Dumbledore ignored both the sneer and the insult. “For a number of years now. The last applicant I allowed onto Hogwarts grounds gave me cause to regret it. Coincidentally, he was applying for the same post as you. That is—I do assume you are reapplying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position? I see no other pretext for you contacting me openly for a meeting.”

The spy raised his eyebrows and shrugged, flinging himself into the chair opposite Dumbledore’s. “He still wants a spy at Hogwarts, naturally.”

Dumbledore considered for a moment and decided to lay some cards on the table. “Mm. Perhaps. But did he inform you that he himself had cursed the position? When I declined his own application twenty-six years ago?”

Snape lowered his gaze to his hands in the reflexive response of an Occlumens thinking hard: don’t meet the eyes. He was no doubt reviewing the fates of his own seven teachers. After a moment he murmured to his fists, “That explains much about the past. And raises questions about the future. Either he expects to need a spy only for a short term, or he plans to use his”—the voice flexed sardonically—“agent—in another role.”

Snape raised his head and met Dumbledore’s eyes. “Frankly, I should doubt that it’s the former. We are not at that point yet and are unlikely to reach it whilst you live.”

Dumbledore said coolly, “That was also my reading of the situation. Tell me, Severus, which story are you applying under? That you’ve managed to conceal from me that you are a Death Eater, or that you’ve convinced me you’ve reformed?”

“The latter. You denied me the job last year based on your suspicions, which must have been confirmed by my subsequent actions. So I thought we would, refreshingly, stick with the truth this time. I owe a life-debt to Potter; that makes me remorseful at playing a role in his prospective death. I’ve spent much of the last month practicing the story. Surely I am convincing?”

Dumbledore met the young man’s sneer with a probing stare. Snape was an even more accomplished Occlumens than he had realized, to have pulled off skating that close to the truth for a month of probing. He would have to remember that in his own dealings with him. And he was bright enough to have realized that he was giving away that information. An interesting evolution in their relationship.

He relaxed his stare and answered aloud, “I find myself entirely convinced. However, I don’t care to risk you in the Defense position; unlike Voldemort, I hope not to have to expend you. It does seem advisable to let him think he’s getting mostly what he wants from you at this juncture. I propose, therefore, to offer you the position of Potions Master.”

“Slughorn is retiring?” The black eyes widened; the young man felt safe enough to show surprise at that.

“He is persuadable in this matter. He’s lost control of his House; the choices of so many of his protégés horrify him. I shall want you to be Head of Slytherin, as well.”

That gave Snape pause. As it should; Dumbledore’s estimate of his basic intelligence rose again.

This time Snape stared at his hands for several minutes before looking up. “I think that I am extremely young for such a position. And that… my own choices… should not fill you with confidence in my ability to be a good guide for others.”

“I do not expect you to be paternal, rest assured. I do expect you to exert some control over your charges. As to being a guide, one can lead by bad example—counterexample— as well as good.”

The young man looked as though he’d bitten something sour. “I… did not expect my loyalties, whatever they may be held to be, to be made public.”

“Not in the least. But you know they will be whispered. Everyone knows, how shall I put it, both your own reputation while at Hogwarts and the current loyalties of many of your former associates. Voldemort was really quite foolish to imagine that your Half-Blood status and apparent recent inactivity would be enough to exempt you from suspicion. I trust that you can use the suspicions to establish a firmer control over your House than Horace exerted. And… your pardon, Severus, for adverting to this, but I believe that you might use the natural sweetness of your disposition to convince the uncommitted that Death Eaters are not, perhaps, the most enjoyable of associates.”

Dumbledore saw a most encouraging twist to the boy’s lips before he lowered his face, the black hair swinging forward to hide his expression. So Snape’s vile sense of humor could be directed against himself. A good sign, all in all, if not entirely unexpected.

Snape spoke without looking up. “I think, Dumbledore, that you can do better by my House than this.”

An even better sign.

Dumbledore allowed no change to show in face or voice as he responded, “I think, Severus, that you can do better by your House than you think you can.”

Snape whispered, “And when he orders me to recruit them?” His hands were clenched, half-hidden in his sleeves. Possibly he thought them fully hidden.

“That is a problem you will face in any capacity you serve at Hogwarts. How to appear to comply while, regrettably, failing for the most part. I do point out, he can hardly expect you to recruit openly under my rather prominent nose. And I will have you under quite close observation—my trust in you is not complete, Severus, that’s why I’m denying you the Defense position. My concern, of course, is that too much intimacy with the Dark Arts might tempt you to a recurrence of your interest in, er, learning them rather than defending against them. I’ll let that be known to the staff and Board of Governors, when they question me, as they will; you will in turn let that be known to Voldemort.”

Dumbledore paused to let that sink in, then addressed the face shrouded behind the dark hair. “Severus. Am I correct in believing that the Dark Lord tortures his followers when they fail in executing his commands?”

The boy looked up at that. The pale face might have been a mask. “He believes in negative incentives, yes.”

“Will making you Head of Slytherin put you at greater risk, then?”

The mask faced him indifferently, but the hands moved, then stilled themselves. It had startled the boy that that consideration might weigh with Dumbledore, then. Snape didn’t answer.

Dumbledore smiled at Snape’s confusion. “I should point out that the added responsibility does increase your salary. I’m sure that’s a major consideration in your interviewing with Hogwarts in the first place.”

A definite twitch of the lips there, turned to a sneer. “That’s why the size of the salary was my first question when we opened negotiations.”

Dumbledore’s own lips twitched. “You still haven’t answered my last question.”


Snape’s face was still mask-like. The voice was calm, uninflected. The eyes gave away nothing. “As you point out, it is a problem I should face whatever position I held at Hogwarts.”

It would put him at greater risk, then, but he didn’t want that considered. Was this a need to punish himself, or a budding sense of responsibility? Time would tell. And training, perhaps; habits are powerful. This boy had some very bad ones to unlearn, to be sure. That boy enjoys pain, Aberforth had told him. He sent the lady off in hysterics within minutes. And then looked like butter wouldn’t melt when you walked in.

Should Dumbledore allow the risk to the boy, given that he was willing? If Snape broke under torture, much of their planning would be revealed…. No. That need not be a consideration. Dumbledore knew that Snape had been considered to “fail” in that … very truncated report the boy had given Voldemort last month. The one Dumbledore had edited with him so carefully. He was not likely to face worse for lack of success in recruiting. Especially given that his “failure” in that area would, alas, be partial. Some of the children would turn no matter what either man, what any man, did; Riddle’s influence in that House ran already too deep.

Which left it, of course, to Dumbledore’s conscience: should he withdraw the offer of House Headship for the boy’s greater safety?

Physical safety. He regarded the sallow, sharp face. He needed a strong Head for Slytherin, however unconventional, even dangerous, the choice of Snape might seem. And Snape needed something to protect beyond Lily. Dragon heartstring, that boy’s wand core. To the bad, avarice, selfishness, violence. To the good… a protective instinct that once evoked, could never be broken. Dragons would die to protect their treasure. Lily Evans, apparently, had evoked that instinct here. Would the boy extend that fierce protectiveness to others?

His mind determined, Dumbledore spoke. “Then you accept both positions, Severus? And we will both give thought to the problem of accounting for your less than sterling recruiting efforts?”

Snape gave a stiff nod.

“I took the liberty of bringing a contract already made up, anticipating your acceptance. I do suggest you read it at some point; you wouldn’t want to betray total unfamiliarity with the terms we have negotiated today. It might prove embarrassing.”

Another slight twitch of the lips. Really he might come to like the boy. Dumbledore busied himself with dredging up the paperwork. Already signed, on his part; he’d anticipated almost all of this.

“Headmaster.”

Dumbledore looked up from the satchel he was rummaging through, amused at the sudden honorific.

“There is another problem we must give thought to. If his use for his agent is—the obvious, I cannot do it.”

Amusement died. Dumbledore registered the bleak eyes, the clenched hands. Indeed they should take thought for this. Dumbledore gave his fullest attention to his new teacher. “Cannot, Severus? In which sense?”

Snape snorted faintly. “Most probably, in either. As to my abilities, I hold no illusions that they best yours. As to the other… you’re—her best hope.” Severus looked away reflexively.

Dumbledore had no need to see to know what his Occlumens’ black eyes were filled with. Pain. Love. Terror. And a hope that expected no fulfillment for itself.

The boy didn’t make false claims of loyalty to him, Dumbledore noted. Or hadn’t thought to try that line. He tilted his head, considering the boy. His probable assassin, politely declining that job.

“I take the liberty of pointing out, Severus, that this is a problem I face in any case. From my perspective, your appointment to the task makes things easier. I appreciate that your point of view is naturally different. When he does issue the order, we’ll review the current situation and determine what’s best to be done.”

The boy shrugged. Dead black eyes returned to Dumbledore’s. Every emotion had been tamped from them but pain. “But in any case you should regard me as… a temporary employee. I shall survive neither refusal nor failure. So why not use me in your— temporary position, after all?”

Dumbledore spoke carefully, holding the black eyes with his. “Your greatest intellectual failing as a student, Severus, was a tendency to see the worst in things. A pessimism shading to despair. As great a weakness, in its way, as the blindest optimism, the refusal to admit to problems.

“You tend to refuse to admit to solutions. Giving you the Defense position, given the curse, would commit us to a timeline of less than a year before the crisis you fear. I hope to keep you under my protection, and to keep using you, for much longer than that. Much may happen, much may be accomplished, in the interim. If one allows hope.”

Black eyes met his without comprehension, without trust. But with obedience. That would suffice to start.

Dumbledore held out the papers again.

“Headmaster,” Snape breathed, and signed their contract with economical strokes of his quill.