taking control

Chapter 22: Driven to Distraction

A/N: Thank you to everyone for all the reviews and the continued support. Thank you to Christine for her help with the chapter. I hope you all enjoy.

Chapter 22: Driven to Distraction

It was a dangerous game, playing double agent between two of the most powerful wizards in the world. Severus took great pride in his ability to hold the confidences of both the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore was, by nature, a trusting person. He wanted to believe in people, but, make no mistake, he was not a man easily fooled. He could sense deception in even the most skilled Occlumens, of which Snape could count himself. For Severus, who had taken the Dark Mark, Dumbledore's trust was not easily earned, but once he had garnered the man's trust, he had little fear of losing it.

The Dark Lord, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Every encounter with the shade of a man was a test of his cunning. All it would take was one false move, one seed of doubt to be implanted in the Dark Lord's mind, and all would be lost. Severus knew the stakes of the game: one false move and his life would be forfeit - if he was lucky, immediately.

Severus was fairly certain he had just lost this game.

With both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord thinking him their own double agent, he was naturally expected to provide certain details to each side. He would not hold the confidence of either if he was not forthcoming with at least some helpful news. It was always a dangerous proposition, however, choosing which details to disclose and which to keep to himself. It was here, he now knew, that he had made the critical mistake.

The Dark Lord was always wary of risking his presence in any of the Death Eater raids. If Severus was to keep up appearances as the double agent, it would not do for anyone to recognise him - especially one in the Ministry. Imagine Severus' surprise when the Dark Lord insisted on his presence this night, when they were to raid the home of the Head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour.

He had spent the last month slaving in his Potions laboratory, creating a type of poison that attacked the mind of the drinker, weakening its natural defences. In particular, the potion made the drinker much more susceptible to the Imperius Curse. Snape had deduced, based upon his need to create the potion, that the Dark Lord had no intention of participating in this particular operation. If there was one weakness to be found in the Dark Lord, it was arrogance. He often overlooked possible obstacles, thinking himself far too powerful to be affected by such trivialities. So the fact that the Dark Lord had ordered Severus to prepare this potion told him that he expected one of his Death Eaters to cast the Imperius Curse on Scrimgeour.

It would appear, at least by his own logic, that he had been set up. Dumbledore had been wary of acting on any new information right now due to Potter's warning, but Severus had been unconcerned. He refused to believe that Potter was somehow able to glean some insight from the Dark Lord that Severus had missed. If the Dark Lord suspected him of treachery, Severus was certain he would know it. Scrimgeour was too important to risk on the unfounded fears of a spoiled brat. It would appear that Potter's luck was limitless.

As they approached Scrimgeour's dwelling, Voldemort hardly needed to pause as he deconstructed the wards. It was pathetic to think that this was the best the Ministry could offer. They moved quickly, though one could sense no hurry in the Dark Lord's movements. He all but glided as Snape took long strides at his side.

Under different circumstances, it would have been considered a great honour to have been hand selected by the Dark Lord to accompany him - especially being the only one. Instead, Severus was ready and waiting to fend for his life from his Master. He did not imagine himself skilled enough to escape the Dark Lord's grasp, but if he was able to put up enough of a fight, perhaps his death would be swift on the field of battle rather than drawn out through endless torture.