Disclaimer: Severus Snape, Dumbledore et al. do not belong to me, they belong to Rowling.

All thoughts are in italics.


            Severus Snape stumbled into the Headmaster's office. His robes were dirty, his hair looked like he hadn't washed it in weeks and his nose was horribly bent out of shape. In other words, he looked exactly like normal.

            "What can I do for you, Severus?" asked Dumbledore solemnly from behind his desk. It was the height of Voldemort's reign and the Headmaster was still a bit depressed that Tom's rise to power had ruined his plans for a nice holiday in Morocco. His usual twinkle was subdued at the thought of all those sea urchins that were missing his attentions. Snape collapsed heavily into a chair, a sea of emotions roiling across his face, or maybe he was just feeling queasy from his broom ride.

            "I have come to confess, Headmaster," he said, then paused to create dramatic tension. Dumbledore's mood brightened. He loved confessions. They gave him so much juicy blackmail material.

            "Is this about you and Remus Lupin because-"

            "No," said Snape sharply. He took a deep breath and put on his best angst expression. He thrust out his arm to reveal an ugly tattoo. It looked familiar for some reason.

"Now, Severus, I understand that getting a tattoo is a life changing decision, but I'm not sure if it warrants a confession," said Dumbledore kindly. Snape shot him a glare that was totally at odds with his current penitent role.

"I'm a Death Eater. I don't deserve to live. I've killed and tortured hundreds of people and one cat. I deserve whatever you want to do to me." He hung his head, allowing his greasy hair to fall over his face. Albus felt a quick jolt of anger at how poorly Severus was taking care of his hair. Perhaps he should just demand that Snape wash his hair every day as penance for his evil ways? But if he imposed such a harsh punishment, Severus might go running back to Voldemort.

            "I shall turn you over to the Ministry," Dumbledore said. To the Department for the Misuse of Hair Care Products.

            "I deserve it," said Snape. "She was so young. So innocent. So fluffy…" He looked up. Tears were streaming down his face.

            "My god, Severus. Your mascara is running." Severus ignored the comment.

            "Do whatever you want. Hand me over to the Dementors. I deserve the Kiss!" Snape demanded.

            "Surely you can find an, ahem, lady of negotiable virtue who is willing to…" he trailed off under Severus' harsh glare.

            "I'm telling the truth, Headmaster. You may use veritaserum on me if you must. In fact, I insist."

            "Well, we're fresh out I'm afraid. I fed the last to Alastor as a practical joke. You should have seen his wife's, ex-wife now, face." He chuckled at the memory. Perhaps now she would be willing to go to Morocco on his holiday with him. A holiday that wasn't going to occur until Tommy was defeated. He looked at Snape, who was doing his best to look guilt ridden, though the tune he was drumming on the chair arm (the ever popular Johnny Death Eater) really wasn't helping.

"Perhaps we can come to a different arrangement," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "One that will keep you out of Azkaban."

"I don't deserve it," said Snape quietly.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure your life is miserable enough for you. You can start by going back to spy on Voldemort." Snape looked aghast.

"Go back? You don't understand. I enjoyed what I did. I'll betray you."

"Well," mused Dumbledore. "You could always work with Filch, or maybe Hagrid. I've never really been sure which way his broom swings if you get my drift…"

"I'll spy," said Snape quickly. Dumbledore beamed at him.

"I knew you would. No need to discuss all the boring details of your dangerous spying and how you report back to me." Snape stiffened, and clutched at his tattoo.


"I certainly know nothing about spying, and I'm sure the author hasn't bothered to think of anything better than you owling me about the latest developments."


"And for that matter, why in the world did you come to me? How did you get into the castle for that matter?"

"Headmaster! I must go. He's calling me." Snape looked like he was in pain. Dumbledore looked around the room.

"I was sure that telephone didn't work," said Dumbledore. Snape was rolling on the floor in agony. "That's a joke, Severus," he said reproachfully. "I thought you had a sense of humour." Snape growled something through his teeth. "Alright. Go." Snape managed to half walk, half drag himself out of the room.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. The Headmaster looked up to see who it was.

"What can I do for you, Tom?"