Even with his hood pulled down low over his face, Snape could tell that the pub was packed inside – much busier than he remembered from his Hogswart days. Then, it had been a quiet refuge during Hogsmeade weekends, the one place where he could relax, away from Potter and Black. He had enjoyed his visits here, spending hours over one drink, trying to put off the inevitable return to the school and its stiflingly unimaginative lessons. He'd never learnt anything really interesting there – nothing he didn't know already, anyway. Dumbledore had been the only decent thing in the place. The man really knew magic. If only Dumbledore could be made to see the sense in the Dark Lord's beliefs. Snape had a feeling that the separation of muggles and wizards would be progressing with a lot less bloodshed, if Dumbledore were in charge.
He fought his way through the crowd to the bar, noticing as he did so that many people had their faces hidden – by hats, hoods, veils, bandages. He smiled – not very subtle, Dumbledore! After several impatient minutes at the bar, he finally got the man's attention and ordered his 'shandy'. The man glanced sharply at Snape and then, as he handed him the drink, leant forwards to murmur, "Go through to the back room. He's expecting you." Snape nodded, and slipped as unobtrusively as he could through a doorway to the side of the bar.
Snape was startled to see how old Dumbledore looked, sitting alone, staring ruminatively at his tankard. Hastily, he re-adjusted his hood as Dumbledore looked up. Snape placed his drink carefully on the table and sat down opposite him.
"Good evening! Are you the mystery man?" The expression in Dumbledore's face had changed swiftly to one of joviality, the tone of his voice was too bright. Snape could sense the tension beneath his words.
What was the point in prevarication? If he was lulled by idle chatter he could easily give something away, some clue that would enable Dumbledore to identify him. "Yes," Snape replied in a hoarse whisper – he must remember to disguise his voice! He decided to go straight to the main subject. "As I wrote in my message, I have information which you would do well to know. I will give this to you, in return for certain ... assurances."
Dumbledore raised a quizzical eyebrow, "And what exactly would they be?"
Snape quickly rehearsed in his mind, one last time, his list of demands, and then said, "You do understand of course that by giving you this information my life will be made forfeit. I will need protection. A new identity. A secure place to live, beyond the reach of the Dark Lord's power. A guarantee that I will not be prosecuted or sent to Azkaban by the Ministry of Magic. And a guarantee that I will not be harmed by any of the witches and wizards gathered in the front bar – most of whom clearly work for you."
"In return, you will tell me ... ?"
"In return, I will tell you that prophecy is no longer unknown."
At this, Dumbledore gasped and half-rose from his seat.
"Sit down," Snape hissed. "If you make a scene of any kind then I will leave right now and you will never know what else you might have discovered."
There was a long silence between them. Snape just managed to stop himself from scratching at his left arm again, and Dumbledore suddenly spoke, as if he had been waiting for some movement. "How much has he learnt?"
"I will tell you nothing more until I have your word that my demands will be met." Snape was, unbelievably, enjoying himself. So far the conversation had been entirely predictable, except that he hadn't expected to feel so much pleasure at both seeing Dumbledore again, and dealing with him as an equal. Since joining the ranks of the Death Eaters, he had had to learn how to deal with difficult situations. The old Snape would not have had so much self-control but now, here he was, forging a deal with his old headmaster – and actually winning!
Dumbledore heaved a long sigh. "Very well. You have my assurance that I will provide what protection I can; that you will have somewhere safe to live, somewhere impenetrable to dark magic; that I will vouch for you should the Ministry ever ask you to testify; and of course the people in the front bar will not harm you. They are there for my protection."
It was all Snape could do to keep the elation out of his croaky voice, as he answered, "Thank you. I will accept your assurance as a binding promise. And so, onto what I know. As I have already said, the prophecy has been discovered by the Dark Lord. And more – he now knows which children fulfil the criteria." Snape's voice wavered a little at this point, as he remembered the part he had played in this. The elation evaporated. "His servants are already formulating a plan. The Longbottoms are to be traced -"
At the mention of the Longbottoms' name, Dumbledore's hand started shaking and he hastily put his tankard down.
"- as soon as possible. He has a spy in place for the Potters."
Dumbledore's grip on his tankard tightened, his knuckles turning white. He stared hard at Snape for a few seconds, and then abruptly stood up. Fearing an attack of some kind, Snape fumbled for his wand and dropped his bag to the floor. Whilst he was still untangling his hands from the sleeves of his robes, Dumbledore had covered the distance to the door and vanished into the front bar. Beneath his hood, Snape's face crumpled. So much for trust. He knew what would happen next, and watched it all unfold in his mind's eye. A gang of Ministry witches and wizards would come through that doorway, he would be bound by some Auror's curse, and that would be that. Well, he would rather take his chances, thank you very much. He would rather face death at the hands of the Dark Lord than be publicly humiliated by the Wizengamot. He would rather face death at his own hands than receive a Dementor's kiss. He bent to pick up the bag, checking that the bottle was not broken, and swiftly turned as he heard a noise behind him.
Dumbledore had come back, and was shutting the door behind him. Snape checked his hood – yes, he was still safely anonymous. He watched Dumbledore warily as he moved slowly towards Snape. Gently, tentatively, Dumbledore reached out to rest his hand on Snape's shoulder. With a look of great pity on his face, and in a voice full of sorrow, he said, "What happened to you, Severus?"