It's AU, but what else is fanfiction for, if not exploring scenes that never happened. This time we are with Lord Voldemort and Severus Snape. Lord Voldemort knows everything, you know…

I am still out of practice and rusty, so forgive me while I find my style again. ~ SS19

Scarred Hands - Part I

To Severus' surprise, and he supposed a lack of credit, it was Lord Voldemort who noticed first. The Unbreakable Vow did leave scars after all. It was not as if he didn't have other scars - more than enough stubborn white marks littered his most effective tool - but this new one was…

"Distinctive."

"My Lord?" At the time, Severus had not realised or shown much comprehension. It was late in the evening and events were progressing far faster than he liked in this complex web of lies and secrets and betrayals that he found himself trapped him.

He wondered if it was a web of his own making.

"The scar that an Unbreakable Vow leaves, Severus. It is very distinctive. Even if I could not see the scar, such dark magic leaves a trace I would inevitably detect." Lord Voldemort turned from the long dead fire to regard his follower. "I am far less clear on its reason for being, however, particularly on your hand."

Time for a risk. A calculated risk. Severus' favourite kind of risk, and his favourite oxymoron of a phrase too. "I doubt that, my Lord. I am sure you understand its reason for being completely." He had never been afraid of meeting Voldemort's gaze - after all, it was never fear that the Dark Lord wanted from him.

The aforementioned Dark Lord inclined his head. "Very astute." A weighty pause, and Severus had time to reexamine his odds of survival of this encounter and was not buoyed by the outcome. "You did not seek my permission, despite, I am sure, predicting Narcissa's move perfectly." The tone remained measured, almost cold in its sheer lack of human emotion, "In spite of the position it puts me in."

Suddenly there was a trace of…something. Severus depended upon the merest of subtleties, in both his craft and his mission. He had to be aware of even the slightest change, the thinnest edge, the minute shift. Therefore he was of course aware of this…something…yet he could not immediately identify. He needed more time. "Your position has not changed, my Lord. Dumbledore will be dead. Victory will be well within your grasp."

It was not anger. It was not menace.

"Only if you succeed, Severus."

It was not betrayal.

"Dumbledore is a great wizard. He could best you. He would certainly best Malfoy, we both know that. The Vow would then claim its price." Voldemort contemplated Severus for the longest moment. "You would die."

It was…

"I do not intend to fail, my Lord."

Concern…?

Voldemort laughed, but it still had the edge that unnerved Severus to his very core. He had not predicted this, and he did not know how to factor this into his calculations. The Dark Lord was not, could not, conceivably, even possibly, be concerned about his spy.

"Fifteen when you came to me, Severus. Fifteen - a raging silent paradox of a boy whose neglected body held nurtured darkness. A mess of hatred and jealousy and abandonment which I gave purpose and order and privilege." Voldemort advanced closer. "My left hand." He held out his right hand and Severus knew to offer his left instantly, even as he continued to diagnose and analyse, "My advisor. Twenty years in my service…more or less. So much time spent…waiting."

Voldemort's fingers were as cold and as firm as the voice. Cold and firm. Not human, Severus reminded himself, not human. They traced his scar and still Severus did not look away for all that Voldemort said was nothing more than the cold and firm truth.

"You think differently to the others, Severus. No creeping insanity of Bellatrix nor fawning sycophancy of Lucius. You think and say and move with only the most careful of calculations and an impressive lack of sentiment. Yet…" The pause. "Yet with this, you have practically scarified your life for me."

Voldemort's gaze was suddenly sharp and Severus would have flinched had he been any other follower - though the next words threatened to shatter that impassive sentiment -

"Or for Dumbledore."

Voldemort retreated and Severus floundered for a moment - but still he would not speak. Not yet. The risk remained too high.

"You do not display sentiment Severus, and I refuse to believe it has coloured any decision you have made as a follower of mine or as my adviser. But the mighty Albus Dumbledore has such faith in you! The redeemed, resurrected, reborn Severus Snape! Does he know of some sentimental side to you that you would sacrifice your life…to save him? For, you could save him, Severus. You could sabotage Malfoy. Dumbledore would live, you would die, and I would be strategically…disadvantaged. A perfect outcome for Dumbledore, wouldn't you agree, Severus?" He had turned his back to Severus while his monologue was spoken but now he did regard him. "Speak. I know you are calculating what say next, so speak."

Severus considered. The Dark Lord was far, far enough off the mark, but he remained in very dangerous territory. Voldemort was never one to be wrong. "That would be very strategic of Dumbledore, my Lord." The truth was always the safest route.

Severus' truth, anyway.

"However. Dumbledore is not aware of the Vow."

And now, the lie. Not Severus' lie. "He is also too benevolent to sacrifice any of his players - including me." Just a lie. A truthful lie.

Voldemort scoffed, "You mean he professes to love you! The benevolent fool will see such misfortune for such pathetic sentiment!"

"It blinds him, my Lord."

Voldemort considered. "And yet, Severus, still this decision does not make sense - not from you. I doubt it was sentiment for Narcissa, or even Lucius despite all that he has done for you. Was it to spare Draco, perhaps?"

There would be no talk of Draco - Severus would not place the boy in any more danger than his father's fated mistakes had. "I make decisions for their strategic value, my Lord. You have correctly identified that Draco will not be able to kill Dumbledore. I am simply ensuring that the outcome you desire is...realised. It is not sentiment. Dumbledore, on the other hand, cannot move without weighing up the price, and thus he is blinded."

Voldemort seemed to think about this comment for longer than Severus had anticipated. "You suggest that I do not consider such a price?"

"Numbers matter my Lord, but the cause strengthens and more will follow. It is inevitable." Severus knew that. Soon Voldemort's army would be inconceivably large and -

"I mean you, Severus. You suggest I do not consider the price of losing you." Voldemort lowered himself to sit in his throne. "I am amused at your expression Severus. Your mask has slipped." He rested one hand on the arm of the throne and the other on his knee. "Fortunately for you, so has mine. I value your loyalty, Severus, but it is far more than that. I value your logic and creativity, I value your measured and vehement responses and I value your setting passion. I value every oxymoron that fuels your being, and your position as my closest advisor. Were I to lose that, I would be…hindered." He raised one finger. "Therefore. Do not fail." The index finger gestured to the door, "You may leave." He paused as Severus bowed his head, "Before benevolent Dumbledore sends a search part after his beloved Severus Snape."

End of Part I.