his knowledge of the particulars, surely to check the truth of my account. Someone in his service must have visited the house after the raid and reported these same details to him. But he seemed more interested in why I wanted to teach," Snape said.

"And did you tell him?" Voldemort inquired softly.

"No, Master," Snape replied quickly. "I told him Defense against the Dark Arts had always been my best subject. And that, as I could not leave the Death Eaters, I wished at least to get further away from Knockturn Alley and the influences that had led me astray."

"And then he offered you the Potions position?"

"No, My Lord. He told me that the safety of Hogwarts is illusory, for even if employed there, I would need to leave it from time to time. I told him I had known that when I applied, that I had planned to continue meeting with my fellow Death Eaters."

"How did he react?"

"He asked what I had planned to do in the event that you chose to take advantage of my position as a teacher to harm the school or its students."

Voldemort nodded his head, and the movement revealed for a moment that his lipless face was twisted into a terrifying semblance of a grin. "Indeed, he would ask that. How did you answer?"

"I expressed shock. I said it had never occurred to me, or I would not have applied for the position, as I could not live with myself if I did such a thing."

"And?" Voldemort prompted.

"He looked at me, and asked seriously if I meant that, if I would give him news of a plan of that nature if I were to learn of it," Snape replied. "Naturally, I said I would. That is when he brought up Slughorn and the Potions position. He commented that it would be better for me given where the Dark Arts had led me, and offered it to me. He said he would not reveal me to the Ministry, and I could leave the school to meet with Death Eaters, but that I must tell him if I learn anything of importance."

"In other words, I sent you to Hogwarts to spy on Dumbledore, and instead, he thinks he has turned you to spy on me?" Voldemort asked.

"Precisely, My Lord," Snape confirmed, gazing steadily at Voldemort.

"I don't recall giving you any order to that effect," Voldemort said softly, but with an almost palpable menace. Snape stood silent. He had told his story. If the Dark Lord had discovered his duplicity, nothing he could do or say now would save him. If not - he had already begged, and groveled, but he had succeeded, beyond the Dark Lord's expectation. He would let his actions speak for him.

"Are you certain, my loyal servant, that this idea was not Dumbledore's?" Voldemort asked, so softly it was almost a whisper.

This Snape could have answered, resoundingly, not very long ago. That side of him, the young man that became a Death Eater - it must still be there. Always would be.... Calling up his memories of his school days, he replied.

"Dumbledore!" he spat angrily. "He pays lip service to so-called justice, yet his favorites can get away with murder and are showered with rewards, while he expects me to stick my neck in a noose for a year's teaching salary and be grateful. I know exactly what I would gain, were I to accept his offer in truth and evade your wrath. A lifetime of licking the boots of people who have always known I am worthless, who will now despise me both for my 'crimes' and as a traitor, and who will expect my undying gratitude for their noble forbearance, in allowing me to help them.

"No thank you. I'll take my chances with you, My Lord. At least when you win, I will see my enemies dead, for they are yours as well," Snape finished.

"I suggest that you leave those sentiments in this room," Voldemort said, "for I would not be pleased to lose my spy at Hogwarts."

"My apologies, Master," Snape said, bowing deeply, his deferential gesture hiding a surge of triumph. He had won this round, then - his arrangement of his hiring was accepted. "I had not seen Dumbledore for several years. Our recent meeting has made me no fonder of him, but I will not permit myself to indulge my feelings again."

"Very well," Voldemort said. "And now, my judgment. You have broken your oath of secrecy, which is a matter of grave seriousness. Yet I will pardon it, this once, as you have succeeded in your assignment in a manner that may prove most profitable. See that it does."

"Thank you, My Lord," Snape said, inclining his head respectfully.

"You may leave me now," the Dark Lord said, as, with a flick of his wand, he extinguished the magical light. Snape, his eyes unaccustomed to the gloom, stumbled forward to bow and kiss the Dark Lord's robe before departing. A claw like hand gripped his upper arm painfully and kept him standing. It took a moment before he recognized what had happened - the Dark Lord did not require him to kiss the hem of his robe.

He bowed again and backed away a few steps, before turning on his heel and Disapparating.