"Headmaster, I will not тАУ"
"And your being here at Hogwarts is all the more convenient, as you will be able to provide Harry with support even during the school year. Of course, the strong wards here will keep him safe, even without the blood magic of the DursleysтАж Yes, Severus, I think this is quite the best option. After all, whatever else may happen, I know you at least will never attack the child." The "again" was unspoken, as was the threat of what would happen if Dumbledore's faith was misplaced.
Snape swallowed hard. The Headmaster wasn't nearly as dotty as he liked to pretend, nor as oblivious. It was obvious тАУ very, very obvious тАУ that his own protests were going to be ignored, and to continue to fight could potentially lead to another display of Dumbledore's power. Was he prepared to keep remonstrating? When he might, in the end, still lose? Was, in all honesty, likely to do so?
"I can't. Even if I wanted to, I can't. If You Know Who does return and he finds out Potter is my ward, he'll expect me to turn him over immediately. If I don't, he'll know I no longer serve him. I won't be able to function as your spy any more."
"True," Dumbledore agreed blandly, still smiling.
"I am not a nice person, Albus," Snape argued with increasing desperation. "I cannot believe I am the best choice in the entire Wizarding world to deal with an emotionally fragile, abused child."
"Molly Weasley will, I'm sure, be able to provide all the cuddles and hugs Harry could desire. And I suspect you will surprise yourself. In fact, I'm quite counting on it."
At those words, Snape knew his fate was sealed. The whole conversation had been a sham тАУ a way for Dumbledore to get him to agree, more or less, to what Dumbledore was going to make happen no matter what. All the time he thought he was lecturing the old man on what was needed, the infuriating old coot was just nodding and smiling and watching Snape dig himself deeper and deeper. How could he have missed it? He, of all people, should have spotted Dumbledore's manipulation from the start! How could he even call himself a Slytherin after having been played like this? He should replace Sprout as Head of Hufflepuff.
"Now, now, my dear boy, don't be too hard on yourself," Dumbledore soothed, showing that uncanny ability to read the mind of even the foremost Occlumens at Hogwarts. "You know you've always had a bit of a blind spot where Lily is concerned. Now by all means go back to your quarters and sulk about the indignity of it all, but then be sure to go and get the Weasleys' consent. I'd suggest you break the news to Harry this weekend тАУ I know he's been worrying a bit."
Snape was doing a very credible impression of a basilisk, but unfortunately Dumbledore appeared immune, perhaps because of extended exposure to Fawkes. He gently steered the younger, speechless wizard out the door, giving him a pat on the shoulder and a tin of lemon drops. As the door closed upon Snape's outraged expression, the last thing he saw was Dumbledore selecting a sherbet fizz with the unmistakable air of rewarding himself for a job well done.
TBC...
*Chapter 2*: Chapter 2
Severus remained in his quarters for the next few hours тАУ thinking, not sulking, he was quick to tell himself тАУ but in the end he knew he had to do what Dumbledore instructed. Much as he would like to fortify himself for the ordeal with a glass of fire whiskey, he suspected that the odor of alcohol on his breath would not go over well with the Weasleys.
For a brief moment he considered showing up drunk, in the hopes that they would rush to Dumbledore, insisting he was an unfit guardian, but he reluctantly dismissed the idea. It would take no effort to convince the Weasleys of his unsuitability for the role, but Dumbledore was made of sterner stuff, and he would see right through Severus' plan. Snape gnashed his teeth. Just his luck. He went from serving a near-omnipotent, egomaniacal lunatic to serving a near-omniscient, manipulative old coot.
Why couldn't he have ended up like all the other Potion Masters? He read their letters in the Journal of Potion Educators. The other Potion Masters complained about how their headmasters didn't provide them with enough room for their supplies or refused them funds for new cauldrons or were snippy about the occasional potion-related mishap. But no one else wrote in complaining about being compelled to adopt a prophesy-marked child or having to participate in setting up elaborate traps on school grounds for Dark Lords who were after a half-mythical treasure.
Severus mentally composed his letter: Dear JPE, I would be interested to learn how other Potion Masters balance their time commitments. I find it challenging to create new lesson plans and prepare for laboratory sessions while simultaneously spying for the Light. Does anyone have any helpful tips about combining Death Eater meetings with NEWTS prep? No, no one else seemed to have these problems. Lucky him.
He realized that the hour was getting late. He would have to do it now or explain his lapse to Dumbledore, and if he had to deal with one more twinkle or lemon drop, he would go stark, raving mad. Life in the bed next to the Longbottoms was looking more attractive by the day. He took a deep breath and activated the floo.
"Mrs Weasley?" he called out to the redhead bustling about the comfortably shabby living room.
"Yes? Why, Professor Snape!" Molly's eyebrows rose in surprise, then drew down in a fearsome frown. "What did they do this time?"
"Surprisingly, I am not calling about the twins," Snape replied drily. "May I come through?"
Molly's look of surprise returned. "Of course."
No sooner had he entered the Burrow than Molly Weasley had him ensconced in an armchair that was only slightly battered, with a cup of tea at his elbow. He struggled to hand back the plate of homemade biscuits. "Thank you, no," he insisted as politely as he could through gritted teeth.
"Are you allergic to chocolate?" Molly asked sympathetically. "I have some peanut butter ones in the kitchen. Or would you prefer oatmeal raisin? Or shortbread? I could whip up some scones тАУ"
"No!" he caught himself and forced himself to abandon his "start listening to me or you will blow up your cauldron and I will feed your internal organs to the squid" tone. This was a parent, not a student. An annoying parent, to be sure, but a parent nonetheless. "I mean, nothing for me, thank you. I'm fine."
Molly looked hurt. "You don't like my cooking?"
Severus could feel his blood pressure rising as he grabbed a biscuit from the plate. "Mm. Delicious," he snarled.
Molly smiled and sat down. "What can I do for you?"
"I have something I would like to discuss with you and your husband. Is he available?"
"Yes, he's just in the back with Ginny, de-gnoming the garden. Can you give me some idea what this is about?"
"I think it would be best to explain it to both of you at once. And perhaps your daughter could be sent away for an hour or so?" He paused, thinking of how best to ensure her compliance without having to (a) explain more or (b) consume additional biscuits. "I am here at the Headmaster's request." More or less.