sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-15 01:19 pm
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-15 01:19 pm
Entry tags:
Interrogative; PG, Gen. HBP-compliant; Spoilers.
Summary: The difference between Severus Snape and Tom Riddle is in the singular question of Why.
Warnings: None.
Also available at AO3.
***
Severus Snape hadn't really believed the old man would actually fall for this. Neither had their Lord, but Lucius Malfoy had enough control over the Board of Governors to get him recommended, and it didn't hurt to try.
"What?" he asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Sometimes I mumble," Albus Dumbledore said, with a slightly mocking smile. "I said, congratulations. You may report to Professor McGonagall for your book vouchers and robe allowance."
Politics. It's all simply politics; Lucius brought the Board to bear on him. That's all it is.
"Thank you. Sir," he added belatedly. "I -- yes. Thank you."
"Not a bit of it, Severus. You are full young for the position, but we do require a Potions Master and you come highly recommended."
It didn't matter why, Severus told himself, as he rose to leave the Headmaster's office. Why he had been given the job despite being twenty-one and a half-blood was unimportant. All that mattered was that he had achieved his goal. He was a professor. He was inside Hogwarts, the stronghold of their Lord's fiercest rival.
Perhaps it had been the interview with the Board; he'd looked easily into their minds and known exactly what to say, though Dumbledore's thoughts had been so thoroughly walled off that he rather felt he'd bollocksed the Headmaster's interview. Perhaps his NEWT scores still reflected favourably on him, despite having been employed merely as a private tutor since then.
Oh, balls.
He stopped at the top of the stairs and turned.
"Headmaster," he said. Dumbledore looked up from his papers, mildly.
"Yes, Severus?"
"Why?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "An excellent word; what part of speech is it, interrogative? Not that it matters, I suppose. I ask myself why? several times a day. Very useful, when properly applied."
"Why did you hire me?" Severus asked, impatiently.
"Severus, I should think that would be obvious," Dumbledore continued, just as gently as before.
"The Board," Severus said flatly. "The Board of Governors told you to hire me."
Dumbledore, to his surprise, chuckled. "My dear boy, the Board doesn't tell me to do anything. They advise me, and I take their advice into account when making my own decision. I may say that perhaps they are often unaware of this fact, but ignorance does not make a thing untrue."
He took his spectacles off and regarded Severus with keen eyes.
"I hired you, young man, because you are a genius."
Severus' heart hammered in his chest, suddenly. Surely not -- but maybe so....maybe someone has finally seen...
Dumbledore smiled and continued. "Although you should probably tell Tom Riddle that it was the Board of Governors. He shall very likely be jealous, otherwise."
Severus' mouth went dry. "Why would I -- "
"Let us not play games, Professor Snape." Dumbledore put his glasses back on and turned to the paperwork before him once more. "You may, if you wish, inform him that he was not hired because his character was lacking, although I don't believe he'd thank you for that."
"You know, then."
"I am aware of your political affiliations, yes," Dumbledore replied. "Much as I may regret them."
"And still...?"
"I think, perhaps, I am making a mistake. You may prove me wrong. Ah, this blissful and contradictory world," Dumbledore sighed happily. "You see, Severus, the difference between hiring a genius at the age of twenty-one and a maniac at the age of eighteen is that you are still able to ask why."
Severus hesitated and had almost turned to descend the steps when Dumbledore spoke again.
"Perhaps you may," he said, "consider applying your excellent singular interrogative to your master, and see how he answers you. They say that genius is concerned with asking questions properly; I think humanity is in stopping to consider the answer."
***
"But why?" Severus asked, when Dumbledore held out his left hand to make the Vow. "I don't see why it is necessary in the slightest."
"Ah, my dear interrogative man," Dumbledore said with a smile. "He has been ordered to kill me. You must not allow that. You must, if necessary, stand in his place and commit the deed, but you must not allow Draco to become a monster against his will."
"But why the Vow?"
"Because I do not believe you would be able to kill me, otherwise," Dumbledore replied.
"Why should it be a choice between the two?"
"Because I am dying, Severus," Dumbledore said. His withered right hand turned over, blackened palm facing upwards.
"Why?" Severus whispered.
"You will, I hope, have many years before you stand before someone who can answer that question," Dumbledore answered. "And then it will not matter so much. Still, never fear; I shall choose to assume that you ask why it must be you. And that I may answer."
Severus stared at him, horror rising in his chest.
"Because I respect you. You are a friend, Severus, in a time of very few friends. I could not allow myself to be killed by anyone I did not respect. Much better a friend than an enemy."
Nearly a year later, resting from their headlong flight away from Hogwarts, Severus brewed tea in Spinner's End and brought Draco a cup, setting it in front of the boy when he would not accept it from his hands. He looked smaller than his age, curled in a wingchair with his arms around his knees.
Severus drank his tea quietly, lost in his own thoughts; Dumbledore was right. Without the Vow hanging over his head, he would never have been able to bring himself to do it. The Dark Lord would have called this a mark of cowardice, but he knew it for what it was; a gesture of respect. His Headmaster had believed in him so implicitly that he did not believe Severus was capable of murder. Not anymore.
There was a small noise from Draco.
"Did you speak?" Severus asked.
Draco shook his head. Then he relented and nodded.
"Why did you save me?" he asked.
"I haven't time to answer foolish -- " Severus began, and then stopped. After a moment, he took a deep breath and began again.
"I shall have to explain things to you in a way which may not make much sense," he said. "You have asked -- are you willing to hear the answer?"
Draco nodded, silently.
"Very well. The year you were born, I became Master of Potions at the school on the orders of the Dark Lord, but there were other forces at work as well...."
END
Warnings: None.
Also available at AO3.
***
Severus Snape hadn't really believed the old man would actually fall for this. Neither had their Lord, but Lucius Malfoy had enough control over the Board of Governors to get him recommended, and it didn't hurt to try.
"What?" he asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Sometimes I mumble," Albus Dumbledore said, with a slightly mocking smile. "I said, congratulations. You may report to Professor McGonagall for your book vouchers and robe allowance."
Politics. It's all simply politics; Lucius brought the Board to bear on him. That's all it is.
"Thank you. Sir," he added belatedly. "I -- yes. Thank you."
"Not a bit of it, Severus. You are full young for the position, but we do require a Potions Master and you come highly recommended."
It didn't matter why, Severus told himself, as he rose to leave the Headmaster's office. Why he had been given the job despite being twenty-one and a half-blood was unimportant. All that mattered was that he had achieved his goal. He was a professor. He was inside Hogwarts, the stronghold of their Lord's fiercest rival.
Perhaps it had been the interview with the Board; he'd looked easily into their minds and known exactly what to say, though Dumbledore's thoughts had been so thoroughly walled off that he rather felt he'd bollocksed the Headmaster's interview. Perhaps his NEWT scores still reflected favourably on him, despite having been employed merely as a private tutor since then.
Oh, balls.
He stopped at the top of the stairs and turned.
"Headmaster," he said. Dumbledore looked up from his papers, mildly.
"Yes, Severus?"
"Why?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "An excellent word; what part of speech is it, interrogative? Not that it matters, I suppose. I ask myself why? several times a day. Very useful, when properly applied."
"Why did you hire me?" Severus asked, impatiently.
"Severus, I should think that would be obvious," Dumbledore continued, just as gently as before.
"The Board," Severus said flatly. "The Board of Governors told you to hire me."
Dumbledore, to his surprise, chuckled. "My dear boy, the Board doesn't tell me to do anything. They advise me, and I take their advice into account when making my own decision. I may say that perhaps they are often unaware of this fact, but ignorance does not make a thing untrue."
He took his spectacles off and regarded Severus with keen eyes.
"I hired you, young man, because you are a genius."
Severus' heart hammered in his chest, suddenly. Surely not -- but maybe so....maybe someone has finally seen...
Dumbledore smiled and continued. "Although you should probably tell Tom Riddle that it was the Board of Governors. He shall very likely be jealous, otherwise."
Severus' mouth went dry. "Why would I -- "
"Let us not play games, Professor Snape." Dumbledore put his glasses back on and turned to the paperwork before him once more. "You may, if you wish, inform him that he was not hired because his character was lacking, although I don't believe he'd thank you for that."
"You know, then."
"I am aware of your political affiliations, yes," Dumbledore replied. "Much as I may regret them."
"And still...?"
"I think, perhaps, I am making a mistake. You may prove me wrong. Ah, this blissful and contradictory world," Dumbledore sighed happily. "You see, Severus, the difference between hiring a genius at the age of twenty-one and a maniac at the age of eighteen is that you are still able to ask why."
Severus hesitated and had almost turned to descend the steps when Dumbledore spoke again.
"Perhaps you may," he said, "consider applying your excellent singular interrogative to your master, and see how he answers you. They say that genius is concerned with asking questions properly; I think humanity is in stopping to consider the answer."
***
"But why?" Severus asked, when Dumbledore held out his left hand to make the Vow. "I don't see why it is necessary in the slightest."
"Ah, my dear interrogative man," Dumbledore said with a smile. "He has been ordered to kill me. You must not allow that. You must, if necessary, stand in his place and commit the deed, but you must not allow Draco to become a monster against his will."
"But why the Vow?"
"Because I do not believe you would be able to kill me, otherwise," Dumbledore replied.
"Why should it be a choice between the two?"
"Because I am dying, Severus," Dumbledore said. His withered right hand turned over, blackened palm facing upwards.
"Why?" Severus whispered.
"You will, I hope, have many years before you stand before someone who can answer that question," Dumbledore answered. "And then it will not matter so much. Still, never fear; I shall choose to assume that you ask why it must be you. And that I may answer."
Severus stared at him, horror rising in his chest.
"Because I respect you. You are a friend, Severus, in a time of very few friends. I could not allow myself to be killed by anyone I did not respect. Much better a friend than an enemy."
Nearly a year later, resting from their headlong flight away from Hogwarts, Severus brewed tea in Spinner's End and brought Draco a cup, setting it in front of the boy when he would not accept it from his hands. He looked smaller than his age, curled in a wingchair with his arms around his knees.
Severus drank his tea quietly, lost in his own thoughts; Dumbledore was right. Without the Vow hanging over his head, he would never have been able to bring himself to do it. The Dark Lord would have called this a mark of cowardice, but he knew it for what it was; a gesture of respect. His Headmaster had believed in him so implicitly that he did not believe Severus was capable of murder. Not anymore.
There was a small noise from Draco.
"Did you speak?" Severus asked.
Draco shook his head. Then he relented and nodded.
"Why did you save me?" he asked.
"I haven't time to answer foolish -- " Severus began, and then stopped. After a moment, he took a deep breath and began again.
"I shall have to explain things to you in a way which may not make much sense," he said. "You have asked -- are you willing to hear the answer?"
Draco nodded, silently.
"Very well. The year you were born, I became Master of Potions at the school on the orders of the Dark Lord, but there were other forces at work as well...."
END
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