The Plan
by Memory

What if Snape hadn’t really been following any one of his masters but a stronger, mysterious inspiration? A dark tribute to the ambiguous Snape we used to know. HBP compliant.

Disclaimer: I don’t obviously own the characters in this story, even if I would like to.

Important: : All my sincere thanks to my fantastic betas, Jynx67, Pennfana and Notsosaintly, and to those reading my story.

2. Memories
“Mine is your body…”

Severus Snape was sitting in the dark, quiet place he had chosen to think. Nobody knew of it; nobody could have ever imagined that it had become his place, where he would retire and cut off the world.

The place was silent and filthy, a subtle smell of putrefaction rising from the old furniture. Broken pieces were scattered here and there in disarray. They didn’t seem to bother the dark wizard, since the place was as it had always been and as it must remain. Even the bed where he was sitting had collapsed, as if refusing to sustain its own weight anymore.

But this was the place where everything had started, when the spell yelled by Granger, Weasley and – the thought was still unbearable – Potter’s frightened voices had blasted him unconscious against the wall. This was the place where the fierce power of The Plan had pulsed as one with his impatient heartbeat, feeding his mind with renewed force and caressing his senses with promises of glory.

For so many long nights, The Plan had guided him there and forced him to face again and again the main events of his life and the immense sufferings they’d carried. Innumerable times he had been reminded that one of his greatest terrors had revealed itself in that place, the night he'd escaped the fangs of a werewolf. And innumerable times he had relived another doomed night when a rat that once was a man tricked his former friends and disappeared into the darkness of the forest, thus changing forever the future of the wizarding world.

Now, again, he was there, even if his own world was changed, because this was the place where – incredibly – he looked for peace from his troubled thoughts by submitting his body and mind to the incorporeal will that dominated his life and abandoning himself to its ferocious power.

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Severus Snape spent the whole night staring in the dark, sitting where the shape of his body imprinted itself on a heap of dusty sheets by infinite hours of tormented wakefulness.

The Plan had led him to a point where there were no options. For the first time in his life, he was feeling deeply alone, uncertain and vulnerable. Something terrible had just happened, and he was endlessly reviewing his actions, trying to figure out if he had truly understood what The Plan had been demanding of him.

The Plan had made him kill Dumbledore and rush away from Hogwarts like a bloody coward. The Plan had forced him to spare Harry Potter when the boy was at his complete mercy. The Plan had unpredictably turned the Dark Lord against him, grimly enjoying the confusion and the shame that followed.

Severus closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, letting the memories flow without control. Painfully, determinedly, he retraced his steps, following the Death Eaters’ desperate flight from Hogwarts, the night Dumbledore died…

************************************************

The night Dumbledore died, there had been no time to stop and think. The Dark Lord had immediately summoned his followers around him to celebrate the incredible victory.

Celebrate! Severus, still struggling against the confused feelings storming in his mind, had felt The Plan’s chilled grip slowly fade away, leaving him weak and hesitant as he entered the room where they were gathered. It was a large, ancient, rectangular shaped structure where everything gave an impression of power and magnificence, and where paintings, decorations, coats of arms and tapestries covered the massive stony walls. It was June, but the room was cold and damp in spite of the fire crackling in the enormous fireplace opposite from the door.

The Dark Lord was standing in the middle of the room, his hideous face lit by the flames, a condescending smile playing on his lips. A little circle of dark figures dressed in black, but wearing no masks, was respectfully waiting around him, speaking in low voices.

Amongst them was Wormtail, standing near his master in his characteristically furtive attitude, his watery little eyes flickering with excitation while Voldemort confidentially exchanged words with some of his favourites, allowing them to kiss his hand as a special sign of preference.

The Dark Lord’s smile became suddenly cold the moment he saw the small group entering the door. Following their master’s gaze, the Death Eaters seemed to move surreally, turning their heads in slow motion as Amycus, Alecto, Draco and Severus walked in, stumbling with exhaustion, eyes feverishly brightened by the frantic run that had followed the success of their mission.

Among the pale ovals of faces looking at him, Snape immediately recognized Narcissa’s blonde hair blazing under the light. She attempted to reach her son, but was stopped immediately by a cold glance from her sister, Bellatrix, whose dark figure was radiating a cruel joy.

Severus was leading Draco by his arm. After the wild escape, the boy now seemed to realize what had really happened. His face was ashen, his body and steps faltering. A dim sparkle was dancing in his eyes, a glow that Severus had never seen before. Was it horror for what he had been about to commit? Fear of being punished for not having been able to accomplish it? Or was it relief for having just handed his burden to somebody else?

Snape had also noticed the strange, furtive glances Draco shot at him when he wasn't supposed to be looking. Even if the boy was letting the older wizard guide him, he seemed to wince each time their bodies came into contact, his previous admiration slowly changing into resentment and uneasiness.

Severus arched an eyebrow in a mute question, and the boy lowered his eyes, blushing sickly in embarrassment. Then, as if ashamed by his weakness, he raised his head and pulled his arm away, staring firmly at his tutor with reddened, worn-out eyes, almost defying him. A strange, uncharacteristic pang of guilt made Snape hesitate in his step, but he immediately choked his emotion back as he went to kneel in front of his master, the move promptly imitated by the others.

Again, the sensation of imminent disaster pervaded him. The Dark Lord wasn’t greeting them anymore with his reptilian smile, nor was he showing any joy for their triumph. He looked coldly interested only in the boy, who was definitely shaking like a leaf, kneeling at his feet.

“Well then, Draco, my boy,” he began, almost caressingly. “You proved your worth. The trap you prepared during all these long, long months of waiting was tripped finally. Dumbledore is dead, isn’t he?”

“He is, my Lord,” Draco replied, trembling, biting his lips to fight back the tears. His mother flinched involuntarily at his answer, and the Dark Lord raised a warning gaze then turned again to the boy, reverting to his usual, sarcastic tone. “And was it your wand that gave him death, as I requested?”

Draco turned his head and glanced over to his companions, searching for help.

“Just look at me, Draco,” Voldemort hissed impatiently. “Did you fulfil my order?”

The boy stared at his master with deep terror on his face. “I… I tried, my Lord,” he whispered, not daring to lower his eyes.

“But…” Voldemort urged him.

“I couldn't,” Draco admitted feebly, dropping his head in defeat.

“Inept a servant as was your father, I see.” The Dark Lord was still dangerously calm. “Why couldn’t you slay him, Draco? Wasn’t he defenceless and at your mercy? Wasn’t he weak and alone?” His red eyes narrowed and his voice became harsh. “Were you still afraid of his power? Or worse, were you trying to spare him in spite of my command?”

Voldemort leaned in until his face and the boy's were at same level. “Did you really want to obey my order? Tell me, Draco,” he whispered almost tenderly.

The boy swallowed, fear stealing his answer and paralysing his lips. The other Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably, and then Amycus tried to help. “He was going to, Master… but we were running out of time and…”

“Be quiet!” The master's high-pitched voice burst furiously, and Amycus bowed in terror.

Abandoning any pretence of kindness, the Dark Lord straightened up and exclaimed angrily, “Do you remember that your life was bound to my command? And not only yours but also your mother’s and your father’s as I warned you so many months ago?! Are you ready to lose not only your life but also the lives of your whole family as a consequence of your weakness? Answer me, Draco!”

The boy was white with horror, his hands clenching convulsively. He desperately looked at his mother, who suddenly untangled from her sister’s grasp to join him in front of their master. But before she could utter a word, the Dark Lord turned to her, even more furious. “Narcissa! How dare you? I know you have induced Severus to take an Unbreakable Vow to protect your useless son from failing. You have betrayed my confidence in you by asking someone else to accomplish the task that was entrusted to Draco!”

Snape held his breath, but remained impassive, while Narcissa paled in panic and sank to her knees, her eyes full of tears. “Forgive us, my Lord!” she implored. “I only wanted to obey your orders… and protect my son. He is a loyal servant, but he is only a boy. Please, don’t punish him for my faults. I’m the only one to be blamed, and I… I’m ready to submit to your sentence.”

She was so beautiful in her panic, so fierce in her protectiveness, that many of her fellow Death Eaters turned their heads away, embarrassed, yet at the same time attracted by her desperation. Even Severus, always careful to hide his emotions, couldn’t avoid a faint spark of desire for the very desirable woman, but the Dark Lord wasn’t human anymore. “Oh, you certainly will!” he sneered, considering her broken, sobbing figure with a cruel smile.

Recovering his frightful composure, he folded his arms across his chest and resumed speaking in a low, meditative tone. “Nevertheless, Draco, in his great cowardice, has effectively found a way to allow my faithful Death Eaters to break into Hogwarts. This is a service I cannot underestimate. And, after all, Dumbledore is dead…”

The Dark Lord looked at the boy with a frown; then he made a brief, authoritative gesture towards the group still kneeling at his feet. “Amycus, my friend, will you tell us what happened so that everyone here can know and enjoy?”

Amycus nodded in surprise, giving Snape a perplexed glance. Feeling uneasy, but anxious to please his master, the clumsy, hard breathing man began to describe the events as they had occurred: how the Dark Mark was cast over the castle, how Draco had faced Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower and revealed he was deplorably unable to complete his mission so badly that Fenrir had eagerly volunteered to kill the old wizard in his place…

Here Voldemort turned his inhumane eyes on the narrator, who, looking suddenly worried, muttered in confusion, unconsciously imitating Narcissa. “He only wanted to be of help, my Lord…” The Dark Lord curled his lips in a sarcastic, frightful sneer.

Time seemed to stop while Amycus, nervously proceeding with his story, explained how Snape had unexpectedly appeared, having passed undamaged through the battle that was raging in the castle’s corridors. Dumbledore had pleaded with him for his life – here the circle of the attentive Death Eaters had grown excited, murmuring with admiration and staring at Severus in approval; Bellatrix had even conceded him a brief, appreciative nod – but Snape had been quick and merciless. One shot and the foolish old man was dead, his threat forever silenced.

While pretending to be listening, but desperately trying to ignore Amycus’ rough voice, Severus closed his eyes and concentrated on his heartbeat, hoping to feel The Plan’s protective arms wrapping around him as always. All he perceived was a sensation of loss and despair. From afar, he could still see Dumbledore’s blue eyes looking at him – so trusting, so firm – while the soft sound of the old, kind voice called his name again and again in the same gentle way Severus had gotten used to being addressed during all those years at Hogwarts. Slowly, he clenched his fists and lowered his head, trying to suffocate the feelings that were emerging so painfully strong that they could possibly betray him in front of his Lord. Everything had happened so fast and so easily, but now, nothing seemed to make sense anymore. How could he feel safe when The Plan had already destroyed Dumbledore? And what part had Dumbledore played on that evil game’s chessboard? Had he been a king, as Severus had always believed, or just a pawn? An unguarded reaction made him raise his eyes, and he flinched as he unexpectedly met his master’s inquisitive gaze. Voldemort bowed ironically at him, and Severus felt his heart sink.

The narration was nearly over, and words began to come out in a rush as if Amycus was impatient to arrive at its conclusion. Listening closely, his senses alert again, Severus relived those frantic moments in his fellow Death Eater’s terse description.

After the murder, they were forced to flee. Inside the castle, members of the Order of the Phoenix were fighting back the invaders. Many of the students had awoken from the sounds of the battle, and Aurors from the Ministry of Magic were expected to Apparate at any moment. So they had left as quickly as possible, but during their run, they had been followed by an enraged Harry Potter, who seemed to materialize immediately after the killing of his old protector and had probably even witnessed it, hidden somewhere on the tower. The boy directed his anger towards Snape primarily, but this was obvious. They all knew how the boy and his former professor hated each other. And of course, it had been Snape who had struck down Dumbledore – here Amycus grinned in satisfaction, glancing approvingly at Severus and finally feeling much safer.

Snape had hit Potter with a powerful hex, pushing him down on the grass; Alecto, too, had tried to cast a curse, but Snape had stopped her attempt because the boy was reserved for the Dark Lord. Anyway, in a few minutes, they had left, leaving Hogwarts in a state of terror and confusion, flames and ruins everywhere and probably other victims amongst its defenders.

Slowly, implacably, insidiously, a vortex of images began to form while the words disappeared in a confused murmur, holding Snape in a powerful grasp and bringing him suddenly back in time. Now he was again on the Hogwarts’ grounds, defying Potter and his pathetic courage, hearing Potter’s unbearable words – coward! The brat had dared to call him a coward! – savouring once more the wild joy of seeing Potter at his complete mercy. It would have been so easy to kill him!

The violence of his emotions whirled and exploded deeply into his soul, lacerating it into thousands of sharp-edged pieces. Unconsciously, he clenched his hands and straightened himself to stare at his memories, lost in impotence, trembling with anger, wishing that time could stop… And then again, he sensed his master’s predatory eyes on him, mutely inquiring, thoughtfully watching his reactions, but this time, he didn’t dare look up. Never had he felt so defenceless against his feelings!

Amycus terminated his chronicle in relief, sure of his master’s approval – after all, hadn’t the Dark Lord smiled his frightening smile twice while looking at Severus? He was panting slightly from the exertion. The kneeling position was becoming more and more difficult to maintain, and his tired body was asking for a change. Draco, on the other hand, had listened tensely, eyes closed, shuddering still, while Narcissa, face buried in her hands, was trying to regain control. Alecto looked around in faint pride, enjoying the approving glances of the other Death Eaters, and Snape was now coldly aware of something terrible just waiting to strike.

“All in all, a success then, even if not a complete one,” the Dark Lord declared briefly after a moment of silence that seemed to last forever, and the black dressed figures respectfully expressed their appreciation. “So, Narcissa, I’m going to forgive you in the name of this success; after all, you are a mother, and your devotion can be excused…” He went on, adding sarcastically, an unpleasant glitter in his eyes, “I never consider how feelings, as foolish as they are, may interfere. My fault, I suppose.”

Narcissa gave a trembling sob and raised her hands in a mute, hopeful prayer, but the Dark Lord, with a vindictive sneer, disabused her immediately. “Be that as it may, Draco has failed, and failures must be punished. Perhaps his punishment will seem lighter to him if his mother carries it out. Who better than a mother to help her child understand?” Voldemort paused, enjoying her suffering. “What do you say, Narcissa? Will you agree?”

Taken by surprise, Narcissa looked completely lost. She was visibly torn between the joy of seeing Voldemort being merciful to the boy and the horror of being called on to perform such a terrible assignment. She gasped, searched for air and implored help from her sister with a desperate glance.

“My sister has always been weak where her son is concerned, Master,” Bellatrix said disdainfully. “Could I just suggest …” but she trailed off under his threatening gaze, lowering her eyes in silence.

“I see,” the Dark Lord said angrily. “Even those I believe to be my most loyal followers draw back when it is their own blood under trial. But the boy didn’t accomplish his task. The boy didn’t obey my orders. Therefore, the boy must be punished. Should I do it myself, then?”

Draco paled horribly, looking even more young and vulnerable. His fear was so evident that his mother exclaimed again. “Please, my Lord, forgive him, and let me pay for his errors!”

Her words made Draco finally react. Standing up with supreme effort, he offered himself with a trembling but determined, “I accept your punishment, Master!”

Narcissa gave a faint exclamation, while an evil joy spread over the Dark Lord’s features. He slowly stepped forward and raised his wand. With a sharp cry, Draco dropped to the ground, where he twitched and writhed convulsively. Narcissa stared, eyes wide in horror, mouth open in a silent scream, while Bellatrix kept her firmly by her shoulders to prevent her from interfering.

The torture only lasted a few moments. With a triumphant expression on his face, the Dark Lord lowered his wand, smiled at the shattered lad at his feet and declared forcefully, “Now you are a man, Draco. Now you are definitely mine. You paid for your faults, and there is nothing left between you and me. Rise then, Draco, my loyal follower, and seal your true admission to my service. Have the gratitude of the Dark Lord for your actions.”

The Death Eaters murmured excitedly. Shaking, the boy struggled to get to his feet, helped by his mother. Relief, joy and pride clashed in a whirl of emotions as the tears flowed. Visibly staggering but looking exultant, Draco knelt again and bent to kiss the Dark Lord’s hand. Then, exhausted, he fainted into his mother’s arms.

Voldemort curled his lips in an unpleasant smile and held up a hand to stop Narcissa, who was incoherently babbling words of gratitude and promises of loyalty for her and her son in her overwhelmed joy. The Dark Lord’s red glowing eyes were now considering the group still kneeling at his feet.

“And I would like to thank you, too,” he added, his voice sounding loud in the room, “my faithful servants, who risked your lives to help Draco in this very difficult task. You, Amycus, a truly valiant friend, and you, Alecto, fierce as your name, and…” His eyes finally rested on Snape, who had been expecting this moment in tension. “Now, now, but I haven’t heard from Severus yet!” the Dark Lord remarked in his ironically disappointed tone. “How come the hero of the day, the conqueror of the great Dumbledore, has not spoken a word? To what is such modesty due, Severus?”

“My entire life has been devoted to the fulfilment of your orders, my Lord,” Snape answered quietly, his heart beating slowly. “Otherwise, my existence would be meaningless. I claim no honour for this.”

“Oh, but your courage must be honoured, and I’ll make sure you receive a full reward before a new day comes,” the Dark Lord replied coldly.

Feeling the storm raging behind the deceptive calm of their leader, some of the Death Eaters turned their heads with a questioning gaze. Bella shot Snape a derisive glance then looked at her master as though asking him permission. Voldemort smiled back in assent and declared forcefully, “My friends, I invite you all to celebrate this great victory. Dumbledore is dead! Let everybody know it! May fear and desperation be our allies in destroying what remains of the old wizarding world. And now you may leave.”

A thunderous acclamation followed, and it was in the middle of this joyful explosion that he looked intentionally at Snape and added imperiously, “But you, Severus, stay!”

One by one, ready for their mission, the Death Eaters greeted their master with a respectful bow and quickly Disapparated in an ordered confusion of faces glowing and dancing in the dark. Immensely relieved when their turn came, Amycus and his sister bent to kiss the hem of the Dark Lord’s cloak and slowly straightened their aching limbs from the exhausting position they’d held for such a long time, bowing again to avoid their master’s feral eyes.

Bracing for the proof he understood was waiting for him, Severus, too, had begun to get to his feet when a hard voice stopped him.

“I said stay!” said the Dark Lord sharply. “That didn’t mean rise.”

Wormtail, tilting his head to have a better view of his old schoolmate, raised his eyebrows significantly and nervously stroked his silvery hand, waiting for a silent nod from his master to leave the room. The few other remaining Death Eaters looked uncomfortably at each other, while Snape, feeling his face burn under their astonished gaze, knelt again obediently and waited.

Sustaining a dizzy Draco, who seemed to be grimly enjoying Snape’s humiliation, Narcissa gave Severus an apologetic glance. Their eyes met in a silent goodbye; then she lowered her head in embarrassment and quietly Disapparated with her son, her concerned expression clearly revealing that she knew something awful was going to happen and that she was sorry for him.

The last thing Severus saw was Bella’s triumphant smile as she Disapparated with a soft pop, following her sister.

Then he was left alone with the Dark Lord.